Fabulous Pastries

Reimagined

2011-10-07T16:10:00.004-04:00

I find it incredibly strangeto sit down and write once more. There is a certain heady; slightly euphoric/post drugged feeling hangingin the air, the feeling of returning from a vacation. Our kitchen was left alone for the past two weeks to sit andthink about things it wanted to be cooking while the cats aimlessly walkedabout the countertops un-“shooed” from places they shouldn’t be. I guess the kitchen needed the break asmuch as I did, a time to recuperate and daydream about baking possibilities,not just for fall, but for the future as well.

Fabulous Pastries turned twoyears old this week. I’ve beenthinking about the many things I became interested in creating over the pasttwenty-four months of baking. Through the process of making different desserts,learning new techniques and comparing and contrasting flavor profiles, I feellike I’ve come to a different place in my baking. Once only interested in capturing memories and smells of thepast, passing on remembered tastes to people in the now, I have discoveredinvention, inspiration and imagination all over again.

Before leaving for ourvacation I’d been pondering reinvention. The baked goods coming out of the stove were leaning toward theemergence of something new and different instead of being completelynostalgia-laced substances. Thereis something to be said for spending a lot of time learning, studying andworking with known elements before venturing off into exploratory realms. It’s hard to imagine something new ifold ground hasn’t been covered and understood. My overwhelming sense is having spent two years learning notonly how to become a better baker, but also how to evoke pleasurable moments forfriends and family, often tied into my impression of past events.

I come back to the 1950’sover and over again, showcasing a potentially idealized America, one worthhonoring above all others. Infocusing on this fantasy time in Americana it’s worth asking if the times werereally so great, or are great from a beautifully painted distance? I can’t answer that question, nor do Iintend to, but understanding that looking at imagery of the period, or any illustrationsNorman Rockwell ever painted brings a certain warmth and happiness to me. For me, it’s a touchstone, but forothers their touchstone is altogether something different. Finding these points of entry into afond memory or feeling is exciting. Depending on the dessert, I’ve had people tell me what it makes themthink of, this commentary ranging from Grandma’s kitchen to a café in Paristhey ate in as a child. The pointhere, dear reader, is that something powerful happens with food and the mind,particularly when it comes to desserts.

In reading a good portion ofHeston Blumenthal’s The Fat Duck Cookbook, he covers some of those first memories that turnedhim into a foodie and later master chef creating taste experiences for hisdiners. Heston is above all elsesomeone who understands food memory. Whether playing with liquid nitrogen or other more modern techniques offood preparation, he spends a lot of time seeking out flavors from childhood,be that cereal, bubble gum or peanut butter and jelly, and turning them ontheir ear, changing the way the components of a dish come together resulting ina refined impression of a recognizable dish. Experimentation is the key, playing with the recipe over andover again until he gets the desired result, Heston is a master of evoking thesense of something larger than the dish at hand, but a sense of place and time,having an ability to transport the diner to a happy place from his or herpast. Dining at the Fat Duckseveral years ago is still one of the top 3 food memories of my life

I am in no way comparingmyself to Heston Blumenthal, but his philosophy about food certainly speaks tome and makes me want to produce something larger than its parts…. in my casemaking the butter, sugar and eggs into an edible experience both tasty and fun. It is with all this in mind I began totinker and invent in my own pre-vacation kitchen some new edible bites. I think the catalyst for all of thiswas the Banana Bread Truffles that were made for the Labor Day Party lastmonth. I had received morecomments from people about these chocolate banana bites than I can rememberhearing in quite awhile. Theflavor was good, but the commentary was more about concept than anything else.

What was it about thesesugary nuggets that made them so special? Basically, it was taking something known and presenting it in a newway. Sure, everyone knows whatbanana bread tastes like and they also know what it’s like to eat chocolatetruffles, but it’s rare to eat them together. The playfulness of these two things put into one rich bitewas an exciting and yummy thing to consume. It is in this mindset I began to approach a couple otherdesserts in a similar way, and made me think there could be a lot of dessertsout in the world that need to be reimagined. The first thing I came up with was a beautiful lemon, thymeand cardamom cookie with a filling of brown butter pears. The recipe is as follows:

Spiced Lemon Pear SandwichCookies

Filling Ingredients:

1 1/2 lbs pears, peeled,cored, and diced

1/2-cup brown sugar

3 tablespoons butter

1/2-teaspoon cinnamon

1-tablespoon vanilla beanpaste (or extract)

In a medium saucepan overmedium heat, brown the butter for a few moments until it turns a light ambercolor. Add the pears and brownsugar, cook for ten minutes. Addthe cinnamon and vanilla, continue cooking over medium-low heat for anothertwenty minutes stirring frequently to keep from burning as the pears releasetheir liquid and reduce. Set thefilling/compote aside to cool completely.

Cookie Ingredients:

1 cup (2 sticks) unsaltedbutter, room temperature

3/4 cup granulated sugar

2 tablespoons finely gratedlemon zest (from two large lemons)

1-teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2-teaspoon kosher salt

2 cups all-purpose flour(spooned and leveled), plus more for working

1 teaspoon dried thyme

Preheat oven to 375degrees. In a large bowl, using anelectric mixer, beat butter and sugar on high until light and fluffy, 3minutes. Add lemon zest, cardamom,thyme and salt; beat until combined, scraping down bowl as needed. With mixer on low, add flour and mixuntil combined.

Form dough into 24 11/2-inch balls (this is easilydone with a small ice cream scoop) and place 2 inches apart, on a parchmentlined baking sheet. Use the bottomof a glass dipped in flour to gently flatten each ball of dough. Bake until cookies are golden aroundthe edge, 10-12 minutes, rotating sheets halfway through. Transfer cookies to a wire rack and letthem cool completely before topping with filling.

Turn half the cookies upsidedown and add one heaping tablespoon of the pear filling. Place the remaining cookies on top,gently pressing down to distribute the filling, forming the sandwich. Enjoy!

This recipe doesn’t exactlyfit with the idea of the reinvented bit, but does fall under the umbrella ofinteresting, unexpected combinations. It has the addition of herbs to a cookie, something I am becoming moreand more interested in, and also the pairing of a very light, citrus cookiewith an earthy, rich pear compote in lieu of some sort of buttercream orfrosted filling. The end result iscompletely flavorful, fattening, lovely and one I am convinced could becomevery popular. I enjoyedtrying to come up with an unexpected cooking and filling, two things youwouldn’t necessarily think might go together, but in fact produced somethingmore astounding and interesting than either would on their own. Pears and thyme are beautiful togetheralong with brown sugar and butter…. everything is better with brown sugar andbutter I’m convinced. Cardamom isunderused in my opinion and in this cookie gives an added bit of mystery flavorand spice.

Staying in this mindset ofinventiveness and reinvented nostalgia we made a trip to Playland in Rye (whichis in Westchester not too far from our home). Our friends Maria, Noah and Rosie came to visit us fromTulsa, Oklahoma a few weeks back and we thought it might be a fun Saturdayactivity to do with our kids. Noahis one year old and Siena is working her way toward nine months, so therewasn’t really a lot for them to do, but there was a special area in the parkfor younger children such as Noah where he could ride tame rides with parentalaccompaniment and still have some fun. Siena was happy just to be out and about looking at all the people andthe fabulous colors of the park.

Playland has been around formany years, and it happened to be the closing weekend of the season during ourvisit. The park has been wellpreserved and looks like it stepped out of the 1960’s – 70’s. All the colors have an aged look aboutthem and the design is certainly of an earlier time, a time when amusementparks were all the rage and finding fun was as simple as hopping on a ride fora few moments. The place was fullof kids and adults alike, still a mainstay of Rye after all these years andseemingly a place you get a season pass to and bring your kids every year untilthey are too embarrassed to be seen in public with you. After that, I supposed they go on theirown.

Walking through the midwaymade me think of the fair coming to town every year when I was a boy, ridingthe Ferris wheel or any of the faster rides that went upside down and made mewant to throw up all the contents of my stomach. I used to go with my dad to the Ozark Empire Fair and wewould down jugs of root beer and mustard covered corndogs in record time whilewalking around trying to figure out which rides to wait in line for and howmuch money we could lose at the duck pond before getting a special prize. The fairgrounds are a great place for akid and incredibly imaginative. The signage is bold and bright, the creatures on the fun house are scaryand morose, and there was always the hope that “this year” would be the year Iwas tall enough to get on that special ride.

At Playland, the sense ofall these hopeful things was present. Cotton candy was being made on every corner and workers beckoned you tostep right up and win a prize. Thecarousel was full of nervous and excited kids, waiting for the horses to movewhile the bumper car children seemingly had no fear at all. In essence, this park could havestepped out of any time and any childhood, never missing a beat. I was of course busy photographing,trying to put my special stamp on the place and see as much as I could beforeour kids were tired and we had to leave. There were two things that brought me particular fascination. One: the boardwalk, and Two: caramel apples.

The boardwalk is from themovie Big with Tom Hanks. I can remember watching this film overand over as a kid along with a host of other classics such as Poltergeist and Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Big fascinated me because it features a kid in anadult’s body living out the fantasy of working in New York and helping createand play with toys all day long. What youngster doesn’t have that as a fantasy I ask? My friend Dana and I used to sit aroundthe table in the playroom of the babysitter’s house we went to, imagining howone day we would both grow up and have lunch together in the big city, I ofcourse was going to be Tom Hanks working for the toy company and designing funplaythings for a living. I can’tsay I missed the mark too much when it comes to my job, though the characters Isometimes develop for commercials don’t get fabricated into reality I stillhave that sense of getting to play everyday. It’s a lucky thing.

The boardwalk at Playlandwas sunny and bright on that late summer day. Ice cream carts were out in full force, the water waslapping up on the sandy beach and the light had a melancholy quality found onlyat the end of summer. The airsmelling of salt water and early fall, combined with the last weekend Playlandwas open, brought the finality of summer fun ominously into the present. I’m not so devastated by the seasonchange, though, because fall has to be my favorite time of year handsdown.

Walking through the parkwith Big in mind, strolling andclicking away on my camera, I came across not a fortune telling gypsy, but acandy stand. There was a largeglass case featuring colorful treats to catch the eyes of any age. Nestled among the bright lollipops wasa tray of candy coated apples. Imust admit that I’ve never been such a huge fan of these apples solely becauseof their messiness factor. Whetherglossy and red in their candy coat, or a burnished caramel outfit, the applesare always delicious and endlessly difficult to keep from getting all over yourface. They looked like jewelssitting in the case so I took their photograph, but when I was home later goingthrough the film the idea of reinventing these apples struck…what if theyweren’t such a pain in the butt to eat?

On this summer/fallthreshold with apples coming into season (right now is the height) I thought itmight be a nice experiment and gateway treat to lead us into harvest time. Pulling from the concept of the bananabread dipped in chocolate I thought it could be interesting to “fake” a carameldipped apple by baking a simple apple cake, playing with its flavor profile abit by adding in some sage (a nod to Thanksgiving) and then cutting it intobite sized pieces and dipping them into a creamy, caramel sauce.

Though this all sounded likea great and yummy idea, there were two problems remaining to be solved. The first was the sticky carameladhering to fingertips when picking up the bite. Thinking more on this, the idea about lollipop sticks glaredinto view and I ran to Sur le Table to find the smallest ones they had. Perfect! The second issue to solve was the play on the crispness ofan apple. The apple used in thecake is grated and made into an apple butter/sauce of sorts before going intothe batter. There are no crispapples to bite into in this dessert. What would be a crunch addition? Salt! The old standby ofsweet/salty pairing made perfect sense and was the exact finishing touch thisdessert needed. Not wanting tomake the Apple Caramel Minis too salty I combined Fleur de Sel with some clearsanding sugar to keep the “crunch” idea going without encasing the caramel in asuit of salt. The recipe is asfollows:

Caramel Apple Minis

Applesauce Ingredients: (makes 2 cups)

3 tablespoons unsaltedbutter,

1/4 cup light brown sugar,

1 tablespoon fresh sage,chopped (about 6 large leaves)

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon,

1/4 cup sparkling applecider

6 apples (I used Empire)peeled, cored and diced. (about5-6 cups of diced apple)

Begin by making theapplesauce. In a medium saucepanover medium heat, brown butter for a few moments until it becomes a nice ambercolor. Add the brown sugar and sage,stirring for one minute to dissolve sugar. Add cinnamon, cider and apples. Cook covered over medium low for 30 minutes. Remove cover and puree in the blender.

Cake Ingredients: (Makes one8-inch and one 6-inch cake) Adapted from the Caramel Apple Cake in Baked Explorations

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

1 1/2 teaspoons ground sage

1 1/2 sticks unsaltedbutter, cut into 1-inch cubes, at room temperature

1 1/4 cups sugar

1 large egg

2 cups homemade applesauce

Preheat oven to 325degrees. Butter your 8-inch and6-inch round cake pans, line the bottoms with parchment paper, and butter theparchment. Dust the parchment withflour and knock out the excess flour.

Sift the flour, baking soda,baking powder, salt, cinnamon, allspice, sage and cloves together into a largebowl. Set aside.

In the bowl of a standingmixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter until creamy, about 4minutes. Add the sugar and beatuntil light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and beat until combined.

Add the flour mixture to themixer bowl in three parts, alternating with the applesauce, beginning andending with the flour mixture. Scrape down the bowl, then mix on low speed for a few more seconds.

Divide the batter among theprepared pans and smooth the tops. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through the bakingtime, until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes outclean. I found the 6-inch cakebaked for about 35 minutes and the 8-inch cake for 45 minutes in my oven. Transfer the pans to a wire rack and coolfor 20 minutes. Turn the cakes outonto the rack, remove the parchment, and let cool completely. Cut into 1-inch cubes and insertlollipop sticks.

Caramel SauceIngredients: (recipe from the BakedExplorations cookbook)

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/4 cup corn syrup

1/2 cup (1 stick) of butter,softened, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

In a medium saucepan withhigh sides, combine the sugar and corn syrup with 1/2 cup water. Stir the mixture gently so you don’tslosh any of it up the sides of the pan. Turn the heat to medium-high and continue stirring until the sugardissolves. Increase heat to high,stop stirring, and allow the mixture to boil. Once it begins to turn a rich caramel color (if you don’twant to eye-ball it, take the caramel to 300 degrees on a candy thermometer),remove it from the heat, add the butter and cream, and stir until combined.

You can save the caramelsauce, tightly covered, in the refrigerator for up to 1 week. Let it come to room temperature beforeusing it.

Once the caramel has cooledto room temperature, dip the cake bites into the sauce, coveringcompletely. Allow to dry and drainon a wire rack set inside a baking sheet. Top with fleur de sel and sanding sugar.

I think it quite possiblethat these bites were my homerun, baked good of 2011…so far at least. More people commented on this dessertthan I can remember to date. Thecake is easy to make, the caramel is easy to make, the only patience comes inletting the caramel cool off enough so that you can pour/dip the apple cakeinto it, otherwise it will break down the cake into mush if its too hot. For those who like cake this dessert isa winner, for those that like fruit this dessert is a winner, for those thatlike candy this dessert is a winner and you won’t have to worry that its lacedwith razor blades because the bites are too small to conceal any weapons. Halloween treats anyone?

Did I just writeHalloween? Eek, I think Idid. I’m as shocked as anyone thatit’s October again. We went onvacation to Tuscany where it was still unseasonably warm and lovely, stillallowing me a few last days of laying out in the sunshine. I returned to a much cooler New York,an impending fall New York and I know for certain it’s time to get out myjacket. Leaves are doing theirperennial change, mums are starting to show up at every garden nursery andgrocery store, the pumpkins and gourds are filling up the bins at the farmer’smarket and we have a costume to plan for little Miss Siena.

It was important to havesome time away and get a little life perspective. Brian and I hadn’t taken a proper vacation in a long, longtime and had certainly never vacationed with a baby…a whole newexperience. Siena was the besttraveler of the bunch with more energy than most of us. Vacation doesn’t necessarily meanrelaxation in the way it used to, but something more along the lines of a breakfrom the grind of life, a reminder to stop and smell the roses (or olive treesand rosemary) in this case. Whileaway I really started to think about new directions and avenues of interest,what I want to be doing now, what I want to reimagine and reinvent formyself. It struck me that it wastime to work on an upgrade.

The upgrade I’m speaking ofhas to do with my website. I haveowned the domain name fabulouspastries.com for years…since 2004 in fact. This blog has been a great catalyst andtraining ground with which to test my pastry skills and see how interested I amin baking. I learned I am stillvery interested, even after two years have come and gone. As I stated earlier, for me the bakingis about sharing, making tasty food for friends and loved ones and having ananchor to some really unforgettable experiences. My vacation decision has been to start work on my websiteafter all these years, using it for now as an archive of photos and recipes aswell as eventually a new home for the blog and other pastry related things Ihappen to be thinking about. It’sa process that will take some time, but I’m up for the challenge. There are certainly a large number ofdesserts and recipes to cull through and photos to reexamine. This upgrade process gives me time topause and think about new directions and concepts for my baking. I think I’ve covered the past for longenough and am interested to see what sort of baking ideas I can reimagine forthe future.

Withthat said, this is my last post to this particular blog site. I will be coming at you with freshbaking inspiration and ideas from the forthcoming fabulouspastries.com. Please be patient with me as I taketime to develop the site and make it a fun, user-friendly place to be. I hope to see you there; hungry for newtakes on old favorites and undoubtedly a few traditional baked goods from timeto time as well…it’s hard to leave my roots. I’m ready to experiment. It’s just who I am.

Monkeying Around

2011-09-05T23:21:00.001-04:00

To begin monkeying around Ioften find it best to start with having a monkey around, and luckily for us, wedo! Siena, our sweet, clamoring,gripping, screeching chatters sounding little girl is just that for us. Ever since we brought her home from thehospital it was one of the nicknames we gave her, drawing inspiration from theadorable monkey babies climbing around on their parents, hugging them closewhen afraid, starting to explore and running back to safety, cute baby animals we’vesee on so many animal related shows. There is a human connection with ape-kind, they are not so differentfrom us. Plus, Siena’s toesare all about the same length, and I think she could grip a pencil with thosetoes and draw, much in the same way I imagine a very bright monkey might do.

