Mountain of Apple Pie

It seems like just the other day I was writing about baskets of beautiful August tomatoes, and now suddenly it's fall. The boxes of berries, piles of tomatoes and crates of peaches at the greenmarket have been replaced by mountains of apples, bunches of dark greens and stacks of squash. And although I don't particularly like squash, it's every bit as inspiring and happy-making to ogle on my lunch break as summer fruits.

Fall is my absolute favorite season, not least because my birthday is in September (for which Nick gave me a new digital camera, which should significantly improve the quality of the photography here.) And one of the real joys of the season is apple pie - which is Nick's favorite, and definitely one of my top five, if not two. So, despite the fact that I have no food processor (my usual pie crust tool) I was determined to make an apple pie before the season escaped me, as peach pie season did. I figured that would entail investing in a $100 food processor, and was just about ready to pony up the cash. Then last week I decided to make empanadas (I need more practice before they become blog-worthy) mostly because I wanted to eat them. Well, the first step in empanada-making is dough-making and, as it turns out, empanada dough is a whole lot like pie dough. Except the empanada dough recipe I was using said to simply pinch the butter into the flour with your fingers. Which I did. And it was while my floury fingers were pinching butter (and begining to get tired) that I realized the technique was equally applicable to pie dough. Now, it wasn't the first time I'd considered making pie dough by hand, but it was the confirmation I needed that it would probably, most likely, work.

So with that knowledge in mind, I went to the greenmarket last Friday and bought as many apples as I could carry. I usually use Granny Smith for pie - the tartness and texture are both perfect and they don't turn mealy or into sauce in the oven - but apprently Granny Smith are not one of the several dozen apple varietes grown in the greater (much greater) New York City area. So I went for a mix of giant Mutsus and some red-and-green ones I forget the name of, unfortunately. The Mutsus tasted a little too much like Golden Delicious for my taste, but it didn't seem to negatively affect the taste of the pie. The red-and-green ones tasted a lot like Macintosh, which have a great flavor but tend to get a little too mushy in pie. I figured combining the perfect-texture apples and the perfect-taste apples would yield a happy-medium delicious pie, and I think I lucked out.

But of course, before apples even enter the apple-pie picture, you must make the dough. I've made strawberry-rhubarb pie here before, and the recipe is the same. The only thing I did differently this time was mixing everything by hand. So, if you don't have a food processor, here's what you do:

Whisk the dry ingredients together to blend. Cut the butter into small pieces, about 1/4 inch on each side, by standing it on its end and slicing twice, at right angles, lengthwise (so you have 4 long, skinny sticks of butter). Hold the sticks together and cut into 1/4 inch slices. The smaller you make them, the less tired your fingers will be later. I would also advise using a very sharp knife - cutting cold butter with a butter knife makes it break and takes more work, which warms up the butter. You want to keep you butter as cold as possible.

Dump all the little butter pieces into the bowl of dry ingredients and start pinching and squeezing it into the flour. It's an imprecise process, but you'll figure it out. Just keep breaking up the butter until the dough resembles coarse meal. The only piece of advice I have is to keep your hands in the bowl at all times, so the butter gets coated in flour as you squeeze it. When you've got your coarse meal, slowly pour in the ice water while mixing with a fork. When the dough is uniformly moistened, turn it out onto a clean counter and proceed as usual.

I use my mother's recipe for the apple filling, which is very simple and mostly apples. Peel the apples and cut them up into large chunks. I like to keep the pieces nice and big so they stay together in the pie. Toss the apple chunks in a VERY LARGE bowl with:

1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup flour
the juice of 1/2 a lemon
and 2 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon.

Then back to the dough, which has been chilling in the fridge (or freezer if you only have an hour or so.) Roll it out like in the strawberry rhubarb pie recipe, then fill with apples. I like to mound the apples up as high as humanly possible (see photo). My pie was at least 6 inches tall before cooking. I had to take the top rack out of the oven. Don't worry, they cook down a lot.

On top of your mountain of apples, slice 1 tablespoon of butter. Then cover with the second crust. I usually just do a regular solid crust for apple pie. Trim and crimp the edges. And don't forget to poke some holes in it! My mom likes five slits with a small knife, in a circle around the top (so of course I do too.) Then coat lightly with a mix of one egg white and a little bit of cream, beaten together (this was where my lack of kitchen tools became a real problem, I'm lacking a pastry brush and had to use my fingers, awkwardly.) Sprinkle with coarse non-melting sugar, and pop it in the oven! Bake for 15 minutes at 400º, then turn the heat down to 350º and bake for another hour, or until brown.

Enjoy warm, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream if you like. Then go jump in a pile of leaves for me! (I miss real trees.)

Too Many Tomatoes

When my cousins and I were younger, my grandmother used to give us each a little plot in her garden. We could grow whatever we wanted,which usually included lots of beans, cherry tomatoes and sunflowers (for the sunflower contest, of course.) She's since reclaimed most of the garden, but when Addie decided she wanted to grow some tomatoes this year, grammie was more than happy to provide the dirt. Sometime in August, big, red sun-drenched tomatoes appeared by the dozen. At least that's the impression I got from the enormous basket of big, red sun-drenched tomatoes my parents brought when they visited a few weeks ago.

These tomatoes were gorgeous. Like, tomato-hall-of-fame quality tomatoes. But what was I going to do with a garden's worth of tomatoes? It's just me and Nick here, and although we can put away more food than you might expect, this was a lot of tomatoes. It was hard to get the basket up the stairs.


What ensued was several days - a week, probably - of tomato-based meals and the production of tomato products. I became a veritable tomato-using factory. First came a spicy tomato-chicken soup, sort of a hybrid between tortilla soup and chili. It was inspired by the ingredients that just happened to be in my kitchen which, besides tomatoes, included chicken, frozen corn, onions, chicken, blue corn tortilla chips and a lot of chili powder. Combining all of the above in my deep cast iron pan (also from grammie) yielded a tasty, if somewhat too spicy, soupy summery stew.

While the soup was delicious, it had hardly made a dent in the tomato mountain. So I made some bruschetta, which was delicious and easy and, once again, inspired by the contents of my kitchen - and fire escape. I just diced a bunch of the tomatoes and mixed in some olive oil, fresh basil, dried oregano and salt and pepper, then heaped a generous amount of that onto little pieces of toast brushed with olive oil and topped with grated Parmesan. (I might have added a little onion or garlic too, I can't quite remember.)

The bruschetta was delicious but there were still many, many tomatoes left. A project of a larger scale was called for. The obvious answer was tomato sauce.

I make a lot of tomato sauce. It's easy (although it tends to leave my stove and the side of my fridge covered in tomato splatter) and Nick eats it practically by the gallon. I've never used a recipe, I just do what I've always watched my parents do at home (tomato sauce is one of the very few things my dad can cook.) But, inspired by the mountain of fresh tomatoes, I decided to try something different. And the result is what I now call "the best roasted tomato sauce ever."

In all honesty, I have minimal experience with roasted tomato sauces. In fact, this is the first I've ever made. Nevertheless, I've dubbed it the best ever simply because I can't imagine anything ever tasting better. Somewhat ironic, really, since I made it up on the spot based, yet again, on what was in my kitchen. Come to think of it, the ingredients are almost identical to those in the bruschetta. But in a hot oven, doused in olive oil, their flavors combine and intensify, creating the most flavorful tomato sauce I think I've ever had. Amazing, from such a few simple ingredients. I chalk it up to the Cabot Farm tomatoes.


All I did was slice the tomatoes into nice big chunks - quarters or sixths - from top to bottom. Then I wedged them all into a baking dish like New Yorkers on the subway at rush hour. I threw in a few whole cloves of lightly crushed peeled garlic and a bunch of basil leaves from the fire escape. Then I added a generous amount of dried oregano, some salt and pepper and maybe a dash of onion or garlic powder. Finally, and I think this is the really, really delicious part, I coat everything with about a third an inch of olive oil. I toss them to coat everything in oil, then stick them in the oven around 350º for about half an hour, or until the tomatoes are mushy and surrounded by lots of fragrant juice. Then I like to mush them with a metal spatula and stick them back in the oven for a bit. That's it! It's delicious on anything and makes the kitchen smell like an Italian restaurant. And it's a great way to use up a lot of extra tomatoes!

