The Petit Four

Dear Belgium,

Today is our one-year anniversary. There was our brief courtship before, way back when I was a giddy school girl and we were together for a short five months, but that was just puppy love. I foolishly left you to return to my Midwest and for a brief flirtation with Asia. I was cruel hearted to neglect you but needed to explore and to have my space. You understood that, right? Realizing the error of my ways, I returned and fell in love all over again with your frites, beers and smoky art nouveau cafes.  This thing called love quickly turned into a full-blown, scary in love, head over heels relationship. We have a very adult-like live-in relationship now – there’s the apartment, the phone and bank accounts, and all of the shopkeepers who know me as a regular. And I love every minute I spend with you.

Sometimes I am sort of scared with how comfortable I am here. Belgium really has become the realization of a dream for me – to find a place with a certain click to my personality. By my calculations, I should have grown bored of Brussels, or hell, at least my apartment, about three or four months ago. But now the mere idea of daydreaming about moving makes me unnaturally sad. I am totally and unabashedly yours Brussels.

One of the things I love about life in Brussels is how uncomplicated it is. And for those of you following the news or with any idea of Belgium’s current political crisis, that might seem like a bit of a joke. But below the political level, Brussels is such an easy city to live in. The Bruxellois are an anything goes, relaxed, cheerful bunch of people so I don’t mind the impossibly long grey winters, or the fact that one day I’m tromping through idyllic pastures and the next I’m wearing a hoodie and my wooly slippers as I write this.

The city itself is such a human-sized cosmopolitan city that I’m never overwhelmed. Chicago, I’ll never get to know you with your continuing clusters of neighborhoods and suburbs. You’re constantly surrounded so I’m forced to only love you from afar. You though, Brussels, you’re accessible. The neighborhoods might alter and shift, but you’ll always give me an actual opportunity to explore everything.

This salad from The Splendid Table is a lot like Brussels actually. It might not be the most attractive thing immediately, but it’s sturdy and satisfying without being blah. The red pepper flakes give it a kick to liven up the palate and the vinegar combination lends a tangy contrast to the cool subtlety of the salad. Plus the dressing is a cinch to whip up and makes a bunch so it’s perfect for storing. Which I’m a big fan of since I’m a busy lady (Um, you remember my giant stretches of silence, right? Yeah…my bad.) And with a hunk of bread and some cheese, it really is a no-nonsense, uncomplicated meal that doesn’t try to overwhelm. And it makes me want more of it. So Brussels, I would like to dedicate this salad to you. Here’s to us, and many happy returns.

Warm Balsamic Bean Salad
The Splendid Table
Serves 2 - 4, but super easy to double.
*yes, that is bagged lettuce in the photo.  Don’t judge, it’s insanely cheap and available at 10 pm when you’re hungry…*

1/3 cup good tasting extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium to large onion, thinly sliced
4-inch branch fresh rosemary, or a generous teaspoon dried rosemary
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup water
4 large cloves garlic, diced
Pinch hot pepper flakes
1/4 cup wine or cider vinegar
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 14-ounce cans of cannellini or pinto beans, rinsed and drained (I substituted with chick peas, clearly.)
6 large handfuls of washed and dried mixed salad greens
1 stalk celery with leaves, thinly sliced
4 ounces of Asiago, Fontinella, or Manchego cheese, shredded (optional)

Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium heat. Stir in the onion, rosemary, salt and a generous amount of pepper. Sauté 2 minutes, or until the onion is soft. Add the water, garlic, and hot pepper. Bring to a very gentle bubble, cover the pan and cook 3 minutes, or until garlic is soft. Don’t let it brown and be careful not to get spattered by the water. Stir in the vinegars and the beans, and set aside.

When you’re ready to eat, spread the salad greens over a large platter. Scatter the celery, and cheese, if using, over them. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Heat the beans, uncovered, in the skillet just until they are warm. Spoon beans and the dressing over the salad. Serve immediately.

