love.life.eat
a relentless pursuit of the perfect home + dish
the snow white loaf: coconut milk banana nutella swirl
Posted on March 10, 2013
For the past three years, my friends always got the leftovers, the exhausted remains of me. The friend who feverishly checked her phone, hit refresh on the web page, who feigned being present but never was. I could tell they were frustrated, but I couldn’t help myself — I unknowingly gave the best part of myself to the wrong person. And wouldn’t you know, as soon as I said goodbye to all that, I passed hours with old friends, phone tucked away in my bag. One brave, sweet friend sighed extravagantly when she said: THANK GOD YOU’RE BACK. WE’VE MISSED YOU.
Granted, I’ve still more faces to see, lives to catch up on, but in the interim I baked this luscious cake for a colleague’s birthday, and I hope she savors every. single. bite.
Listening to: The Morning After Girls’ Hidden Spaces
Reading: Karen Russell’s Vampires in the Lemon Grove
INGREDIENTS: Recipe adapted from Nobile Pig’s delicious recipe, with modifications
For the bread
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3/4 cup cane sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 large egg, room temperature
1 cup + 1 tbsp light coconut milk
1/3 cup melted butter
1 cup sweetened flaked coconut
1 very ripe banana, mashed
1/4 cup Nutella (or any chocolate spread), lightly melted
For the glaze
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
2 tbsp coconut milk
1/2 cup sweetened flaked coconut
DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Prepare a 9 x 5 x 2.75 (correct size is important) baking pan with butter + flour, or coconut spray will suffice. In a small skillet melt the butter and set aside to cool.
Mix the sifted flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a large bowl. In another bowl beat egg with a fork and stir in melted butter and coconut milk. Combine well. Pour egg mixture into the flour mixture and stir just enough to combine. Fold in coconut and smashed banana.
Spread a third of the batter into the bottom of the loaf pan. Add half of the melted Nutella, covering the batter as best you can without mixing the two together. Add another 1/3 of the batter and cover the mixture completely. Finish with the other half of the Nutella and then more batter to top it off.
Use a table knife and stick it down, all the way through the batter at one end of the loaf pan. Work your way from one side of the pan to the other in a zigzag motion.
Bake 55-65 minutes, until done, ensuring that you turn the bread halfway through the baking process. As my oven is hot, unpredictable and cruel, I start checking at the 45 minute mark. Press on bread and if it feels springy to the touch it is likely finished baking. Let cool 20 minutes in pan before flipping over to a rack to cool completely.
For the glaze, add confectioners sugar to a medium sized bowl and add the milk. Mix until it is a thick, pourable glaze. Pour over bread and sprinkle with coconut. When glaze is dry, slice into 12 pieces.
seeking comfort from arugula pesto
Posted on February 28, 2013
When you’re under the weather {I’ve always wondered about this term and its origin. Could someone possibly be over the weather? I digress}, the only thing that’s not cumbersome is simple comfort food. For the past two days I’ve succumbed to the infectious plague that has become New York, and I’ve taken to my apartment, sustaining on green juices, tea and fresh pasta — in between chugs of DayQuil, naturally. Because, quite frankly, the idea of cooking anything complicated is inconceivable.
So I invite you to serve up this peppery version of the basil classic, and hope that I’ll be soaring over the weather come this weekend.
INGREDIENTS
8 oz fresh pasta (I oped for a tagliatelle, but you can use fettucini, linguine, etc)
3 oz washed + dried arugula leaves
1 large clove garlic
2 tbsp pecorino romano cheese
1 1/2 tbsp toasted pine nuts
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp cracked black pepper
1-2 tsp of the reserve pasta water
DIRECTIONS
Bring a medium pot of water to a boil. Your pasta water should be briny, much like the ocean, but don’t overdue it as fresh pasta absorbs more salt than dried. I tend to put 1-2 tsp of salt into my water. While the water is coming to a boil, blitz the arugula, garlic, cheese, toasted pine nuts, salt and pepper until it’s a thick, chunky paste and then stream in the olive oil until satiny-smooth. Scrape out the pesto and add to a large serving bowl.
Once the water has come to a boil, add in the pasta and cook to al dente, 2 minutes. Reserve 2 tsp of the pasta water and drain the pasta. Add the pasta to your pesto and mix to combine. Add in the pasta water to thicken the sauce.
This dish serves two, so dig in or reserve for lunch the next day!
whole wheat pasta with walnut + pistachio pesto
Posted on February 11, 2013
The morning is somber, dreary and cold, yet I walked into the office radiating warmth. Amidst all of the frenzy and noise I’m thinking about how I can bring space and quiet into every moment of my day. I’m even considering taking evening breaks from technology in an effort to refuel and rejuvenate. I’ve so many books to read, magazines to explore and movies to watch, I think there’s something to disconnection. Lately I’ve been thinking about how I can expand my thinking by reading outside of my comfort zone. Overseas newspapers, political publications — I’m swathing myself in great thinking, allowing that to light the way.