Chocolate Chip Cookie Muffins

America never ceases to amaze. Walking through a convenience store the other day, I noticed something called a "breakfast cookie." Made by Quaker, the oatmeal people, it appears to be nothing more than a large, individually-wrapped oatmeal cookie with the word "breakfast" on it. But I haven't tried it - I suppose it could be more of a circular granola bar. In any case, it struck me as a pretty shallow marketing ploy.

But I may now have to rescind my initial derision. For I've discovered my own - less duplicitous – way to eat cookies for breakfast. I call them: Chocolate Chip Cookie Muffins.

I woke up Saturday morning wanting muffins, but, not having planned ahead and still lacking in many basic foodstuffs, didn't know what kind of muffins I could make. Luckily, I have a book called Muffins A to Z (by Marie Simmons). I've probably had this book for at least 10 years - my mom gave it to me for my birthday when I was little and we used to make the Lemon Drizzle Lemon muffins from it all the time. They're really good. The Devil's Food Chocolate Chip Muffins aren't bad either - probably because they bear a great resemblance to cupcakes.

But back to the chocolate chip cookie muffins. At the back of the A to Z book is a recipe for "Quickie-Mix Muffins" (she needed something for Q) - just a very simple muffin base you can throw anything into. Lo and Behold, I had all the Quickie Mix ingredients on hand. I also had a bag of chocolate chips. Or thought I did... have I mentioned we're having a heat wave here in New York? (At least that's what they say... if you ask me it's just more of the same oppressive heat we've been enjoying for weeks.) But no worries, I broke apart the semi-molten semi-sweet chips to the best of my abilities, and, since my abilities are nothing to shout about, the muffins boasted some nice big chocolaty patches.

Here's the recipe, if you, too, would like to guiltlessly eat large, soft chocolate chip cookies
for breakfast. Pour yourself a glass of OJ and call it a balanced meal.

Chocolate Chip Cookie Muffins

First, make the quickie mix by whisking together:

10 cups flour
1 cup sugar
3 Tb baking powder
4 tsp baking soda
2 tsp salt

Unless you want to make a ridiculous quantity of muffins, measure 2 2/3 cups of the dry mix into a bowl. Store the rest at room temperature in something airtight. You can use it next time you wake up wanting muffins.

Preheat the oven to 400º and coat a 12-cup muffin tin with non-stick spray.

Add another 1/4 cup of sugar to the 2 2/3 cups of dry mix in the bowl.

Then, in a separate bowl, whisk together:

1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/4 vegetable oil
2 large eggs

Add the wet ingredients to the dry. When almost combined, fold in 3/4 cup of chocolate chips.

Divide the batter evenly among the 12 cups - it won't rise much, so you can fill them up pretty well.

Bake 19-20 minutes, or until slightly browned.

Yummy Pizza

Surprise... more Basil! Also, more prosciutto. Nick has decided he really likes it. Prosciutto, not basil. Although he likes Basil too, thank goodness.

Anyway, this pizza was primarily intended as a vehicle for the aforementioned basil and prosciutto, as well as the remaining mozzarella in my fridge. All three are incredible: the basil is from my fire escape, and the prosciutto and mozzarella are from Italy by way of Agata & Valentina, an absolutely amazing gourmet food store on 79th and 1st. They have at least 4 kinds of prosciutto, exotic cheese offerings and make their own pasta. Needless to say, I love it there.

The pleasant surprise of the evening was how great the pizza itself was. I bought the dough from a pizza place down the street and was a bit shocked to pay $5 for it. Admittedly, it was a HUGE piece of dough, but still. Pizza dough is a dollar in Salem - you could get a whole pizza for $5! But it wouldn't be as good as this pizza.

Because the dough was so big, it was a kind of thick-crust pizza. And although I usually prefer thin-crust, it was really good. Soft and chewy but not gooey - I don't know how I did it. All I know is I used some chunky tomato sauce I made last week, tore the mozzarella over that, grated a bunch of Parmesan on top and stuck it in a 500º oven for about 18 minutes.

Then I tore the prosciutto and basil over after it came out of the oven, and it was great!

Of Butchers and Basil

Two exciting new culinary developments this week.

First, I found a butcher. I've always wanted a butcher. It's nice to be able to get exactly what you want, plus some advice on what to do with it. And I've never been particularly fond of buying meat in shrink-wrapped Styrofoam at the grocery store. It's a kosher butcher, so no pork, but lots of very helpful Jewish men.

Second, I got a Basil plant! I found it at the miniature farmers' market on 92nd street for only $6. I've named him Basil, and he lives on my fire escape. Having a nice green plant waving around outside the window makes me surprisingly happy.

So dinner tonight was in honor of the butcher and the basil. I made chicken stuffed with prosciutto, mozzarella and, you guessed it, basil, and then a cucumber watermelon salad with more basil. Both were based on recipes from epicurious.com, my versions follow.

Prosciutto, Mozzarella and Basil stuffed chicken
Serves 2

2 boneless Chicken Breasts, skin on
4 slices Prosciutto di Parma
1 small ball Fresh Mozzarella
8 large Basil leaves
Coarse grained mustard
Salt & Pepper
Olive Oil

Preheat your oven to 325º

1. First, make a pocket in each chicken breast by carefully cutting a slit three-quarters of the way through, lengthwise.

2. Gently slide 1 or 2 basil leaves under the skin of each chicken breast.

3. Lay your prosciutto slices out flat on a cutting board. Tear or grate some mozzarella over each. Tear some medium sized pieces of basil over the cheese.

4. Roll up each prosciutto slice, then stuff two into the pocket of each chicken breast. Season the chicken with salt & pepper.

5. Heat a couple tablespoons of olive oil in an ovenproof skillet. Gently place the chicken breasts skin side down in the skillet.

6. Spread about 2 teaspoons coarse-grained mustard on the underside of the chicken.

7. Brown the skin side for a few minutes, then flip. When both sides are slightly browned, put the chicken in the oven. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until cooked through.

Cucumber Watermelon Salad

2 cups cubed watermelon
1 cucumber, cubed
juice of 1 lime
1 Tb. chopped basil leaves
1 Tb. chopped cilantro
1 Tb. chopped mint

Combine everything in a bowl. Eat.

Breakfast in New York

I know, I know, I've been away a very long time. Apologies. But I've been busy! Two weeks ago, I moved to New York City with Nick, a very long, very exhausting process that ate up all my time for weeks. But we're here now and somewhat settled into our apartment, which has, I swear, the best kitchen in Manhattan. Lucky me! I've been making good use of it, cooking tasty, if simple, dinners every night. Some of the highlights have been spaghetti and meat balls, blue cheese burgers with cole slaw salad, beef tacos, soba noodle salad with marinated steak and, Nick's favorite, pork chops with mushroom risotto.

The one thing that's been lacking is baked goods - it's about 80 degrees out most days, and the one (tiny) downside to my enormous kitchen is that it's so big, it's hard to air condition effectively with our one window unit. So the heat has kind of deterred me from making anything too oven-intensive. The other obstacle was my lack of baking ingredients - flour, sugar and the like. We live in a 5th floor walkup, so I can only buy as much food as I can carry up 4 flights of stairs. I had to forgo the baking essentials in favor of dinner ingredients for many days. But then yesterday Nick came grocery shopping with me, so I stocked up. And this morning, I made pancakes!

Pancakes are, without a doubt, one of my favorite things to make and eat. I'm a total sucker for breakfast foods in all forms (my favorite words are "breakfast served all day") but pancakes make me especially happy. I think they make other people happy too. And I'm lucky enough to now own a Black & Decker electric griddle, courtesy of my lovely mother, that makes beautiful, evenly cooked pancakes every time. I've never had much luck with frying pan pancakes (ironic, given their name) so my griddle is a godsend. (They're super cheap at Target, if you're in the market.)