With the stage set formonkeys, it may now make sense (or not) that I decided to make Monkey Bread forLabor Day. Brian and I werediscussing something fitting to take to the end of summer celebration barbecueheld at one Randall Sharp’s house. Our resident grilling master/vegetarian typically bookends the summerwith an opening Memorial Day Celebration and closes with Labor Day, leavinganother summer of memories behind us. The kids are all headed back to school and mother’s and father’s canstop pulling out their hair and running around so much, finally getting a muchdeserved breather.

It’s a melancholy thing tosee another summer through to its end. Summer has such an elevated place in our hearts and minds from the time weare children. The seasonrepresents magical wanderings and sunbathing, first loves and romance, icecream, cake and all the happiest of happy dreams pertaining to relaxation andescape. Our summer with Siena wasamazing and we have certainly been going non-stop. She seems happiest on the go, as are we, and travel andadventure have been a primary objective for both Brian and myself, something wewant Siena to enjoy as well.

Our weekends have becomefull of old and new destinations, finding excitement in places revisited andlearning of new locations that may require a return trip next year. Since Labor Day weekend is three dayslong we thought it would be fun to invite our resident Miss Butt*r, Kassi, tocome for a trip north toward the Catskills. Last year we headed to SharonSprings to see the Fabulous Beekman boys and buy some fancy goat soap, but thisyear it was decided to go and visit Hudson, NY a town in the midst of arevival, and one I had periodically heard of the past couple of years assomeplace I might enjoy. I guesspeople know me quite well at this point because how could I not like a placewith so many registered historic buildings and antiques shops?

Hudson is about two hoursnorth of us, and seated not ironically by the Hudson River, its namesake. Primarily settled by whalers fromNantucket in the late 1700’s, Hudson became one of the largest cities in NewYork State. Over the years it hashad it’s ups and downs like many towns becoming a “center of vice” in the late19th and early 20th centuries, specifically known forit’s gambling and prostitution in the red light district…at least they knew howto have fun. The rise and fallcontinued until the late 1980’s when several antiques dealers moved to the areaand set up shop. The towncontinued to grow and attract more business, antiques and otherwise,restaurants and art galleries, all with a mind toward preservation of the townand it’s buildings. To saythe town is “cute” is an understatement.

We arrived a little late inthe day because, well, because we always seem to arrive late these days. I suppose we should be more masterfulabout time management with a baby by now but to put it simply, “we’re not”. Miss Butt*r arrived in Ossining by trainSaturday afternoon. Driving fromthe train station north we stopped off at Cold Spring, one of our otherfavorite river/antiques towns for a bite of lunch at the train depot. The restaurant there has the best fishand chips. Onward and upward we wentinto the mountains, crossing none other than the Rip Van Winkle Bridge (thankyou Washington Irving) finally coming to our destination as the sun began it’sfive-o’clock golden spectacle.

The brick buildings were litup with sunshine. Up and down thestreet most of the shops were closing up for the day, but we were only there tosee and investigate, leaving serious antiques purchases for another day. Making our along the “main drag”,Warren Street, we peeked in windows of stores and buildings, taking picturesand talking while we went. For meit was a photographic paradise. Having recently purchased a new camera in anticipation for an upcomingtrip to Italy I have been learning how to use it, dare I say taking morepictures than usual in an attempt to gain mastery over my new toy. It’s the Canon PowerShot S95, recommended byseveral friends at work as well as Consumer Report’s, and I think I have fallenin love all over again. It’s lightand compact with a huge screen, tons of features and it’s a good tool torejuvenate my photographic passion.

Hudson appears to be verywell maintained, at least from the portion of the town we saw. All the buildings were cleaned up andpainted, window boxes full of flowers, friendly people all along the street,endlessly idyllic and worth an extended stay. We stopped off at the local, homemade ice cream shop,hilariously called Lick, for a sundae because that’s what you are supposed todo when exploring cute hamlets. Ialways try whatever kind of coffee ice cream I find and adding a little hotfudge and whipped cream never hurts either. The family had their ice cream followed by a photo sessionagainst a brilliant orange exterior of a building. I’m sure there was some kind of battle with the historicalsociety on that color, but obviously the creative party won out. I’m glad they did because the warmsunny glow striking the acidic orange was such a cheerful site.

We returned home to have alate night, backyard cookout of fresh vegetables from the market. There is nothing I like more thansimply prepared squash and corn on the cob grilled just long enough tocaramelize the sugars a bit and bring out the natural sweetness. Throw on a couple of foil packscontaining fresh onions and potatoes and you have a healthy feast for everyonein no time. Finish off the sultrysummer meal by grilling a few peaches or nectarines and you won’t find anyonewanting for more…except maybe a little more vanilla ice cream thrown in forgood measure.

Sunday brought about it’susual scramble of chores and home projects, but also the excitement of bakingfor Randy’s BBQ. Research intoMonkey Bread led me to a multitude of recipes, the consistent thread beingbread smothered in brown sugar and butter, baked in a coffee cake pan andeasily pulled apart into pieces with your bare hands. Apparently monkey bread is a specifically American dessertoriginating sometime in the 1950’s. The origin of the name isn’t known, but people have tried to connect itwith the South American monkey-puzzle tree, I’m assuming because of itsstrangely shaped leaves. Additionally the act of pulling apart the bread with your hands isindicative of monkey behavior. Both these thoughts seem pretty loose to me, so I choose to enjoy it forthe flavor and relate the name to my own little monkey.

I’m becoming more and moreof a fan of making things or compiling flavor profiles in an unexpectedway. Of the various monkey recipesI came across, many were made with standard Pillsbury frozen dough. Gasp! There were many variations with homemade yeast rolls and theone I liked best was from Food Network’s Alton Brown. I used to love his show Good Eats; full of scientific explanations for why food cooksthe way it does and the chemical reactions going on behind the scenes. In this case, I knew what the yeast wasup to, but this particular version of the monkey bread called for usingrosemary. The rosemary proved tobe the surprise wild card element that most people commented on, the flavorthat you couldn’t quite pinpoint but knew you liked. Alton’s recipe for Monkey Bread is as follows:

Rosemary Monkey Bread

Ingredients:

Dough:

4large egg yolks, room temperature

1large whole egg, room temperature

2ounces sugar, approximately 1/4 cup

3ounces unsalted butter, melted, approximately 6 tablespoons

6ounces buttermilk, room temperature

20ounces all-purpose flour, approximately 4 cups, plus additional for dusting

1package instant dry yeast,approximately 2 1/4 teaspoons

11/4 teaspoons kosher salt

Vegetable oil or cooking spray

Topping:

8ounces unsalted, approximately 16 tablespoons

8ounces light brown sugar, approximately 1 cup packed

1/2-teaspoonground rosemary

3ounces raisins, approximately 3/4 cup

Coating:

21/2 ounces unsalted butter, melted, approximately 5 tablespoons

1-teaspoonground rosemary

For the dough: in thebowl of a stand mixer with the whisk attachment, whisk the egg yolks, whole egg, sugar, butter and buttermilk.Add approximately 2 cups of the flour along with the yeast and salt; whiskuntil moistened and combined. Remove the whisk attachment and replace with adough hook. Add all but 3/4 cup of the remaining flour and knead on low speed for 5 minutes. Check the consistency of the dough and add moreflour if necessary; the dough should feel soft and moist but not sticky. Kneadon low speed 5 minutes more or until the dough clears the sides of the bowl. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured worksurface; knead by hand about 30 seconds. Lightly oil a large bowl. Transfer thedough to the bowl, lightly oil the top of the dough, cover and let double involume, 2 to 2 1/2 hours.

In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the 8 ounces of unsalted butter, brown sugar,rosemary, and raisins.Cook, stirring occasionally, until the butter is melted and the sugar isdissolved. Pour half of the topping into a medium bowl and set aside. Cover andstore the other half of the topping in the refrigerator until the next morning.

Once the dough hasrisen, turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Portion the dough into 1-ouncepieces; roll each piece into a ball. (You should have approximately 36 balls.)Roll the balls in the melted butter and rosemary.

Divide the ballsevenly between the 2 bundt pans. Cover with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight or up to 16 hours.

Remove the bread fromthe refrigerator and place in an oven that is turned off. Fill a shallow pan2/3-full of boiling water and set on the rack below the bread. Close the ovenand let the bread rise until slightly puffy looking, 20 to 30 minutes. Once thebread has risen, remove it and the shallow pan of water from the oven.

Preheat the oven to350 degrees F.

Once the oven isready, place the bread on the middle rack and bake until slightly golden ontop, approximately 25 to 30 minutes, or until the internal temperature reaches190 degrees F on an instant-read thermometer.

Place the remaining toppingin a small saucepan and set over medium heat. Reheat until the mixture ispourable, approximately 5 minutes. Fifteen minutes into baking, pour theremaining topping over the bread, and finish cooking. Cool on a wire rack for 5minutes, then invert onto a platter or cutting board. Serve immediately.

The recipe makes two large“cakes” full of the delicious yeast bread. Many times monkey bread contains pecans, but when I’m takingsomething to a large function I often leave out the nuts because you never knowwho likes them or doesn’t, who’s allergic, etc… and the bread didn’t suffer inany way. The large amount ofbutter commingling with rosemary, raisins and brown sugar was completelyaddictive and I could have sat and ate the whole pan of “sauce” all by itself…Iwould have been grievously ill, but I would have enjoyed it up until the momentmy body went into sugar shock.

Both at the barbecue and atwork (since their were two monkey breads) people seemed to enjoy it. There is something fun an communalabout literally pulling and breaking bread with one another, especially breadso thoroughly flavored and immersed in sugar and butter. It’s also one of those party friendlydesserts that you can make ahead, leaving the rolled balls of dough quietlysitting in their cake pan in the fridge overnight. Pull them out of the fridge in the morning, let them warm upand raise, and you are ready for a quick weekend brunch or end of summercelebration.

If rosemary was theunexpected component in the monkey bread, then banana bread was the unexpectedcomponent in the truffles I also made for the party. When Brian and I had brainstormed about monkey bread we wereafraid it might be too simple of a dessert or potentially not serve enoughpeople depending on the number of party guests. The solution was to make another dessert, a companiondessert if you will, to go along with the monkey bread. What goes better with monkey bread thanbanana bread? Groans and sighsabound…they were a magical pair.

Banana bread is easy. Almost everyone has made banana breadat one time or other, and its nearly foolproof. Banana bread didn’t sound like a particularly elegantsolution to our sugary conundrum, but it seemed such a perfect marriage withour other dessert. What todo? When in doubt, dip it inchocolate. I’ve baked and eatenbanana bread with chocolate chips, but then I had the thought that we couldmake it a little more upscale by cutting it into large bite size pieces anddipping it in chocolate ganache like so many people do with strawberries forValentine’s Day. Ganache, alsobeing a simple thing to make with only chocolate chips and cream foringredients, was our answer!

Basic BananaBread

Ingredients:

1/2-cup (1 stick) butter, at room temperature, plusmore for pan

1 cup granulated sugar

2 large eggs

1 1/2 cups unbleached flour

1-teaspoon baking soda

1-teaspoon salt

1 cup mashed very ripe bananas

1/2-cup sour cream

1-teaspoon vanilla

1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a9-by-5-by-3-inch loaf pan; set aside. In an electric mixer fitted with the paddleattachment, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, and beatto incorporate.

In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda,and salt. Add to the butter mixture, and mix until just combined. Add bananas,sour cream, and vanilla; mix to combine. Stir in nuts, and pour into preparedpan.

Bake until a cake testerinserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, about 1 hour 10 minutes.Let rest in pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack to cool.

Once the bread has cooled completelyit’s easily cut into “clean” cubes because it’s so dense and moist. I found that cutting the loaf intoseven, large and equal slices was a good size to start with. Each slice gets cut in half lengthwiseand then into thirds yielding 42 cubes of banana bread.

Chocolate Ganache (enough tocoat one loaf of Banana Bread cubes)

11/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (Ghirardelli is an easy to find brand Ilike)

11/2 cups bittersweet chocolate chips

1-cupheavy cream.

Combine the chocolate chips withcream over a double boiler (a glass dish set atop a pot of simmering water) andstir until melted. Once thechocolate is ready turn the burner to low, keeping a small amount of heat goingso the ganache remains smooth and pliable. Similar to dipping strawberries, truffles or other petitfour type treats, there are fancy tools you can use to cover your bread inchocolate, or you can use a wooden spoon and fork like I did.

The wooden spoon is good toperiodically stir the chocolate, retaining the fluidity, otherwise it willbegin to crystallize on the side of the bowl and get a little lumpy. Toss one cube of banana bread in at atime, turning to coat each side with the fork. Remove the cube with the fork and let the excess chocolatedrain off, back into the bowl. This process will give you the smooth finish you are looking for. Place the chocolate banana bread cubeon a parchment lined baking sheet to cool and firm up. Once you have a tray full of“truffles”, place the pan in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. Continue coating all the bread. Once all the pieces are chilled, rollin sifted cocoa powder for an added visual, textural and flavorful component.

I think people were mostpleased by the banana bread truffle surprise extravaganza. They looked like brownie bites but hadthat wonderful, familiar banana flavor lurking inside a pretty chocolatepackage. The components are easy,but dipping the bread in chocolate does take a little time if you are concernedwith getting a refined, smooth look. The unexpected never fails to impress, and when it’s a marriage offavorite flavors presented in a different way then a new dessert memory can becreated. Banana bread truffles foreveryone!!!

Morefriends are coming to stay this weekend and who knows where we will endup? What inspiration is lurkingaround the corner? The unknown andunexpected dessert path we may cross is a thing of wonder and excitement forme. If it’s sweet, I’m bound tolike it, but if it’s imaginative, decadent, considered and unconventional thenI might fall in love. It’s justwho I am.

Grape Expectations

2011-08-31T22:18:00.001-04:00

Is it possible we findourselves at summer’s end once more? I’m shocked every year when it happens. Another summer has flown by, the heat breaking to let thewarm days and cool nights of September move across the threshold. Everyone is out at Washington SquarePark trying to soak up those last few rays of strong sun before fall classeshit high gear for the incoming NYU students. Jazz is playing throughout the park; people relaxed inconversation, reading books or sleeping on the lawn as acorns rain down fromabove, squirrels beginning their cold weather food storage. It’s a perfect day, a very differentday from those in the past week full of rain and wind from hurricane Irene.

The hurricane is all anyonewould or could talk about last week, it was the only thing that seemed tomatter, and although I didn’t want to play into the hype it was nigh onimpossible to escape from the doomsayers and forecasters appearing on everychannel twenty-four hours a day. To have a hurricane hit New York City is a big deal; an unheard ofcircumstance and my parents were lucky enough to come for a visit on such ahistoric and bizarre weekend. Never before has the city shut down all its public transportation andevacuated low-lying areas of the 5 boroughs. Even our town of Ossining declared a state of emergency, notallowing anyone to drive on the roads after 6pm the night the storm entered thearea. I have been through twohurricanes in the past and I wasn’t looking forward to a third.

What I was looking forwardto was my parent’s visit. The lasttime they saw Siena she was only three weeks old and obviously a lot haschanged since then. She has becomea person all her own, complete with a couple of teeth breaking through thesurface of her lower gums. She hasbecome somewhat mobile and able to sit on her own, full of charming smiles forall and I wanted Grandma and Grandpa to get to experience this while she’s atsuch a cute age. I had beenplanning their visit for sometime and had a list of activities scheduled forthe big weekend, but unfortunately Irene had plans of her own. Life happens while you’re planning it,right?

Last week was a strange onein general. Not only was there ahurricane but also the aftershocks of an earthquake in Virginia could be feltin NYC. I was sitting at my deskworking like usual when I felt some serious foot tapping. You know the kind if you ever satsomewhere with a wooden floor and someone close by is incessantly tapping hisor her foot while they work. Iknow it so well because its something I do from time to time myself, but Idigress. I was sitting at my deskbecoming momentarily annoyed with the tapping and turned around to see who wasdoing it. No feet appeared to bemoving. The shaking kept going andseemed to get a little stronger and I thought maybe people were moving largeobjects across the floor in the office above us but that didn’t seem quiteright either. By this timeeveryone in the office was looking around and a slight alarm bell went offinside. I looked at the bay ofwindows and door leading out to the balcony over which an exit sign isstationed. It was vigorously swayingback and forth. I knew this wasn’tright. Along about this time theowner asked us to calmly evacuate.

The whole building wastrying to casually flee down the stairs, not knowing what the heck was going onbut hoping for nothing terrible or extreme. By the time we were outside and found out what had reallyhappened, everything was calm again. People walking around outside didn’t even feel a thing and I guess thehigher up you were in a building the more you felt the movement. We are luckily on the fourth floor andnot any higher. I wouldn’t havewanted to be visiting the Empire State Building that day.

After that, a hurricanedidn’t seem quite implausible… ludicrous, maybe, but not impossible. It seemed especially nuts when themayor made storm evacuations necessary and decided to shut down mass transit. It meant something and was a littlescary. My parents not afraid of alittle weather, especially considering all the tornadoes in the Midwest thisyear went ahead with their trek, and we tried to make the most of it. Although I wanted to do lots of outdooractivities, the real reason for the visit was to see Siena (and us) so as longas we got to do things together it was okay.

The Friday they arrived wasnice and warm and sunny, the way an August Friday afternoon should be. While Brian and Siena entertained them,visiting the High Line, an above ground bridge/railroad track running along aportion of the West Side of the city recently turned into a park, I finished mywork week so we could go home and get ready for the weather craziness everyonewas talking about. Trying to leavethe city by regular means was an act of patience. What normally is an hour drive to get home along the WestSide Highway turned into a two-hour plus journey through the center of the cityalong Broadway (the West Side Highway was ridiculously jammed) until we got uppast the George Washington Bridge and could escape Manhattan. Everyone had hurricane fever and it wastaking nearly an hour to get through tunnels and across the main bridges. The whole situation reeked of peoplewho had seen too many disaster films.