Luckily I am coming home to this tonight. A warm bowl of pesto pasta, a hot shower, a fine film.
INGREDIENTS
1 lb whole wheat penne
2 cups packed basil leaves
1/4 cup walnuts
1/4 cup pistachios
1/4 cup + 2 tbsp olive oil
2 fat cloves of garlic
1/4 tsp Kosher salt
1/4 tsp cracked black pepper
1/4 cup sundried tomatoes, packed in olive oil (optional)
2 tbsp reserve pasta water
DIRECTIONS
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. While your water is bubbling, blitz your nuts, basil and garlic until it’s a thick paste. Feel free to toss in the sundried tomatoes if you’re aching for a little color and texture. However, if you do, dial down the salt as the tomatoes tend to be a tad on the salty side. Stream in the olive oil (adding more based on your desired consistency) and then add the salt + pepper, to taste. Set aside.
Once the water is at a bowl, toss in your pasta and cook to al dente, saving 2 tbsp of pasta water aside. This will make your soft satiny and creamy without adding cream. I could possibly go on for hours on how cream simply ruins the nuanced flavors of a perfect pesto, but I’ll spare you the agony and just say this: YOU DON’T NEED CREAM.
Once the pasta is done, drain and add your pesto and reserve water to the pot. Serve with some pecorino romano or gruyere, if you please.
heirloom apple salad with sweet potato + blue cheese
Posted on December 24, 2012
Years ago we used to shout Merry Christmas from the rafters without apology. Along the way, the shouts were squashed to a timid murmur, and everyone now pantomimes Happy Holidays. I don’t actually remember when the shift occurred, but it was slight, imperceivable, and although stores felt comfortable hocking Christmas wares in October, everyone still dutifully obeyed the holiday greeting.
MERRY CHRISTMAS. MERRY CHRISTMAS. MERRY CHRISTMAS. EVE.
As I type this, I’m curled up on a warm couch with my kitty, nibbling on honey rolls. Readying myself from my annual Connecticut sojourn where I plan to eat my weight in cookies, beef and all sorts of terrific, culinary delights of which my dear friend Liz has in store for me. I plan to eat like it’s 2099, and in preparation I feel it’s wise to be a tad virtuous (hmm, we may want to nix the honey rolls).
Enter this yummy heirloom apple salad. Words cannot express how much I adore this salad. You won’t feel deprived, rather, you’ll find yourself digging in, fork first. The vinaigrette provides a sharp, fresh tang against the the pungent cheese and sweet potato. In all candor, this is a lot for two people, so I’d recommend this salad as a side for four, a generous portion for 3.
Hopefully, this will divert my attention from the magic bars in the freezer!
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Blue Apron
2 apples
1/4 cup roasted almonds
1 clove garlic
1 bunch arugula (2 cups)
1 head green leaf lettuce (4 cups)
1 small shallot
1 celery stalk
2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
4 tbsp olive oil
4oz blue cheese
1 baby sweet potato
1 bunch tarragon (3 tbsp)
DIRECTIONS
First, put a small pot of water to a boil. Peel and dice your sweet potato, then chop the celery. Next, dice the apples, then chop the tarragon. Finely chop the shallot, and set it aside in a small bowl with the apple cider vinegar. Lastly, smash and chop the garlic until it resembles a paste, then add it to the vinegar with the shallot.
Next, toast the almonds in a dry pan over high heat. They only need to toast for a few seconds — be careful not to burn them! Remove the almonds from the pan, then roughly chop them.
Add the diced sweet potatoes to the boiling water. Blanch them for 4-7 minutes, or until they can be easily pierced with a fork. Then, drain the sweet potatoes and rinse them under cold water. While the sweet potatoes are blanching, make the vinaigrette. Whisk together the apple cider vinegar, shallots and garlic with the olive oil, chopped tarragon, and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside.
Next, wash the lettuce and arugula, then shake off the excess water. Finely chop the greens together, then set them aside in a large mixing bowl. Add the apples, half of the almonds, celery, half of the blue cheese and sweet potatoes to the mixing bowl with the arugula and lettuce. Toss with enough of the vinaigrette to dress the salad. Divide the salad between two plates and garnish the remaining blue cheese and almonds. Enjoy!
chocolate pudding cake on a rainy day
Posted on December 16, 2012
Recently, everything around me felt familiar yet amiss, like the first time you ride in the back seat of your own car. ― Vendela Vida, Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name
Today I spent time with a sweet friend, hatching plans. We’re both at the age where we’ve rejected what our parents have told us — that the whole of our lives had to be decided once we stepped off that verdant lawn. Once we tossed our tasseled hats into the air, claiming we’re done with all that. We lived life according to plan, but the plan isn’t working and we’re off to forge a new one. Off to undo the damage all the years had done. But we must be patient and do it all right. Because the most important thing we have in our lives is time and our relationships with other people. So when I told my friend my whole roadmap, where I’d be and when, she said, you just gave me the chills.