Whoa. Whoa.  It’s the end of May and I’m not really sure how that happened.  Well, no. That’s a big fat lie.   I spent practically all of April in Senegal thanks to everyone’s favorite volcano (Iceland, I’m lookin’ at you).  Originally, I was only supposed to visit friends and travel around for the first two weeks, but then geology struck.  Eventually the Belgian Air Force became involved and flew me, along with hundreds of other stranded Belgians, back to Brussels.  Insane as I am, I promptly hopped on a train to meet my students and boss in Strasbourg, a mere three hours after landing and operating on little sleep.  Instead of a weekend full of vineyard hopping, pretzel eating, and roman ruin touring with everyone, I found myself on a broken train at midnight, stranded in Luxembourg and with no way back to Brussels or to Strasbourg.  I quickly came to the realization that I had hit my travel quota and extinguished all of my good travel juju.

And on top of all of this, it’s been a solid two months since I’ve really stepped foot inside of my kitchen.  So, instead of going into the overwhelming amount of crazy life details and my Senegalese experience, I’ll woo you with pictures from all of my recent travels!

1.) Inside Entre Deux, a church-turned-bookstore in Maastricht, the Netherlands 2.) Reading in Entre Deux 3.) Maastricht  4.) Vintage shopping in Maastricht  5.) Fruit from a baobab tree in Dakar, Senegal  6.) Spices in a fresh market in Dakar, Senegal  7. ) Cracking freshly roasted cashews open

I consider myself to be an adventurous eater. There are very few things in the world I will snub and discard before trying them at least once. I was the girl whose mantra for an entire year of her life in small-town China was “If it’s delicious, I’m not going to ask what type of meat it is.” It served my stomach and my conscience well. I liked my dog too much for me to ever really want to know.

But of course there are a few exceptions. I don’t dig blueberries or most things lemon-related. And I also don’t do traditional spaghetti noodles or watery soups. If I’m ever handed a bowl of steaming soup, I’m tearing apart the nearest chunk of bread, or crumbling up a bag of individual oyster crackers so I can sop up some of that liquid. Ladies and gentlemen, I am a soup-texture phobe.

Which explains why I’m in love with European-style soups and potages. They are the happy marriage between American stews and soups – creamy and vegetable based, but thick enough to offer up a textural body so you feel like you’re consuming substance, not just flavored water. What a happy discovery to make during one of the coldest, snowiest winters Europe’s ever had.

So I was pleased to discover a recipe featuring some of my new obsessions – my new found love for leeks and a potage recipe that puts them in the starring role.

This potage recipe has been my saving grace for the past month. It’s so simple that I kind of forget I’m making it. The end result is so flavorful and comforting I find myself craving it at the most bizarre hours. And it uses up a lot of the staples I have in my kitchen, so it’s perfect for when it’s 10 pm, I’ve realized I haven’t eaten anything but applesauce all day and I’m suddenly ravenously hungry.

Leek and Potato Potage
From The Complete Robuchon

2 tablespoons butter
3 medium leeks, carefully washed and sliced into rounds
Salt
4 cups water
¾ pound potatoes, quartered lengthwise
1/3 cup heavy cream or crème fraîche
1 teaspoon chervil leaves

Melt 1 ½ tablespoons butter in a saucepan over very low heat. Add the leeks and cook for 3 minutes, stirring occasionally. They should begin to turn translucent but should not brown. Add the water and 2 teaspoons salt and bring to a simmer. Let the leeks simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Carefully lower the potoates into the hot water-leek mixture. Bring the pot back to a simmer and cover partially to keep it from boiling over. Simmer gently for 30 minutes.

Remove the pot from the heat and blend with a handheld mixer, blender or food processor. Bring the puréed potage back to a simmer and then turn off the heat and whisk in the cream. Taste for salt. Just before serving, stir in the rest of the butter and sprinkle with chervil.

Well, thank goodness that’s over.

I could explain my prolonged absence, but I’ll save you the trouble. I think it’s quite obvious by now that I’m not the best planner when it comes to organization and making time for things when I have a gazillion responsibilities on my plate.

