Author: Misanthropic Hostess

Scenes from holiday baking

Each year I do a lot of holiday baking.  Planning takes weeks.  There are baking schedules and distribution spreadsheets (why yes, they are color-coded).   There is the search for a novel way to present and package them.  And, there is the purchase of a whole lot of butter.  A lot a lot.  I lost track after 20 lbs. The whole thing takes about two weeks–from the day after Thanksgiving to the second Sunday in December.  And in the end a couple thousand treats are sent as holiday best wishes.

In the week or so to come, I have several new recipes to share. In the meantime, here are some scenes from the last two weeks.

First there are the multi-named Peanut Butter Bonbons.  Even if Alec Baldwin doesn’t make them for you and even if the origins of the recipe are dubious at best, they are a (guilty) pleasure.

And of course, several dozen virgin Rum Butter Nuts (not to worry, the rum was efficiently re-purposed–think fruity flavors and umbrella toothpicks).

What holiday would be complete without Sugar Cookies?

New to the line up (and soon to be shared on this site)  were gingerbread and egg nog macarons.

A simple cranberry orange shortbread.

And (insert your favorite nut here) toffee.

In baking, the whole is always greater than the sum of the parts.

Three hours and many glue dots later, they were packaged and ready to be delivered and shipped far-and-wide.

And now, we can really get this holiday season started!

A Very Misanthropic Thanksgiving–and a good turkey recipe

I know, I know, Thanksgiving was like, so last week.  But, I have a good recipe to share and wanted to do it before the next round of holidays…in case you wanted to try it.

This year TD and I very quietly snuck in a nice, mellow, thankful Thanksgiving.  As both of our families now live out of state, traveling is a little tough.  So, it was just the two of us.  While the pleasure was a little guilty and bittersweet (Thanksgiving is, after all a family and friends holiday), we thought we’d take the opportunity this year knowing that 2010 may be our only Turkey Day for Two.

We’ve hosted Thanksgiving for the past few years and each year have done the meat a little differently.  We’ve grilled, baked and roasted.  And let’s not forget last year’s Baduckey.  This year we tried slow cooker turkey breast.  And you know what–it was great!

Around 7:00 the morning of, I threw an eight-pound bone-in turkey breast into the cooker along with a slew of aromatics–onion, celery, apples, lemons and a handful of herbs along with a couple of cups of turkey stock.

Then we set about enjoying our day.  This included one or two of our new favorite cocktails from Alison over at A Girl A Market A Meal.

We’re all adults here right?  I mean that literally–you are over 18 correct?  I hope so because I really can’t help sharing this natural twig and berries arrangement.  Almost as good as seeing Jesus or the Virgin Merry in my libation.

Moving on…

The good thing about a Thanksgiving for two is that you get to have exactly what you like.  For us, this included a mushroom and sausage stuffing, mashed potatoes that have been painted with butter and broiled like a twice baked potato and simple roasted vegetables. Oh.  And a Thanksgiving Tree.

Yes, you read that correctly.  A Thanksgiving Tree.  I’m pretty sure this idea isn’t original and I’m completely sure it’s a little more than “Hallmark Channel” if you know what I mean.  But.  It was fun.  Throughout the day, TD and I added notes on what we were thankful for this year.

After the reading of the tree and the eating of the turkey, we completed the meal with a slice of orange velvet cake.  Orange velvet cake is red velvet cake.  Only orange.

And that my friends, was our very thankful, very relaxing Thanksgiving for two.  I sincerely hope you were all lucky enough to have Thanksgivings full of blessings, laughter and good food.

And now that the holiday season has officially begun.

Slow Cooker Turkey Breast

Unfortunately, this recipe does not yield a golden bird.  In fact, the final product is rather anemic-looking.  Not to worry though–the breast meat is very moist and juicy!

  • 6-8 lb. turkey breast, bone-in, skin-on
  • Your choice of aromatics–I used carrots, onion, celery, apples, lemons and a mixture of fresh sage, rosemary and thyme.
  • 2-3 C turkey stock, cider or even white wine

Place breast in slow cooker, skin-side up.  Add in aromatics and stock.  Cook on high for 5-7 hrs until juices run clear when breast is pierced (about 180 degrees).