Saturday dawned with someclouds and drizzle already beginning. I had hoped to take a trip to Stone Barns that day, taking Siena tovisit all the animals and go for a walk through the woods. I called to see if they were open, butwas told in jest they were worried about flying sheep harming their guests andhad decided to remain closed to the public until the storm had passed. Strike one! Our plan B was to drive up north to West Point Military Academy to check out the grounds and museum. My step dad, Randy, was in the military and is quite theweaponry buff. This seemed like aninteresting place to take him.

Most of the grounds areclosed to the public, but there is a visitor’s center and museum where you cantake self guided tours. Though thevisitor’s center didn’t hold a lot of interest for anyone, the war/militarymuseum had quite a few fascinating items, even for someone such as myself whohas never done more than shoot a bb gun as a kid (and even then I was afraid Imight actually kill something). The museum had many paintings of famous generals depicted in battlescenes; most were thoughtfully and carefully crafted. Several were so vibrant and full of color, discovering myfavorites oftentimes being created by French landscape painters of the 19th century. But one of the mostunexpected spaces was the basement.

The West Point basement isfull of big old guns, the kind you might find on a pirate ship or from thecivil war. Cannons of every shapeand size were represented along with several different tanks and a hydrogenbomb. The old cannons fascinatedme most. The rustic quality andworn down patina they had was somehow romantic. I’m sure the wars they were in weren’t particularlycharming, but thinking of the historic time frame in which they had taken placehad the nostalgic quality that gets me every time. Randy seemed to enjoy himself and we all learned a littlebit as we moved through the levels of corridors lined with guns and knives andevery sort of fighting device and uniform you can think of.

After that we made anattempt to go shopping for baby clothes at the mall, but all the stores wereclosing early so that the employees could get home before the curfewbegan. We swung by the grocerystore on our way home, giving in somewhat to all the pandemonium beingproclaimed on the television and radio, stopping for emergency supplies in casewe lost power for several days and had to “rough” it. I have never seen the grocery store so full of people andthe shelves so empty. Therewas hardly any bottled water to be found and the bread isle was just asbleak. I began to think maybe Ishould start cooking as much food as I could in preparation for anonslaught. Our stove is gas, so Ifigured should the power go out I would still be able to make things, and ofcourse bake. I wanted to be out ofthe store, though, because all the panicked people were making me feel a littlenutty. I grabbed some essentials,including a bag of the first round of golden New York apples arrived for thepre-harvest season. You can alwaysbake something if you have a stocked pantry and some kind of fruit. I was set.

It’s good to start “appledessert” exploration a little early. When the apples really start coming on in late September/early Octoberand there is an overabundance I find it nice to have a recipe or two at theready to know what to do with them. I decided to get creative and paired the apples with grapes, makingindividual apple grape crumbles, the topping studded with freshly grated nutmegand Chinese Five Spice powder. Much to the excitement of everyone waiting out the storm, they were apleasant and fragrant distraction. The recipe is as follows:

Apple and Grape Crumbles

Ingredients:

For the fruit:

2 pounds Golden Deliciousapples, peeled, cored and sliced fairly thin (1/4 inch)

2 teaspoons grated lemonzest (from one lemon)

2 tablespoons freshlysqueezed lemon juice (from one lemon)

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4-cup all-purpose flour

2 cups mixed red and greengrapes, sliced in half

For the crumble:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2-cup light brown sugar,lightly packed

1-teaspoon kosher salt

1/2-teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon freshly groundnutmeg

1/4 teaspoon Chinesefive-spice powder

1/4 pound (1 stick) coldunsalted butter, diced

Preheat the oven to 350degrees.

In a large bowl combinesliced apples, lemon zest, lemon juice, granulated sugar, and flour. Toss well. Gently mix in the grapes. Allow the mixture to sit for 5 minutes. Spoon the mixture into ramekins orcustard cups (6 to 8 depending on the size).

For the topping, combine theflour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, Chinesefive-spice powder, and the butter in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted witha paddle attachment. Mix on lowspeed until the butter is the size of peas. Rub the mixture with your fingertips until it’s in bigcrumbles, and then sprinkle evenly over the fruit. Place the ramekins on a sheet pan lined with parchment paperand bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until the tops are browned and crisp and thejuices are bubbly. Serve warm orat room temperature.

If you want to make theseearly, store the unbaked crumbles in the refrigerator and bake before dinner.

Crumbles and cobblers are asimple, easy to please dessert anyone can make. I know my parents like a good, traditional dessert andthough adding grapes seemed like a wacky thing to do, they really are a greataddition. The flavor, though notquite like raisins, are also not quite “grape” either. Cooking the grapes enhances their flavor,a slight caramelization taking place making it not the fruit it once was, butsomething altogether different and refreshing. The spices in the topping speak to the fall season headedour way. This is a perfect finishto any meal that won’t keep you in the kitchen for long at all…especially ifyou want to be glued to CNN waiting for your power to go out.

I was inspired and happenedto have the grapes on hand because of a bread I made earlier in the week. The September 2011 Everyday Food has arecipe for Almond-Grape Tea Cake and the bread, which is studded with red andgreen grape halves, looked very seventies to me. The vibrant color of the grapes against the golden crust hada whimsical look, but also the controlled design of basic pattern making. I hadn’t previously used grapes in mybaking, but had noticed from time to time recipes for grape tarts or pies,generally using grape jam as the filling or reducing the grapes in a saucepotto make compote. Keeping the grapehalves intact was a simple twist and one I felt like exploring.

The bread is fairly densebecause of the large quantity of almonds used. They are ground up in a food processor along with sugar tomake what is essentially almond “flour”. If you have ever tried to buy almond flour at the supermarket you knowthat its expensive, and when it’s this easy to make your own I suggest doing itif for no other reason than to save a little money for your pocket.

Both of these grape enhanceddesserts were very easy, and that’s the kind of recipes I like to go for whenI’m doing a weekend of entertaining. The Barefoot Contessa is fond of saying “you and your guests won’t havemore fun if you spend the entire weekend in the kitchen preparing meals”, andshe’s right. Elegant dinners and“fancy” desserts are often best left for big celebrations or smallget-togethers. Spending as muchtime with your guests as possible while still offering simpler foods, lovinglymade is the best way to be hospitable. So, while we munched on our dressed up pasta dishes and fruit crumbleswe obsessively watched the news and waited for mass destruction to fall uponour heads. “Goodnight cruelworld”.

Almond-Grape Tea Cake (from Everyday Food, September 2011)

Ingredients:

10 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks)unsalted butter, room temperature, plus more for pan

1-cup all-purpose flour(spooned and leveled), plus more for pan

3/4-cup sugar

3 large eggs

1 1/2 cups slivered almonds(1/2 pound)

1/4-teaspoon fine salt

1-teaspoon pure vanillaextract

1 1/2 teaspoons finelygrated lemon zest

18 grapes, halved crosswise(red and green)

Preheat oven to 350degrees. Lightly butter and floura 3-by-8-inch metal loaf pan. In alarge bowl, using n electric mixer, beat butter and 1/2 sugar on high untillight and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Beat in eggs, one at a time, until combined, scraping down bowl asneeded. In a food processor, pulsealmonds and 1/4-cup sugar until finely ground. Add flour and salt and pulse to combine. With mixer on low, beat almond mixtureinto butter mixture until combined. Beat in vanilla and lemon zest.

Transfer batter to pan andsmooth top. Press grape halvesinto batter in rows and bake until a toothpick inserted in center comes outwith a few moist crumbs attached, about 1 hour, rotating pan halfwaythrough. Let cake cool in pan on awire rack. To serve, remove cakefrom pan and slice. (Store cooled cake, wrapped in plastic, at room temperature,up to 3 days.)

We awoke to the sound ofwind and rain beating upon the windows, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the airconditioning units still running in the windows. We hadn’t lost power!!! Overnight the storm had been downgraded to “tropical” and ourhouse; being well above the river was taking no more of a beating than anaverage heavy rain. We weresaved!!! And that’s good becausethe people painting our house had literally finished up two days before.

Prior to the storm our housewas in desperate need of a facelift. If you own an old home then you understand themaintenance and responsibility that comes along with becoming itscaretaker. There is a new projectconstantly in need of doing, be it a simple update or replacing old wiring andplumbing. We had put off paintingthe house for a couple of years for the obvious reason of expense. An old Victorian has a lot of detailsand in our case is extremely tall. There were four colors on our little gingerbread house when we boughtit, but we decided to take it down to three to tighten things up a bit.

I’ve always liked the orangeof our house. I never imaginedmyself living in an orange house with forest green trim, but it somehowfits. Brian and I both have apassion for grey and had been talking for some time about freshening up thehouse, keeping the orange but punching it up a bit. The green trim made me feel like Hansel and Gretel might stop by at any moment to ask for a cookie towhich I would be forced in turn to bake them in my oven to keep in line withthe story, but replacing the green with grey seemed a clean, modern addition toour home without losing the historic feel. It took the painting company nearly a month, on and off,between rains and carpenters replacing rotted boards to pull off the feat. I absolutely love it!

Irene left “Charlotte”…thename of our house…unscathed. Ifound a few downed branches and green oak leaves were scattered all over theback yard, but other than that we were none too worse for wear. Unfortunately I can’t say that foreveryone in towns surrounding us. The family and I decided to get out of the house and go for a drive,being released from lockdown by the town, to cure the mild stir-crazy feelingsthat came from being stuck in the house for almost 24 hours. Plus, I was curious to see how badthings really were. The news saidit may look nice outside right now, but it’s best to stay home and let clean-upcrews go about their business, especially with all the downed trees andflooding going on. We, of course,in a spirit of adventurousness ignored the news anchors we were so tired oflistening to and set off for adventure.

Driving north along the veryraised Hudson River we made our way past Peekskill and across Bear MountainBridge. Our thought was to makeour way toward Beacon, a cute, artsy river town to see if any stores orrestaurants might be open. Thedrive to the bridge is a beautiful and winding stretch of road leading into themountains and along the cliffs looking over the river. There is a great scenic area to stopand look out at the water and farmland, also where you can catch a glimpse ofIndian Point nuclear power facility (not so glamorous). Waterfalls had sprung up everywhere asif by magic, running down the sides of the cliffs overhanging the highwaycausing us to feel like (according to Brian) we had entered an Irish Springcommercial. The light from the sunoccasionally peaking through the still cloudy sky glinted off the water,revealing sparkly mists as we drove by and underneath the flow.

Stopping at Fort Montgomery,a small outpost/heritage site near the bridge, I got out to take a better lookat the water. A small trail leddown to a footbridge crossing the Hudson and leading off into the forest. Making my way down the trail was likescaling a waterfall. The water waspouring out from the ground, down the side of the hill, running off to catchall it’s friends in the swiftly moving stream. Things didn’t look particularly bad from the footbridge butthe water was definitely rising.

Continuing north we finallymade it to a place where the road was closed and traffic was backing up. The radio had proclaimed many highwaysand the interstate closed due to flooding. Turning around we thought to find an alternate route toBeacon, but again no dice. Roadclosed. Strike Two! We turned off into a small town withthe goal of getting some coffee before completely giving up our adventure andreturning home, but found the town had no power and a massive run-off streamflowed through the center of it all as citizens gathered around to watch. It appeared as if only a short timebefore the town’s Main Street had been under water. Strike three, you’re out!

The scene was much the sameall the way home. We tried a fewmore alternate roads for a change of scenery but found bridges covered in waterand the small streams normally lapping lazily along the roads had overflowedtheir banks placing forests in the middle of swiftly moving new rivers. It was pretty bad out there. As if to have one last hurrah, the wind picked up as Ireneleft the area bringing down more branches and tipping over trees that had soft,mushy soil running around their roots. But, thankfully the storm went away leaving Ossining merely shaken upand the train station a little worse for wear.

All the publictransportation in NYC came back online by Monday, but the Metro North trainlines hadn’t fared quite as well. Between the absence of mass transit out of Ossining and most majorhighways flooded leading into the city and my parents flight plans being movedto the following day it seemed a good time to take a day off from work andregroup. We chose to get out ofthe house once more since the sun was out and about, a cool breeze blowing on abeautiful August day. The highwayheading south was open, having been cleared of all the downed trees, and wewere able to make it to Tarrytown for lunch and a nice bit ofwindow-shopping. The Main Streetof Tarrytown is so cute with its antique shops, restaurants and a parlor fullof homemade ice cream. After sucha storm as this, I felt it necessary to distress with a loaded hot fudgesundae.

The rest of my parents visitwas uneventful, in a good way…I mean how can you have much more going on than ahurricane? Finishing off with alate afternoon stroll through town and grilling a few hotdogs in the backyardbrought our number of outdoor activities to an acceptable level, alleviating mycabin fever and weather disappointment once and for all. I think we made the best of thesituation and Siena got to have four people looking after her full-time insteadof two, something I know she loved. It won’t be until November until she gets to see Grandma and Grandpaagain, but Thanksgiving will be here before you know it. If I’ve learned anything about having achild it’s that time goes even faster than it ever did before. I’m looking forward to the milestonesahead, but also already miss how teeny-tiny Siena was. She’s still small, no doubt, but herpersonality is big. I wonder howshe comes by that? I think I havea couple of guesses. It’s just whoI am.

Sunnyside Up

2011-08-19T00:28:00.004-04:00

I often wonder if I wasn’t an architect in some former life. Whether I’m wandering around a city or out in the countryside taking photographs, I’m forever drawn to built structures and shapes, particularly that of older homes, but also a modern building from time to time. In my daily commercial work I spend much of my time doing architectural visualizations of a sort, creating both the interiors and exteriors of homes in 3d space. Many of these homes have a British, Tudor or Georgian bent, stepping out of an earlier time period into the modern animated commercial. Even watching the occasional design show on television is another exercise in studying the home. Maybe it’s a healthy obsession or maybe something deeper but I love to look at architecture, and more often than not the history that comes with it. The “history” of a space is where the story resides.

With a few extra hours in the day I might consider becoming a history buff along with a lover of design and appreciator of buildings, but for now I have to stick to the latter two. There is a level of craftsmanship in older homes and estates not often employed in the creation of today’s more cookie cutter neighborhood developments. Obviously New York has much appeal for me in it’s town-homes and brick row houses, the wear and tear apparent all over their facades, war wounds of a sort, surviving a couple hundred years full of people and pollution. These buildings are not really comparable to aged European structures, but as far as America goes, some of the finest historical examples reside here. The same is true for Westchester County where I live.

Many founding families of New York, such as the Rockefellers and Astors, took country homes and properties outside of the city. With sweeping views of the Hudson River and idyllic, storybook forests spread out as far as the eye could see, it was a nature lover’s dream and perfect city escape. Several of these homes and grounds have been preserved, turned into tourist and history buff destinations alike. Throughout the year various indoor/outdoor events are held to gain more and more visitor traffic, a great way to become familiar with the properties, a gateway drug if you will, but I like to return when nothing in particular is going on. On an average day you can experience the space with as little interruption as possible and start to get a feel for what it might have been like a hundred plus years ago.

We made one such journey back in time a couple of weeks past when we returned to Sunnyside, Washington Irving’s home outside of Irvington, New York. I’ve often referred to Irving as being one of my favorite authors, owing much of my fervor to his romantic sensibilities and descriptive prose. He was America’s first commercially successful author and lived and traveled in Europe quite a bit of his life before returning to the States and making a home for himself not too far outside of New York City. He wanted to create a paradise on the Hudson River but still have relatively quick access to the city and all his publishing needs.

Irving was a wealthy man. He wrote several popular books in his day dealing with various topics from a farcical history of New York in the 19th century called Knickerbocker's History of New York, as well as a multi-volume biography on George Washington (his namesake who he met as a small boy), but also stories focused on his European travels. No doubt he is best known for the Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle, both contained in his wildly popular Sketchbook. I have quite a penchant for his English Christmas story also related in the Sketchbook, but later released as a single volume called Old Christmas. My love of his writing style notwithstanding, it’s the topics he covers which speak to me most. He has a romantic obsession with life, not unlike myself I suppose, and when he turns his writing talents to some of my favorite subjects such as nature, fear, sentimentality, magic and the holidays it’s a combination I can’t pass up.

I can also appreciate his love of the area that became known as Westchester. Brian and I shared similar reasoning to Irving’s in our move out of the city and up to Ossining. It’s far enough away to escape the day-to-day hustle and bustle of city life, but close enough for work and visits when needed (daily). There are very few places I know of that offer rural life and intense city life all in one package, within an hour’s drive and is the reason we continue to live here to this day. Irving’s notion of a paradise along the river is not lost on me, and one day I hope to achieve something not dissimilar.

Sunnyside has a very old world, European feel. Originally a small stone cottage on a 10-acre property, Irving, with the help of painter George Harvey, had it remodeled, “adding Dutch-stepped gables and other romantic architectural features.”…an excerpt from the Sunnyside gift shop pamphlet. It’s shuttered windows with peeling paint and vine covered stucco are a marvel to me because of their feeling. The worn down look, though well maintained speaks to the many lives and years that have come and gone in the space since the 1850’s. The rooms inside are preserved to the best of the historical society’s ability, including some guesswork along the way when material samples were too old and worn to discern. Irving’s study is full of his books, his writing desk and has all the original architecture and furnishings intact minus the drapes and fabrics. The dining room and drawing room have wonderful views across the lawn and down to the river. Trees have been meticulously cut down to open up the vista, but Irving expressly requested several pairs be left here and there offering specifically framed views. He loved to make a picture even in a time when photography wasn’t what it is today. Irving’s attention to detail is as prominent in his landscaping and home as in his writing.

The home is not too far from Sleepy Hollow Cemetery where he is buried in a family plot. There is something romantic about being buried in a place made so famous by one of his stories. Every time we take guests for a drive through the burial grounds, we wind our way up the hill to his plot. I’ve never found it empty. Someone is always there visiting. This is a testament to Irving’s power as a writer and the timelessness of his work. Yes, it certainly refers to a time outside the scope of our modern day framework, but the sentiment he manages to echo holds true. Irving’s passion for preserving the time he lived in is inspiring and I have a deep respect and love for what he achieved.