But now it’s February. And my schedule is looking blissfully less insane. You could even say open. I will have time for things like traveling (Barcelona, here I come!), hosting dinner parties, and getting back into my kitchen. I haven’t used my kitchen at all since Thanksgiving, save for the necessary coffee-making and reheating of the occasional pizza. I’ve mainly been subsisting on applesauce, yogurt and All-Bran for the past month. How I haven’t gotten scurvy yet, I don’t know. So February (yeah, I’m talking to YOU), let’s make a deal. Can you make nice with me this year and just…not suck? That would be a great change of pace for you. One that I’d totally dig. K, thanks.

But since it is February and for most everyone, the skies are gray and winter is still going on, here are a couple of things that I have been really into lately that make me happy.

Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros - Home
This song puts a smile on my face every time I listen to it.  It’s so happy and catchy, exactly what I’ve been needing to get me through these dark, wet Belgian days.

The xx - VCR
Everything about this is perfect - the song, the music video.  All around gorgeousness.

Also, today is Bill Murray day!  Or, in other more conventional circles, Groundhog Day.  Except here in Belgium, it’s La Chandeleur, a day to commemorate when Jesus was officially presented to the temple in Jerusalem.  But hey, since most people here are incredibly secular, they don’t really celebrate that so much.  Instead, February 2 is Pancake Day.  What.a.great.holiday.

The heart of Pancake Day is similar to Groundhog Day.  Because pancakes, or crêpes, are large and circular like the sun, you eat pancakes all day to try and coax the warm sun back into the hemisphere.  Pancakes and the potential of warmth? Sign me up!

Because everyone has their favorite go-to pancake (my personal fave would be my dad’s rendition) and I personally am still trying to recover from a particularly sweetened holiday season, I decided to go down the savory route.  And ooh boy. These things are delicious.

I nabbed this recipe off Bon Appetit and not only are they cheap and a cinch to make, but they are reminiscent of all my favorite types of street food.  Slightly salty, slightly cheesy, slightly buttery.  They’re also easy to fold so turning them into an edible shelf for toppings is easy-peasy.  I recommend topping them with a bit of harissa, a few leaves of spinach, and a dollop of hummus.  And they go well with beer, so really, what more could you want?

Sour Cream and Onion Pancakes*
Adapted from Bon Appetit

1/3 cup chopped onion
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
Worcestershire sauce, to taste
7 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups sour cream (or cottage cheese)
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons all-purpose flour

Cook onion, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and 1/8 teaspoon pepper in 2 tablespoons butter and Worcestershire sauce in a small heavy skillet over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, until golden brown, about 12 minutes. Transfer to a bowl, then add sour cream, eggs, flour, 1/4 cup butter, remaining 1/8 teaspoon salt, and remaining 1/8 teaspoon pepper and whisk until combined.

Brush a 12-inch nonstick skillet with some of remaining butter and heat over moderate heat until hot but not smoking. Working in batches of 5, scoop 1/8-cup measures of batter into skillet and cook until undersides are golden brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Flip and cook until undersides are golden brown and pancakes are cooked through, 1 to 2 minutes more. Transfer to a baking sheet and keep warm in oven. Brush skillet with butter between batches if necessary.

*Original recipe calls for cottage cheese.  My grocery store didn’t have any so I grabbed what I thought was cottage cheese, but was, in fact, sour cream.  Turns out it didn’t matter because I followed the recipe to a T after that and it worked beautifully.

All right, I know this space has been a bit lackluster lately. But that’s about to change. Right now.

In honor of Thanksgiving next week and that I have to cook not one, not two, but three turkeys for 40+ ravenous, homesick American students and a few strange Europeans; in honor that I just found out that not only do I have my entire rent paid for by my job but now also all of my utilities (holy crap holy crap!); in honor that I know enough people in Brussels to push my baked goods on – I am going to bake a pie every day this week until Thanksgiving. Starting tonight when I get home from work.