So here’s to going where the day takes you. Here’s to toasting new ventures and a new year with great friends. And why not have some chocolate pudding along the way?
INGREDIENTS: Hot Chocolate Pudding 4-6 servings (small ramekins); 3 servings (large ramekins), adapted from David Lebovitz.
3 ounces (85g) unsalted butter, at room temperature, cubed
6 ounces (170g) semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3 large eggs, at room temperature
6 tablespoons (65g) sugar
pinch of salt
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Set ramekins or baking dishes on a baking sheet.
Put the butter and chocolate in a medium-sized bowl, and set the bowl over a pan of barely simmering water, stirring gently until smooth. Remove the bowl from the heat.
Using an electric mixer, or by hand with a whisk, whip the eggs, sugar, and salt until the mixture is light and foamy, and just holding its shape – about 5 minutes with a machine, or longer by hand. Fold one-third of the beaten eggs into the chocolate to lighten it, then scrape the lightened chocolate mixture over the beaten eggs, and fold it in just until there are no streaks of eggs visible.
Divide the batter into the baking dishes, filling them no more then 3/4rds full.
Bake the puddings on the lower rack of the oven for about 15 to 20 minutes until the puddings are puffed up, but a toothpick inserted into the center comes out with some soft, “gooey” chocolate attached. Since I used large ramekins, it took 27 minutes to cook.
Serve hot or at room temperature.
walnut basil pesto risotto
Posted on November 16, 2012
A few months ago I performed the arduous, yet satisfying task, of cleaning out my closet. This can be a cruel afternoon replete with hopeful tears (it’ll fit one day!), denial (just because I haven’t worn it in two years doesn’t mean I’ll never wear it!), rage (what possessed me to waste my hard-earned money on Christian Louboutin shoes, which are in fact the most uncomfortable shoes ever made!) and regret (that would’ve been cute had I been 27). And on this particular Saturday, I got downright surgical, shoving old sweaters into bins and ill-fitted dresses into bags, and I noticed that I have a predilection (some would say addiction) to the color BLUE.
A WOMAN BELIEVES IN THE COLOR BLUE. IN BLUE WE TRUST. ETC, ETC.
After I acquiesced to the fact that I’m only truly comfortable in greys, blacks, and tonal shades of my beloved blue, I felt relieved. As if the world had been set to rights. Liberated from the cruel pinks, oranges and other blasphemous colors that make one feel like Free Willy, etc.
And then last week I found myself scrolling the pages of the site, and much to my chagrin, everything was a variation of the colors orange, black and brown. From babka cakes to pumpkin pancetta risottos, I’m all fall, ALL. THE. TIME. While I believe in cooking seasonal, I do believe in slight variation (my greys + blacks to my blues), so I came home and fixed the most luscious of risottos. The nuttiness of the walnuts melds beautifully with the creamy rice, which is cut by the sharpness of the cool pesto. You will absolutely love this dish, and I’ve already polished off much of it for dinner.
INGREDIENTS
For the risotto
1 quart* chicken stock
1 cup arborrio rice
1 shallot, fine dice
2 tbsp unsalted butter
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
For the basil walnut pesto
1 cup basil, packed
1/4 cup walnuts
1/4 cup olive oil
2 garlic cloves
1/4-1/2 tsp truffle salt, to taste
1/4 tsp cracked black pepper
*1 quart is the equivalent of 32oz or 2 lbs
DIRECTIONS
In a food processor, blitz the walnuts, pesto, garlic, salt and pepper, streaming in the olive oil until you achieve a thick paste. You don’t want your pesto to be soupy or too oily, rather you want a voluptuous chunks that will hold up to the satiny, hot risotto. Once your pesto is a paste, set aside.
In a large sauce pot, bring the stock to a boil and then reduce to a simmer. Keep this pot next to our sauté pan, as you’ll need to continuously ladle from the stock to the skillet, so proximity is pretty key.
In a large sauté pan (translation: a skillet that can hold 3-4 quarts), sauté the shallots and salt on medium heat until translucent (1-2 minutes). Pour in the rice and cook until the rice is translucent and browns slightly, approximately 1-2 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low. You do not want burned onions or rice, so if this starts to happen ladle in liquid immediately. Do you want to sob over burnt risotto? My guess is NO WAY, NO DAY.
Add the stock, 1/2 cup at a time, and stir, and stir, and stir, until all of the liquid is absorbed. Keep ladling in the liquid in increments until all of the water is absorbed and the stock is thick and creamy. Remember, risotto isn’t a dish that will cook itself, it requires dedication, so be prepared to stand in front of the stove stirring for 20-30 minutes. I’ve been blasting Interpol and old-school U2 in these sorts of parallel parking scenarios.