I realized that, although I make them all the time, I've never before published my pancake recipe - which is actually my mother's pancake recipe. It's not revolutionary or anything, but it makes super fluffy, delicious pancakes that are the best I've ever had. I'm going to share it with you now, but in return, you have to promise to treat the pancakes well.

That means you can only flip them once - more and they'll get tough.

That also means no store-bought frozen blueberries - they don't taste like anything. My family just happens to have a dozen blueberry bushes in our front yard, which means we have massive quantities of fresh berries in the summer and our freezer is full of flavorful frozen blueberries all winter. Unfortunately most people don't have that luxury and must buy their blueberries at a store. Fresh berries from a grocery store are fine in the summer, but they can be prohibitively expensive when they're out of season. So in the fall and winter, try something else. I love apple pancakes, my mom used to make them for my birthday (in September) all the time. Or just throw in some chocolate chips! They're never out of season, and they're always a big hit. Even better, mash up a banana and make banana-chocolate chip pancakes. Yum.

Finally, whatever you do, don't overmix the batter! Only mix until everything is combined - it should still have lumps in it. If you overmix, bad things will happen. And I will be very sad.

That being said, this is really a pretty simple recipe that uses a minimum of ingredients. You should be able to make delicious pancakes on your first try.

Mom's Blueberry Pancakes

2 cups cake flour (I have to admit, I couldn't find cake flour at the store yesterday, so I used regular old gold medal flour. It works fine, but try to get some cake flour, as it will make your pancakes lighter and fluffier.)
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt (we use coarse kosher salt, if you're using regular table salt you might want a tiny bit less, as it's saltier)
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 1/2 cups buttermilk (I usually use light or low fat)
3 Tb melted butter (unsalted, always)
2 large eggs, beaten
3/4 pint fresh blueberries, or other fruit (I've used strawberries to good effect, and I especially like apples.)

Preheat a griddle - I set mine to about 300º, but you might need to experiment to get the best setting for your griddle. The pancakes should take a few minutes to brown, otherwise the center won't cook. Play around and see what works.

1. In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients.

2. Add the buttermilk, butter and eggs and mix just until combined. Use a rubber spatula to scrape down the sides of the bowl if necessary. The batter should be thick but still somewhat viscous. If it's more solid than liquid (sits in a ball in the middle of the bowl, say) it won't spread out on the griddle and you might need to add a little more buttermilk. But not too much - it should be somewhere in between cake batter and bread dough, consistency wise.

3. Gently fold the blueberries in with the spatula.

4. Butter or spray your griddle. (Even if it's non-stick.) Scoop about 1/2 cup of pancake batter onto your griddle. It should spread out a bit, gradually, but still retain some height.

5. Let the pancake sit until bubbles begin to pop up on the surface. Gently lift with a spatula to check the underside, when it's a light golden brown flip the pancake over.

6. Let it sit on the second side for a couple more minutes. It should rise slightly as the center cooks. The second side usually cooks more quickly, so when you think it might be ready, take a peek to see if the bottom is light golden brown. When they're done, the pancakes should no longer be floppy. If they're too floppy, the centers aren't cooking and you need to turn your griddle down.

7. Top with some fresh fruit and maple syrup (not fake "pancake" syrup!), and enjoy!

Cooking from "Cooking for Mr. Latte"

I just finished Cooking for Mr. Latte, an engrossing, recipe-filled take on the food memoir genre that inspired me to put down the book and pick up a spatula. Admittedly, it also filled me with envy - what I wouldn't do to have Amanda Hesser's job. The lucky girl was a food writer for the New York Times, where she initially wrote "Mr. Latte" as a series of columns. They were cobbled together into this episodic book, which remains a series of closely related vignettes. They all focus on food, of course, and each concludes with a handful of promising recipes. Hesser has an MFK Fisher-influenced take on food and life, which is to say that life, love, food and friendship are all closely intertwined for her. She writes about food's power to bring people together, to create lasting memories, to challenge us and to define us. She's part of the contingent who truly believe you are what you eat (or cook or bake.)

Inspired by the stories behind her recipes and, admittedly, my envy of her life, I thought I'd try my hand at a few of Hesser's recipes. Unsurprisingly, because I am me, the two recipes I've tried are both baked desserts.

I settled on the first, Amanda's mother's Peach Tart, because I found myself in front of a giant pile of apricots at Whole Foods with the book in my purse. This is a really interesting, sort of bizare tart recipe. First of all, it's made in a square cake pan instead of a tart pan. Second, you mix the dough for the crust right in the pan. Third, there's olive oil in the dough – I thought this gave the tart and interesting Mediterranean sort of flavor, but my mother didn't like it (and she loves olive oil.)

I have to admit I kind of screwed up and mixed what Hesser calls "the pebbly mixture" (sugar, flour, salt and butter) into the apricots, rather than sprinkling it on top. Oops. (See picture, then don't do that.) I kind of liked the effect though, I thought it gave the impression that there was a custard between the apricot slices.

In any case, here's the recipe, the way I made it.

Judith Hesser's Peach Tart, with Apricots

1 1/2 cups plus 2 Tb Flour
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 cup olive oil (you could use vegetable oil if you agree with my mother)
2 Tb milk (I used skim)
1/2 tsp. Vanilla (the recipe says almond extract, but my mom hates almond extract, so we don't have any in the house)
2 Tb cold unsalted butter
8 or 9 Apricots, thinly sliced

1. Preheat oven to 425º. In an 8-inch square pan, stir together 1 1/2 cups flour, 1/2 tsp. salt and 1 tsp. sugar.

2. In a small bowl, whisk together the oil, milk and vanilla or almond extract.

3. Pour the liquids into the pan and mix gently with a fork, just enough to dampen. Then use your hands to pat out the dough so that it covers the bottom of the pan and goes about 3/4 of an inch up the sides. Amanda says "This will be easy if you pat firmly and confidently, but not if you curl your fingertips into the dough." (I did as she said, and it was easy.)

4. In a bowl, combine 3/4 cup sugar, 2 Tb. flour, 1/4 tsp. salt and the butter. (I might've skimped on the flour a bit because the apricots weren't juicy at all.) Use your fingers to pinch the butter into the dry ingredients until crumbly, with a mixture of fine granules and tiny pebbles.

5. If you're Amanda: "arrange the peaches in rows over the pastry; they should fit snugly. Sprinkle the pebbly mixture over the top." But if you're me, toss the apricots with the pebbly mixture then dump the whole thing into the pan.

6. Bake for 35 to 45 minutes, "until shiny, thick bubbles begin enveloping the fruit and the crust is nut brown." Or until it looks like this:

I thought it was delicious, my mom thought it was a bit too tart and had the aforementioned olive oil issue. Obviously, in order to really decide what we thought of Ms. Hesser, we had to make another recipe. Also, I needed something to give Miranda, who is kindly allowing me to crash on her couch in New York again tonight. We decided on the Chocolate Chunk-Pecan-Coconut Cookies on page 303.

Perhaps because they were devised as a cleaning-out-the-pantry project, these cookies call for a ridiculous amount of chocolate. Twenty-four ounces, to be exact. That's a lot of chocolate. Luckily, my mom keeps industrial amounts of baking supplies around the house. Also luckily, Julia was there to help me chop it all. Although she left before it was time to fold the chocolate, pecans and coconut into the dough, which was exhausting. As Amanda says, these cookies are really chocolate and pecans held together by some shreds of dough. My mom argued that it's okay to mix chocolate chunks in with the Kitchen Aid, but I didn't want them to be chocolate cookies. And the workout was worth it: the shards of chocolate made a nice pattern on the finished cookies that reminds me of straciatella gelato. They're really quite attractive, for cookies with everything but the kitchen sink in them. They're also, and this is key, delicious. The coconut makes them incredibly chewy, even the next day. They're not too sweet, but still have that great brown sugar taste. And, unsurprisingly, the ridiculous amount of chocolate was just enough. Congratulations Ms. Hesser, you've won.