Rivalry Cookies

If you didn’t catch it the first 2,347 times I’ve mentioned it, I work for my alma mater’s biggest rival.  Most of the time this isn’t an issue. I try not to broadcast my collegiate pedigree and really, my coworkers could care less. Except for one weekend each year in early December.  And then all bets are off.  There is trash talking.  There is posturing.  There may or may not be the subtle wearing (or not wearing) of certain color combinations and/or temporary tattoos.

It really doesn’t matter that my own college’s football team has struggled a bit to go 500 in the last few years while the football team of my employ has played in a couple of national championship games recently.  This game can and has been, anyone’s.  Crazy things happen at these games.

Which brings me to baked goods.  Back in 2006 I made rivalry cookies for my office.  The week of the game, I delivered luridly colored sugar cookies in the shape of footballs and helmets.  And we–my team–won the game.

For a variety of reasons, I haven’t repeated this cookie delivery since (mostly because they are labor intensive and I’m in the middle of my holiday baking binge right when this game is scheduled).  Sadly, my team hasn’t been able to deliver another rivalry “W” since that game in 2006.

So I thought I’d make some rivalry cookies again this year.  Just in case it makes a karmic different.  I still won’t have the time to put into intricately decorated cookies, so I’ve been playing around with some less time-consuming ideas.  I think I may have come up with a suitable proxy.

Like I did in 2006, I started with the always successful sugar cookie recipe. And then I had some fun with food gel.

The idea was that by coloring the dough before it went into the oven, I wouldn’t have to do it when it came out.

Looks like PlayDoh doesn’t it.  I know this can’t be true but when I was working with it–I swear–it also smelled like the stuff.  If you haven’t already caught-on at this point, the colors represent the respective college colors.  The schools share yellow in common so I rationed-out the dough as 1:2:1.

I then rolled out sheets of each color and then combined the colors by placing one on top of the other.  Here it is with my employer’s colors.

And here with my college’s.

After this I tried various ways of rolling the dough into a  log.  Rolling from the short end yields a bigger but shorter dough log.  I opted for rolling from the long end–I have a lot of cookies to hand out.  With the dough on parchment, I began the roll by grabbing the edges of the parchment and folding over the dough at the edge.

And then repeated the action.

Until I got a log.

Then, the log went into colored sanding sugar. For a nice coat of sparkles.

Finally,  into some parchment for a couple of hours in the fridge.

Once the dough logs were firm I just sliced them up into disks and into the oven they went. The result?  Rivalry cookies!

So here is the plan.  The week of the game I’ll bake up a batch and deliver them to various offices here at work.  Then, I’ll let the great football gods take care of the rest.

Go Bruins!

My so called French Macaron

French macarons are the Jordan Catalano of cookies.  They’re beautiful and rather elusive.  And that makes you want them.  Pine for them.  So get you to know them a little.  And they shine their special brightness on you a bit which you like. A lot.  Then, in nearly the same breath, they treat you like crap.  Which makes you like them even more. Sure, you court.  However, unfulfilled expectation becomes the hallmark of your relationship.  Before you know it, you find that you’ve been strung along, nourished only by the occasional favor of a half vacant smile or  frilly foot. Wait…we are talking about cookies right?

We all have our Jordan Catalanos both in real life and in pursuit of making good things to eat.  I just spent a weekend with mine.

There are quite a few pretty awesome primers, 101s and FAQs on French macarons.  Tartelette and Not So Humble Pie are incredibly useful and gorgeous to look at.  As such, I’m not going to go into painful detail here on how to successfully master the French macaron.  Besides, to do that would mean that I’ve mastered the little buggers.  Which, I have most definitely not.  Instead, let’s pretend just for this post that I am Angela Chase and you are Rayanne Graff  or Rickie Vasquez and I’m gossiping/venting/ fantasizing to you about Jordan.  I mean macarons.

Lets start at the beginning.  Almond flour is the basis of the macaron shell.  I ground my own in the food processor and then, under the advice of several recipes, sifted it.  Here we see the unsifted stuff.

And here it is sifted.  While it is certainly more aesthetically uniform, I really don’t think it made a difference to sift at this stage.