1. A Dutch Cheese Shop. So good. So dangerous. 2. This adorable puppy was waiting outside of the Dutch Cheese shop and was a big fan of being petted and loved.  I almost took him home with me. 3. Belgians are not the only Low Country with indigenous waffles.  This is a Stroop Wafel.  Or Syrup waffle.  It’s a thin layer of syrup sandwiched between two hot waffle wafers.  They are deliciously addictive.  The second best thing about a stroop wafel is where you buy them - a Stroop Wafel Winkel.  Try saying that without smiling. 4. A shoe store in Amsterdam. 5. An old blind dog lying in a window along an Amsterdam canal.

I’ve been doing a lot of traveling lately, mainly through The Netherlands.  The above is a small collection of photos from recent trips to Amsterdam and Den Haag/Delft - home to Queen Wilhemina (what a fantastic name!) and Mauritshuis, my all-time favorite museum and home to Girl with a Pearl Earring.

Today I’m leaving for a week in Edinburgh to visit a friend.  I’ve never been to Scotland, or that far north, so I’m excited.  I’ll be there for Guy Fawkes Day and have already been warned that it’ll be a week full of whiskey-drinking and burning effigies.  Oh God.

Pumpkins are everywhere apparently. Just not in Brussels. I have been on a pumpkin, squash, and gourd hunt for the past month and only now have I found one. And after having to get this nice, big pumpkin back to my apartment, I’m convinced that the reason why there is barely a gourd to be had in this city is because carrying pumpkins on public transportation sucks.

Lugging this heavy, bulbous thing around made me appreciate a couple of things – all the exercising I’ve been doing recently and anyone who carries a baby on public transportation. Seriously all you urban moms and dads – hats off to you and your ability to carry your genetically related pumpkin around and making it look like it ain’t no thing.

Now that I’ve discovered where the pumpkins live in this city, I am going to hoard and stockpile like it’s nobody’s business. I want to have enough to last so I can make delicious and anti-oxidant powered soups, muffins, and breads for the entire year.  Which means making a whole lotta pumpkin purée.

If you’ve never made pumpkin purée, you need to.  One large pumpkin yields a couple of quarts of puree so you have loads of great thickener and base for soups and other dishes for very cheap.  It makes your house smell fantastic as it softens in the oven and it’s really fun to hold and squish the warm insides as you slip them into the food processor.  Basically, I used it as an excuse to play with my food as an adult.  And once you roast and puree the pumpkin, you can store it in ziploc bags in your freezer without taking up too much space.

And if you’re still not sure about making pumpkin purée let me just say this - 100% homemade pumpkin pie.

Fresh Pumpkin Purée

Preheat oven to 400F.

Scrub and wash your pumpkin very well.  Slice your pumpkin so it will fit on a deep baking sheet or casserole dish and remove all the seeds.  Brush the exposed pumpkin flesh with butter.  Arrange on a baking sheet with the buttered-flesh side down.  Cover with aluminum foil.  Bake in oven until pumpkin is very tender and can easily be pierced by a fork or a knife.  Check after an hour to make sure the pumpkin isn’t browning or burning.  Remove from oven and let pumpkin cool so it can be handled.  As soon as it is cooled, scoop out the insides and puree in a food processor until blended.  Store in an airtight container.  If the puree isn’t used within a few days, store in the freezer.  It can be frozen for several months.

Because it’s Thursday and Thursdays always need some sprucing up to help us get to the weekend faster, here are some things in the last few days that have made me unbelievably happy:

Nerd awesomeness number one –
My weekly Econundrums newsletter from Mother Jones was safely delivered in my inbox on Monday, equipped with a carbon calculator for my food!

Why is that important?  Well, Kiera Butler from MJ is here to explain -

Cows have become famous for trampling the planet: A four-ounce serving of steak creates 10.6 pounds of greenhouse gases, the same as a 95-mile car trip. But foregoing meat that once mooed without considering the carbon impact of the rest of your diet? That’s a little like telling someone who’s counting calories that the bacon explosion is off limits, but corn dogs, pizza, and chocolate cake are all fair game.

With books and movies like Fast Food Nation, Food, Inc., The Omnivore’s Dilemma, we’ve all thought (or at least pretended) to think about where our food comes from and what has to happen for it to get into our bellies.   And by now, we’ve heard the basic message – eat less meat, eat more plants. But it isn’t always that simple. Bon Appétit (the catering company, not the Condé Nast publication) has served up a calculator that can help you make ethically-minded eating choices.