Of course much of my inspiration, these days at least, takes the form of a dessert. In thinking about our visit to Sunnyside, plum pudding kept coming to mind. This is for two reasons. The first being that plums are in season at the farmer’s market. There were many varieties and colors of sugarplums weighing down the vendor’s tables; bursting quarts of the fruit were everywhere. I thought to pick some up to make into baby food for Siena, but there was no way she could eat the amount I bought. My second reason for thinking plum pudding was Christmas.

Irving not only makes me think of Halloween, but as I mentioned earlier Christmas as well. Plum pudding is more closely associated in my mind with Dickens Mrs. Cratchitt, but there is a crossover in my brain somehow. I guess they both give me a similar, homey, holiday feeling with Old Christmas and A Christmas Carol respectively. As I started to look for plum pudding recipes in the middle of an August heat wave the idea suddenly seemed ridiculous. There was no way I wanted to set up a pot of boiling water over the stove and steam a Christmas pudding for three hours when it was ninety degrees outside. There is also seasonality to think of, and I couldn’t find any way to work plum pudding into August taste treats. For me, a steamed pudding is meant for Christmas Day dessert and it was tantamount to sacrilege attempting it at the tail end of summer. I suffer from momentary lapses of baking sanity.

Not to be so easily beaten, I began a plum recipe search since the sunny shelf in the mudroom was already lined with the burgundy and yellow orbs. As I looked, the perfect dessert came up in the search (as it always does). A simple plum cake. The image of the cake itself reminded me of the pattern found on a sand dollar or that of a sunburst. What could be more appropriate for a Sunnyside dessert than a sunburst? Nothing. The recipe is as follows:

Open-Face Plum Cake (from Martha Stewart Living, September 2007)

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2-teaspoon salt

3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar

1/2-cup whole milk

1/4-cup vegetable oil

1 large egg

9 or 10 large black plums, halved and pitted

1/4-teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces, plus more for pans

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter two 9-inch round cake pans. Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. In a separate bowl, combine 3/4-cup sugar, the milk, oil, and egg. Fold into flour mixture.

Divide batter evenly between prepared pans, and smooth tops. Arrange plums, cut sides up, over batter.

Combine cinnamon and remaining sugar, and sprinkle over plums. Dot with butter. Bake until tops are dark golden, plums are soft, and a toothpick inserted into center of cakes comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Let cool. (Cakes are best the day you make them; leftover cake is great for breakfast the next day.)

This dessert is perfect because it does nothing more than celebrates the simplicity and beauty of fresh, in-season plums. The one concerning thing I found in making this recipe was the very small amount of batter it produces. There is enough to barely cover the bottom of two, 9-inch cake pans. But do not fear! This is in fact correct and the batter rises nicely, cradling the plums at just the right height. The result is two, happy looking, simple cakes that can either be had on the piazza of a historic home overlooking the mighty Hudson, or in your own backyard to finish off a good, old-fashioned BBQ.

While at Sunnyside, we meandered through the gift shop, often a highlight during museum or home tours. There was the requisite Washington Irving tomes for sale, but also many other little odds and ends, trinkets, dishware and cookbooks. On a small table next to a pink transfer ware set of Sunnyside dessert plates and a teapot were a series of thin volumes covering various topics. After all my thoughts of steamed pudding, my eye immediately went to a book titled Old-Fashioned Bread Puddings and Other Old Fashioned Desserts. Obviously bread pudding and steamed pudding are two different things, but something about it felt similar and right, more historic with less Christmas flare, so I purchased it for perusal later in case my pudding desires flared up once more.

The following week was a big one…a really big one! It was the week we finalized Siena’s adoption, the legal part, in a court of law. Nearly seven months have gone by since Siena came into our lives and it seems a little crazy to me that the finalization process of the adoption would take this long, but that’s government involvement I suppose. There are certain procedures to be followed, I can appreciate that, like follow up visits to the home with a social worker and termination of the birth parent’s rights, but for us, this is the end of nearly a three and a half year journey. Going to court didn’t seem like it should be such a big deal, but it was, it was the time for us to take the stand and answer the judge’s questions and give Siena her full and proper name (instead of legally being called Baby Girl). It was the name part, which carried so much weight. A name is a big deal, and to have a judge confirm for you the name you have given a child for the rest of her life was intense and emotional.

I haven’t been to court in many years and certainly never for anything good, but we were excited and thrilled to make a journey back to Pennsylvania to adopt our little girl and be involved in a “happy” courtroom situation. The county seat of our adoption is in Morristown, a few miles outside of Philadelphia. Brian and I thought it would be fun to “make a day of it”, so we left the night before to stay in a hotel and be up bright and early for our 9:00am court time. I swear it was like we were suddenly in an 80’s John Hughes film. We left late, couldn’t find the courthouse, couldn’t find parking and then finally went into the wrong building altogether before making it into the courtroom twenty minutes late. Needless to say we were panicked and terrified by that point. What if after all this they wouldn’t let us adopt her because we were late?!!!

Luckily, our judge seemed incredibly friendly. Siena threw a few smiles his way so I’m sure it helped. After mere minutes all the words were said, papers signed and now we don’t have to give anyone more money, fill out any more questionnaires about our personal life or declare for the millionth time why we want to be parents. Now we get left alone to parent like the rest of the world and we are fine with that, mistakes we will make and all.

We drove into Philadelphia afterward, downtown toward the historic district. I hadn’t been to Philly in many years, but what I remembered of its brick streets held a charming and pleasant space in my mind. We made the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall our GPS destination. They seemed a fitting place to go on such a historic day. Both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were debated and adopted inside Independence Hall (formerly the Pennsylvania State House). The sky was a brilliant blue with white puffy clouds and it seemed a great day to play tourist. Apparently everyone else thought the same thing. There were mobs and mobs of tourists and a line so long to get inside to see the Liberty Bell that we decided to forgo it all together. There were tours to be taken of some of the historic buildings nearby, but we ultimately decided we were too giddy to be indoors and simply walked around the park and square near Independence Hall, taking a few photos to commemorate the day.

We decided because of Philadelphia’s reasonably small size (for a city) to go for a walk and see as much as we could. I like nothing better than strolling along (with a stroller, mind you), “people watching” and taking snapshots. The brick I remembered from my last visit was still there, no doubt. Everywhere I looked were buildings and sidewalks made of brick: red, brown, white, grey, if brick comes in a color, it resides in the architecture of Philadelphia. Again, the city had that historic enchantment I fall for. Everywhere I turned was another photograph waiting to be taken and it took everything in my power to keep moving along until we reached our destination for lunch.

Once we got there, though, we decided the place (a little Italian joint) looked a bit small for a stroller to make its way through the tables…one of our new dining considerations. So we continued on, moving toward the city center and through several different but equally cute neighborhoods. We found a large and contemporary Mexican restaurant called El Vez that has very wide isles and nice big booths. Sold!!! The place ended up being fantastic. I often find it’s hard to locate really good Latin/Mexican food and this place was fantastic. Particularly outstanding were the polenta fries, not something I would ever think of finding outside an Italian restaurant. Everything we ate was delicious and we finalized our meal with a crazy namesake concoction that had chocolate cake, peanut butter, peanut brittle, chocolate sauce and ice cream…basically a diabetic’s worst nightmare.

Walking back to the car and homeward bound, Brian and I were exhausted. It was as if the weight of over three years came crashing down and we wanted to do nothing more than sit and veg out and be with Siena. And drink Starbucks to stay awake while we did all of that. I got home that night, still in a historic, romantic, poetic, hungry state of mind and looked through the bread pudding cookbook I bought at Sunnyside. I was looking for the most old-fashioned and traditional pudding/dessert contained within, and I found it: Spicy Rasin Bread Pudding. I know that if my mother is reading this she is probably nauseous right about now insisting that things like bread and pudding don’t go together, but it is one of my favorite desserts. I don’t have it very often, maybe once or twice a year, usually in the fall or winter because of it’s hearty-ness, but just like good Mexican food, good bread pudding is also hard to find.

Spicy Raisin Bread Pudding (from Old-Fashioned Bread Puddings & other old-fashioned desserts)

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1/2-cup thick cream

3 tablespoons butter

3 eggs, beaten

1-teaspoon vanilla

1/3-cup sugar

1/4-teaspoon salt

1-teaspoon cinnamon

1/4-teaspoon nutmeg

2 cups day-old raisin bread, cubed (4 slices)

1/2-cup raisins

Cinnamon and nutmeg (final dusting)

In a heavy-bottom saucepan scald milk and cream. Stir in butter to melt. Set aside to cool.

In a mixing bowl combine and beat together the eggs, vanilla, sugar, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Gradually stir cooled milk mixture into egg mixture.

Butter a 1 1/2 quart baking dish and spread bread cubes evenly in dish. Sprinkle raisins over. Pour custard mixture over bread and raisins, stirring to distribute both evenly. Dash top with cinnamon and nutmeg.

Set dish in a pan of hot water (water should come halfway up the outside of the bread pudding baking dish). Bake in preheated 350 degree oven for 30-40 minutes, or until custard is firmly set. (Knife inserted near center comes out clean.)

This recipe calls for day-old cubed slices of raisin bread. Since it was only Wednesday and I knew I wouldn’t be making the bread pudding before the weekend I decided I had some time to make my own bread. I turned to my beloved copy of the My Bread cookbook to see if Jim Lahey had a raisin bread recipe, and he did!! As I’ve said in the past, this book is a time crunched person’s dream because it calls for throwing together ingredients in a bowl, quickly stirring them together and then leaving it for 12 to 18 hours to proof and do it’s thing depending on the particular bread recipe. Not only did I find a recipe for raisin bread, but it was a souped up version containing candied fennel and fennel seed (licorice flavor).

Licorice is a strange thing to me. I was never a huge fan as a kid (as far as I recall) other than the store-bought cherry Twizzlers, and that really doesn’t count because they don’t taste of licorice one bit. As I’ve grown older, traditional licorice flavor becomes more and more appealing to me for reasons unknown. I’ve enjoyed sautéing fennel in certain vegetable and salad dishes before but had never seen it used in something bordering a sweet application. Fennel, or more commonly known as Anise comes in bulb form with stalks on top, all are good for eating but the bulb is most commonly consumed. Jim’s recipe required thinking one extra day ahead to quickly candy some fennel and allow it to dry for 12 hours. The recipe is as follows:

Fennel-Raisin Bread (from My Bread by Jim Lahey)

Ingredients:

2 medium fennel bulbs with stalks and fronds

1-cup cool water

1-cup sugar

2 cups plus 2 tablespoons bread flour

2 tablespoons whole-wheat flour

3/4-teaspoon table salt

1/4 teaspoon instant or other active dry yeast

1 teaspoon Sambuca, Pernod, or other anise-flavored liqueur (or extract)

3/4 cup golden raisins

1/3 cup roughly chopped almonds

Wheat bran and additional flour for dusting

2 tablespoons fennel seeds

Trim the stalks from 1 fennel bulb (reserve the remaining fennel bulb and stalk) and cut twenty 1/4-inch cubes from the stalks; set aside.

Combine the water and sugar in a small pot and bring to a simmer, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Add the fennel stalk pieces and simmer for 3 to 5 minutes, until soft. Drain the candied fennel and spread on a parchment or wax paper-lined baking sheet. Let dry in a cool, dry place for at least 12 hours.

When the candied fennel is dry and you’re ready to mix the dough, cut the reserved fennel bulb and stalk into pieces that will fit into the juicer feed tube (or puree in a blender then strain through a mesh sieve). Juice enough fennel to yield 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of liquid.

In a medium bowl, stir together the flours, salt, and yeast. Add the fennel juice and Sambuca (or Anise Extract) and, using a wooden spoon or your hand, mix until you have a wet, sticky dough without any lumps, about 30 seconds. Stir in the raisins, almonds, and candied fennel until evenly distributed. Cover the bowl and let sit at room temperature until the surface is dotted with bubbles and the dough is more than doubled in size, about 12 hours.

When the first rise is complete, generously dust a work surface with flour. Use a bowl scraper or rubber spatula to scrape the dough out of the bowl in one piece. Using lightly floured hands or a bowl scraper, lift the edges of the dough in toward the center. Nudge and tuck in the edges of the dough to make it round.

Place a tea towel on your work surface. Generously dust it with wheat bran and half the fennel seeds. Gently place the dough on the towel, seam side down. Sprinkle the surface of the dough with the remaining fennel seeds and a light dusting of flour. Fold the ends of the towel loosely over the dough to cover it and place it in a warm, draft-free spot to rise for 1 to 2 hours. The dough is ready when it is almost doubled. If you gently poke it with your finger, it should hold the impression. If it springs back, let it rise for another 15 minutes.

Half an hour before the end of the second rise, preheat the oven to 450 degrees, with a rack in the lower third, and place a covered 4 1/2- to 5 1/2-quart heavy pot in the center of the rack.

Using potholders, carefully remove the preheated pot from the oven and uncover it. Unfold the tea towel and quickly but gently invert the dough into the pot, seam side up. Use caution, the pot will be very hot. Cover the pot and bake for 45 minutes.

Remove the lid and continue baking until the bread is a medium chestnut color, about 10 minutes. Use a heatproof spatula or potholders to gently lift the bread out of the pot and place it on a rack to cool thoroughly.

This bread, by itself, is completely addictive and I might go so far as to say it’s the best recipe I’ve made out of the book and one of the best breads I’ve ever had. The sweet, candied fennel, the golden raisins, the crunch of the almonds and crisp outer crust make for such a wonderful taste experience. Even if you are someone who isn’t particularly “in” to licorice flavor, you will be pleasantly surprised at it’s marriage to the other components in the bread, elevating everything to something special.

Now that I had my bread, I was able to make the bread pudding!! Though I must admit I was enjoying the bread by itself and wasn’t sure I could improve upon it a whole lot, but why not try and see if a little bit of milk and cream could liven it up? You only need two cups of bread. The recipe makes a fairly small, 1 and a half-quart pudding, enough to serve 4 people nicely. This leaves the rest of the bread loaf for snacks. The key to this particular bread pudding, aside from the magic fennel-raisin bread is the spice (as the name implies). Cinnamon is a longstanding favorite with many bakers and myself, but the fresh nutmeg is really the star of this dessert. Grated nutmeg goes both into the milk and egg batter along with another healthy grating on top right before baking. I like the fresh grated better than the pre-bought ground stuff for its potency. Any time I can add fresh ground ingredients I try to do so. I have to admit I didn’t get to share the bread or bread pudding with anyone but Brian. We found them to be so good we couldn’t part with either.

The bread and cakes are now all gone, the adoption is complete and once the painter’s and construction guys’ leave our house (we are having the exterior of out house repainted) life will be back to business as usual. It is still a new business to be sure considering Siena is only seven months old and continues to change and grow, making us laugh when life becomes too serious. Like my pastry snapshots and photographic architectural walkabouts, I continue to try and document her life and milestones so that she can understand her history and the journey that brought her to us. As we left the courtroom on August 10th, 2011 the judge's words rang proudly in our ears, “From this day forward she will be known as Siena Geren Barnhart”. I can’t think of a better name than that. It’s just who I am.

Eating Childhood

2011-08-06T19:26:00.016-04:00

What is your favorite food memory from childhood? Is it a particular dish mom or grandma used to make, a treat reserved only for Thanksgiving or your birthday? For me I always come back to foodstuffs served around the holiday table, particularly the flavors of Christmas-time: cardamom, cinnamon, ginger and all those wonderful aromatic spices. I also come back to my Grandma Tiede’s blueberry muffins…completely independent of all holidays, but something I remember as being one of my favorites. I would go so far as to call them the original catalyst for my baking.

When I was writing an essay, one of those “think about your life” and tell us why we should give you money sort of scholarship essays for the French Culinary Institute, I was asked to describe where my baking passion comes from. I found myself discussing Grandma’s muffins, but my discourse wandered much further than the basic light and flakey, moist or dense muffin topic. Although the muffins are to die for and to me are the best muffins in the entire world, the real importance of these “fabulous pastries” was in my historical connection.

When I was still a kid and my mom ran her Saturday errands (grocery shopping, picking out a video tape for Saturday night and gathering necessary items at Wal-Mart) I more often than not spent the latter part of the morning and early afternoon with my grandmother. She would prepare lunch for us consisting of simple favorites like a good broccoli, ham and cheese soup or Chile rellenos, raw vegetables with her special dip made with Beau-monde seasoning and of course the blueberry muffins would appear from time to time. I would watch her make the food, occasionally “helping”, and when I wasn’t watching her I was often watching television.

Cable hadn’t been around that long when I was still young. Grandma certainly didn’t have cable, but she always kept the television on PBS (Lawrence Welk was one of her favorites). I loved PBS from a young age thanks to the likes of Sesame Street, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood and the Electric Co., but as I got a little older I made a huge and influential discovery in my life: cooking shows!!!

I was treated to visions of food I’d never seen with the Galloping Gourmet and Graham Kerr. Old episodes of Julia Child occasionally cropped up showing me things like the perfect omelet and soufflé. I found an amazing link to creativity and eating and talking and sharing. I loved to listen to these people talk passionately about food. They adored what they were doing, were good at it and made me want to come through the screen and try all sorts of delicacies from places I had only heard of in my elementary and junior high geography classes.

Grandma would cook and bake and in my own way I would cook and bake via the television. Granted I didn’t only watch television while I was there, grandma was a librarian and had a ton of kid’s books on the shelves for my cousins and me and there were also games to play or the backyard to explore. I used to love to climb the peeling sycamore out back and see how far up I could go without breaking my neck. Once mom came back from shopping, though, it was time to sit down and eat. I don’t recall having a bad meal at my grandma’s table, though I don’t know that we ever had anything particularly fancy or complex. It was simple food made by her and therefore I loved it.

The aforementioned fantasy muffins of my dreams were always one of my favorites and never failed to disappoint. I know without a doubt that it was the crumbly topping I craved. The muffins themselves are dense and moist, but give me a good sugar and butter filled topping and I’m happy. I decided as part of last weekend’s baking madness to revisit Grandma’s muffins for myself and see if the memory of them held up to their taste in reality. My mom has been kind enough to go through all of Grandma’s recipes and make me copies. What seems craziest to me is I’ve never made the muffins before. Maybe it was my fear that they wouldn’t be quite as good as I remembered or that it would be strange that I’m making them and not my grandmother, somehow taking her magic powers away. I’m happy to report the muffins were as good and tasted the same as I remember…I was shocked, and all the people I shared them with really loved them too. Grandma still has the power to charm even after all these years.