Then there are the egg whites.  The consensus is that they need to be aged.  Some say 24 hours. Some say five or six days.  So I did both.  I separated-out three dozen egg whites, covered them and let them sit in the fridge for several days.  Then, 24 hours before I was to make the shells, I pulled them out of the fridge and let them sit.  While I realize this sounds gross, consider that many countries do not bother to refrigerate their eggs at all.  My understanding is that aging the whites dries them out a bit.  Makes sense I suppose.  However, About 12 hours into my little adventure, I ran out of aged egg whites and, gasp, used some fresh ones.  You know what?  They worked just fine.

Now let’s talk a bit about the meringue.  I think I got it right.  You don’t want it too sloppy and you don’t want it to break.  Check.

Some recipes tell you to add the meringue to the dry ingredients while other tell you to do the exact opposite.  Since meringue is delicate stuff, I went with the latter and added it in three stages.  One really great tip I did pick up was to test the batter along the way.  Batter that doesn’t spread slightly needs a few more folds.  Batter that spreads to quickly has been over folded and you are pretty much out of luck.

Since I’m not exactly a pro with the pastry bag, I actually drew the recommended 1.5” circles on a dozen sheets of parchment (you then flip it over and use the un-marked side).  While this gave me some confidence in my spherical shaping task, I eventually ran out of the pre-drawn sheets and the resulting disks were no less round than the traced ones.

Next up in the macaron lore is the aging of the batter before it goes into the oven.  Several recipes agree that 30 to 60 minutes is good.  While I agree that about 30 minutes is good, the weather that weekend was so dry that anything aged longer cooked lopsided—as if the feet got stuck.

If the macaron flow chart wasn’t sufficiently complicated at this point, there is also the issue of how hot the oven should be.  The recipes I looked at ranged from 280 degrees to 350.  Seventy degrees is a substantial swing, particularly for something so purportedly picky.  I stuck in the middle at 300 and double panned each batch.  That is, until the batch that I forgot to double pan came out much cleaner than the ones before.  Then it was single pans going forward.

Between batches that cracked, stuck to the parchment, didn’t raise, raised too much and just plain decided not to be circles, my success rate was about 50%.  And we haven’t even gotten to the filling yet.

I made the shells on a Saturday but didn’t need the cookies until the next Thursday and so into the freezer (very carefully) they went.

I ended up with five different kinds of macaron shells (though four of the five came from the same recipe).  This means that I needed five different kinds of filling.  Here was the line-up:

  • Blue vanilla with vanilla bean ganache
  • Chocolate with nutella ganache
  • Raspberry with a raspberry mascarpone filling
  • Pumpkin saffron with a pumpkin spice cream cheese filling
  • Lemon with a lemon zest cream cheese filling

The beauty of macarons is that you can fill them with anything.  However, as is true with teenaged relationships, some fillings are more stable than others.  While delightful on the palate, by the time I went to serve the raspberry mascarpone macarons, the liquid in the filling had turned the cookie nearly to mush.  The shells with the cream cheese and ganache fillings held up much better.

When you go to fill the macarons, match up and lay-out each of the shells in advance.  I also suggest chilling the filling a bit, this will make it cleaner to distribute.

And prettier in the cookie.

I obviously did not do this with the chocolate.

I read in a couple of places that macarons like to rest a day or two before serving.  So I did just that.

And I think it worked well.

Not wanting to waste the hundred or so that turned out, I brought them in to work for our annual Thanksgiving Potluck.  We’re supposed to label our dishes so everyone knows what they are eating.  I’m good at following instructions.

Unfortunately, I got all wrapped up in arranging the macarons and forgot to take pictures before I, well, wrapped them up–which leaves us with a fairly unsatisfactory final shot.

Oh wait…let’s end with this one.  Can you guess what the blur is?

My work here is obviously not done as I still haven’t figured out how to get more than 50% consistency.  However, I will have a couple more opportunities in the coming weeks with  gingerbread and an egg nog macaron attempts.

The recipe for the chocolate macarons can be found here: Chocolate Macarons.

The following is the basic macaron recipe I used for the other flavors.  All credit goes to Tartlette.

Basic Macaron Recipe

Slightly adapted from Tartlette

For me, this recipe yields about 40 1.5″ shells.

For the shells:

Preheat oven to 300 degrees, position rack in the middle of the oven.