Once all of the water has been absorbed, stir in the pesto until the risotto transforms into a verdant green. Mix for a good minute serve pipping hot. Add salt/pepper to taste, and cheese if you desire.
the game-changer + initiator of sweet tears: chocolate babka (krantz) cake
Posted on November 10, 2012
You slip out of your own skin, like molting, shedding your own history and your own future, leaving behind everything you ever were or wanted to believed in. Forty-three years old, and the war occurred half a lifetime ago, and yet the remembering makes it now. And sometimes remembering will lead to a story, which makes it forever. That’s what stories are for. Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can’t remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story. ― Tim O’Brien, The Things They Carried
You wonder if it’s possible to rewind all the clocks, revise in reverse. Rewind the tape and like that. Because lately you realize that’s what you’ve been doing — practicing nostalgia, talking about the past as if it were a record on the gramophone, a projector churning out old movies. Convinced that no one sees the world the way you do save for those who have lived through it. You talk about slipping quarters into payphones, photostats and fingers stained purple from the ink, negatives and film, cameras flannels and Doc Martens, Nirvana, Under the Bridge, rollnecks, Daria, Alf, Jeremy, dollar drafts, that other recession, that other George, televisions where you had to get up to change the channel, and a time when no one used a computer. Everyone passed notes. Everyone practiced diction: pedantic, punctilious, pugnacious. Everyone read real books. This was before the dawn of mediocrity, the era of we celebrate just your best, a time when anyone with a computer could call themselves a writer. The pill, it’s bitter to the tongue. Hard to swallow.
You tell stories because all time has a way of erasing things, and you’re left with a photocopy of the original, and there’s a moment when you wonder if it’s possible to get any of it back. Because there was something real and beautiful and honest about the years. Or maybe it’s you romanticizing on a time that doesn’t invite romance, thank you very much. So you focus on shedding the years like dead skin. You burn all the photographs and cut the negatives because you’re starting to realize that there is no compass for what lies ahead. There is only you with a little light, tumbling forward into the dark, to a new time, a new life, on the other side.
The first time I made chocolate babka cake was three years ago and I nearly sliced off a finger and set fire to my kitchen. Funny how time sorts things. Because what is lovely, beautiful, honest and true about the here and now is age, experience. And while I may not be the fanciest baker on the block, I feel humbled to know that I can make a damn good loaf of bread. This is one of the surprises that I hadn’t anticipated. Who knew that a teenaged girl who mixed in hardboiled eggs into brownie batter could make something like this. You can’t understand how proud I am of this babka and the years it took me to get to a place where I could say that.
Perhaps we need to forget the tape. Veer off the road.
INGREDIENTS: Adapted from Jerusalem: A Cookbook
For the Dough
4¼ cups (530g) all purpose flour, plus extra for dusting
½ cup (100g) superfine sugar
2 tsp (1 package) fast-rising active dry yeast
grated zest of small lemon
3 extra-large free-range eggs
½ cup (120ml) water
¼ tsp salt
⅔ cup (150g) unsalted butter, at room temperature, cut into very small cubes
sunflower oil, for greasing
For the Chocolate Filling
½ (50g) confectioner’s sugar
⅓ (30g) best quality cocoa powder
4½ oz (130g) good quality dark chocolate, melted
½ cup (120g) unsalted butter, melted
1 cup (100g) pecans, chopped
2 tbsp superfine sugar
Baker’s Notes: Superfine sugar is the equivalent of caster sugar (not quite icing not quite granulated, but somewhere in between). If you don’t have access to caster, I would put your granulated sugar in a food processor and grind to fine. Also, I loathe nuts of any variety in breads so I went without the pecans. Finally, I used large eggs instead of extra-large, as I rarely ever use extra-large in baking.
DIRECTIONS
DAY ONE: For the dough, place the flour, sugar, yeast and lemon zest in a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook and mix on low speed for 1 minute. Add the eggs and water and mix on low speed for a few seconds, then increase the speed to medium and mix for another 3 minutes, until the dough comes together. Add the salt and then start adding the butter, a few cubes at a time, mixing until it is incorporated into the dough. Continue mixing for about 10 minutes on medium speed, until the dough is completely smooth, elastic and shiny. During the mixing, you’ll need to scrape down the sides of the bowl a few times and throw a small amount of flour onto the sides so that the dough leaves them. You probably think that a dough this sticky will never get elastic? DON’T UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF YEAST, MY FRIENDS.
Place the dough in a large bowl brushed with sunflower oil (you can also use cooking spray, as I did), cover with plastic wrap, and leave in the fridge for at least a day, preferably overnight. This is your first rise and the dough will double in volume.
DAY TWO: You’ve survived the first rise! A brief confession on my part — I actually had the dough in a chilled counter, by accident, and it came out delicious so don’t freak out if this happens. But I digress. Grease two 2¼-lb/1kg loaf pans (9x4inches) with oil or cooking spray and line the bottom of each pan with parchment paper. Divide the dough in half and keep one-half covered in the fridge.