The calculator’s not entirely accurate, but it gives you a gist of how many carbon points are in a generic piece of food. You choose a category and a food item, drop it in the frying pan and voilà! You have a general estimate of how much carbon was produced to make your lunch.

And what’s this thing about carbon points? Econundrums explains:

Foods are assigned point values based on their greenhouse gas emissions—one point equals .035 oz. of emissions. Researchers took into account both the agricultural and shipping emissions associated with each food—for a detailed account of their methodology, click on “What do these points mean?”.

And I say it’s a general estimate because there are some inaccuracies in that it doesn’t factor in certain environmental elements…and it’s produced by a catering company. But then again, it doesn’t tout itself as the end all be all. But I still think it’s pretty neat and that it can help people to make more environmentally-conscious (and healthier) food choices.

Nerd awesomeness number two. NPR time!

NPR is pretty great. You get great reporting, interesting stories that actually mean something (see any local TV news broadcast at 5 to see the opposite), and a way to continue learning about the world around you – all for free! Plus sometimes you can get pretty sweet swag if you donate. And now one of my favorite NPR news shows, All Things Considered, just released a cake cookbook, All Cakes Considered. Political news with baking? Be still, my beating heart.

Melissa Gray, an ATC producer, wrote this book after bringing a cake to work every Monday. It has a focus on American-style, comfy, down-to-earth cakes with recipes for things like the bundt cake of all bundt cakes, The Tunnel of Fudge, and others like the Brown Sugar Pound Cake. And I’m not only excited about the different kinds of cakes in the book, but also because of the writing that goes on in between the recipes. Gray has produced some of my favorite ATC stories.

I haven’t gotten my hands on a complete copy of the book, but I’ve secured a few of the recipes and am anxious to try them out.  But I’m pretty confident that NPR + Cake = Great.

And bonus - I found this on Flickr. Man, does it make me miss my dog.

Nelson! *I have no idea what is on his tongue. I don't really want to know.

I love the way October makes me feel. I like the warm, sleepy feeling I get when I slip into sweatpants or the way my toes happily curl into themselves when I don them with socks. I’m also just happy that we’ve reached the point in the year where I no longer sweat at the drop of a hat. I hate sweating.*

And now I’ve found one more reason to love October - leeks.

It’s hard to avoid leeks, or poireaux, in northern France and Belgium in the fall. They spill out of stands at every farmers market in the region and work their way into all sorts of soups, tarts and flamiche. And now that my leek-radar has been piqued, I’m shocked to see how often the vegetable is used since my only prior exposure has been a soup from this book.

Belgium’s love of leeks extends beyond the cultural regions of northern francophone countries and all the way across the Channel. The leek is one of Wales’ national emblems and all good Welsh boys wear a leek necklace on St. David’s Day to honor, well, St. David and his battle against the Saxons. And I have it on very good authority from a Welsh friend (who sadly doesn’t know Christian Bale)  that it’s near-impossible to avoid leek-based meals in any sort of formal setting.

I think Europe is on to something. Leeks, in the onion family but more subtle and sweet, create silkily textured dishes with a robust flavor profile. They work particularly well in flamiche, a frenchified Flemish word for cake but is actually closer to a tart or pie. A flamiche is traditionally made with bread dough instead of pastry, can have a top crust or go without, and has a quiche-y base composed of cheese and eggs.** The ultimate savory pie.

This flamiche with leek confit takes some time to make but is a great introduction to Belgian food and leeks. The chopped leeks spool out and look like silky pasta, making your pot of confit one of the prettiest bowls of food you’ll ever see. I found myself mesmerized by the buttery pot of cooking vegetables, standing over the stove and watching as the butter melted and slipped in between the leeks. The crust used in the recipe veers away from the traditional bread dough, but it’s a firm piecrust with shoulders to stand up and support the robust flavor of the leek and cheese without become soft and gooey. Instead, it protects the buttery, flaky pockets inside so each forkful of the flamiche melts in your mouth. It gives me the same sleepy, happy feeling I get whenever I sink into my couch, fully suited up in sweat pants. The way October is meant to be spent.