  • 90 grams egg whites
  • 30 grams granulated sugar
  • 200 grams confectioner’s sugar
  • 120 grams ground almonds or almond flour
  • food coloring

Either age the whites or don’t, just make sure they are at room temp. before you begin.  Grind together confectioner’s sugar and ground almonds in the food processor until fine.  Sift into a large bowl and throw out what remains in the sifter (this is why I’ve upped the almond amount just slightly).  Meanwhile, in a standing mixer with the whisk attachment, whip egg whites on low until frothy.  Add in food coloring if desired.  Once egg whites are frothy, increase whisk speed and gradually add in granulated sugar.  Meringue is ready when it will hold a peak.

In three parts, gently fold the flour mixture into the meringue. Just when the dry ingredients are combined, begin testing the mixture–I use a teaspoon and clean plate.  The batter should flow like magma and when tested, spread gently.  If it keeps its shape, give it a couple more folds.

Fill a pastry bag (or large zip lock) with batter and pipe onto a parchment covered half-sheet.  Let sit 30-60 minutes if desired (more if you are in a humid environment). And then, into the oven they go for about 10 minutes.  At this point, begin checking for doneness by slightly giggling pan.  Shells are done when the meringue does not shift.  Remove from oven, let cool slightly and remove from parchment.  Can be stored in freezer for several days.

When you are ready to fill, your choices are nearly unlimited.  I’ve included links to the recipes I used here.

Vanilla Bean Ganache

Chocolate Ganache

Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Filling

Lemon Cream Cheese Filling

Bon Appetit!

Some fillings for French macarons

Vanilla Bean Ganache

Will fill about 40 1.5″ macarons

  • 12 oz white chocolate (chips or chopped)
  • 1 vanilla bean
  • 1/2 C heavy cream

Split vanilla bean. Add vanilla seeds and cream to a small, heavy saucepan. Heat mixture until the edges barely simmer.  Add white chocolate swirling pan until everything is covered with cream.  Let sit for one minute.  Whisk melted mixture until smooth.  Store in fridge until ready to use.  Ganache will be very thick and be beaten to add air before piping into macaron shells.

Pumpkin Spice Cream Cheese Filling

Will fill about 40 1.5″ macarons

  • 1 oz canned pumpkin
  • 4 oz cream cheese, softened
  • 2 C confectioners sugar
  • 1 tsp pumpkin pie spice
  • orange food coloring if desired

Cream cream cheese in a standing mixer fitted with a paddle or hand-held beater.  Add-in pumpkin and combined.  Mix in confectioner’s sugar .5 C at a time until frosting reaches desired consistency.  Start with .5 tsp of spice and add-in until reaches desired taste.  Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before filling macarons.

Lemon Cream Cheese Filling

Will fill about 40 1.5″ macarons

  • 4 oz cream cheese softened
  • zest of a large lemon (1 TBish)
  • juice from a large lemon
  • 2 C confectioner’s sugar

Cream cream cheese in a standing mixer fitted with a paddle or hand-held beater. Add in zest and about half of the lemon juice.  Mix in confectioner’s sugar .5 C at a time alternating with lemon juice until frosting reaches desired consistency. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes before filling macarons.

Spritz con Aperol for the Adult Trick or Treater

This Halloween, I will be enjoying an Orange Stinger Martini from my creative and quite devilish  friend Alison of  A Girl A Market A Martini.  Oops…I mean, A Girl A Market A Meal.  Her cocktail got my thinking about my (other) favorite orange cocktail.  The Spritz con Aperol.

It started in the spring of 2008 when my husband and I slipped off of the North American continent and disappeared into the wilds of Italy.

Oh Italy. My brother from another mother.

We saw them first in Bolzano I think.  Nearly neon orange and served over ice in large wine glasses with  fruit garnish.  It took quite a bit of gesturing and  an immense amount of effort in my own, horrible Fodor’s Italian but we soon learned the cocktail was called a Spritz con Aperol.  My understanding is that the original Spritz, made famous in Venice, was made with Campari.  I think this explains the “con” part when asking for it made with Aperol.

Aperol, like Campari is a low-alcohol liqueur.  As the color suggests, it tastes of oranges but also has the bitterness of the zest and an array of herbs.   This former cocktail waitress had never seen it until visiting Italy.  In fact, I was hard-pressed to find it once we returned to the states and originally had to order it online.  Lucky for us,  the tasty orange apertif has gained quite a bit of momentum in the last couple of years and can now be found in gourmet grocery stores and my own favorite big box store: Beverages and More.  In fact, this month, Esquire uses it as the main ingredient in its New Esquire Cocktail.  As if!