Make the filling by mixing together all of the ingredients listed to achieve a spreadable paste. Roll out the dough in a lightly floured surface into a rectangle measuring (15×11 inches). Trim the sides to make them even, then position the dough so that a long side is closest to you. Don’t freak out if this isn’t exact. DO YOU SEE ME WITH A RULER IN THE KITCHEN? NO WAY, NO DAY, KIDS. Use an offset spatula (or a butter knife works just fine) to spread half the chocolate mixture over the rectangle, leaving nearly an inch of a border around. If you’re using the pecans, sprinkle half on top of the chocolate, and then sprinkle 1 tbsp of superfine sugar.
Brush a bit of water along the long end farthest away from you. Use both hands to roll up the rectangle like a roulade, starting from the long side that is closest t you and ending at the other long end. Press to seal the dampened end onto the roulade and then use both hands to even out the roll into a perfect thick cigar. Rest the cigar on its seam.
Trim about three-quarters of an inch off both ends of the roulade with a serrated knife. Now use the knife to gently cut the roll into half lengthwise, starting at the top and finishing at the seam. Basically you’re dividing the log into two halves with the filling visible. With the cut sides facing up, gently press together one end of each half, and then lift the right half over the left half. Repeat this process, but this time lift the left over the right, to create a simple, two-pronged plait. Gently squeeze together the other ends so that you are left with the two halves, intertwined, showing the filling on top. Carefully lift the cake into a loaf pan. Cover the pan with a wet towel and leave to rise in a warm place for an hour to an hour + a half. The cake will rise 10-20%. Repeat the process with the second cake.
Pre-heat the oven to 375F and bake your cakes for about 25-30 minutes, until a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. Rest the cake in the pan on a rack for 10 minutes and then feel free to remove.
AND THEN PROCEED WITH THE TEARS.
can’t believe it’s this good: gluten + dairy free pumpkin streusel muffins
Posted on October 30, 2012
We will not discuss the Muffin Intervention of 2007. We won’t discuss the month-long, illicit affair I had with the now-extinct blueberry crumble muffin from Pret a Manger, nor the agonizing weeks after when I was forced to swallow oatmeal pretending that it was as perfect and crumbly and buttery as the BLUEBERRY MUFFIN. Even though pounds were lost, tears were shed, friends. I wept BUCKETS. I should say that I have somewhat of an addictive personality — once I love something I consume it to a fault until it becomes ruinous, until it’s something I no longer should be consuming. So the muffin and I have had the equivalent of monitored visitation rights. One lemon poppy here, a mixed berry there — nothing that drives consistency.
Until I found a more virtuous substitute in the pumpkin streusel muffin. I want to thank Poet in the Pantry for introducing me to a muffin that is full on flavor, and low in fat. Are these fat free? No, but they are more virtuous than a stick of butter and a pile of sugar. I love these muffins because they were feather-light, crumbling and not saccharine sweet. I’m starting to cultivate a taste for the symphony of ingredients, free of the mask of sugar. You can actually taste the smoke from the ginger, warmth from the cinnamon, tang from the honey. You’ll appreciate these muffins, want to savor them without the guilt, shame and painful separation that accompanies a Pret muffin addiction.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Poet in the Pantry, with slight modifications
For the Streusel
2 tbsp coconut oil, melted
2 tbsp amber honey
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
¼ tsp kosher salt
½ cup almond flour, lightly packed
¾ cup chopped walnuts
For the Muffins
1 cup pumpkin puree
4 large eggs
½ cup pure maple syrup (Grade A, the darker, the better)
½ cup coconut oil, melted
1 cup almond flour, lightly packed
⅓ cup coconut flour, lightly packed
1½ tsp cinnamon
½ tsp ground ginger
½ tsp kosher salt
½ tsp baking soda
DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 325F. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners and set aside. In a medium bowl, combine the streusel ingredients, tossing with a fork until you get fat crumbs. You should have barely any residual flour on the bottom of the bowl. Set this aside as well.
In a medium bowl, combine the dry ingredients: flours, cinnamon, ginger, salt and baking soda. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the wet ingredients: pumpkin, eggs, and maple syrup. Once well combined, whisk in the slightly-cooled coconut oil, stirring vigorously the whole time. You’re doing this because you don’t want to cook the eggs. Because GOD FORBID you have scrambled muffin eggs. Then there will be tears.
Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, and whisk until incorporated. Your batter should be thick and relatively lump-free. Using a large cookie (or ice-cream) scoop, portion out the batter, filling each muffin cup about ¾ of the way. Sprinkle streusel topping over each cup, dividing evenly.