* One of my good friends is currently in the middle of her Peace Corps stint in Southern Senegal.  One of her recent updates was “I am so jealous of babies here. They get fanned all the time, get to play in giant buckets full of water when it’s a million degrees outside and they don’t have to wear pants, EVER.” Reasons why I am glad I live in Belgium - I stop sweating and I can wear pants. Hooray pants!

**It’s also customary to serve Burgundy wine with a flamiche.

Belgian Style Leek Flamiche
Adapted very slightly from Molly Wizenberg in Bon Appetit October 2008

Leek Confit
You can make this ahead of time - up to a week beforehand.  Keep refrigerated in an airtight container until needed for the filling.

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
4 large leeks (white and pale green parts only), halved lengthwise, cut crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices (about 5 cups)
2 tablespoons water
1/2 teaspoon salt

Melt butter in large pot over medium-low heat. Add the leeks and stir to coat. Add the water and salt. Cover and reduce heat to low. Cook until the leeks are tender, stirring often, about 25 minutes. Uncover and cook until the excess water evaporates.  Keep warm until ready to use in the filling, or keep in an airtight container until ready to use.

Flamiche Crust
4 tablespoons ice water
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) plus 1 tablespoon chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

Custard Filling
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream
2 large eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup crumbled cheese - goat cheese, feta, boursin, etc. work well.
Leek Confit from above

To make the crust:

Preheat oven to 375F.

Combine ice water and cider vinegar in small bowl. Blend flour and salt in processor. Add butter and blend until the mixture resembles coarse meal. With the machine running, slowly add the water-vinegar mixture, processing until moist clumps form. If dough seems dry, add additional ice water by teaspoonfuls. Gather dough into ball and flatten into a disk. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 2 hours. Allow dough to soften slightly at room temperature before rolling out.

Roll dough out on a lightly floured surface until it’s a 12-inch round. Transfer to non-stick 9-inch-diameter tart or pie pan (removable sides or bottom preferable). Press dough onto bottom and up sides. Fold in overhang and press to extend dough 1/2 inch above sides of pan. Make ventilation holes in the pie crust by poking a fork in the crust a couple of times.  Line pan with foil and dried beans. Bake until dough looks dry and set, about 30 minutes. Remove foil and beans and continue to bake until crust is pale golden, 20 to 25 minutes longer. Remove from oven and cool while preparing filling.

To make the filling:
Whisk together milk, cream, eggs, and salt. Sprinkle half of the cheese over the bottom of the warm pie crust. Spread your leek confit over the cheese and then sprinkle with the remaining cheese. Pour milk mixture over. Bake until the filling has puffed.  It will be slightly brown in places and the center will be set, around 35 to 40 minutes. Cool slightly. Serve warm or at room temperature.

There needs to be an amendment on the “There’s nothing as American as apple pie” statement. It’s just not true. The English gave us our version of apple pie.  The Dutch make a mean apple pie too. And those francophones have their tarte tatin.

Instead, I propose it should be “There’s nothing as American as chocolate chip cookies and brownies.”

Nobody makes a tray of chocolate chip cookies or a pan of brownies like an American. In Brussels’  grocery stores, they have a brownie mix in a box. The cover is vaguely 1970s in a horrifying outdated sort of way, which makes me wonder if it has been sitting on the shelf since 1973. The picture of the brownie itself is also pretty scary. It resembles a square form of… number two, to put it politely.

So this weekend, after my students started to get twitchy and unfocused as they’ve begun to go through their Mexican food withdrawal and started to bemoan the lack of brownies in their life, I found several bars of chocolate in my grocery basket and a task to bake.