(P.S. I don't have time right now to write out the cookie recipe, but would be happy to if anyone wants to make them. Or you could buy the book - it's awesome!)

Flourless Chocolate Espresso Cake

This cake was a hit from the time it left the oven in Providence Thursday morning to the time I left Addie's apartment at 11:30 that night. It even attracted the attention of an MBTA conductor who would have given me a free ride if I'd only be willing to cut her a slice. I would have, but a cake less one slice isn't a very nice thing to bring to a dinner party.

Addie and Alexis were having an "apartment cooling" party before they moved out of their loft, since they had never had an apartment warming. They made stuffed Cornish game hens,
asparagus and potatoes, which were all delicious. The meal was rounded out with several bottles of wine and their homemade beer and mead.

Addie offered to let me bring dessert, so of course I spent the next 24 hours thinking about what I would make. I think cakes are nice for celebratory occasions, but it had to be able to survive the train ride from Providence to Boston, then the subway, and finally, several blocks of walking - during which it just happened to be raining. So layers were out. Anything unstable at a range of temperatures was probably a poor idea. Nothing that could fall over or deflate. Finally, I had a pie-sized pasty box lying around, but no cake boxes, so it would be nice if it was no more than 2 inches tall.

These constraints led me to one of the most decadent, chocolatiest caffeinated desserts this side of a heart attack. The recipe (on epicurious.com) is from the September 1995 issue of Bon Appétit, and it's as good now as it was then. I know it's not exactly health food... but this is one of those cakes you don't need more than a sliver of, so you won't be eating more than a fraction of the ingredients (especially if you leave the leftovers with your dinner party hosts.) Since there's so much chocolate in the cake, it's important to use the good stuff. I used half Scharffen Berger bittersweet (70% cacao) and half Ghirardelli. I also sprung for real espresso from a café in Wayland Square where I know its good. However, I wasn't sure how many shots were in a cup, so the guy working the register guessed 4 for me... which was only half right. Turns out a cup is about 8 shots, so I made half a cup of instant espresso and mixed the two (sacrilege, I know.)

You may notice, as it's baking, that the top of the cake is really ugly. Like a mud pie, or perhaps a sinkhole. But never fear! The cake is served upside-down, presenting a beautiful mousse-y surface begging to be decorated with raspberries. Just don't let anyone flip their piece over.

Finally, whatever you do, don't skip the raspberry sauce. No matter how much you love chocolate and coffee (which I do, very, very much) the raspberry sauce is key for elevating this cake into the realm of the divine. That said, I didn't follow the Bon Appétit recipe, which calls for frozen raspberries in syrup. Instead, I stirred a couple tablespoons of sugar and a little cornstarch in a pot, then added two thawed bags of frozen raspberries (Ingredients: raspberries) and mashed them with a wooden spoon while it cooked. I let the liquid thicken a bit and mashed the raspberries pretty well, then strained the whole shebang into a bowl, which involved more mashing with the wooden spoon and a good deal of waiting. But I wound up with a cup and a half or so of beautiful, seedless raspberry sauce (and one very red wooden spoon.)

Unsurprisingly, the results were absolutely delicious and satisfyingly decadent. And very appropriate after an equally delicious dinner, especially if you need to wake up a bit before heading home! Anyway, I'm determined to make this cake again soon, so if anyone wants to have a dinner party....

Dana's Birthday!

My springform pan is quickly becoming the official cake pan of birthdays at 106 Governor Street. As you may remember, I bought it for Nick's Ice Cream Cake, a delicious if unwieldy creation. Sunday was Dana's birthday, and although she's game for pretty much anything sweet, fluffy and delicious, she has a soft spot for cheesecake.

I've never made a cheesecake before, in fact, I don't even like cheesecake that much. Dana, on the other hand, considers herself something of a cheesecake connoisseur, so I was understandably nervous. But then I found this easy recipe on the Bon Appetit Project Recipe Blog, and figured if Bridget could do it, I could too. (I even have a metal food processor blade! Actually, it's Vicky's, so I only have it for another 6 days.)

Conveniently, Seth had whisked Dana away to Cape Cod for her birthday, so I had all of Sunday to work on my cakes. I dragged Nick through the grocery store Sunday morning and got started right away.

As the Bon Appetit bloggers pointed out, the theme of this cheesecake is food processing. First, in go the butter and shortbread cookies (I used Walker's, and while it didn't resemble a crust at first, it turned out delicious. Even Dana thought so.)

The rest of the ingredients are basically just thrown into the food processor together, then poured into the pre-baked crust. Although Bon Appetit blogger Chris cautions against using too many pre-processed ingredients, I used Philadelphia cream cheese because that's what my mom bakes with. (And if you've ever eaten something she's baked, you understand why this is reason enough.) I did take Chris up on his suggestion to leave out the almond extract, mostly because I'm moving out in a week and already have an almost-full bottle of bourbon extract to use up somehow (if I added it to cheap vodka would it taste like whiskey?)

I had no idea how to tell when a cheesecake was done, but apparently I guessed right, because the cheesecake received rave reviews. Even Dana, cheesecake connoisseur, said it was among the best cheesecakes she'd ever had. Victory!

Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie

My mom used to grow rhubarb in our front yard when I was little. Sometime in May, the stalks would begin to turn bright red, and I could traipse out front as I pleased and yank out a stalk to much on. I remember pulling so hard at times that I would fall over backward when the stalk finally came free. (Only recently did my grandmother - the gardener, not the baker - inform me that this can easily be avoided by pulling the stalk at an angle to the ground. But where's the fun in that?)

Every year (or on two separate occasions at the very least) this gangly plant became the star of the Rhubarb Olympics – a series of pint-sized sporting events featuring rhubarb in some way. I can't actually remember what they were, but one definitely entailed running with rhubarb and another somehow involved wearing its giant leaf as a hat.

For those too old to enjoy running around with poisonous leaves on their heads, rhubarb season meant strawberry-rhubarb pie – and lots of it.

But despite my long history of pie-eating, this May marked the first rhubarb season of my pie-making life. Remembering the taste of my mother's pies, I made several pilgrimages to the grocery store in search of that flavor. The first few trips turned up nothing but the same root vegetables of Winter and asparagus of early Spring. But as the price of strawberries began to fall toward affordable levels, I knew it couldn't be long. And then, one day, lo and behold! Rhubarb! It had been denuded of its poisonous leaves and sat unassumingly in a small basket, dwarfed by the towers of more popular vegetables. But among the floppy ruby-colored pieces and the thin green ones were a handful of the firm candy-apple colored stalks of my childhood. I gathered them up, brought them home and attempted to cajole my roommates into eating some. Vicky was the only taker, and was pleasantly surprised to find it did not taste like celery. I knew what it tasted like, but I wasn't expecting to feel eight years old after the first bite. It was such a throwback to my childhood I half expected to shrink until my eyes were level with the counters (although I'm probably underestimating my eight-year-old height.)

Luckily, I stayed tall enough to roll out dough, because the pie that resulted was a much bigger hit with the roomies than the raw rhubarb had been. To make your own slice of childhood, you'll need enough rhubarb and strawberries to fill your pie dish. You want the fruit to make a nice big mound, because it will cook down a lot. I like to do half rhubarb and half strawberries, but if you're not sure how you feel about rhubarb, feel free to tilt the balance toward strawberries. Just compensate by cutting down on the sugar. Alternatively, put in twice as much rhubarb as strawberries, and add a half-cup of sugar. For my 9" pie, I probably used about 9 firm pink rhubarb stalks and a pound and a half of strawberries.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie

For Pie Crust:
2 1/2 cups Flour
1 tsp. Salt
1 1/2 tsp. Sugar
2 sticks cold Unsalted Butter, cut into small pieces
1/2 cup ice water

For Filling:
Strawberries, washed, hulled and sliced in half (or smaller pieces if very large)
Rhubarb, washed and cut into 1/2-inch slices
3/4 cup Sugar (if doing half-and-half)
1/3 cup Flour

For Finishing:
1 Egg White
Light Cream (or some other kind of cream, it doesn't seem to matter)
Sparkling Sugar

Making pie is a two-step process best spread over two days (in my opinion.) The first day is for making the dough, the second is for making it into a pie. In between, the dough sits in the fridge and gets nice and cold, which makes it much easier to roll without it breaking into a million pieces.