Bake for 20-30 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted in the center of a muffin comes out clean. Cool for 5 minutes in the pan, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
brioche nanterre: flaky, buttery brioche loaf
Posted on October 29, 2012
After spending the morning on work-related conference calls (we’re working from home due to the severe weather in the NorthEast), moving all of my outdoor furniture indoors, and carefully reading weather reports and viewing graphical wind representations, I took some time to make brioche. You may think this is bizarre, however, the methodic nature of baking calms me, sets me to rights, brings me back to the world of the rational and sensible. So when I hear frantic meteorologists predicting that this storm is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, when I hear words like devastation, evacuation, flooding, I try to find center, remain calm and collected.
I invite you to try this buttery loaf with a fragrant light interior and a glossy tanned exterior. The loaf reminds me of the 1980s Ban de Soleil commercials, where a lithe model drapes her tawny legs on the sand, tosses on her hat and shades. This is a Ban de Soleil loaf, my friends, in its decadence and beautiful hue. Brioche made in a loaf tin is known as brioche nanterre, where four balls of dough (instead of two) are nestled into a tin, allowing them to bloom. Granted, the butter count is pretty lofty, however this isn’t a brioche for the weak of heart. This is a simple, divine loaf, which should be married with creamy butter, cheese or preserves.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Michael Paul’s Sweet Paris
2 1/2 tsp dried yeast (1 packet)
2 tbsp lukewarm water
2 tbsp caster (superfine) sugar
250g (2 cups) bread flour
1/2 tsp kosher salt
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
225g (80z, 1 stick) unsalted butter, diced, at room temperature
For the glaze: 1 egg
DIRECTIONS
Sprinkle the yeast into the water in a bowl and leave in a warm place for 5 minutes until bubbles appear.
In a separate bowl, combine the sugar, flour and salt. Pour the flour and yeast mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook. Mix on a low speed and then add the eggs. Beat on low for one minute and then increase the speed to high for 10 minutes until the dough comes away from the sides of the bowl. You will be tempted to pause before 10 minutes. A word of advice: RESIST TEMPTATION. Add the butter gradually and beat for another 5 minutes until the dough is glossy and elastic.
Transfer the dough to a large bowl, cover with a tea towel and leave at room temperature for 2 hours until the dough has doubled in size. Lightly flour the surface of your counter, and lift the sticky risen dough and divide into four equal pieces. Roll each piece into a ball, kneading it until smooth. For those of you not familiar with the kneading technique, it’s simple. With one hand, grab the back of the dough with your fingers and push it back out with the heel of your hand.
Place the four balls closely, side-by-side, in a lightly buttered loaf tin approximately 9×4 inches. Cover again with a damp cloth and leave at room temperature for 1/2 hour. Pre-heat the oven to 180C/350F. When ready to bake, using a pair of scissors, cut a cross in each ball before glazing. For the glaze, beat the egg and brush over the top.
Bake for 20-25 minutes until well-risen and golden brown (be careful to not overcook! I took mine out after 20 minutes), then cool on a wire rack. Serve while still warm with creamy French butter, preserves, or a hunk of your favorite cheese.
chocolate chunk banana loaf
Posted on October 27, 2012
Don’t you ever get the feeling that all your life is going by and you’re not taking advantage of it? Do you realize you’ve lived nearly half the time you have to live already? The world was not wheeling anymore. It was just very clear and bright and inclined to blur at the edges. ― Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
We always thought things would be different. We practiced idealism like sacrament, viewed the road that lay ahead of us as the promise land. A land worth fighting for. That Saturday, when we tossed our black hats up toward the sky we felt bound by nothing. We were jubilant. Let the shackles fall from our ankles. And the stampede! We ran on the hot pavement, away, away, from the flannel shirts, Nirvana, verdant lawns, apathy and dollar drafts. I tell you, it was a thing to see: the motley lot fleeing into the dark forest. We promised we’d hold hands like in grade school, but somewhere along the way, through the thicket, we lost one another. We let go. Don’t look back. Ours was a suspicious generation, one that didn’t care — or so we were always told by the elders — but we would still lay claim to the land. Carve out our place in it. Get the jobs we were meant to have; erect grand houses; have beautiful children. We set our clocks and watched them tick. Some of us respectfully declined wedding invitations. Others took planes across the ocean. Some of us passed away, and a few found it hard to let those four years fade. The sea was red and the sky was grey, wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today. The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake, as the children of the sun began to awake.
I look at this picture — of me holding a film camera, graduating with honors, ready for a job in investment banking — and I sometimes weep. Everything was so tragically clear back then, the world was mine for the taking, and I was ambitious, opinionated, arrogant, kind, loud and passionate. That Saturday I was also still drunk from the night before and reeling from the fact that I told my mother I never wanted to see her again. That I was done. I would spend the next decade recovering from this hurt. I would spend the next decade playing barnacle to a bottle of red wine. Letting some of my friends in this picture fade into film. But on that day I didn’t know any of this. I didn’t know that I’d take one job to leave it for another. Attend graduate school to leave it, cutting lines with my school ID card and flying to California, to the ocean, to take pills, tremble and shake. Back then the sheets bled red wine. My heart was a river and thankfully I was able to pull myself back to shore.
