The Petit Four

Sometimes I have this weird ability to make myself insanely busy. Or overcomplicating things. And I don’t always match said weird talent with a companion talent like say, being able to balance everything.

So when I feel like I’m trying to dodge an impending ball of work (think opening scene of Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark), nothing clears my head and calms me down quite like baking. The methodical sifting, stirring, pouring, folding massages out the lines of frustration etched onto my day. No matter how many times I mess up a verb conjugation or my tired brain says “garbaaage” instead of détritus, I can’t really mess up baking if I just follow the directions.  What matters is that I bake chocolate chip cookies while listening to This American Life.

The chocolate chip cookie has a certain allure to it. It’s a basic combination of flour, butter, sugar and chocolate, but it somehow has managed to create this certain je ne sais quoi that gets people up in arms about the perfect cookie. Some people, like the New York Times, think they have the Chocolate Chip Cookie’s “come hither” taste down to a science, claiming that it is the ultimate chocolate chip cookie. Others have certain rules and procedures they follow when making the “perfect” cookie. But I say to hell with it. Part of the reason why the Chocolate Chip Cookie is great, why it has that certain je ne sais quoi quality, is because it’s true essence lies in its simplicity. You, a bowl, and a wooden spoon. A powerful combination that can result in something that will make most men weak in the knees. If you try and deconstruct the cookie you’re missing the point. So, I won’t claim this is the best chocolate chip cookie recipe, I’ll just say that it’s just damn good and the act of making it is therapeutic perfection.

Chocolate Chip Cookies
From Dorie Greenpan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. baking soda
2 sticks unsalted butter at room temperature
1 cup sugar
2/3 cups brown sugar
2 tsp. pure vanilla extract
2 large eggs
12 oz. bittersweet chocolate
1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Line baking sheets with parchment or spray with cooking spray.

In a small bowl, whisk flour, salt, and baking soda together.

In a large bowl, beat butter on medium speed for about 1 minute until smooth (you can use a wooden spoon if you want.)  Add the sugars and beat for another 2 minutes until well blended.  Beat in the vanilla.  Add the eggs one at a time, beating for 1 minute after each egg is added to fully incorporate into the batter.  Reduce mixer speed to low to avoid spraying, and slowing add the dry ingredients in 3 portions, mixing only until each addition is fully incorporated.

With a wooden spoon, mix in chocolate and nuts if you are using them.

Dough can be covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days.

Spoon the dough by slightly rounded tablespoonfuls onto the baking sheet, leaving about 2 inches between spoonfuls.

Place the cookies in the oven and bake for 10-12 minutes. At the midway point during baking, rotate the baking sheet.  The cookies will be done when they are brown around the edges and golden in the center.  Pull the baking sheet from the oven and allow the cookies to rest for 5 minutes before transferring to cool on racks.

Brussels is hot.

Oh, I realize that I’m not living in New York with its near Biblical amounts of summer rain. Or that I’m not sweating and suffocating away under Chicago’s oppressive heat and humidity. But in my defense a part of my apartment is a converted sauna. And on top of that, deodorant doesn’t have a strong foothold in Europe. And un-air conditioned public transportation is used by everyone – extensively.

I’m just going to let that stew in your minds for a little bit like it has stewed in my nose for the past week.

So. I’ve been craving things that are cool, easy and on the cheap since my last financial disaster. Plus, it’s a few days away from the Fourth of July and while it may be illegal to barbecue out in public in dear, ol’ Belgium (it’s true! Daniel and I spent a week trying to figure this out.) I’m trying to keep the spirit alive.

I’ve already rocked out the potato salad, one of your quintessential picnic sides. But then there’s the ‘slaw.

Here’s the thing. I don’t really like coleslaw. The only version I’ve ever tried and didn’t dislike, but in fact, adored, is from Smoque in Chicago – a barbecue place that changed my opinion on barbecue and consequently, life, for the better. Their ‘slaw is made with a vinegar base, which enhances the crunchy awesome sweetness of the red onions and the pop of the mustard seeds mixed in with the cabbage. I adore this coleslaw so much that I like to swipe my friends’ coleslaw bowls and put them in my leftover box for later.