The spritz part of the cocktail comes from Prosecco.  Sure, you could use champagne or even sparkling wine but you would be taking a little of the Italian out of the whole experience.  The cocktail is light and refreshing and perfect for the summer–as well demonstrated in it’s most recent marketing campaign.

The lightness and icy cold part may not be appropriate for Halloween anyplace east of Arizona.  But, here in warm, dry California, a Spritz con Aperol could hold its own as a pre-trick or treating libation. Or, if you happen to be The Misanthropic Hostess, it simply reminds you of a late afternoon on the Western Italian coast when all there was to do was watch the sun slowly descend into the Ligurian Sea.

Or, perhaps Venice.

Or Verona

Or Bolzano.

Spritz con Aperol

  • 3 oz Aperol
  • 2 oz Prosecco
  • Fruit for garnish if desired.

To a large stemware glass filled with ice add Aperol.  Fill remaining glass with Prosecco.  Garnish.

Candy is Dandy: Scratch Twix Bars

Like any proper Angelino, I spend a good deal of time sitting in my car participating in that daily rite of torture called commuting.  In addition to keeping an eye out for the elusive chorizo truck during my morning pilgrimage up the 110 freeway, I also like to devote time to having deep thoughts.

Unfortunately for my chances at winning a Nobel Prize of any sort, the caliber and nature of my deep thoughts would be more at home in a Cosmo or Martha Stewart Magazine than Scientific American or The Economist.  Much of the initial planning for Gingerbread Royce happened while I sat idling on the freeway.  And more than once, I’ve found myself thinking through alternate ways of loading the dishwasher.  Like I said, deep thoughts.

The origins of this recipe came from one such commute.  And, given the nearness of my favorite holiday and the central role that candy plays in it, I thought now would be an apropos time to share.  On that faithful morning a couple of months ago, I was pondering the merits of the Twix bar and how one might go about making them from scratch.  In bar form.  I’m sure there are recipes out there but I wasn’t really interested in anything that already exists.  I wanted the challenge of creating my own.  So I did.  And after some trial and error that would make Goldilocks proud, I think I came up with a fairly decent version.

This recipe begins with a shortbread base.  Shortbread is sort of like curry.  While it categorically refers to a certain kind of butter-based baked good, the similarities between recipes end there.  In this case, I’ve used a shortbread that includes golden brown sugar as a complement to the caramel that will sit on the top bunk.

First cream the butter.  Then add the sugars and cream them as well.  Trust me, the abuse of ingredients has just begun. Ooohhh…fluffy.

Press the sticky dough into a parchment-lined pan.  Then poke all-over with a fork so that the steam can escape and you don’t get un-even shortbread.

Into the oven.  And when it comes out: golden brown.

While the shortbread is cooling, it’s time to play with chemistry.  Combine sugar, water and light corn syrup in a heavy sauce pan and bring it to a boil.

While things are heating up over here, melt the butter and add cream in a separate pan.

Soon (but really, it won’t seem soon enough.  In fact, it will feel like an eternity because, you know what they say about watched caramel sauce), things will get a little golden.

In what seems like no-time, things go from pale gold to amber and it’s time to get down to business.

Once the caramel is just a tad darker than the picture above. Very carefully pour in the cream and butter mixture.  Don’t be afraid, all hell is supposed to break loose at this point.

Don’t worry, things will calm down a bit.  And then you wait for the caramel to get to that magical 248F on the candy thermometer.

At precicely 248F it’s time to pull the plug, get this off the heat and pour it over the shortbread.  Now promise me something here.  Promise okay?  The aroma is going to be killing you…buttery, creamy, caramely.  BUT now matter how strong the impulse, do not touch the caramel.  If life was a game of Candy Land, caramel at 248 degrees would be the molten lava.  Get it?

Spread the caramel evenly and sprinkle with sea salt.  Then transfer the whole mess to the fridge and allow the caramel to set up.

When the caramel is firm, it’s time to crown our little project.  Melt about a cup of your favorite chocolate (I’ve used bittersweet here).  I’ve heard you can melt chocolate easy in the microwave, but I like to use a glass bowl over simmering water.