And here I am again. Half a life away from the day I walked onto that campus — the first in my family to attend college — determined to travel far, far away from where I’d come. And then I think about me in the next half life. Hopeful that I will have made a tremendous leap because I’m getting antsy in my own skin. Feeling the tension of being in the betweens, half here, half in the life I want to make for myself. Soon. Don’t look back.
Today I wanted to go back to all that was comforting. A recipe that felt like home, and so I tinkered with my banana loaf, making it a little more delicious with an infusion of dark chocolate to temper the sweetness. The combination of coconut oil and almond milk render a moist bread with an undercurrent of nutty flavor. This loaf was pure perfection and it gave me solace as I started to think about all that lay ahead.
INGREDIENTS
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
3 large eggs
1 1/2 cups cane sugar
1 cup coconut oil
2 tbsp pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups ripe mashed banana (about 3 medium)
1/2 cup dark chocolate chips
1/4 cup almond milk
Nonstick cooking spray
DIRECTIONS
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Coat two 9×5 inch loaf pans with cooking spray; set aside. I opted to use a larger pan and a a muffin tin because I felt a little rebellious today. However, feel free to color in the lines. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt; set aside.
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat the eggs, sugar, and coconut oil on medium-low speed until combined. Beat in the flour mixture, slowly. Add the vanilla, banana and almond milk, and beat just to combine. Fold in the chocolate chips.
Divide batter evenly between prepared pans; smooth with an offset spatula. Bake, rotating pans halfway through, until a cake tester inserted in the centers comes out clean, 60 to 65 minutes. Since my oven is hot, I tend to start checking at 50 minutes. Call me paranoid.
Transfer to a wire rack to cool for 10 minutes. Remove loaves from pans and let cool completely. Bread can be kept at room temperature, wrapped well in plastic, for up to 1 week, or frozen for up to 3 months.
an apple tart only a mother could love
Posted on October 26, 2012
In all candor, I wrestled with posting this recipe. For one, it’s brutally ugly — I’m talking a tart only a mother could love. Furthermore, there was a situation with the caramel. Let it be known that I have no patience for candy-making. I do not own a candy thermometer, nor do I want one. However, my affection for caramel is real, true and deep, and part of me thought: HOW HARD COULD THIS BE?
Famous last words.
While this tart is incredibly delicious — a thin layer of flaky, lightweight pastry serving as a bed for roasted apples and sweet caramel — I really botched the caramel situation simply for the fact that akin to making risotto, you really have to linger in the kitchen. And you have to keep stirring. Going forward, I’m going to use David Lebovitz’s bullet-proof caramel technique to avoid heartbreak and confusion. Also, cane sugar is ROUGH in terms of releasing liquids (I don’t have granulated in my pantry), and the fact that I left it for a bit caused some deep clumps to form and harden. Picture me HOWLING in the kitchen.
THIS WOMAN IS A FIGHTER! And I pressed on, apply said caramel to the roasted apples and allowing the mixture to bubble in the oven. The recipe was extraordinary and delicious, in spite of its ugliness.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe + instructions adapted from Smitten Kitchen
For the Tart base
14-ounce package puff pastry, defrosted in fridge overnight
3 large or 4 medium apples (about 1 1/4 pounds)
2 tbsp granulated sugar
2 tbsp unsalted butter, cold, cut into small bits
For the Salted caramel glaze
1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tbsp unsalted butter (or salted, but then ease up on the sea salt)
1/4 tsp flaky sea salt (or half as much table salt)
2 tbsp heavy cream
DIRECTIONS
Heat your oven to 400°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. A smaller pan will make a thicker tart (and you might need fewer apples). In a larger pan, you can still fit a 10×15-inch tart, which I think is the ideal size here.
Lightly flour your counter and lay out your pastry. Flour the top and gently roll it until it fits inside your baking sheet, and transfer it to the sheet.
Peel the apples and cut them in half top-to-bottom. Remove the cores and stems. Slice the apples halves crosswise as thinly as you can with a knife, or to about 1/16-inch thickness with a mandoline. Leaving a 1/2-inch border, fan the apples around the tart in slightly overlapping concentric rectangles — each apple should overlap the one before so that only about 3/4-inch of the previous apple will be visible — until you reach the middle. Sprinkle the apples evenly with the first two tablespoons of sugar then dot with the first two tablespoons butter.
Bake for 30 minutes, or until the edges of the tart are brown and the edges of the apples begin to take on some color. If you sliced your apples by hand and they were on the thicker side, you might need a little more baking time to cook them through. The apples should feel soft, but dry to the touch. If you puffed pastry bubbles dramatically in any place during the baking time, simply poke it with a knife or skewer so that it deflates.