So after an experience like Smoque, I’m a little wary of trying to make my own coleslaw – a staple of all Fourth of July picnics and bbqs. Even if I succeeded, it wouldn’t be the same, especially if I didn’t have an equally tasty barbecue to get messy with. Then in walks Dorie Greenspan, with her French take on coleslaw using not cabbage, but carrots, and incorporating the two things I like most about Smoque’s coleslaw – the vinegar and the mustard. It’s cheap and simple. The tang from the Dijon brings the carrot’s natural sweetness away from the harvesty taste of autumn and winter and into a respectable summer side dish. I wish I could tell you that I was having more for lunch than a bowl of this, but I can’t. It’s too hot out.

Grated Carrot-Raisin ‘Slaw Salad
From Dorie Greenspan

1 pound carrots, peeled and trimmed
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon honey
1/4 cup cider vinegar
1/2 cup canola oil
Raisins, optional
Coarsely chopped walnuts, optional
Chopped parsley, optional
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

The carrots need to be grated, a job you can do by hand using the large holes of a box grater, or by push-button using the grating blade of a food processor. Either way, if the grating has caused the carrots to weep, give them a quick press between your palms to rid them of excess liquid before you toss the pieces into a serving bowl.

If you’ve used a processor, keep it plugged in and make the dressing in it; if not, use a small jar. Put the mustard, honey, vinegar and oil in the processor or jar, season with salt and pepper, and whir or shake until blended - you’ll have a thick, smooth vinaigrette.

Toss the carrots with the currants, and nuts, if you’re using these ingredients, and then, just before serving, pour over the dressing, toss the salad well and adjust the salt and pepper, if needed. If you’re using the parsley, add it last.

Secrets, secrets – everybody’s got one.  Sometimes they’re dirty and they’re painful.  Sometimes they ain’t no big thing.  Well, here’s a little secret about me that only my family and everybody I grew up with knows – I’m a recovering clown.  I’ve even been in the circus.

There.  Now it’s typed up and going to be on the Internet for ever and ever.

But you want to know something that’s even more secret?  Something I think everybody’s blocked out of their memory?  My sister was a clown too.   Really!  She may act all cool and nonchalant about it and make references about my clown days, but I know the truth.  I know her dirty little secret.  And I’ve got her old make-up case to prove it.

Ok, so now that you know my dirty little secret, you’re probably thinking that I’m a freaky creepy little thing.  While I agree with most people that yeah, Ronald McDonald is one creepy spokes…thing, and that most clown art is disturbing, I don’t think that clowns are naturally creepy.  I could go on a whole rant about how most of those disturbing clowns aren’t clowns at all and they’re giving the rest of us a bad wrap by purposefully putting their make up on so it IS creepy, I’m not. I swear.  And I’m sure if you saw me as a clown, you would think I was friendly and want me to make you a balloon animal.  ‘Cause I can make some sweet balloon animals.

And no, just because I was a clown does not mean that I smell like cabbage (at least, nobody’s ever told me…) and I feel like my hands are medium-sized.  So I’ve got that stuff going for me.  But I’ve also got some sweet face-painting skills and a large repertoire of games for little kids and skits to do at the drop of the hat if the need ever arises.  Hopefully these things will never be utilized at office parties.

Something, however, I do not have skill in is having pie on my face.  Instead, I have lots and lots of experience in having pie IN my mouth.  Which I think is a better skill to have, no?  And what better way to gain experience in the time-honored tradition of eating pie than delving into a Banana Cream Pie?  And hopefully when you’re eating it, you won’t have to worry about it messing up your make-up.

Banana Cream Pie, from Dorie Greenspan

For the Custard:

2 cups milk
6 large egg yolks
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/3 cup corn starch
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
pinch of salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into bits

3 ripe, firm bananas

1 9-inch single pie crust - fully baked and cooled

For the topping:
1 cup cold heavy cream
2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons sour cream

To make the custard:
Bring the milk to a boil.  Meanwhile, in a large-heavy bottomed saucepan, whisk the yolks together with the brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt until well blended and thick.  Whisking without stopping, drizzle in about 1/4 cup of the hot milk.  This will temper, or warm, the yolks so they don’t curdle.  Then, while still whisking, add the remainder of the milk in a small, steady stream.  Put the pan over medium heat and, whisking constantly (make sure to get the edges of the pan), bring the mixture to a boil.  Boil, still whisking, for 1 to 2 minutes before removing from the heat.