Grandma Tiede’s Blueberry Muffins

Ingredients:

3 cups flour

2 cups sugar

1-tablespoon baking powder

1 stick unsalted butter, room temperature plus 2 tablespoons melted for topping

2 eggs

3/4-cup whole milk or 1 cup evaporated milk (I prefer the evaporated)

1-teaspoon vanilla

1 3/4 cups fresh blueberries

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter two standard 12-cup muffin pans or line with paper liners (cupcake wrappers).

Using the paddle attachment on your electric mixer, combine flour, sugar, baking powder and butter. The mixture will be somewhat moist and crumbly. Remove 1 cup of this mixture and reserve for the muffin topping. To the remaining batter add the eggs, evaporated milk and vanilla. Beat until smooth. Gently fold in blueberries.

Fill muffin cups about half full with batter (roughly a heaping 1/4 cup).

Melt 2 tablespoons of butter and drizzle over the muffin batter. Sprinkle the reserved crumble topping over the batter. Bake for 25-30 minutes checking with a cake tester for doneness. Let cool on a wire rack.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to share the recipe, it felt like I should guard it somehow and keep it safe, but in the end I decided everyone could benefit from a couple dozen of these beauties. The recipe was a little odd to me, at least by modern standards in terms of mixing. I’m used to a traditional order of mixing dry ingredients together in one bowl and adding them to all the wet ingredients at the end, mixing as little as possible to keep from overdeveloping gluten in the flour. This recipe calls for mixing the butter, sugar, baking powder and flour together first, scooping out a cup (which becomes the lovely topping) and then adding eggs, vanilla and evaporated milk. My fear in this “out of order”-ness was a tough muffin, but it wasn’t. It was still light and airy and incredibly moist from the fresh farmer’s market blueberries. Now everyone can eat a little slice of my childhood.

The blueberry muffins all came about because of my compulsion to create themes. For me to write cohesively I need to have several topics, be it activities or baked goods, that relate to each other in some way. The through line isn’t always clear in the beginning, but generally takes shape by the time the desserts are eaten and the photographs are edited. In this case it all began by making cupcakes for Mia Peebles one-year old birthday party.

Izabella (her mom) and I had hashed out weeks ago the idea for the lion cupcakes. The party theme was going to be one of animals; zebras, monkeys, elephants and lions. The usual zoo menagerie was showing up and I was immediately inspired to create lions thinking that Mia was a Leo in the astrological sense. Come to find out she’s actually a Cancer (the crab) and I never quite wrapped my brain around how to make crab cupcakes. With a little more thought I’m sure I could, but the lion was already in my head, design and all and Izabella liked the idea solely based on the zoo theme.

The cupcakes could be any flavor I wanted, they left it to my discretion. I generally like something light and clean in the vanilla/lemon range, so that’s exactly what I did as the base. I found a great cupcake recipe out of the Martha Stewart's Baking Handbook, one for vanilla cupcakes, and doctored it up with a little lemon zest. The lions themselves were to be made out of fondant so I thought buttercream was the way to go in terms of the frosting hiding underneath. My previous experience with warm weather baking and fondant has led me to conclude buttercream to be the most stable foundation. Softer frostings like a cream cheese won’t stand up to the ninety/hundred degree weather, and truthfully neither will buttercream if left in the direct sun, but under normal, air-conditioned settings seems to do quite well.

The point of all this is Mia likes blueberries. The previous weekend when Siena was over “swimming” in the pool I found out that Mia adores blueberries, and though a one year old’s party is really for the parents and their friends, I thought it would be a nice touch to add blueberry jam to the buttercream and have blueberry frosting. It was delicious and tastes so much better to me than fondant. I know there are a lot of people who like to eat fondant, but all I taste is the confectioner’s sugar (that’s mostly what it is). To me it tastes "fake", and although I love the look I can leave the taste for somebody else.

Lemon Vanilla Cupcakes and Blueberry Meringue Buttercream (adapted from Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook) Makes two dozen.

Ingredients:

2 cups cake flour (not self-rising)

2 teaspoons baking powder

1-teaspoon salt

1-tablespoon lemon zest

3 sticks (1 1/2 cups) unsalted butter, room temperature

2 1/4 cups sugar

1/2-teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1-cup milk

8 large egg whites

Blueberry Meringue Buttercream

2 lbs. vanilla fondant

2 lbs. chocolate fondant

Orange, Yellow, and Black food color pastes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line two standard 12-cup muffin pans with paper liners. Into a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, lemon zest and salt; set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and 2 cups sugar until light and fluffy, 3 to 4 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Beat in the vanilla. With the mixer on low speed, add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the milk and beginning and ending with the flour; beat until just combined. Transfer mixture to a large bowl; set aside.

In the clean bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat egg whites on low speed until foamy. With mixer running, gradually add remaining 1/4-cup sugar; beat on high speed until stiff, glossy peaks form, about 4 minutes. Do not overbeat. Gently fold a third of the egg-white mixture into the butter-flour mixture until combined. Gently fold in the remaining whites.

Divide batter evenly among the muffin cups, filling each with a heaping 1/4 cup batter. Bake, rotating pans halfway through, until the cupcakes are golden brown and a cake tester inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean, 20 to 25 minutes. Transfer pans to a wire rack. Invert cupcakes onto the rack; then reinvert and let them cool completely, top sides up. Frost the cupcakes with Blueberry Meringue Buttercream, swirling to cover. Cupcakes can be kept in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days. Top with fondant lion faces. (Tip: fondant dries out in the refrigerator, so if you can, wait and add the faces the day of the party).

Blueberry Meringue Buttercream

Makes 5 cups

Ingredients:

4 large egg whites

1 1/4 cups sugar

3 sticks (1 1/2 cups) unsalted butter, room temperature, cut into tablespoons

1-teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups (12 ounces) blueberry jam, pureed in a food processor

In the heatproof bowl of an electric mixer set over a saucepan of simmering water, combine the egg whites and sugar. Cook, whisking constantly, until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is warm to the touch (about 160 degrees).

Attach the bowl to the mixer fitted with the whisk attachment. Beat the egg-white mixture on high speed until it holds stiff (but not dry) peaks. Continue beating until the mixture is fluffy and cooled, about 6 minutes.

Switch to the paddle attachment. With the mixer on medium-low speed, add the butter several tablespoons at a time, beating well after each addition. (If the frosting appears to separate after all the butter has been added, beat on medium-high speed until smooth again, 3 to 5 minutes more.) Beat in vanilla. Beat on lowest speed to eliminate any air bubbles, about 2 minutes. Stir in blueberry jam with a rubber spatula until frosting is smooth.

Making cupcakes and buttercream have become “old hat” so to speak, but working with fondant isn’t something I do all the time…maybe a couple of times a year. I wasn’t sure at first how to approach the project so I did my usual trusty web search to get some ideas as a starting point. There has been a long line of lion cupcakes made, let me tell you. I saw tons of photos, a few good but mostly not done so well. The problems with many of them typically had to do with poorly piped frosting. It’s hard to get a clean look with piping unless you have a steady hand and really know what you are doing. Piped frosting, or piped anything is something I rarely do and I was after a clean and modern approach to lion cupcakes.

The several I saw online done in fondant looked a little better and I realized the cleanest way to get what I wanted was to cut out all the shapes. This required “cutters” for everything so that I didn’t have to make any manual (and therefore imperfect) cuts. I began by measuring the circumference of the muffin shapes in the pan. I knew that the main feature of a lion is the mane, and I wanted something slightly larger to give an overhang and dimension to the cupcake. I found a fluted tart ring with the right amount of scallops to look detailed but still clean. I searched through my icing pipe tubes for shapes that would work for eyes, pupils, cheeks and a nose (a circle cut into four wedges). Lastly I needed a shape to cut out the face. Searching the pantry I couldn’t find anything the perfect size, but then I remembered my old trick of using a wine glass as a cutter. A white wine glass is the perfect size to cut out a lion face.

Having never made these before it took quite a bit of time. I bought both white and chocolate fondant adding orange and yellow food paste to the white fondant, respectively, to get the colors I was after. I also added black for the pupils. The hard part, at least for me, was getting things assembled in a fairly warm summer night kitchen in a reasonable amount of time. Fondant likes to dry out so you have to keep it covered. I used very lightly dampened paper towels to keep it malleable, but often ran into trouble with them becoming too moist and sticky. I need to do a little research on techniques before working through this sort of project again. In the end (at 3 in the morning) I managed to complete them. My bleary eyes staring into the innocent lion’s with a satisfaction of a job well done. I know Mia liked them and I was proud she ate my cupcake as her first birthday treat, flaming candle and all. But the best thing is I know it made Jonathan and Izabella happy and will be a pastry memory for them.

I mentioned earlier about a baking madness that came over me last weekend, one that led not only to grandma’s muffins but also one leading to the creation of cookies and a cake as well. I was like a man possessed in the kitchen and have no other excuse to offer than I was trying to burn off some nervous energy. You see, this was the first weekend I was solo with Siena!!!

Brian had to go to Florida for a few days to help his father with some things so I was left alone to play dad. I’m not going to lie and say I wasn’t nervous, maybe even extremely nervous if I were being really honest and I have to say it’s one of the best weekends I’ve had in a really long time. The first question I had to ask myself was what do you do all day with a six month old??? Normally, I spend the weekends and mornings with Siena, and Brian brings her home. My job can tend to keep me a little late, and I don’t arrive home until past her bedtime. Though we run around a lot, taking trips and visiting people I didn’t have anything in particular planned to do with her and found myself wondering what the heck I was going to do? I did the only thing I knew to do…start with food.

After dropping Brian off at the airport Siena and I made our way to the farmer’s market, our new Saturday tradition of “running errands”. As always there was an assortment of bright and beautiful fruits and vegetables to choose from. I wanted to find blueberries for Grandma’s muffins as well as a new fruit to puree for Siena. There were a few pints of gorgeous, golden apricots left sitting at one of my favorite purveyors tables and I knew they were the winners. I also found my blueberries and the zucchini I needed to make zucchini cake.

Zucchini Bundt Cake with Orange Glaze (August 2011 Martha Stewart Living)

Ingredients:

1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, melted, plus more for pan

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for pan

2 2/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4-teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4-teaspoon anise seeds

1/8-teaspoon ground cardamom

Coarse salt

2 medium zucchini (about 8 ounces each)

3 large eggs

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/2 teaspoon grated orange zest, plus 1-tablespoon fresh orange juice

Orange Glaze (recipe follows)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Brush a 6-cup (or larger) Bundt pan with butter, and dust with flour, tapping out excess. Whisk together flour, baking power, spices, and 1-teaspoon salt.

Grate zucchini on the large holes of a box grater (or the large grating blade of your food processor, for ease), and then squeeze dry in a clean kitchen towel or press in a ricer. (You will need 2 1/2 cups.)

Stir together eggs and sugar, and then stir in melted butter, zucchini, and orange zest and juice. Stir in flour mixture. Transfer batter to pan.

Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, about 1 hour (cake will rise quite a bit over the top of the pan but should not run over). Transfer pan to a wire rack, and let cake cool for 10 minutes. Run a pairing knife around edges of cake to loosen, and turn out onto wire rack. Let cool for at least 30 minutes.

Brush several layers of orange glaze evenly over cake.

Orange Glaze

Ingredients:

1 1/4 cups confectioner’s sugar, sifted

2 pinches of ground cardamom

1/4 teaspoon finely grated orange zest, plus 3 tablespoons fresh orange juice

Whole milk, as needed, for thinning

Whisk together sugar and cardamom. Whisk in orange zest and juice, and whisk until mixture has the consistency of thick honey. If mixture is too thick, whisk in milk, 1 teaspoon at a time.

Herein lies my predicament. I had my heart set all the week previous on making muffins. There was no doubt in my mind I wanted to make them but I had also run across a couple other baked goods I felt compelled to make. One was this lovely orange studded zucchini cake. I had a random evening where I was alone on the train, not coming home with Siena or looking at one of the many books I am often trying to read (finding time to read seems an epic challenge these days). It was that truly rarest of times where I had missed the previous train and was waiting for the next one to leave, giving me over an hour to sit and read the August 2011 Martha Stewart Living magazine cover to cover. I couldn’t tell you the last time I did that. Anyway, there was a whole section on zucchini. It makes sense because in the month of August, everyone is thinking the same thing, “What do I do with all this zucchini?”, or at least I know several of my friends at work who belong to CSA’s (Community Supported Agriculture) were having a hard time figuring the best way to use up the mounds of zucchini and squash piling up in their weekly boxes. A bundt cake is a solid answer. The ingredient combinations were reminiscent of a cake I like to make at Christmas, and this was the real appeal.

It often happens toward the end of summer I begin to crave those holiday spices I haven’t had in 7 or 8 months. My old favorite cardamom is always a draw, so when I saw this recipe contained not only cardamom but also anise seeds, orange zest and maple syrup my heart melted. I felt the warm December feelings wash over me in a sudden flutter and though I knew I would be solo with Siena all weekend I thought certainly I could squeeze in a bundt cake somewhere along with the muffins. And besides, there were three days in a row of birthdays coming up at work and it might be nice to have an extra dessert to bring along.

This leads me to my third predicament: gingersnap sandwich cookies (with raspberry jam filling). Again, this came up out of research done a few weeks past when thinking about raspberries. Not long after our trip to Rockefeller Preserve, with all the raspberry bushes about to bloom I had looked for raspberry recipes, ultimately creating the mixed berry tarts with black raspberries a few weeks ago. Though my raspberry craving was mostly satisfied, I continued to have the bright red color on my brain and maintained a desire to make something with it.

The recipe research had led me to gingersnap cookies I found in The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook: The Original Classics. The raspberry jam paired with the ginger cookie reminded me of the holidays, but at that moment I wasn’t yet feeling such a call to fill the house with the smell of gingerbread. Fortunately, or unfortunately, that switch got flipped when I saw the zucchini cake recipe and I decided cookies really weren’t that hard to make either, especially when adding a nice, store-jam as the filling. I didn’t figure it would really take me much more time. Cookies, muffins and cake, how long can they all really take to bake?

The answer: really not as long as you might think, and in fact I learned that I can get both a batch of cookies or muffins out during Siena’s morning nap. I guess we are lucky because we manage to have a baby who will sleep through anything, including the whir of the Kitchen Aid mixer. I like to think it’s a happy hum for her and one that helps her sleep. So, last Saturday morning I started with the gingersnap raspberry sandwiches because I knew they would keep the longest of any of the desserts I would be making.

Gingersnap Raspberry Sandwiches (modified from The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook: The Original Classics) Makes 2 dozen.

Ingredients:

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1/4 cup pure vegetable shortening

2 cups sugar

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1-teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger

1/2-teaspoon coarse salt

1/4-teaspoon pepper

1/4-cup pure maple syrup

1 large egg, beaten

1-cup raspberry jam (with seeds)

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees; line two baking sheets with parchment paper, and set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream butter, shortening, and 1 cup sugar on medium speed. In a bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, salt and pepper.

Add the fresh ginger and maple syrup to the butter mixture; beat to combine. Beat in the egg until well combined. Reduce mixer speed to low; slowly add the flour mixture, a little at a time, until well blended.

Place the remaining cup of sugar in a bowl. Measure out 2 teaspoons of the dough (I found a small ice cream scoop worked well for this); roll into a ball. Roll the dough in the sugar; transfer to the prepared sheet. Repeat, spacing the balls 3 inches apart. Bake until golden, about 12 minutes, rotating pans halfway through. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Form and bake the remaining dough. The cookies may be kept in an airtight container at room temperature up to 1 week.

To make sandwiches, spread about 2 teaspoons of the jam over half of the cooled cookies; place a second cookie on top of each.

The recipe seemed quite good as is, but I wanted to improve upon it, as I often like to do these days. With enough baking projects under my belt I’ve learned a little more about flavor profiles and what spices/flavorings work well together. Though this cookie obviously had ginger on the ingredient list, it was dry ground ginger. I thought it might be nice to add a little spice to these cookies so I added a tablespoon of grated ginger to give it some zing. I’ve done this before with my holiday gingerbread men/women and it gives the cookie much more pizzazz. Additionally the recipe hadn’t called for salt and I can’t stand to have a dessert without at least a little salt to bring out the sweetness. It seems counter intuitive, I know, but taste a chocolate chip cookie with and without salt and tell me which one you like better. Lastly I added a 1/4-teaspoon of black pepper since I figured we were already headed down a “spicier” road it might be a nice accompaniment…and it was.

These cookies are great because they will keep in a Ziploc bag for up to a week and you can pull a couple out and sandwich them together with jam whenever you feel like having a snack. They were also a hit at one of the many work birthday parties of the week along with the cake and muffins.

I waited until Saturday night and Siena was contentedly asleep before baking the cake, it seemed like something that needed a tiny bit more focus, though still quite simple to make. Sunday morning seemed the appropriate time to bake muffins and also made sense to make them last and serve them first thing Monday morning so that everyone got the freshest muffins possible.

In all my “off-time” I was busy trying to entertain my daughter. It would seem I have such a block when it comes to figuring out how to spend a day, but suddenly the day is gone and I realized I didn’t burn the house down or drop the baby and in fact I think she even had a good time. Entertaining her is a good excuse to be a kid again myself, clapping, singing, “dance-baking” for her in the kitchen and screaming excitedly along with her shouts. She did help with the orange glaze for the cake. Siena really doesn’t require more than being amused and having attention paid, something I’m naturally willing to do…in fact I have a hard time taking my eyes off of her.

I know she loves the great outdoors so I decided to take her back to Rockefeller Preserve to go for a “hike”, the hike in this case being me pushing her luxuriating little self in a stroller up and down hills along gravel paths and horse trails. I can’t get enough of this “park”. We took a different root this time and immediately went up into a sunlit meadow where fawns were literally playing and eating grass. We sat and watched them for a while until they noticed us and leaped away and into a thicket. We continued our stroll up and out onto a flat expanse of grass with acres of forest lining one side. Standing under the shade of a large oak with a gentle summer breeze moving across we were both so happy and content.