Day One:

Blend flour, salt, sugar and butter in a food processor just until butter forms pea-sized balls. Do not overmix. Pour water (no ice!) into running food processor in a steady stream (pour slowly, but it should take no more than three seconds or so.)

Turn crumbly dough out onto a clean surface and divide into two piles, one slightly smaller than the other. With your hands, forcefully but quickly knead each pile into a cohesive cake of dough, shoring up the sides as necessary to prevent cracking. This took me many pies to master, but never fear, even if your dough is a disaster, the pie usually still tastes great.

Slide each cake into the corner of a separate plastic bag and, if necessary, press down until it is about 1/2 inch thick. The thinner your dough cake is, the easier it will be to roll out. That being said, if it gets too thin, it will fall apart. Use your judgment.

Place both doughs in the fridge, on a flat surface, with nothing on top of them.

Day Two:

Preheat the oven to 400º. Place a piece of tinfoil on the top rack, to catch dripping juices from the pie.

First, make the filling. You might want to sprinkle the rhubarb with a little water first so the flour sticks better, or you can just toss it with the strawberries if they're damp. Then mix in the flour and sugar.

Now it's time to roll the dough. When I do this at home, I start by covering one of my mother's lovely marble counter tops with ice packs first to let it get nice and cold. But my counters here are some sort of laminate that is a pretty much constant temperature, besides which they're too small to accommodate dough rolling. So instead I use a cheapo fake wood desk that was in the hallway when we moved in (it's in the kitchen now and I've cleaned it thoroughly.) Not only is the desk a good height for putting your whole weight behind the rolling (my arms are skinny weak little things) but the fake wood laminate seems to have magical non-stick properties. All in all, I'm surprised to say I'm going to miss it.

In any case, you can use whatever you like to roll out your dough, just sprinkle it with a little flour first. Also sprinkle your rolling pin. (Mine is OXO from Target and I love it!) Then take the larger dough cake out of the fridge and sprinkle it with a little flour too. Roll the dough out to about 1/8 inch thick, flouring the top and bottom as needed to prevent sticking. Cut out a circle about an inch larger than your pie dish, then gently lift the dough into the dish.

Fill the dish with your strawberry and rhubarb filling, and slice a tablespoon of butter over the top.

To make a lattice crust, roll out the second dough then slice it into strips. A lattice is actually easier to make than you might think – check out this video on bonappetit.com if you've never done it before. (Oh, how I wish I had a pastry wheel!)

Finally, to finish off the pie, curl the bottom crust up over the edges of the lattice strips, or tuck them under if you'd rather. Use a pastry brush to lightly brush the top crust with a mixture of egg white and a little cream, then sprinkle with sparkling sugar.

Slide the pie into the oven, on top of the tinfoil. Bake for 15 minutes at 400º, then turn the oven down to 350º and bake for another hour, or until the crust is golden brown.

Mother's Day Brunch

My mom's one request for Mother's Day was that she not have to decide what to eat, nor cook. So my sister Addie and I shouldered the culinary duties for the day, which we decided to pare down to 2 meals: brunch and dinner. Dinner would just be my family, but we had my grandparents and some cousins over for brunch. The larger quantity of food required wasn't so intimidating as the fact that I would be cooking for both my mother and my grandmother – the best cooks I know and the source of most of my kitchen wisdom. All my best recipes are theirs, and they make them better. I took a two-pronged approach to compensate for my third-generation handicap: frittatas and scones.

Frittatas (my dad's idea) are something my mother never makes, but they're pretty easy, and my roomies and I pulled off a pretty good one for brunch earlier this semester. And it turns out I had a secret weapon in the kitchen: apparently Addie is a frittata master. What I didn't have was time to go to the grocery store, so these were whatever-is-in-the-fridge frittatas. Because my mom's fridge is like a grocery store, that meant one kid-friendly swiss-bacon-potato frittata and one feta-zucchini-asparagus-tomato frittata (we used goat feta, which I wholly recommend trying.) Luckily my aunt and uncle raise chickens down the road, so acquiring another dozen eggs at the last minute wasn't a problem. As a bonus, truly farm fresh eggs have enormous, bright orange yolks that gave the frittatas a beautiful golden color. Lacking frittata pans (something that's both stovetop and oven safe, like a cast-iron frying pan) we took the rubber handles off my mom's enormous aluminum frying pans to make some. They worked great and both frittatas were delicious (although the veggie one was first to disappear.)
To make a Frittata: Simply sauté the fillings you're using in the frittata/frying pan with a little olive oil until softened and/or browned. (Cook things like bacon or asparagus beforehand.) Beat the eggs with salt and pepper. (We used a dozen per frittata, but most peoples' frying pans aren't that large.) Pour the eggs over, and let set, lifting the edges occasionally to let uncooked egg flow underneath. Sprinkle with cheese and cook until bubbling and somewhat set around the edges. Then throw it under the preheated broiler until set in the middle. Voilà!

My second prong of attack was scones, which my mom used to make all the time. I'd gotten her recipe and made them for Nick and the roomies a couple weeks ago, with frozen blueberries I'd stolen from the freezer at home. (More on our perennial stash of frozen blueberries later.) They were pretty good, but I thought they could be improved upon. Specifically, I wanted to flavor the batter somehow. So for mother's day I decided to make orange scones, and bought an enormous bag of organic Valencia oranges to zest (this part I did plan ahead.) Then Nick, in a rare moment of culinary genius (no offense; he makes good sandwiches) suggested I make cranberry orange scones, which I thought sounded like a brilliant idea. Luckily, my grocery store of a freezer had some cranberries in it. Finally, I decided to finish the scones with an orange glaze. It made them a lot sweeter, so it might not be the best thing for an early breakfast, but at 11:30 it was a nice touch that eliminated the original scones' need for jam (in my opinion.)

We rounded out the meal with a mixed greens salad and had strawberry rhubarb pie for dessert. To drink, mimosas (which are fantastic with fresh-squeezed Valencia orange juice) and coffee (which is always fantastic.)

Cranberry-Orange Scones

I wish I could put my mother's original recipe for "British Scones" here; it's illustrated with the most adorable little scones and a pot of tea. But I don't have a scanner, and it's a bit lacking in instructions anyway. (She writes recipes only decipherable by people with a great deal of "kitchen intuition," fairly common in my family but something I'm still working on.) So here's my version:

For Scones:
4 Tbsp. Unsalted Butter, very softened (if it's not warm out, microwave it)
2 Tbsp. Sugar
1/2 tsp. Salt
2 cups Flour
2 Tbsp. Baking Powder
2 Eggs, beaten
1/2 cup Milk
1 Tbsp. Orange Zest (or more)
1 cup fresh whole Cranberries, roughly chopped (use a food processor)

For Glaze:
2 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed Orange Juice
Confectioners' Sugar
1 tsp. Orange Zest

To make the Scones

Preheat oven to 400º and lightly coat a large baking sheet with nonstick spray.

Cream the butter and sugar briefly until combined. In a separate bowl mix salt, flour and baking powder. Mix into butter/sugar until combined. Add eggs, milk and orange zest and mix just until almost combined, then fold in cranberries until combined. (Use your hands.)

The dough will be very thick and sticky. Form it into a ball, more or less, and let it sit in the bowl for 2 minutes.

Lightly flour a wooden cutting board. (If you don't have one, lightly flour something else flat.)

Place the dough on the board (it should be less sticky now) and pat it out until it is about 1/2 inch thick. Cut the dough into 6 or 8 wedges (like a pizza) and gently place them on the baking sheet.