Smoooth.

Once the chocolate is melted, spread it evenly over the caramel layer.  I like to use an off-set spatula for the job.  Yeah, I know, you’d like me to use some better skills when photographing stuff…

Let the chocolate set-up in a cool, dry spot.  DO NOT PUT IT IN THE FRIDGE.  Putting it in the fridge will cool the chocolate down too quickly and it won’t temper properly.  The result is dusty looking chocolate.

As usual, I recommend letting the whole thing rest over night.  Then.  Cut as desired and try not to eat the entire pan.

Of course, if three layers is just a jumping-off point.  Why not four.  Or five?

The Scratch  Twix Bar

Makes about 100 1 inch squares

Shortbread Base:

  • 20 TBS (2 1/2  sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature.
  • ½ C packed golden brown sugar
  • ¼ C superfine sugar
  • 2 ½ C sifted flour
  • ¼ t kosher salt

Caramel:

  • ½ C sugar
  • ¼ light corn syrup
  • 1 ½ C heavy cream
  • 4 TBS unsalted butter
  • ½ t vanilla extract
  • Sea salt for sprinkling

Chocolate Layer

  • 1 C chocolate bits (I used bittersweet but use what you like)

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.  Cream butter until fluffy (about 2 minutes).  Add in sugars and cream additional 3 minutes.  By hand, gently fold in salt and then flour until dough comes together.  Press dough into a buttered, parchment lined 9X13 inch baking pan.  Create vents by poking dough all over with a fork.  Bake for 35-40 minutes until cookie is golden brown.  Remove from oven and cool.

For caramel.  Combine sugar, corn syrup and ½ C water in a deep saucepan fitted with a candy thermometer.  Bring mixture to boil.  Continue to boil until caramel is a golden brown.  Do not stir the mixture.  In a separate pan, melt butter and add cream, letting the mixture come to a simmer.  Remove from heat but keep warm.  Once caramel reaches the desired color, carefully add-in the cream mixture.  The liquid will bubble up immediately but will calm down quickly.  Stir in vanilla with wooden spoon.  Cook mixture for 10 minutes until it reaches 248 degrees F (note: the temperature will be this high when you pour in the cream but will drop some and then come back up).  Once the caramel reaches 248 degrees, very carefully pour over cooled shortbread.  Use a spatula to spread the layer evenly (do not use fingers and do not tough the caramel, it is extremely hot).  Sprinkle sea salt over caramel if desired.  Place shortbread and caramel into the fridge to cool.

Once the caramel is cool and firm, the final chocolate layer can be added.  In a double boiler, gently melt 1 C of desired chocolate pieces.  Once pieces are melted, gently spread an even layer over caramel.  Allow the chocolate layer to set-up in a cool dry spot.  Do not refrigerate until the chocolate is completely set (doing so will decrease the temperature too quickly and the layer will appear dusty or grey).  Once chocolate is set, cut to desired size and store in the refrigerator.

La La La Lemon Cake

Anyone who has ever dabbled in the kitchen has an arsenal of recipes that always work.  Call them what you want: sure things, shoo-ins, ace-in-the-hole.  It doesn’t really matter.  What matters is that they turn out every single time.  Ina Garten’s Lemon Yogurt Cake is one of those recipes.  As versatile as Ryan Seacrest (wait…did I lose you there…sorry).  Let’s try this again.  As versatile as a pair of black Manolo Blahnik pumps, this little gem does everything.  Call it a loaf and you can serve it for breakfast or at brunch.  Call it a cake and magically, it’s dessert.  Smother it in blueberry sauce and you can call it whatever you want.  People will still devour it.

Let’s talk a moment about that “Y” word in the title.  Yes. Yogurt.  Or Yoghurt.  Back when I was a little girl, my mom used to make frozen yogurt pie as a dessert.  Yes, she also used to feed us carob by the pound.  Explains a lot doesn’t it?  Anyhow, her yogurt pie was literally yogurt from the carton (usually berry), poured into a pie tin and then frozen in the freezer.  And while it tasted about as good as you think it would, it was healthy.  True, Lemon Yogurt Cake does have yogurt in it.  However, I make no pretense that it is healthy.  The yogurt makes it extra moist.  And extra good.  And that should be enough without pretending to add “healthy” to the whole thing.