Meanwhile, about 20 minutes into the baking time, make your glaze. In a small saucepan over medium-high heat, melt your last 1/4 cup sugar; this will take about 3 minutes. Cook the liquefied sugar to a nice copper color, another minute or two. Off the heat, add the sea salt and butter and stir until the butter melts and is incorporated. Add the heavy cream and return to the stove over medium heat. Cook, stirring constantly, until you have a lovely, bronzed caramel syrup, just another minute, two, tops. Set aside until needed. You may need to briefly rewarm it to thin the caramel before brushing it over the tart.
After the tart has baked, transfer it to a cooling rack, but leave the oven on. Using very short, gentle strokes, and brushing in the direction that the apples fan to mess up their design as little as possible, brush the entire tart, including the exposed pastry, with the salted caramel glaze. You might have a little leftover. Whatever you do, do not spread it on a sliced apple for a snack.
Return the apple tart to the oven for 5 to 10 more minutes, until the caramel glaze bubbles. Let tart cool complete before cutting into 12 squares. Serve plain, with coffee or tea, if you’re feeling grown-up or with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, if you’re feeling particularly indulgent.
get ready to howl: pumpkin mocha cheesecake
Posted on October 18, 2012
Would you believe that instead of running to spin class last night, I rushed home to bake a recipe I’d seen on Pinterest. I’ve been courting this cheesecake for days, thinking about the layers of luscious flavor — the rich, earthy pumpkin juxtaposed with the sharp flavor of coffee, all cut with varying textures of chocolate. Would you believe I dreamt about this cheesecake? Pictured it in the oven, told myself that it would be criminal to open the door as the delicate cake would cave in and crack?
Call me mad. But if this affection for cake is wrong, I most certainly don’t want to be right. Bring me my straightjacket and lullaby music, pretty please.
A note of caution before I enter rhapsody: always study recipes before you attack them. I’m pretty surgical when it comes to baking, and when I first spied this on The Daily Green, I was jubilant, but after a few reads, skeptical. First off, the photo is inaccurate. The photo looks like a plain cheesecake with a chocolate base — the finished result, on Organic Valley, is a much more accurate depiction. Expect a pale orange hue with a layer of cracked chocolate ganache on top and a coffee layer on the bottom. Also, I was disappointed by some of the technical mistakes in The Daily Green recipe (compare the two and you’ll see the glaring errors). In the end this recipe was a triumph with some modifications. My only gripe with the original is that the base was a bit too crumbly and acrid for my taste. On the next go, I plan to up the butter content and reduce the coffee grains.
What you’ll adore about these cheesecake is not only the flavor profile but the texture juxtaposition. It reminded me of an eclair in the sense that you’ll enjoy a top layer that cracks and yields to the creamy, luscious pumpkin cheesecake — only to be balanced by a chocolate, coffee-infused base.
End result? BANANAS.COM.
INGREDIENTS: Recipe courtesy of Organic Valley, with considerable modifications
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided
1 1⁄2 cups finely crushed graham crackers + 1 tbsp Dutch-Process cocoa
2 tablespoons finely ground coffee
3 8-ounce packages cream cheese, softened
1 cup coconut palm sugar
5 large eggs
1 15-ounce can solid pack pumpkin puree
2 tsp vanilla extract
8 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, divided
1-2 tbsp almond milk
DIRECTIONS
For the crust: Heat oven to 350°F. Melt 4 tablespoons of the butter; combine with crushed grahams, cocoa and ground coffee. Press into bottom and partially up the sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Bake 8 minutes.
For the filling: In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat the cream cheese for 3 to 4 minutes. The consistency will shift to more of a frosting texture (picture tufts of white hair). If you’re like me and work an insane 12-hour workday and don’t have time (or simply forgot) to leave the cream cheese out, here’s a quick trick. Fill a bowl with very warm water and immerse the sealed packages of cream cheese for 5 minutes. The cream cheese will soften without melting. While your cheese is beating, melt 4 ounces of chocolate in a double-broiler and set aside to cool.
After four minutes, gradually beat in sugar and continue beating 2 to 3 minutes. Beat in eggs one at a time. Beat in pumpkin, cooled chocolate and vanilla.
For the cheesecake: Pour filling into crust. Immerse the springform pan in a water bath (essentially this is a roasting pan filled with 2 inches of lukewarm water. This will allow the cheesecake to cook evenly and maintain the integrity of its texture). Bake until instant thermometer inserted in center reads 160 degrees, 70 to 75 minutes. Cool cheesecake to room temperature, add the glaze, and then chill it thoroughly. I left it in the refrigerator overnight, but typically cheesecakes set after five hours.
For the glaze: Melt chocolate and remaining 2 tablespoons butter in double boiler, or a bowl set over a pan of boiling water. Remove from heat; whisk lightly, then whisk in almond milk to thin the mixture, if needed. Cool 10 minutes. Press top of cheesecake to even out the surface and “mend” any cracks. Spread chocolate glaze over cheesecake. Chill to set topping.