If not using the glaze, it's nice to sprinkle the scones with some sparkling sugar at this point.

Bake the scones 10-12 minutes, until puffed and slightly golden on the edges.

Let cool.

To make the Glaze

Pour the orange juice into a small bowl, and add confectioners' sugar, whisking constantly, until it's the consistency of... a glaze. Um, it should be slightly thick but still drip slowly off the whisk when lifted. "Use your judgment," as my mother would say. Whisk in the orange zest at the end.

Glaze the scones by pouring or drizzling the glaze on with a spoon. Let sit a few minutes, until the glaze has hardened enough to put them in an attractive basket. Use your judgment.

Delicious Reads

Terrible news: I can't eat. 

This tragedy was brought on by the removal, yesterday, of all four of my wisdom teeth. They were replaced, in a rather unequal trade, I think, with four stitches, which greatly inhibit the process of eating. As a result, I have been subsisting on soup and milkshakes for two days now, which, despite the caring ministrations of my loving family, is getting a bit old.

The limited upside of this situation is plenty of time to kill while I laze about with bags of frozen peas on my face (which do wonders to prevent bruising and swelling, for those of you still in possession of your wisdom teeth). So what have I been doing? Reading about food, of course! I should probably do less of this, as it is making me hungry, but knowing me, I'd be hungry anyway. And there's really nothing quite as great for taking my mind off this world as a great story about great food.

So if anyone else, masochistic or not, would like to read some great food writing, I have the following suggestions:

Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell — In a word, great. In three:

 fantastic, hilarious & edifying. This book came out a few years ago, but I just got around to reading it, and at the perfect time. It's not so much about food as about doing what you love, although there's plenty of food. (Much of it disgusting, especially all those aspics.) Things I learned from this book include a) that Julia Child and my mother have a lot in common, including extra-tall marble counter tops, b) that doing what brings you joy really is the way to live your life and c) 2 new ways to kill a lobster. Julie Powell isn't much of a cook, even after slogging through 524 French recipes, but she's a captivating, brutally honest writer who had me laughing out loud on the commuter rail.   If you haven't yet, read it.

 Service Included, by Phoebe Damrosch — An enlightening look into the dining room of one of New York's finest restaurants. An enthralling read throughout, from Phoebe's crash course in truffle varieties to her thoughtful musings on why this world of prohibitively expensive meals exists, and why she has chosen to become part of it. And while she may not in the end provide a satisfactory justification for this restaurant's existence (does it need one?) she provides plenty of humorous tips of how - and how not to - behave when dining there.

On the lighter side, my mom's friend Nina Simonds pointed me toward some great food blogs. I'm still exploring all her fantastic recommendations (and all their recommendations, in turn) but here are some of my favorites so far:

Leite's Culinaria — Thoroughly tested recipes, gripping features, advice on buying knives. They host some lectures/programs/scholarships in the "real world" too. Quite the outfit.

Serious Eats — I love this one. It's not in the least bit serious, and they've got everything: recipes, restaurants, tips, travels and good old funny pictures of dogs. The user-generated content is top-notch too.

The Kitchn — As the name implies, this one is as much about kitchens as it is about what's made in them. But they're careful not to alienate those of us without the counter space (or budget) for Kitchen Aids and Cuisinarts.

Caffeinated Chocolate Espresso Cookies!!

There is a widely held belief that something is always baking in our kitchen. This isn’t too far from the truth. We have baked innumerable cupcakes heaped with a variety of fluffy buttercreams or crunchy glazes, two-tiered cakes of both the carrot and chocolate variety, many a pie filled with fresh fruits and dusted with sugar. But cookies, somehow, have fallen between the cracks. Maybe they seem somehow overdone, the perfect consistency of then elusive (and here’s where I get controversial, because that consistency is a yielding, moist chewiness, not a tooth-breaking crunch). And everyone can bake chocolate chip cookies, right? So really, it’s just not worth it.

Then, my friend Ailish sent me an e-mail insisting that I look at a cookie recipe on her favorite vegetarian blog, 101 Cookbooks. What sort of cookies merited an e-mail, I mused, as I double-clicked and opened the window. And then I saw them and all became clear: espresso cookies, filled with cocoa, chocolate chips, and whole espresso beans enrobed in a thick layer of chocolate. I might have squealed. It’s possible I foamed at the mouth. Then I frantically posted the link on Chloe’s facebook wall.

This was actually the second time making these, as I wanted a tasty gift for my dad’s birthday. The recipe is easy and the result is indisputably delicious. Due to a dearth of organic ingredients in our kitchen, we substituted the original recipe with more basic supplies. I doubt anyone knew we used Morton’s salt instead of organic fine-grained sea salt. The chocolate and espresso flavors come through strongly but don’t obscure the rich butter base, and the espresso beans add a pleasant and surprising crunch to an otherwise soft and crumbly mouthful. The end result is like a smooth shot of espresso: addictive, rich, and certain to keep you awake a few hours past your bedtime.

2 ½ cups whole-wheat flour

2 tbsp. espresso powder

¾ tsp. salt

¾ tsp. baking soda

¾ tsp. baking powder

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter at room temperature

2 cups granulated sugar

3 eggs

1 tbsp. vanilla

¾ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

¾ cup chocolate covered espresso beans

Preheat the oven to 375.

In a medium bowl whisk together the dry ingredients. Set them aside and cream the butter and sugar together in a large bowl. When they are well-mixed, add the eggs one at a time, then mix in the vanilla. Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients. I strongly suggest not adding the flour all at once even though it’s tempting; it has the tendency to go all over the place. Finally mix in the espresso beans and chips, making sure that they are distributed all throughout the batter. You don’t want any one cookies to be lacking in espresso beans (or, for that matter, you don’t want any one cookie to have 10 of them…that poor person may never sleep again).

The batter will be very thick. Take your greased cookie sheets and drop dollops of the batter onto them. This recipe makes a lot of cookies-probably 3 dozen or so. They puff up quite nicely and if you don’t roll them into balls the tops will be a mass of craggy, aromatic chocolate, oozing chips and espresso beans. Cook them on the middle shelf for just 10 minutes. They cook quickly and are better under-done than over-done. They are wonderful right out of the oven, moist and gooey. But we’ve found that they’re equally delicious after being in the fridge for a week: dense, cold, and buttery.

Polenta with Mushrooms and Asparagus

Made a nice vegetarian dinner with Dana and Seth last night. Well Dana and I made dinner - Seth washed the dishes, and opened the wine, which was from Oregon. (Lightest Pinot Noir ever - very nice.) For some reason all the food looks super shiny in the picture - probably the super-bright environmentally-friendly but terribly unflattering light bulb in our kitchen. But it was actually of a normal, healthy sheen and quite delicious.

I've been trying to use up a bag of fine yellow cornmeal for months, so we've made polenta twice now. First time was on Dana and Seth's alternate first date. They were going to go get sushi at a nice restaurant in Wayland Square, but then it was blizzarding. Sushi didn't seem like an adequate reason to walk 20 minutes in multiple feet of snow, so they decided to eat here. But since we hadn't gone grocery shopping in ages, I was enlisted to help make something out of the random ingredients we did have in the kitchen. Wound up making polenta with grilled asparagus and red peppers, plus a nice little salad of caramelized red onions and walnuts with sliced apples and blue cheese. It was surprisingly good, for a this-is-what-was-in-the-kitchen meal. I've made the salad again several times.

So we did polenta again last night, but as we were actually going grocery shopping, we picked up some mushrooms and an onion to go on top. Threw them together with some finely chopped sun dried tomatoes, cheap white wine leftover from our last meal together (asparagus risotto) and some herbs from the cabinet. (There were dozens of spice jars here when we moved in, and I'm still finding ones I didn't know were there.)

We cooked the polenta with some toasted pine nuts, then cut it into triangles and fried it in oil. And as we forgot to get something green to go with it, we wound up making asparagus again. Always good.