We hung out in the grass for a while before moving along, across the field and down into the woods. The sun was starting to slant as late afternoon reaches the turning point of becoming early evening. Everything went from blazing bright to cool and dappled as we made our way along a creek filled with washed rocks and trimmed in ferns. Our pathway led us to a road we had been on during our last visit. I remember the road took us near what looked to be a farm. A side road led away into the trees, past a red iron gate. I always enjoy taking the road less traveled so to speak and we moved along the bumpy trail past the gate, through the trees and up into the warm sun once more, moving along fenced in fields and outbuildings until it looked like we might be coming up on someone’s property. Not wanting to be unwelcome guests, we took the next left leading us back down to the familiar road once more before moving along and making our way back to the parking lot. The journey was no more than an hour and a half, but I felt like a boy again playing in the fields back home near my parent’s house.

The trip took it out of Siena and she was ready for a bath, food and bed by the time we got home, and so was I. When Sunday came along and all the baking was finally completed, Siena came outside with me to help take pictures before laying out in our secret garden in the backyard to look at books and watch the clouds go by. It was so peaceful lying back there with her, entertaining her and “talking” to her until she was ready for an afternoon nap. Later that day we went with Izabella, Jonathan and Mia to a place called Caramoor.

Apparently there are a lot of outdoor concerts that take place at this magical garden in the woods. It’s located in Katonah, about a half an hour from our house in this really beautiful area outside of town. I’m going to sound like stalker now, but I think I found Martha Stewart’s house about a half a mile from the venue! We were driving along, Siena and I following Jonathan, when we turned onto this gorgeous wooded street in the country flanked with very well maintained stone fences. You could start to get a peak through the trees of the house and outbuilding and I immediately had the feeling come over me that I’d seen these things before. The clincher was the most massive and amazing private greenhouse I’ve ever seen standing in an open area for the world to see. I know Martha has an amazing greenhouse just like it and I’m convinced it was her house.

Despite my almost star-sighting, Caramoor was lovely. Tucked into the woods behind giant old trees and through an iron gate, the Italian-ate structure houses a concert hall but also has speakers scattered throughout the gardens so one can be at the concert and in the lush plantings at the same time. This is where we took the babies for a play-date along with a few other moms; dads and kids Izabella and Jonathan have met over the past few months. It was great!

Was my weekend crazy? Yes. Was it nervous-making as a first-time dad? Yes. Did I have an amazing time? Yes. I feel like I got to bond with Siena in a way I hadn’t before, largely because I don’t get to see her as often as I would like. We spent quality time together instead of time spent on the train trying to keep her amused and somewhat quiet…a feat not often achieved with an excited and vocal 6 month old. I realized I actually could do this thing called parenting, something I was already doing, but not nearly over-thinking so much as I had this weekend alone. I guess it’s the responsibility involved, being the only one around to make immediate decisions. Granted, she doesn’t need a lot of decisions to be make right now, but I still occasionally think I’m a kid and how could I possibly have one and take care of her? But you do, and I am and we seemed to make out better than fine, we had fun.

I’m not sure if its Siena or the kid friendly cupcakes, grandma’s nostalgic muffins or the cookies and cake that make me think of Christmas, but I really felt a lot of connection to what I was baking the past couple of weeks, connected in a deeper way than I sometimes feel. It’s important for me to connect with what I’m doing, especially when “spare” time is so precious to me. If there is a personal story woven in it’s all the more appealing and sentimental. All art, no matter what the medium, should have a catalyst. My catalyst is all things related to being a kid: finding goodness and surprise in colors, flavors and things that come in bright, shiny packages or simple little blue pint containers at the farmer’s market. It’s just who I am.

Simply Summer

2011-07-19T22:57:00.018-04:00

When these long, hot summer days come along there is very little to do but take inspiration from the sun. The sun provides light, it provides heat and it helps grow all those wonderful berries and stone fruits showing up at farmer’s markets across the country. Not to mention we are in that hotter than heck two-month (or more if you live in the Midwest) period where temperatures hang out around one hundred degrees and I feel like doing scarcely as little as possible.

If I had my choice I would lay around in the grass most days, taking naps and occasionally waking to plop a cherry into my mouth, continue reading a book from the place I nodded off and simply enjoy the breeze coming off the river. My eyes would remain at half-mast for as long as possible, halfway between blissful sleep and wild, imaginative journeys the mind takes while in that semi-conscious state. These are the perfect days for picking out shapes from the clouds and for letting ice cream melt down the cones and down your wrist before you have time to lap it all up. Though, they may be hot, these are some of my favorite days in the year.

The reality is I have to go to work and am not lounging about any yards or fields near any significant bodies of water. I am looking at the river from the train in the mornings and planning the next pastry to bake while also entertaining Siena as she continues to grow. The weekends are the time for play and certainly none more than a summer weekend. If the grill doesn’t heat up in the backyard I feel it’s a missed opportunity. Grilled vegetables fresh from the farm stand are heaven, particularly squash, onions and corn on the cob. Marinated in olive oil, balsamic vinegar and herbs, each vegetable sings.

We have no shortage of fresh produce about the house since I’ve taken to our weekly, Saturday morning strolls down to the market to “gather” Siena’s latest baby food conquest. The yellow vegetables and fruits are swiftly moving through our house as her appetite increases. “Greens” are next on the horizon as we continue the adventure learning what does and doesn’t interest a six month old palette. So far we haven’t come up against anything adverse (other than cereal), but I’m sure there will be some things she is less fond of than others. While I’m looking for her lunch and dinner, scrutinizing every stall and chatting with the farmers/farm workers, all the beautiful fruits call to me…a siren song of longing, urging me to drown in the fresh, sweet juices.

There is nothing better than summer fruit. Being able to pick up a raspberry or blueberry, pop it in my mouth and feel the sunshine dancing across my tongue is something I fantasize about when the ground is hard and covered in snow. The season moves very quickly and if I’m not careful I will miss any number of special fruits cropping up. I know I can (and should be) freeze them, but at the moment I’m very interested in what I can make and eat right now. Who wants to think of winter when it’s 95 degrees in the shade? The berries are here, now and I want to consume them all. Apparently I learned nothing from the squirrel that plays all summer without storing nuts for the winter.

After our trip to the Rockefeller State Park a few weeks ago I had raspberries on the brain. But strangely, when Siena and I arrived at the farm stand, we didn’t see any of the ruby red beauties. I looked at several of the vendor’s stands and they were nowhere to be found…until I saw a sign for them paired with pints of blackberries. Upon closer inspection it was confirmed they were indeed raspberries, but black raspberries instead of red. They were so sweet and delicate I couldn’t resist. Red berries be damned, I’ll take the black variety any day. They seemed less tart than the red and reminded me of a blackberry (which I love), and it was then I remembered we used to pick both kinds off the thorny bushes out behind the tool shed when I was a kid.

Just as I was leaving I passed by one smaller grower who had only a few pints of many different fruits. There were currants and plums, apricots and large greenish-red globes looking not unlike grapes. The sign next to them proclaimed “gooseberries”, but in my memory gooseberries were always chartreuse green and one of the most tart fruits I can recall eating. Mom sweetened them with a lot of sugar when she made her pies, but these berries were strangely sweet and sour, tasting a bit like champagne grapes with a similar consistency and texture. The bottom line is they were gorgeous and I had to have them too. By the time I left the market, Siena barely had enough room left in her stroller to sit for all the produce suspended willy-nilly under the seat and along the handles.

Returning home I began to search for something to make with my lucky finds. When fruit is as fresh as this, there is very little I want to do to them. Simple preparations allow for appreciating their natural state. I thought back to a couple months ago when I was looking for gooseberries for some tartlets I saw in Martha Stewart’s Pies and Cakes. The recipe called for twice as many gooseberries as I had purchased at the market, but let us not forget the black raspberries. They just about made up the difference so I decided to make a few gooseberry, a few raspberry and a few mixed berry tarts.

The base of the tarts are a creamy, sugary egg custard filling crisp flakey pate brisee crusts. I seem to be pulling out the pate brisee a lot these days, but I can’t help myself. The more I make the recipe the better I get, and if I ever want to arrive at the perfect pie crust then practice is the thing I must do, and who doesn’t love to eat crust? I’m certain I could eat dough and crust every single day of the week and never get tired of it. I’m not going to put it to a test in an attempt to preserve my bathing suit waistline, but feel confident I’m not wrong. The crust gets “blind baked” in the oven, is allowed to cool and then filled with the berries and custard before returning to the oven. These are the perfect summer dessert to serve at a dinner party and each one will both fill your guests up and leave them wanting more. The recipe is as follows:

Mixed Berry Custard Tartlets (Adapted from a recipe in Martha Stewart’s Pies and Cakes)

Ingredients:

All-purpose flour, for dusting

1 recipe Pate Brisee

2 large whole eggs plus 1 large egg yolk

1/3 cup plus 1/2 cup sugar, plus more for sprinkling

1-cup heavy cream

4 cups fresh green gooseberries (about 2 pints), trimmed
4 cups fresh black raspberries (about 2 pints)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough about 1/8 inch thick. Cut out eight 6-inch rounds, and fit each round into a 4-inch tart pan with a removable bottom. Fold edges under, and press dough into sides of tart pans. Refrigerate or freeze until firm, about 30 minutes.

Pierce bottoms of shells all over with a fork. Transfer pans to a rimmed baking sheet. Line shells with parchment, and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake until pale golden brown, 25 to 30 minutes. Remove weights and parchment. Let cool completely on a wire rack.

Whisk together whole eggs, egg yolk, and 1/3-cup sugar in a small bowl. Pour in cream, whisking until combined.

In two separate bowls, toss gooseberries and raspberries each with 1/4 cup sugar. Pile sugar-covered berries into tart shells (a scant 1 cup per tart), and slowly pour in custard (about 1/4 cup per tart). Dip a pastry brush into each custard filling, and lightly brush onto edges of shell. Sprinkle tops evenly with sugar.

Bake until custard is just set and gooseberries/raspberries are soft, about 35 minutes. Transfer tartlets to a wire rack to cool 15 minutes. Serve warm.

I made these at night after Siena had gone to bed both for the ability to string several minutes together to complete the task as well as it was no longer abominably hot inside the kitchen. If I knew how to grill the tarts I would have, but that’s a skill I’m yet to possess. At midnight, when it’s nice and quiet and cool, I am able to share some undivided time with my kitchen stove even in the middle of a heat wave. I wanted the tartlets ready for the following morning so they could accompany us on Siena’s first trip to the beach!

It is a rare occurrence indeed when we make it to the beach. I’m not sure whether it’s the sand, the heat or the driving time that keeps us from going more often. Brian is particularly fair of skin and isn’t one to go out in the sun a whole lot, but I on the other hand am one of those sun worshipers. I don’t lay out as much as I used to…I know it’s bad for me, but there is nothing more lovely than freshly bronzed skin and a good dose of vitamin D. Sitting in the direct light with a good book, sweat running down your skin in rivulets, cool beads dripping off a cold glass of iced tea is the ideal way for me to spend a summer day. This is something easily accomplished in the backyard, but going to the beach is a whole other affair, a destination and one that requires careful planning.

I never saw the ocean until I was out of high school, which seems a little crazy in hindsight, but we were landlocked in the middle of the country so it makes sense. The first real impact the ocean made on me was driving fourteen hours with my friend’s Lisa and Kathryn to get to Pensacola Beach, Florida. We spent a rather nutty, frolicing few days beach combing, bar hopping and the general mischief making one does in their early twenties. We arrived at dawn with the pink sky still kissing the water and empty boats gently moving up and down on the waves. Hilariously, there was a hurricane that week and the water became violent, full of monstrous swoons. I couldn’t believe the power of the grey, stormy sea and was too young to doubt I would get into any harm riding up and down on the swells like a crazy person. That’s when I first fell in love with the ocean.

I have since been to the ocean many times and in many weather conditions including a separate hurricane we found ourselves in Mexico, summer 2005. The weather gods must be hunting me down for some ill I performed in a past life. On a good day, there is nothing like the soothing, repetitive crash made by the lapping water, foaming, splashing and bringing all sorts of shells and little creatures to the surface of the sand. Our day at Point Lookout beach in Long Island was more like that…lots of sun, lots of cooling breezes and lots and lots of people!

It was perfect beach weather, breezy, 80 degrees with low humidity. Everybody and their brother wanted to spend their day the exact same way as us and apparently they managed to do it too. The traffic out to Long Island is notoriously bad on a regular day, but on an immaculately conceived beach day such as this the lines to get to the parking lots within a half a mile of the beach itself were twenty minutes long and followed with the trumped up charge of over twenty dollars to park. Talk about a scam. I’m not sure where all that money is going, but someone must be adding onto his or her mansion somewhere. Money aside, once we actually made it to the beach everything was smooth sailing, so to speak. There were colorful umbrellas as far as the eye could see and everyone from the largest to smallest framed person was lounging about in the minimum the law would allow. I, being more of a modest person, was happier to keep my shirt on, eat pastries and judge everyone else…I didn’t say I was always nice.

We brought a large red umbrella; blankets and some sunscreen ready to spend a few hours and see how well Siena would take to the water. The short answer is she didn’t. The Atlantic was so cold, even after all the warm days we’ve had. As soon as she dipped a teeny-tiny toe into the water she began to cry. The same went for Brian and myself, so the family opted to hang out under the umbrella, eat chicken fingers and fries from the food cart and watch all the extra thin, well built youths casually play some form of volleyball in an effort to display how hard they worked at the gym and how little good food they must eat. Am I jealous? Yes. Can I stop eating butter and dairy? No. It’s a very simple equation.

After several hours of people watching and wave listening, Siena was exhausted and so were we. And I’m still not sure why it now takes us 30 minutes to pack up our things and walk a quarter of a mile to the car, but it is increasingly becoming a pattern. Having a child has certainly slowed down our entries and departures. There are so many toys to make sure we didn’t forget, diapers, blankets, bottles, the baby…I’m still amazed any of us is able to grow up and become a functioning adult that moves at regular speed. I think it’s a little harder too because we are used to New York City street pace. If you aren’t making a mad dash to get to your next destination then you must not be doing anything of importance. I can certainly say it is important to move slow and never forget the bink.

Another trip to the farmer’s market last weekend yielded a nice crop of peaches. I’d been keeping an eye on them the past few weeks. So far they had either seemed under-ripe or had a lot of holes in them. This was finally the week for the fragrant smell wafting off the stone fruit, heavy for it’s size but with flesh that gives. There is something magical about a peach. The color of the skin, the soft sheen, it has a seductive quality and never more so than eating one right out of hand with juice flying all over the place. Cast me out from Eden, I have sinned and I don’t even care that it wasn’t an apple.

I had never made an upside-down cake before. I’ve seen them done many times, often with caramelized rings of pineapple as the feature. In my Internet scouring for peach recipes I came across one for an upside-down peach cake that also contained a hint of lavender. Lavender is finishing up its bloom time in my backyard, but I have a canister of dried flowers in the pantry I like to break out every once in awhile for that mysterious, “something special” kind of flavor.

This recipe also intrigued me because it calls for a cup of cornmeal or polenta. I absolutely adore polenta or a nice golden cornbread so it seemed an interesting flavor profile to mix in with the peaches and herbs, I’ve gotta say I haven’t had such rave cake reviews in awhile. I’m not sure if it was the strange combination of ingredients, the extra moist cake (full of butter and cream) or the memory sense trigger of ripe summer peaches, but everyone seemed very excited by this simple little cake. The only thing you need to have on hand is an iron skillet. Many people have grandma’s seasoned skillet squirreled away in the back of their pantry or closet somewhere and this is the perfect opportunity to bring it back to life and out into the light.

Peach and Cornmeal Upside-Down Cake

The recipe says you can use either fresh or dried lavender, but I’ve only ever worked with the dry. If you have trouble finding it and would like to order some you can score a tin here, at Dean and Deluca’s website.

Skipping the salty air for good old fresh town air we took Siena over for a “play-date” with Mia, our friend Izabella and Jonathan’s daughter. She just turned one and is going to have a party next weekend, one in which I will be learning how to make lion faces to go on top of cupcakes. I can’t wait! Mia has a pool in her backyard and we thought it a great excuse to get the girls (and ourselves) together for a sunny Sunday afternoon. Again, Siena didn’t seem too sure about the water at first. Mia was splashing and having fun and Siena wasn’t sure what to make of it, but sometimes “second time” is the charm and once she was in and chewing on plastic toys, a favorite pastime of hers, she happily sat in the water and played for at least a half an hour. Granted there were only a couple of inches of water for obvious reasons, but the girls seemed to have a grand old time while the adults were able to sit around casually, for the most part, and eat fresh watermelon and plums (and tequila drinks).

Summer is about sitting. Summer is about eating. Summer is about sharing your days and nights with friends and family out on the patio with the grill blazing or loaded up to the moon with toys to take to the beach. Summer is about letting yourself unwind at least for a few minutes everyday, taking off your sandals (as not to get tan-lines) and feeling our bodies and minds warmed up.

It’s this same carefree attitude that can make work so hard during this time of year, especially when you’re mind is already daydreaming on a sunny patch of grass somewhere or a sandy beach in the Grenadine Islands (oh Mustique how I miss you). It’s essential to take the little summer moments where you can find them, whether on a park bench in the blazing afternoon sun or by popping a fresh picked peach into your mouth. I’m learning to slow down a bit and relish these moments, much more than I used to. Relax on the beach with a peach and you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m learning how. It’s just who I am.

Sweet, Sweet Victory

2011-07-07T10:29:00.068-04:00

The path of least resistance is the one most often taken, but not necessarily the road to victory. Depending on your activity this choice could take the form of an easy or difficult trail to hike in the woods or winning the war of freedom for a country or a state. In this case, I’m really talking about all three. This week the struggle of life is realized in a literal hike through a nature preserve, and both historic events of celebrating our country’s independence and the “win” in our battle for equality on a state level.