Whisk in the vanilla extract.  Let stand for five minutes, then whisk in the bits of butter, stirring until they are fully incorporated and the custard is smooth and silky.  You can either press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface of hte custard to create an airtight seal and refrigerate the custard until cold.

When you are ready to assemble the pie, peel the bananas and cut them on a shallow diagonal into 1/4-inch-thick slices.

Whisk the cooled custard vigorously to loosen it, and spread about one quarter of it over the bottom of the piecrust - it will be a thin layer.  Top with half of the banana slices.  Repeat, adding a thin layer of the pastry cream and the remaining bananas, then smooth the rest of the pastry cream over the last layer of bananas.

To make the topping:  In a lare bowl, beat the cream until it just starts to thicken.  Beat in the confectioners’ sugar and vanilla and continue to beat until the cream holds firm peaks.  Then, gently fold in the sour cream.  Spoon the whipped cream over the filling and spread it evenly to the edges of the custard.  Serve, or refrigerate until needed.

I’m pretty proud of the way my stomach has held up through all of the beatings and violent abuses I’ve put it through. It must be all scarred and tatted up like some seasoned burly soldier by now, especially after subjecting it to a year of eating in China. I was never really sure what I was eating half of the time and not really wanting to know, but woo boy, things sure were delicious.

Luckily, I only became sick once - on a good ol’ fashioned American meal of pizza and beer two weeks before I went home. I was reduced to a mushy mess on a Chinese hospital bed with IVs stuck in my arm and unable to stomach anything for a week afterward. Important lesson learned - there is a reason why Chinese people do not eat their own pizza.

Other than that tragic episode, I very rarely find myself in some form of pain or discomfort (albeit the kind from eating too much) after eating a little somethin’ something’. So chances are, if you want me to try something, I will heartily agree and dive in with very little trepidation.

But at the same time, there are a few things that I will never eat again (other than Chinese pizza.). Most things with blueberries are avoided like I would avoid Patrick Bateman and the mere mention of lemon-based desserts makes me queasy. Both of these reactions come from very early, scarring childhood episodes of overindulgence. Eech.

When I saw that this week’s recipe for Tuesdays with Dorie was Blueberry Crumble, my heart sank a little. Coffee cake? I love coffee cake! Two types of sugar? Heck yes! Butter and eggs? I’m there. Blueberries and…walnuts? No thanks. So I jazzed things up a bit and substituted a pint of blueberries for raspberries and peaches and swapped out the walnuts with pecans. And the results are of the drool-worthy, go to work a little later to prolong the enjoyment of eating this with some coffee type of good. And they don’t make anyone sick.

Blueberry Crumb Cake (or Raspberry Peach Pecan Crumble Rumble) from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours

For the crumbs:
5 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature
1/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 cup chopped walnuts (or pecans)

For the cake:
1 pint (2 cups) blueberries or what ever berry you please, not strawberries however - too juicy. Also, berries should be preferably fresh, or frozen, not thawed)
2 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
2/3 cup sugar
grated zest of 1/2 lemon or 1/4 orange
3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) unsalted butter at room temp
2 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup buttermilk

Preheat oven to 350F. Butter an 8-inch square pan.

For the crumbs: Put all ingredients except the nuts in a food processor and pulse just until the mixture forms clumps and curds and holds together when pressed. Scrape the topping into a bowl, stir in the nuts and press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface. Refrigerate until needed. Covered well with the crumb mix can be refigerated for up to 3 days.

To make the cake: Using your fingertips, toss the berries and 2 tablespoons of flour in a small bowl just to coat the berries; set aside. Whisk together the remaining flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg.