San Francisco Fried Ravioli

A few months ago, Nick and I went to San Francisco for a little vacation. I've never been to a city outside of Italy that cared so much about what it put in its mouth. Refreshing.

Anyway, we were there over New Year's Eve, which of course deserved celebration with a nice dinner and some champagne. Unfortunately, I'd hurt my foot earlier in the trip, and by the end of December 31, was in no condition to walk very far for any reason, even great food. Luckily, in San Francisco, great food always seems to be right around the corner. So I agreed to schlep a block and a half to a nice restaurant visible from our hotel window in return for a bottle of California champagne from the wine/convenience store across the street (did I mention I love San Francisco?)

The restaurant was packed when we got there - it was New Year's Eve, after all - so we grabbed a couple seats at the bar and sipped something from Napa or Sonoma until a table opened up. The menu was mostly modern Italian dishes - California twists on lasagna and the like. The most unusual offering was fried ravioli - I didn't know you could fry ravioli! So of course I ordered it.

I was delivered a bed of greens in a light balsamic vinaigrette, topped with a few large, fried ravioli. (Interestingly, ravioli and raviolis are both acceptable plural forms; ravioli is actually the plural of the original Italian raviolo.) They looked much as you would expect fried ravioli to look. But beyond that, they far exceeded expectations! The breaded pasta shell was crunchy but light and never chewy (I'm pretty sure the pasta was homemade.) After the first bite, hot, melted cheese oozed out luxuriously, having been exposed to the heat but not the hot oil of frying. It would have been worth a much longer walk.

Since then, fried ravioli has been near the top of my list of things I want to try to make. So the other night, when Dana and Seth and I were all wondering what to eat, I offered to fry up the package of fresh ravioli I had in the fridge. Dana proffered some brussels sprouts, and we dug a red bell pepper out of our vegetable drawer. Then we did this:

San Francisco Fried Ravioli

1 Red Bell Pepper
1 pkg Fresh (or homemade!) Ravioli
Breadcrumbs (I used some w/ Italian seasoning, although I'm sure homemade would be better)
Olive Oil
Brussels Sprouts
salt & pepper

Put a pot of salted water on to boil and preheat the oven to 425º.

Slice the bell pepper in half, right through the stem. Place cut side down on a foil-lined baking sheet and throw it in the oven.

Slice brussels sprouts in half lengthwise. Toss them on a baking sheet with a generous splash of olive oil and some salt & fresh-ground pepper. Slide the pan into the oven either next to or below the peppers. After about 10 minutes, toss the brussels sprouts around.

Pour your breadcrumbs out onto a plate. Pour a quarter inch of olive oil into a cast iron skillet.

Boil the ravioli until slightly less than al dente - take a couple minutes off the time on the package.

Don't forget to turn the brussels sprouts!

Just before the pasta is done, heat the oil in the skillet until very hot but not smoking.

Take the pasta off the heat, but leave it in the water. Using a slotted spoon - preferably one of those circular ones full of holes - transfer a few ravioli at a time to the breadcrumb plate, and turn to coat.

Use tongs to place the ravioli - carefully - in the oil. They cook fast, so keep an eye on the edges and flip when browned on one side.

Repeat until all the ravioli is fried, adding more oil and letting it heat up as needed. Keep the cooked ravioli on a plate under foil.

Take out the peppers and brussels sprouts, remove the seeds from the peppers and slice them into 1 by 1 inch squares, more or less.

Serve the peppers, brussels sprouts and ravioli together in shallow bowls with fresh ground pepper.

I didn't truly blacken the peppers for this, or do the whole plastic bag/skin peeling thing (mostly because we were hungry) but I like them this way - soft and hot but still bright red and flavorful.

The ravioli were good, but they didn't have the oozy cheese that was so great in SF. Guess I'll have to start making my own pasta!

Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream Cake

I've been eating ice cream cakes from Dairy Queen for years, and I have to say, they're pretty great. So when Nick, whose birthday was on Wednesday, told me his favorite kind of cake is ice cream, I was slightly disappointed at the lost opportunity to bake for him. But it was his birthday, not mine, so I agreed to buy him one. But my mind wouldn't rest, and as I thought about it, I remembered seeing a recipe for ice cream cake in one of my mother's cookbooks.
Armed with the knowledge that it is, in fact, possible to make an ice cream cake at home, I turned to the trusty internet. Lo and behold, epicurious.com produced several recipes for ice cream cakes, pies and tarts. There was cherry-almond, mocha crunch and cookies and cream. Some had layers of cake between the ice cream, others chocolate. One used macaroons for a crust, another, amaretti cookies. Whichever would I choose?

As I tried to find a cake that would please the birthday boy, I remembered his request, months ago, that I make something chocolate with peanut butter icing. I narrowed my search, and this time, was less-than-satisfied with the results. It appeared that if I wanted to make a chocolate and peanut butter ice cream cake, I would have to make it up myself. So that's what I did.

The first order of business was a shopping trip. First, to Crate & Barrel, for a nine-inch springform cake pan. Then, to the grocery store, where I picked up the following things:

1 package Oreo cookies (45 cookies)
1 pint chocolate ice cream
1 pint vanilla ice cream
Peanut butter (I like it smooth, but I suppose chunky would work too)
Unsalted butter
1 jar hot fudge sauce
Reeses peanut butter cups
Wax Paper

This was Tuesday morning. I started the cake that afternoon.

First, Dana and I scraped the cream filling out of the entire package of Oreos. (Except 2, which we ate.) Result:

While we did this, we let the chocolate ice cream sit out on the counter to soften.

Then, we chopped the cookies up in the food processor (we threw out the filling) with 2 tablespoons of butter and 4 or 5 spoonfuls of peanut butter. The mixture was crumbly but moist. We patted it into the bottom of the pan, about 1/3 inch deep.

Then, we spread about an inch of the softened chocolate ice cream on top. We covered the surface with waxed paper and popped it into the freezer.

Then we went to get coffee. We may have studied a bit. It wasn't memorable.

We came home to our frozen cake, and I decided it was time for another layer of cookies, and some chocolate sauce. I wanted to use my mom's hot fudge recipe, as I remember it being delicious. So, following her instructions, I put sugar, chocolate and butter into a pot on the stove. The problem was, the first four ingredients in the recipe were sugar, chocolate, water and butter. But the recipe made no mention of the water. So, as I often do in moments of baking doubt, I called my mother. She agreed that the sugar, chocolate and meager amount of butter in the pot looked prime for burning. She also agreed that melting chocolate and water together is generally a bad idea. But, for possibly the first time ever, she didn't know what to do either.

So she called her mother. Her mother, my grandmother, tried to find the original recipe, which, supposedly, is Julia Child's. But to no avail. But, she said, put the water in, the butter will protect the chocolate. She also instructed me, via my mother, on testing the sauce for done-ness by dropping a bit into a glass of water. It's supposed to form a soft ball. I was not so good at this.

Which is why I do not provide my mother's/Nana's/Julia Child's chocolate sauce recipe here. I don't know if I cooked the sauce too long or if it's just not a good sauce for freezing, but both chocolate layers in the cake were harder than they should have been. And although the one in the middle was delicious and took on a chewy, candy-like consistency after slight thawing, it makes the cake very difficult to cut without an electric carving knife.

Anyway, after the game of telephone and a few false "soft balls," we poured the finished chocolate sauce onto the cake. Then, another layer of cookie crumbs, and back in the freezer.

I forget what we did for the next hour or so. I'm sure it was riveting.

Once the cake was frozen again, I took the vanilla ice cream out of the freezer and put it into the food processor with a few spoonfuls of peanut butter. Maybe 7. I mixed until it was all mixed and soft enough to spread. Then we spread it on the cake, covered with waxed paper, and popped it back in the freezer.

Then we went to Seth's, watched some bad TV and drank some wine.