The past two weeks have been full of changes big and small, and I don’t mean of the coin variety. Siena has finally started to eat solid food!! I never thought it would happen. After her strong dislike for cereal (rice and oatmeal) I was worried she would never move on to something more substantial than Enfamil, but as luck and genetic timetables would have it, she likes sweet potatoes!! My place of employment had given us a baby food maker as a present when Siena was first born, and I am finally able to put it to good use. It steams and purees foods all in one and the sweet potato was my first experiment.

I’ve always promoted buying local foods as much as possible, and the thought of making my daughter’s food is very appealing. I’m not saying I’m going to be able to make everything that goes into her mouth, I certainly don’t make all the toys she chews on these days, but for now, while it’s simple things like one or two vegetables or fruits at a time, it seems criminal not to make fresh food for her. I love the beba (the baby food machine)!!! After a very long and patient meal with her, Siena finally began to grasp eating food from the spoon and began an animalistic lunge for said spoon as time went on, getting sweet potatoes all over her, me, the bib, the highchair and everywhere in between. But she likes it!!!

An even bigger change that came was the passage of law in New York State allowing same sex couples to get married! This is obviously historic for many reasons, but a major one being the law passed on the anniversary of Stonewall, what many consider to be the beginning of the gay rights movement. Excerpt from Wikipedia: “The Stonewall riots were a series of spontaneous, violent demonstrations against a police raid that took place in the early morning hours of June 28, 1969, at the Stonewall Inn, in the Greenwich Village neighborhood of New York City. They are frequently cited as the first instance in American history when people in the homosexual community fought back against a government-sponsored system that persecuted sexual minorities, and they have become the defining event that marked the start of the gay rights movement in the United States and around the world.” Tired of getting beaten up for being who they were (homosexuality was considered both a crime and a mental disorder for many years), rioters took a stand to say “we are people too, just like you”, and the wigs began to fly!

It’s strange for me to think about this very important beginning. Growing up in a small town where I definitely couldn’t be publicly gay without fear of violence, it was a scary existence. The reason I moved to New York was to seek the famed Land of Oz where I could be myself, lost in a crowd of millions who didn’t care what I said or did publicly or privately. Moving here is still the best choice I ever made for my safety and sanity, and made all the other wonderful things in my life possible. Though I would have loved for New York to be the first state to legalize same-sex marriage, I’m happy that it has done it at all. New York is a large, conservative state of which the city is only a part. NYC is obviously very liberal, but the rest of the state needed a lot of convincing and I’m very, very happy and thankful to all those people out there who put time and effort into changing the political mindset. One of the big supporters was HRC, the Human Rights Campaign, an organization I support every month. If you would care to donate and continue the fight you can go here: http://www.hrc.org/

With all that said, I felt it very important for me to honor this time with a pastry fitting the historic occasion. The last week in June is always set aside as “Pride” weekend in NYC. June is pride month, but the city comes together on the last weekend to have the big, crazy, outlandish and magical parade. They chose this weekend because of the proximity to the Stonewall incident and have been having the parade every year since 1970, sparking other parades and festivities all around the world. I wasn’t able to attend the parade this year due to fatherly duties, but I was there in spirit. My offering is the Rainbow Cake.

The rainbow flag is closely associated with the struggle for equality amongst the LGBT community. It exemplifies diversity as well as peace, and Dorothy Gale knew better than anyone that something important existed over that rainbow. She went to Oz and realized she wanted to be home, and I moved to New York City and realized for the first time I was home. But the honest truth is that home lives inside us all, the best parts of what we call home go with us wherever we go because as my friend Kathryn always used to tell me “no matter where you go, there you are.” I remembered seeing the rainbow cake on the Martha Stewart Show awhile back, the context for it’s creation was a friend’s going away party, and additionally its something I think kids would adore. For me, I took it as the patriotic and pastry-esque symbol of my right to be myself, for good or bad and to be treated as an equal.

This cake looks complex, but it really isn’t. As with many of the things I create for Fabulous Pastries the only requirements are patience and baby steps. What I love about this recipe is it’s one, simple vanilla cake batter that gets used for all the cakes. The only difference comes when you add the food coloring. There are six very thin layers here, and it’s ideal if you have six 9-inch cake pans (I know most people don’t) so you don’t have to cool and wash pans in-between baking. The layers don’t take more than 15 minutes to bake so you aren’t in the hot summer kitchen for very long regardless. I made a special trip to buy the food coloring, so I bought the extra pans I needed while I was at it, to make life easier. You can find the link to the recipe here: Rainbow Cake.

The real trick with this cake is making sure your layers are even. Keeping the frosting consistent and level between each colored round is a bit challenging, but made easier by using a lazy Susan to continually rotate the cake around and make sure it’s even. The colors were so rich and vibrant, made from food paste gels instead of the more liquid food coloring you find in the regular supermarket. A little bit goes a very long way. A simple kit of red, yellow, blue, green and black are all you need to get the desired color-scheme. Though I loved the show-stopping spectacle this cake provided I also want to try using these colors in other cake recipes, possibly creating some subtle monochromatic red/pink or blue cakes.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a cake so well received, not necessarily for the taste (though it was delicious) but for the sentiment behind it. Vanilla and buttercream never fail to bring folks together. All the people I work with, and really most everyone I’ve ever met in New York, were so supportive of the same-sex marriage law and I was happy to share the cake and our victory with them. Now, if people would only stop asking me if I’m getting married!!! I mean, I like a ring and a party as much as the next gal, but people give it a rest!!!! (And thank you for acknowledging and asking). I’m glad I now have the right to legally be with the person I choose. It seems odd to me that Brian and I could adopt a child but not be able to marry before now. We do live in a strange, strange world…

Speaking of more worldly issues (or at least a country-sized one), it’s the 4th of July!!! Arriving home on the 8:34pm train out of Grand Central brought me to Ossining during the middle of the fireworks display. I hadn’t planned on seeing any live fireworks this year because night falls way past Siena’s bedtime. I love these long summer days and muggy nights full of fireflies, particularly the bright sparkly explosive ones coming out over the course of the holiday weekend. The parking lot of the train station is on the Hudson River, and each year people gather starting in the late afternoon with their lawn chairs and picnic blankets. Vendors set up their booths with hamburgers, hot dogs, fries and ice cream…all the quintessential American summer foods. The bandstand gets going about an hour before the star-spangled show while the kids gather as close to the water as possible without falling in, waiting for the patriotic music, sparkling showers and loud bangs to begin.

I discovered the train platform to be the perfect place to watch the show. If you go down to the end of the platform, away from the lights and flying bugs, you’ll find an unobstructed view, an un-crowded view and one I wondered why most people weren’t taking advantage of? I only stayed a few minutes, not wanting to risk seeing the finale and having to fight my way through the throngs of people during the mass exodus. I made it away from the station and up the hill as the last of the fireworks made themselves known. I saw just the right amount of the show and didn’t have to deal with a crowd. All in all I would call it the perfect scenario.

That night I began preparation for my own personal, pastry related show: Sour Cherry Pie. I had been threatening to make a cherry pie for weeks. Andrea and Nathan had announced their plans for a 4th of July get-together a little while back and the mouse in my brain began running on the wheel and turning over options for the perfect dessert to take to the potluck. I read an article on cherries in the July 2011 Martha Stewart Living and realized I had never made a cherry pie before in my life. Well, that was a situation needing immediate remedy. Sour cherries are in season for a brief amount of time and I had been snacking on some in the office, ones that my friend Sara brought in from the Union Square Farmers Market. They were delicious and precious because of their short seasonal run. Thus began the more specific search for sour cherry pie recipes.

Narrowing it down further, did I want a top crust or open face…well, that was debatable? I was interested in something pretty, something traditional and as always a chance to try out a technique I’ve never done before. In the end a lattice top pie won out. I’ve never done a lattice crust before, though I’ve seen it done many, many times. It always looks complicated and beautiful, but as with most things is yet another series of simple steps. Luckily, Martha has a visual step-by step in her Pies and Tarts book, helping to get me started on the right foot. I always like to make my pie dough the night before so it has time to rest. And like most pie and tart recipes I used pate brisee for the crust, yielding enough dough for the bottom and top of a 9-inch pie.

As with many things in my life, I find I don’t have as much time to complete them as I used to. I never made it to Union Square Market, so I was determined Siena and I would get up and finally make it down to the Ossining Farmer’s Market which is held in the town square every Saturday morning. The trick is to get there early…not a real problem with a baby in the house, but she is known to sleep in with her dads from time to time. The morning dawned clear and bright (and hot). We dressed as lightly as possible and strolled our way down to the stalls of people selling their fruit, vegetables, breads, cheeses, eggs, meats and everything else under the sun. I always like buying food at the farmer’s market because I get to meet the people (or family members of the people) working hard to put food on my table. Putting a face to a food product instead of mindlessly grabbing it off the shelf in the grocery store is something I’m always proud to do.

The cherries were there, waiting for us to take them home. A small grouping of the most beautiful sour cherries were on display in the warm morning sunshine, glistening and fresh directly from their home on the trees. There were so many beautiful fruits and veggies at the stand I wanted to take home, but I hadn’t really planned to take more than I could fit in the small shelf under the stroller seat. We grabbed our cherries and setout to look for a few other items. There were freshly made cheeses and ground beef from a farm in White Plains and eggs from further north in the Hudson Valley, all good things I might need to snack on over the holiday weekend.

With the crust dough ready and waiting, the only major chore left in creating a cherry pie is pitting all those cherries. I went over many different recipes, looking for the best of the best ingredients called for in the most successful pies. Some people liked to use vanilla in their pie, some used almond extract, some used lemon juice and all of them used fresh cherries whenever possible or the frozen equivalent if the cherries weren’t in season. I decided a highbred might be nice so I developed my own filling recipe that starts with 2 pounds of pitted sour cherries. Pitting cherries is a pain in the butt; there is no way around it so let’s not sugar coat the issue. It’s something that needs to be done, a means to an end and one certainly worth the time. Here is what I would call the ultimate summer cherry pie recipe, an adaptation of one of Martha Stewart’s recipes:

Sour Cherry Pie

Ingredients:

All-purpose flour, for dusting

Pate Brisee (recipe follows)

1 cup granulated sugar

3 tablespoons cornstarch (more if berries are particularly juicy)

1/4-teaspoon salt

1/8-teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 pounds (about 6 cups) fresh sour cherries, pitted, or 1 3/4 pounds frozen sour cherries, partially thawed

1-teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 teaspoon almond extract

1 teaspoon lemon juice

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1 large egg, lightly beaten, for egg wash

Coarse sanding sugar, for sprinkling

Start by making your pate brisee.

Pate Brisee Ingredients:

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1-teaspoon salt

1-teaspoon sugar

1-cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1/4 to 1/2 cup ice water

Pulse flour, salt, and sugar in a food processor (or whisk together by hand in a bowl). Add butter, and pulse (or quickly cut in with a pastry blender or your fingertips) until mixture resembles coarse meal, with some larger pieces remaining. Drizzle 1/4-cup water over mixture. Pulse (or mix with a fork) until mixture just begins to hold together. If dough is too dry, add 1/4 cup more water, 1 tablespoon at a time, and pulse (or mix with a fork).

Divide dough in half onto two pieces of plastic wrap. Gather into two balls, wrap loosely in plastic, and press each into a disk using a rolling pin. Refrigerate until firm, well wrapped in plastic, 1 hour or up to 1 day. (Dough can be frozen up to 3 months; thaw in refrigerator before using.)

On a lightly floured surface, roll out 1 disk of dough to a 13-inch round, 1/8 inch thick. Fit into a 9-inch pie plate, and trim dough, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang; refrigerate or freeze until firm, about 30 minutes.

On lightly floured parchment, roll out second disk of dough 1/8 inch thick. Using a clean ruler as a guide cut 14 strips (about 1/2 inch wide) with a pastry wheel or sharp knife. Place strips (and parchment) on a baking sheet, and refrigerate until firm, 10 minutes.

Combine granulated sugar, cornstarch, salt, and cinnamon in a large bowl. Add cherries, vanilla, almond extract, lemon juice and toss. Pour cherry mixture into pie plate. Dot with butter. Lightly brush exposed edge of shell with beaten egg.

Weave the lattice: Lay 7 strips of dough across pie. Fold back every other strip. Lay another strip perpendicular in center of pie. Unfold strips over perpendicular strip. Fold back strips under perpendicular strip. Lay second perpendicular strip next to first. Unfold strips over second perpendicular strip. Repeat, weaving strips across half the pie. Return to center, lay a perpendicular strip on unwoven side of pie, and repeat. Trim strips to 1-inch overhang. Tuck overhang under edge of shell, and crimp to seal. Brush lattice with egg wash, and sprinkle with sanding sugar. Refrigerate or freeze 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Transfer pie plate to a parchment-lined rimmed baking sheet. Bake until crust is golden brown and juices are bubbling; if using fresh cherries, begin checking after 1 hour; if using frozen, about 95 minutes. (If top browns too quickly, tent with foil.)

Transfer pie to a wire rack; let cool completely. Pie can be kept at room temperature, tented with foil, up to 1 day.

The most difficult thing about making this pie, other than not getting confused with which strips to pull back and weave during lattice creation, is the July heat. It’s been in the 90’s here and humid to boot. The kitchen in our house seems to hold all the heat of the day and it is always best to work with chilled pie dough. The recipe has several steps for letting the pie crust rest in the freezer, but if it’s really hot you may want to pop your pie into the fridge every few minutes or so, especially when working with the thin lattice strips. Once they warm up, they get a little sticky and soft, so work quickly! I used a decorative pastry cutter, giving the lattice pieces a nice fluted edge, and the key to keeping the shapes intact is to make sure you freeze your completed pie for a half an hour before baking it. It’s similar to Christmas cookies; if you take all the time to cut out gorgeous shapes and put them in the oven without chilling you end up with a sad, blobby mess, and we don’t want sad, blobby cookies or pies.

By the time Sunday the 3rd rolled around the heat had dissipated somewhat, but the rain had begun to roll in. Not necessarily the ideal weather to have when 50+ people are coming to your house and there is a giant pig roasting in the backyard. Only Nathan would be so brave as to roast a whole pig, and only Andrea would be willing to invite that many people to their house, very young and active children in tow, to celebrate our country’s independence. Luckily, by the time the party got into full swing, the rainy, swampy weather let up enough for everyone to roam about the lawn, the kids to play on the swing set and for all the manly men (and not so manly men) to gather around the giant roasting box topped with coal containing one gigantic pig.

I have to say I was a little nervous at how Nathan might pull this one off, but he did so with flying colors. The pork was delicious and the guys had a lot of fun cutting it up. The children and adults alike were both afraid and amused by the lone pig head sitting in the aluminum pan, cheeks carved up like something out of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre; truly a sight to behold. Neighbors and town friends showed up with their designated potluck items: casseroles, coleslaw, delicious jalapeno corn muffins, pies, cookies, chips and homemade ice cream. If it wasn’t there on the table, we didn’t need it. Andrea was so kind to save my pie a “star” spot on the buffet, elevating it with a lovely cake stand and making me feel like the belle of the pastry ball. Everyone had a good time eating their fill and I got a lot of very nice compliments on the pie. The only problem being that it was gone by the time Brian went to get any and cherry is his favorite (Sorry, honey…my public mea culpa.)

By the time the sun was setting, strangers were all friends, fingers and plates had been licked clean and all the children were making their way home to bed after an exciting day of play. I have to say it’s nice having friends so close to our home willing to throw a big party, mess and all, but allowing us to sneak out without too much cleanup and providing picnic leftovers on top of it all. I don’t think we could have had a better time.

On July 4th, we rested…well, not quite. This was the big day! Independence for all, including Siena’s stomach, the monumental day of the sweet potato and also the discovery of Rockefeller State Park. This park/nature preserve is only about ten minutes from our house. We had passed by its gates many times on the way to Stone Barns (our favorite country haunt). The lands are adjacent to each other, but we had never swung that right turn into the park and had been meaning to for several years now. Izabella and Jonathan had taken Mia not too long ago for a hike/stroll around the lake and came back with some beautiful photos. The day was sunny and bright and seemed a shame not to do something fun on the actual holiday.

We had planned to hook up with Nathan, Andrea and Finn to have some leftover BBQ sandwiches, but they were knee deep in party recovery. I suggested we all go to the park, but understandably they could not be swayed. However, an 80-pound pig does tend to have some leftovers even after such a large party, so Andrea suggested stopping by to pick up some pork, coleslaw and cookies to make a picnic out of our park excursion. I could hardly pass that up, so off we went for a little pork and a little afternoon lunch under the trees.

The park wasn’t at all what I was expecting. When you think park you think a few picnic tables, a pavilion, maybe a playground or two, but this is a nature preserve. Though it did have the requisite picnic tables not too far from the parking lot, the park is really miles and miles of hiking /carriage/horse trails leading over the river and through the woods, out into the wide open country. We took a map from the gatekeeper and were off.

I talk about fresh air from time to time in this blog, the country air I miss from childhood, the air that reminds me of playing in the woods with my cousins. Well, this air is at Rockefeller State Park. The place was fairly deserted, probably because most people were at the river or the beach so it felt like our own little world. We walked along the lake and then off into the lush, green, overgrown forest of hills. The air was as fresh as fresh can be and the place was just so alive. Their were chipmunks crawling all over the place chasing bugs, squirrels were out causing their usual mischief and tons and tons of wild raspberry bushes flanked the trails with the first berries coming on…I think I know what ingredient I need to use next week.

The map we were given was a copy and a little hard to read making the adventure all the more fun. The further out we got, the slightly more directionally confused we became, but the disorientation and subtle possibility of being lost made it exciting and quest-like. As we walked through the woods and fantasized about building a house far away from the rest of the world I realized it’s not impossible. There are always choices to be made, it’s figuring out the goal in the first place that can be difficult. I will have my Wee house in the woods someday, but until then we have miles of countryside we can roam very close to our city house.

Obviously the metaphor of “the path” is an often-used one, but it’s that way for a reason. We are presented with paths and choices to make on a daily basis. Sure, some of them are as simple as “what do I want for lunch” and some as big as what do I want for my life. Some choices being even bigger than us such as granting independence and full rights to deserving citizens. We all deserve the right to make choices for our families and ourselves. It’s even better when the government supports the choices we make and allow us to live the best possible life we can.