In a large bowl, rub the sugar and the lemon/orange zest together with your fingertips until the sugar is moist and aromatic. Add the butter and beat the sugar with the butter on medium speed until light, about 3 minutes.

Add the eggs one by one, beating one minute after each addition, then beat in the vanilla extract. Don’t be concerned if the mixture curdles at this stage. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the flour and buttermilk, alternately, the flour in 3 parts, buttermilk in 2. Begin and end with the dry ingredients. The batter will be thick and creamy. With a spoon, gently fold in the berries.

Scrape the batter into the buttered pan and smooth the top gently with the spatula. Pull the crumb mix from the fridge and, with your fingertips, break it into pieces. They don’t need to be perfect and uniform, they’re supposed to be crumbs. Scatter the crumb mixture over the batter until it’s covered.

Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, or until the crumbs are golden and a thin knife inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Transfer the cake to a rack and cool just until warm.

There’s just something about the first day of spring. The feeling of reassurance that you’ve made it through another long, dark Midwestern winter, that drinking beers on porches and croquet games will soon be underway. It’s the day where we can all shimmy out of our puffy jackets and cast our winter hats to the side because today, today you play.

I have this funny feeling about things. There’s this strange sense of hope that’s been brewing inside for awhile and now I feel like I’m practically bursting with it. New plans are afoot. I don’t know what it is, but something big is about to happen. Maybe it has something to do with the sunny skies and the first day of spring, but everything feels light. Everything feels like a bright, poppy car commercial. That despite the dreary winter, with the never-ending face-burning cold, the grim economic climate, the encroaching gray on President Obama’s head, everything is going to be ok.

When I was a kid, I wanted to get out of the Midwest - badly. I hated the rundown farms, the urban sprawl, and the plain jane-ness of it all. And winter was the worst. Every where I looked, everything was gray and wet. Then I went away for a little bit and then I grew up a little bit. Now, I understand the quiet, subtle beauty of those firm and faded farms, where the fields dip and roll along the stretches of roads and highway, how those small, ranch houses bubble up into small towns and big towns and rusty cities. It’s home to me and now I get it, I get the beauty and the quietness of everything. And I know my fifteen-year-old self is going to hate my twenty-three-year-old self for saying this, but I like it.

Yet there are times when you just need to escape. It’s always around February and March, when the gray skies and wet ground no longer hold any charming winter quality and you end up looking to the sky, begging and pleading for sun and warmth and dear God, some green.

Which is why the first day of Spring is so important. It’s the first day of promise and hope and a little bit of redemption. I, the modern day pioneer woman, made it through the wilderness of urban concrete and steel to reach the end of the season, surviving my cosmopolitan cabin fever and inner-city imprisonment.

So last weekend, with the sun streaming through the windows, I dug into Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours, to unofficially take part in Tuesdays with Dorie and more importantly, entice the ever approaching gods of spring and celebrate that we made it through another winter.

French Yogurt Cake with Marmalade Glaze from Dorie Greenspan

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 ground almonds (or if you don’t like or don’t want to use almonds, just add another 1/2 cup flour)

2 tsps. baking powder

pinch o’ salt

1 cup sugar

Grated zest of 1 lemon

1/2 cup plain yogurt

3 large eggs

1/4 tsp. pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup oil

Preheat the oven to 350F and butter up a loaf pan.

Put the sugar and zest into a bowl and rub the zest into the sugar with your fingers until the sugar is moist and aromatic. Inhale deeply. Add the yogurt, eggs and vanilla and whisk until the mixture is well blended. Still whisking, add the flour, almonds if you’re using them, baking powder and salt. Once the dry ingredients are fully incorporated, fold in the oil. The batter will be very smooth, taste delicious, and have a slight sheen. Pour into loaf pan and bake for 50 to 55 minutes.

The cake’s edges should begin to come away from the sides of the pan and be golden brown. Let cool for a few minutes in the pan before transferring over to cool on a rack.

To make the glaze, put 1/2 cup marmalade in a small saucepan or a microwave save bowl, stir in 1 tsp. of water and heat until the jelly is hot and liquefied. Gently brush the cake with the glaze.