Finally, we came home and cut a handful of Reeses peanut butter cups in half. Then we reheated the chocolate sauce (I think that was the problem with the top layer) and poured it on top of the cake. While the sauce was still warm, we stuck the Reeses on in an attractive arrangement. I wanted to try and make the stand up, but they melted as we stuck them on, so that didn't work.

Then, back in the freezer, for the last time.

It was now almost midnight. This is why most people just buy ice cream cakes.

But apparently I never learn. Either that or I'd just rather be cooking than doing anything else (like writing a research paper.) This is why I spent a solid four hours the next day making Nick corned beef and cabbage. I won't go into detail here, as corned beef and cabbage is really not half as good as ice cream cake, but suffice it to say that this required yet another call to my grandmother, the master. It was also pretty good, if you like that sort of thing. (Nick does. I'm less sure. And Dana and Vicky are vegetarians.)

We were unanimous, though, on the spectacular ice cream cake. Cutting difficulties aside, it was delicious. Granted, you can't go too wrong with ice cream, Oreos, peanut butter and Reeses.

Of Easter, Eggs, and Excess

I’m sure anyone from New England has heard their fair share of complaints about the incessant cold, the miserable rain, the sunless skies, and the seemingly eternal winter. Yesterday, however, was one of those mornings where you wake up and the carpet is dappled with little puddles of sunlight and the birds are singing blithely, and everything just seems like a Disney movie. Since spring finally seems to be arriving (never mind the ominous grey sky as I type), it seems time to do a quick seasonal, albeit belated, Easter re-cap.

Being the good Jewish girl that I am, I do not celebrate Easter for remotely religious purposes. Usually I would say that I celebrate egg dying, colorful dresses, chocolate bunnies and being with family. But to be truthful, this year our Easter was pretty much an homage to excess, which consisted of me striving to eat as much food as possible (I think Chloe was celebrating similarly).

Saturday was a day of preparation. There was many a pie crust to be made and myriad eggs to be dyed. Egg dying is a skill to be honed over many years, and everyone had their own spin on how to best display their creativity. I used to draw idyllic scenes on one surface of the egg, but stuck primarily to an abstract array of swirls and dots this year. When I saw fifteen boxes of eggs sitting on the counter I was quite intimidated, but with all of the Lutts clan hard at work, they were all colored and ready for hiding in just a few hours.

I woke up early on Sunday morning to a household overflowing with people and a counter laden with golden sticky buns dripping with nuts and glaze, and a mounded bowl of fresh fruit salad. After eating two of the sticky buns (logically I had a heaping plate of fruit to counteract the early onset of diabetes), I was taught how to properly slice and dice an avocado for guacamole, the correct way to cut lemons for pink lemonade, and finally piled our homemade piecrust high with fresh apple slices doused with cinnamon and sugar. The egg hunt commenced and breakfast turned to a brunch buffet. I can’t possibly list everything but there were deviled eggs (but of course), immense hams, turkey, asparagus, multiple green salads, potato salad, crudités, mimosas, two chocolate pies piled high with whipped cream, and finally our apple pie, crystals of browned sugar adorning the top.

I forgot to mention that despite both wearing delicate floral Anthropologie Easter dresses, Chloe and I wore puffy winter coats over them all day. The temperature wasn’t too cold, but the wind was brisk and biting. As I spied an egg behind a barren tree, I mused rather dejectedly that you can’t depend on spring weather for Easter in New England. But soon enough I was back inside, curled up on the cushy couch with a mimosa in one hand and a thick slice of warm pie in the other. And I think: maybe that’s okay. It’s not just the weather that makes a season, or a day, or a holiday. It’s the people, it’s the experience, it’s the tradition. And oh yeah, lest I forget: it’s the food.

Ode to a cupcake

There once was a cupcake of pink
Who feared he'd be thrown in the sink
He tried to look cute
And put on a suit
And said "Miss, I'd go well with a drink"

by Victoria Chao, Age 21



Oh, by the way folks, Happy Belated Easter! More on this topic to come...

Amazing Chai Honey Cupcakes

I've developed a newfound appreciation for honey. I was always okay with it, and particularly enjoyed those straws filled with honey sold at farmers markets and apple orchards. But then I tried Starbucks' new honey latte. I initially thought it sounded gross, but to maintain my almost obsessively comprehensive knowledge of Starbucks' beverage offerings, I thought I should at least try it. Wholly unexpectedly, its dulcet honeyed tones have converted me back to drinking sweetened lattes - and I was on a strict routine of black coffee in the morning and double tall nonfat lattes in the afternoon. But the peaks of frothy whipped cream criss-crossed with honey have made me look at the pairing of sugar and espresso in a whole new way.

So when Dana suggested we make these Chai and Honey cupcakes, I agreed immediately. Their whipped cream and honey cap is nothing is not evocative of my now-beloved honey latte. But the cake beneath it – moist yet fluffy – replaces the bite of espresso with spicy chai tea. The recipe comes from Shelly Kaldunski's cupcakes, the joyous answer to my long search for a cupcake cookbook that is neither too simple nor full of yellow cupcakes decorated with panda bears and balloons (I found it at Williams-Sonoma, if you're on a similar quest.)


Chai & Honey Cupcakes

3 chai-spice tea bags
2/3 cup boiling water
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup honey
4 tbsp unsalted butter, melted
1/4 cup buttermilk
1 large egg, at room temperature

Make the chai tea far enough ahead of time that it will cool by the time you need it. You might need to add a little extra water if some boils away. We put the tea in the fridge until it was nearly room temperature.

Preheat your oven to 350º and line a 12-cup muffin pan with paper or foil liners.

In medium-size bowl, combine the flour, brown sugar, baking soda and salt. In a large bowl, combine the honey, melted butter, buttermilk and egg. Add the flour mixture and beat with an electric mixer on medium speed until just combined. Add the cooled tea and beat until just combined. The batter will be very thin, almost like soup.

Divide the batter evenly among the cups. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean, about 18 minutes. The cupcakes should be nice and brown.

Honey Whipped Cream

1cup cold heavy cream
2 tbsp honey

Using an electric mixer on low speed, beat the cream and honey together until slightly thickened, 1-2 minutes. Gradually increase the speed to medium-high and continue to beat until the cream holds soft peaks, 2-3 minutes.

Top the fully cooled cupcakes with nice big dollops of whipped cream. Drizzle with honey just before serving (it will be gradually absorbed by the whipped cream otherwise.) Take a bite and bask in the deliciousness.

Cococonut Cupcakes

Yummm.... these coconut cupcakes, made with yogurt and plenty of coconut, are adapted from Williams-Sonoma's Kids Baking (Abigail Johnson Dodge) but we think they're delicious at any age!

We decided to do a coconut-cream cheese frosting, which goes great with the smooth, sweet cake. Having coconut in the frosting makes it a little difficult to spread, but if you sprinkle more coconut on top no one will know!

Cococonut Cupcakes

3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
16 Tb (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
2 tsp vanilla
4 eggs, at room temperature
1 cup plain non-fat yogurt
1 cup sweetened, shredded coconut

Preheat Oven to 375º and line 24 muffin cups with paper or foil liners.

In a medium-size bowl, stir together the flour, baking powder and salt.

In a large bowl, using an electric mixer on medium speed, beat together the butter, sugar and vanilla until creamy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each one.

Add half of the flour mixture and beat on low just until blended. Add the yogurt and beat until smooth. Add the rest of the flour mixture and the coconut and beat until blended. The batter should be thick and uniform.

Using two spoons, fill the muffin cups about halfway, or until you've used up all the batter.

Bake 22-25 minutes, until edges are slightly toasty.

Coconut Cream-Cheese Frosting

This recipe makes enough frosting to cover the tops of all the cupcakes lightly. If you like a lot of frosting, double it.

1 8-ounce package cream cheese, at room temperature
2 Tb butter
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 cup confectioners sugar
1 cup sweetened flaked coconut

With an electric mixer, beat cream cheese, butter and vanilla until smooth. Beat in powdered sugar to combine. With a spatula, fold in coconut.

Frost the cooled cupcakes, then sprinkle with more coconut!