Brownies, like chocolate chip cookies, have a mythical beginning. Nobody really knows who invented them or what the real Creation Story is behind the brownie. Some say it was created in the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago at the Palmer Hotel.  The ladies who luncheon needed a chocolate cake dessert but also needed it so they could eat with their fingers while viewing the expositions. Some say Fannie Farmer created it for her cookbook. And my personal favorite - a certain Mrs. Brown forgot to add baking soda to her chocolate cake destined for a bake sale. Not having enough time to make another cake, she cooled her flat chocolate cake, cut it in squares and took it to her church bake sale. And brownies were born. (Interestingly, here is a website that compares the evolution of the brownie recipe.)

Brownies can come in many forms – swirled with caramel, dotted with macademia nuts, topped with ice cream, fudgy, chewy, cakey. There are whole cookbooks devoted just to brownies and a person would be very hard pressed to find a brownie version they didn’t like.

I decided to try out these “Adult” brownies banging around the Serious Eats message boards. And hello! Fudgey brownies are really, really delicious. The heady combination of intense chocolate flavor and coffee is decadent enough to make you want a cigarette afterward. Thank god my students are getting all of these – they lead to bad decisions. And me being about 50 pounds heavier.

Some tips for baking brownies –

In general, if you want your brownies (or cookies!) chewier, try reducing the amount of flour by a ¼ cup or add 3 tablespoons of corn syrup. But since the latter is a little nasty and not as good for you, try reducing the flour first.

If you want a light, slightly crackly crust on your brownies and one that isn’t tough, ditch your mixer and beat by hand.

Metal pans bake things quicker than glass. In general, recipes give you a wide range of “done” times because it depends on what type of pan you are using. Metal conducts heat a lot quicker than glass, so your goods will be done much quicker. Also, to be on the safe side, you should start checking for doneness (metal or glass) every five minutes after 20 minutes.

It helps to mix your sugar and vanilla together first before adding it to the rest of the ingredients.  This ensures an even distribution of the vanilla and gives your baked goods a smoother, subtler taste throughout.

Butter-Brick Brownies with Coffee and Salt
Adapted slightly from Tam Ngo

2 tablespoons (1 1/2 stick or 6 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into cubes
8 ounces milk chocolate (41% cocoa), coarsely chopped
8 ounces dark chocolate (64% cocoa), coarsely chopped
1 1/2 cup granulated sugar
4 large eggs, room temperature
2 tablespoons vanilla
1/4 cup all-purpose flour, sifted (you can go for 1/2 cup here if you want. I did just a 1/4 cup though and they were fudgey fudgey fudgey. Mmmm.)
1 teaspoon fleur de sel or sea salt
1 tablespoon dark coffee grounds, like mocha or dessert coffee

Preheat over to 325F.  Line an 8×8 baking pan with parchment paper so that there is enough overhang to work as handles.

Create a double boiler on very low heat by placing a large metal over a pot of simmering water, place the chocolate and cubed butter. Stir occasionally until melted. Remove from heat and stir until smooth.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine sugar and vanilla.  After the chocolate mixture has cooled to touch, pour the chocolate into the vanilla-sugar.  Next, beat in the eggs, one at a time. Add the flour, salt, and coffee and mix vigorously by hand for 5 minutes.

Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and tap the pan on a counter top to even out the batter. Bake for 22 minutes, take out the pan, and tap the pan on the counter twice to further even out and condense the batter. Rotate and reinsert the pan to bake for another 22 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the center comes out moist but free of uncooked batter. You made need to adjust baking time and bake longer. The less flour you use, the more time it takes to bake.

Remove the pan from the oven and place on a cooling rack for 10 minutes. Remove the brownies from the pan using the parchment handles and place the brownies on the rack. Cool completely before cutting.

Tam Ngo based these off of brownies at Andronico’s in Berkely, California, which are famous for the brick-like texture.  Tam emphasizes that to make the brownies more brick-like, you need to let the brownies condense and collapse onto itself.  The way to do this is to let the brownies “stale” for a little bit.  I let them stale for about a day and a half and they worked beautifully.  Brick-ish and easy to handle.  The brownies might also seem a bit oily as they come out of the oven.  As they cool, the brownies will reabsorb the oil and work to make the brownies more condensed and fudgey.