This Independence Day I’m thankful for more than our country’s revolt against the British, I’m thankful for our state’s revolt against those with closed and sometimes angry minds. I’m also thankful for the little things such as delicious sweet potatoes encouraging our daughter to eat, and sour cherries that remind us why it’s best to eat ingredients when they are at their peak…and the red color looks awfully nice with a blue pie plate and a white dish- towel. I’m all for having freedom of choice, both personal and aesthetic. It’s just who I am.

Southern Hospitality

2011-06-24T00:32:00.017-04:00

Biscuits anyone? Biscuits soaked in butter but light as air, biscuits covered in white sausage gravy, seasoned with salt and pepper and whose sole purpose in life is sopping up the remains of shrimp and grits and she-crab soup, biscuits so good they’ll make you sit up and “slap your momma” (to quote the ever sassy Paula Deen). Again I ask you, “Do you want a biscuit???” If you do, it’s time to head down south to good old Charleston and rustle up a few, because wherever you go, there the biscuits are.

Our trip to Charleston, South Carolina was a success on many levels. The primary reason for the journey was Axis’ production East 10th Street featuring in the Spoleto Festival, but just because it was a “working” vacation doesn’t mean there wasn’t plenty of time for play. For months we had been looking forward to the trip with Brian researching local attractions to visit and me being consumed as always with culinary adventures. Of the foodie nature there were many adventures to be had, but with so few days (for me in particular), it took a concerted effort to economize, only going to places recommended by friends without wandering into the myriad other restaurants and cafes our noses and eyes were pulling us to.

Charleston made it difficult for me because it’s a walk-able city for the most part. Whenever I walk around in a new place I want nothing more than to endlessly take pictures and stop into little shops along the way to wherever our particular destination may be. It’s hard incorporating a little one into this scenario because it was bright, sunny and hot the whole time we were there and Siena doesn’t really want to sit baking in the glow of a warm sun while daddy gets his next architectural or garden photo. I admit I can be difficult to travel with for that reason. I get caught up in capturing everything with the lens because it’s all so beautiful, and tend to slow the party down a bit. This trip, I made a concerted effort (necessary effort) to absorb and enjoy the surroundings without trying to capture every last square foot of Federal architecture and formal gardens with my camera. Surprisingly, I’m left with more of a sense of place than I thought possible, and one that makes me feel all warm and friendly inside.

There is no way I can say Southerners aren’t hospitable. No matter where I went there was someone saying hello, waving, tipping a hat or stopping to exclaim how cute they found Siena. I certainly can’t begrudge them that, but I forget how friendly and open people can be outside of NYC. Don’t get me wrong, I love those “keep to themselves” people I take to the streets with everyday, but how refreshing it was to look people in the eye without thinking they might ask me for money. The thought of simply pulling up a chair and sipping a mint julep with these fine folks was not out of the realm of possibility except for the fact I only had two full days in the city and many things I wanted to see.

We had to begin by eating because I was starved from rigorous airplane travel. My longtime friend, Lisa Schwartzkopf (Ermold) recommended a great place to get the aforementioned she-crab soup and shrimp and grits: 82 Queen. The restaurant serves low country style cooking with hearty meals high in calories and flavor. The gang ordered their Maker’s Mark mint juleps and the afternoon was set for fun. While waiting for our food to arrive, the first round of heavenly biscuits arrived on our table. These yummy morsels were truly so light they could have floated off the table. Whoever was preparing and handling the dough in the kitchen must know what they are doing. It seemed as if human hands had barely touched them at all and I’ve never seen a biscuit less “overworked” in my life. They were brushed with butter before baking and served with another heaping bowl full of butter on the side…just the way I like it.

After lunch, the first excursion we made was to the Angel Oak. This oak tree is estimated to be nearly 1500 years old. That’s crazy!!! Angel Oak lives about 9 miles out of Charleston, off the main highway and down a bumpy dirt road about a mile. Though it isn’t very easy to find due to a lack of signage, there were quite a few people visiting this miraculous wonder. To say it’s massive is an understatement and most pictures I took failed to capture the scale and grandeur. Though I kept wanting people to move out of the way so I could take a photograph, I realized I needed them as a size reference to make sense of what I was looking at. Not only is the tree gigantic, with massive, gnarled branches spreading far and wide dipping into the ground to emerge again several feet later with fingerlike tendrils, but the tree has amazing, old energy. The space around it is peaceful and children wanted to climb all over the tree, though they weren’t supposed to. The Angel Oak is the ultimate climbing tree.

Returning to our hotel, the beautiful Wentworth Mansion, we took a long drive around the peninsula and to some outlying islands trying to cram in as much sight seeing as possible. The hotel itself is a landmark, having been around since 1886 in various incarnations, surviving fires and earthquakes to find itself lovingly restored and taking patrons looking for a romantic and historical weekend getaway. They also serve a mean breakfast; with you guessed it, biscuits!!! Our favorite part of the hotel was the cupola on top. Commanding one of the best views of Charleston (360 degrees), we retired for drinks around 6:00pm every evening to relax and unwind before dinner. Regardless of the heat outside, it was cool and breezy up top as the sun set on the stately old homes of the city.

On my second and only full day in Charleston, we got up bright an early to get a move on with our tourism. Sure, we were up bright and early anyway because of Siena, but no longer having an excuse to sleep in left no room for missing out on any of the scheduled activities, the first being a visit to the aquarium. Brian thought it would be fun to take Siena to see the fish and other interesting creatures at the aquarium and he and I ended up having a lot of fun as well. The building and exhibits are well laid out, one flowing into the next. The space is divided into several floors with different temperate zones and conditions grouped together in a relatable fashion. I think by far the most interesting things were the stingrays. It was creepy and fun to see them close up, their little faces seeming to smile at me as they gently swam across the glass. Not far from their “home” was a smaller kids area with shallow pools you could put your hands into and touch some “baby” stingrays. Brian and I fairly dared each other to do it and were quite successful in both touching the wet; rubbery flesh and creeping ourselves out at the same time.

We also saw many other intriguing exhibits and creatures including an albino alligator, black light filled containers of jellyfish and a hugely magnified home to seahorses. Brian loved the seahorses most because it’s the males of the species who carry the babies. Siena seemed in awe of the fish in the Deep Ocean exhibit. The monsters swam by the giant glass window spanning several floors. The monsters, to me, were of course sharks because I have an irrational fear of them thanks to Jaws, but all the fish swimming with them were huge and I’d never seen such giant fish up close and personal before. It only took a couple of hours to see the entire space, granted we didn’t read a ton of information, but was certainly a worthwhile stop on any trip to Charleston. Grabbing a quick hotdog (no, sadly not a biscuit) we were off to the next, and in my humble opinion, the most exciting part of our vacation: The historic homes tour with Linda Wohlfeil Jones.

I walked into the parlor of the hotel with Siena and Brian in tow to find Randy, Lynn and our other friend David already engaged by this very animated, striking woman named Linda. She was a Charleston native, born and bred with family scattered all over town. Some of her kin had a beautiful home along Rainbow Row, which we will come to, as well as other family members owning one of the carriage ride businesses transporting visitors all over town. If you have ever seen the 80’s television show Designing Women…one of my other favorites, then picture Julia Sugarbaker giving you a driving tour of historic Charleston with Brian as the chauffeur. Julia (played by Dixie Carter) was always the fiery, sassy, smart and most opinionated of all the women in the show, the one with the most class and an air of knowing a dirty secret or two that she would never divulge for fear of disgracing her honor or causing you, the listener, to blush. Linda our tour guide was exactly that, at least as far as I could tell from the couple of hours I spent with her.

Rarely do I come across people so passionate about what they do, someone who is great at their job, an effective communicator and someone who inspires you to be as interested in a particular topic as they are. By the time we were done driving around and listening to Linda I felt like I needed to purchase every conceivable book on Charleston I could find and immerse myself in the lore and grandeur. For every home, manor, mansion, plantation, garden and or street we went down, Linda had a story, and not just a story but some tale of architecture peppered with history and love, feuds and famous figures from our not so distant past.

One of the most amazing things to me about Charleston was the fact that its architecture is intact. Thankfully, Sherman’s march during the Civil War didn’t come burning through this town and though it has been challenged with large fires and earthquakes in it’s past, the city has survived and thrived. There is a strong presence of a preservation society, which to this day keeps all building modifications and construction under close scrutiny and no one is allowed to build any structures taller than the church steeples, of which there are many. Charleston was apparently quite the destination for those yearning for religious freedom and at one point in its history any group of seven people or more choosing to believe in the same thing could start their own church. That’s a whole lot of praying going on.

We dawdled along many streets that seemed like they should be out of a film set. The splendor of the homes, particularly the large old mansions of Rainbow Row were simply insane and luxurious. The only stop we made was into the Nathaniel Russell House, a home known for being the quintessential specimen of Federal architecture. Another woman gave us the tour of the home, and though the manse was lovely, her recounting of facts didn’t do the place justice and bore no resemblance to the passionate tales Linda, our guide was giving us. If anyone is traveling to Charleston and wants Linda’s info, I have her card and email address, but in the meantime I hope she starts writing a book…it would be endlessly fascinating!

Being around someone this passionate can only inspire creativity. She made me want to change my whole life, uproot and move south and open a small, little bakery on a secret cobblestone street with an attached garden. But in lieu of action on such an outrageous fantasy we decided the next best thing would be a nice dinner out at a place aptly name Magnolia. Magnolia is the famous bakery in NYC known for its cupcakes, and gained prominence via Carrie Bradshaw and Sex and the City. Magnolia in this case is a family restaurant with down home southern cooking, and I mean the serious kind. Linda advised us to order the freshly fried potato chips topped with blue cheese, and the rest goes downhill from there.

I had a mound of homemade pimento cheese, similar to what mom used to buy in the grocery store when I was a kid. Pimento cheese on crackers, or in this case pita is a naughty luxury item that reminds me of home. But the dinner was the kicker, I went for it as they say; fried chicken, pepper biscuits (yay, biscuits!!!), mashed potatoes and white gravy, collard greens and a creamy, gooey bread pudding for dessert. I dare you to find a more southern meal, and I dare you to eat it if you happen to be on a diet. Though there is nothing pretty about the calorie count, these items are southern and midwestern staples for a reason…they taste so good!!!

It’s hard to believe I only had two days in this charming city and would gladly return for a week at the minimum, to explore, tour more homes and eat myself into a fried sort of coma. I haven’t been so inspired by visiting a new place in a long time and forgot how much fun a vacation can be. Siena absolutely loved it, plane rides included and she seems to be well on her way to being a good traveler, up for anything as long as she can sit and look at trees and go where people will tell her what a cute baby she is.

Coming home and heading back to reality is never easy, especially after such a fun couple of days, but the week moved by in a flash (as most seem to with a five month old) leading us to Father’s Day weekend. Brian and I were astonished at the number of gifts and well wishes we received over the weekend. To us, it seemed like it should be an ordinary day, not a big deal, a day we send gifts to our dads and certainly not a day where we would be celebrated. How the heck did we become fathers???

The weekend was sunny but pleasant and we made a long overdue trip to Connecticut to visit my cousin Kevin and his three daughters. Before we ever found out about Siena’s impending entrance into our lives and the whirlwind that came after, Kevin and I had talked about going over his home with an eye toward design. The mission was to look at the yard, making plant suggestions (something I love to do) and take my Benjamin Moore fan decks of paint chips and make some decisions about colors for the inside of the house (also something I love to do).

The girls all played nicely together, keeping Siena entertained for a couple of hours while Kevin, Brian and I talked life and design and grilled some chicken outdoors. It was a perfect summer day for a barbeque and I could think of nothing better to finish off the meal than a blackberry cobbler, the topping in this case being made of none other than BISCUITS!!!! After such a southern biscuit-eating weekend, I had to find something biscuit related for this week’s pastry offering. Kevin has a deep love of cobbler, particularly blackberry, so I marched myself to the market, got some blackberries (I know it’s a little early for them so file this one in your rolodex for a goodie to make in July) and found a recipe for Best Berry Cobbler featuring a biscuit topping. The recipe is from (who else?) Martha Stewart and is as follows:

Best Berry Cobbler

Ingredients:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 ounces (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

3/4 cup cold heavy cream, plus more for brushing

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 cup sugar, plus more if needed and for sprinkling

3 tablespoons cornstarch, plus more if needed

6 cups (3 pints) blackberries or raspberries

Vanilla ice cream, for serving (optional)

Directions

. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Pulse flour, baking powder, and salt in a food processor until combined. Add butter, and process until mixture resembles coarse meal. Transfer mixture to a large bowl, and add heavy cream in a slow, steady stream, mixing with a wooden spoon until dough just comes together. Divide dough into 9 pieces, and loosely form each into a ball.

. Whisk together cinnamon, sugar, and cornstarch in a bowl. Add berries; toss gently to coat. Transfer mixture to an 8-inch square-baking dish. Top berries with dough balls, spacing evenly. Brush dough with heavy cream, and sprinkle with sugar. Bake until berries are bubbling in center and biscuits are golden brown, 45 to 50 minutes. Transfer dish to a wire rack, and let cool slightly, about 30 minutes. Serve with ice cream if desired.

Cook's Note:

The amount of sugar and cornstarch needed will depend on the sweetness and ripeness of the fruit. Taste the berries. If they are sour, add an extra 1/4-cup sugar in step 2. If juicy, add an extra 1-teaspoon cornstarch. To catch any juices that may bubble over when baking, place the baking dish on a rimmed baking sheet or lay a piece of foil on the rack below the cobbler.

I admit to a slight modification in the biscuit preparation. It calls for rolling the dough into balls, lightly handling the dough and dropping them onto the macerated blackberry filling. I was after something a little more formed and presentable so I rolled out the dough to about three-quarters of an inch thick and cut out nine squares with my fluted square biscuit cutter. The shape looked so nice in the square pan and elevated this rustic dessert ever so slightly. After cutting out the dough I allowed it to sit on a sheet pan in the freezer for 15 minutes before putting the biscuits on top of the fruit and baking. Though I may have lost a little in “rise” from rolling it out, I made up for it in shape with the dough holding those fluted edges quite nicely. The berries were still a bit tart so I added an extra half cup of sugar, but if you wait and make this next month when the berries are fully sweet and falling off the bushes you may not need to do this.

By the time Father’s Day rolled around we were exhausted, but had committed to going to the New York Botanical Garden with our friend’s Jonathan, Izabella and their daughter Mia. I’m so glad we pulled it together and went because it was another amazing late June day. The show Spanish Paradise: Gardens of the Alhambra is currently running through August 21, 2011 and was the main draw for our adventure. This display of Spanish/Mediterranean flora is being held in the giant conservatory on the 250-acre property, and though we found it beautiful, we also found it incredibly crowded as apparently every other dad had come out to the garden on this special day to see the spectacle. I’m more of an English Country garden kind of dad, so I was happy to discover not too far from the conservatory what was called the Poetry Walk.

The Poetry Walk is full of some of my favorites such as hydrangeas, tall grasses, roses, herbs and many other gentle, pastel colored flowers famous from the English countryside. Dotted along the walk are sixteen poems pertaining to the garden and make for a lyrical stroll through thoughtful plantings. There was even a section with a small hedge maze as well. If I had tons and tons more room in my backyard, this walk would certainly be an inspiration to borrow from. Luckily I’m all out of room in my backyard otherwise I would have gone directly to the garden shop and purchased as many hydrangeas as I could find. Not only are they long lasting, but so full and light and delicate with color shifts and such a long bloom time. They are my number one “go to” plant to fill in spaces and make hedges to hide yourself from the neighbors.

After Izabella and Jonathan left, Brian, Siena and I stayed on in hopes of seeing more of the garden, the parts not so populated with Alhambra crazed citizens. After a light lunch at the café (no biscuits were involved, and my waist line thanks me) we decided to try and find the rose garden. My love of roses couldn’t be further expanded upon in this forum if I tried, but needless to say my desire to find the garden was strong, especially now because before long the first June blooms will be but a memory.

We strolled along Azalea Way (the sweet name of the road) through giant old trees with under-plantings of hostas, ferns and astilbe. The sun was low enough in the sky to send golden rays scattering across the lawn and plants, giving a magical glow to the forest path we were walking upon. Through the woods and over the river, not to Grandma’s house, but across the Bronx River that runs through the middle of the garden. And what should our wandering eyes spy but the most beautiful stone mill nuzzled up to the river with a wedding about to begin. Brian and I both love stone houses, and this mill was exquisite. Upon further inspection (we crossed the bridge and had to make our way to the mill) we discovered it’s a building that can be rented for large events and all proceeds go to help a children’s hospital. I’m not sure how much it would cost to rent out, but what a place to have a wedding reception!!!.

Barely able to pull ourselves away, we finally made it to the Peggy Rockefeller Rose Garden. Cresting the hill just beyond our mirage-based mill, the garden spread out before us in all its glory; red, pink and yellow as far as the eye could see. The sight was stunning and took my breath away in its unexpected vastness. I’ve never seen such a rose garden. We worked our way down the long path…the way for road weary travelers with strollers, coming up the back entrance to the isles and isles of blooming bushes. The garden was closing at this point and I had to hurriedly make my way through with a few quick snapshots and the briefest moments for the necessary stopping and smelling. Plus, the sun was beating down on both Brian and Siena and it was time to wrap up our long weekend and collapse in the air-conditioned living room at home.

When I see a gorgeous flower, a light flakey pastry or a leaf-strewn sidewalk I naturally want to capture it with my eyes and my camera. I want to share what I find so extraordinary with others. There is nothing that compares to that moment of discovery, and no matter how many photos I take I’m often left with disappointment, the camera not quite capturing the joy in my experience. But every so often, one or two pictures do come out, do speak to the experience and share a feeling captured for as long as the image exists. All I can say is thank goodness for digital cameras, not only do they provide instant gratification but also are saving me from going into the poor house with fees from film development. The camera makes it easy to capture an image, but savoring a moment is an entirely different thing. Retaining that special moment is even more precious and worth stepping out from behind the camera from time to time. But my, my, how I do love to take pictures of a flakey biscuit! It’s just who I am.