I should note here that while the recipe below makes a single loaf, I always double it because really, what else are you going to do with plain, full-fat yogurt?  Doubling the recipe works great.

Lemons abound in this recipe.  They are in the batter, in the syrup and in them glaze.  Mmmmm….lemony….

This is also a no-machinery, two bowl recipe.  Dry ingredients get mixed into one bowl.  In another goes all wet ingredients but the oil.  And please, take the time to whisk in each egg individually.

After the dry ingredient are mixed in to the wet ingredients, adding the oil is the final step. It’s a little laborious, but be gentle.  And patient.

While your loaf is loafing in the oven, it’s time to make the syrup.  This is just a simple syrup: lemon juice and sugar.  Pour them into the pan, bring to a simmer, turn off the heat and let it cool (you could strain-out the lemon pulp but I don’t).

When the cakes come out, let them cool for about 10 minutes.

Then, while they are still warm you want to remove them from their cozy little pans, ambush them, and stab them all over with a bamboo skewer.  This is where the “adapted” part of the recipe comes in.  I’ve always done this.  However, when recently reviewing the recipe I realized that Ina’s recipe in no way suggests this form of violence.  There is a reason we always hurt the ones we love.  In this case it is to better distribute the syrupy goodness.

Once the cakes are liberated from their pans and resting on a cooling rack over a cookie pan (or a similar contraption that will allow the wayward syrup to drain), slowly pour syrup over loaf.

Glisteny!

Things can easily end here.  Just let the loaf cool and you are in business.  I usually end here if serving this for brunch.  But if you want to add one more layer of lemon, a simple icing of confectioner’s sugar and lemon juice makes this recipe even better.

Lemon Yogurt Cake

Slightly adapted from Ina Garten

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
  • 1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
  • 1 1/3 cups sugar, divided
  • 3 extra-large eggs
  • 2 teaspoons grated lemon zest (2 lemons)
  • 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup vegetable oil
  • 1/3 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

For the glaze:

  • 1 cup confectioners’ sugar
  • 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8 1/2 by 4 1/4 by 2 1/2-inch loaf pan. Line the bottom with parchment paper. Grease, flour and line pan with parchment.

Sift  together the flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl.  In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 1 cup sugar, the eggs, lemon zest, and vanilla. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. With a rubber spatula, fold the vegetable oil into the batter, making sure it’s all incorporated. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester placed in the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup lemon juice and remaining 1/3 cup sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is clear. Set aside.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pierce cake all over with a bamboo skewer than pour the lemon-sugar mixture over the cake and allow it to soak in. Cool.

For the glaze, combine the confectioners’ sugar and lemon juice and pour over the cake.

Raspberry Bars and a little nostalgia

In my first blog post ever, I established that I went to college and then graduate school in one fell swoop.  At the same institution.  I think I also established, maybe even in that same paragraph, that I’ve seen Sir Ian McKellen’s twig and berries.  The part about seeing Gandolf’s private parts really has nothing to do with the fact that I spent eight straight years at UCLA.  I just like to bring it up whenever possible.  And it did happen in Royce Hall.  But I digress.

What does have to do with going to college for eight years is that, at least in my case, I got very comfortable with not ever having any disposable income.  I remember I walked to school for a year because I didn’t want to spend the extra five-bucks each day on parking.  And come on, nobody walks in L.A.

One of the upsides of being relatively fund-free is that you get pretty okay with simply eating for sustenance.  I am fairly certain that during the year I was finishing up my dissertation I existed almost entirely on Kashi Good Friend’s cereal, Trader Joe’s vegetarian pot stickers, $1 pint night beer and the business school café’s raspberry bars.  What do you mean raspberry bars don’t really fall into the base of the food pyramid?  You are right, they don’t.  But one can get away with it when one is 25 and runs eight miles pretty much every day.  And then walks to school.  AND goes to graduate school in the field of education where often, one’s only chance of seeing an age-appropriate member of the opposite sex is to wander over to the business school under the auspices of procuring a snack. I may or may not have also taken courses in the business school to meet the same end.  But, you can’t prove it.

Anyhow, back to the raspberry bars.  They were really good.  Even, well, especially, to my abused palate.    The buttery and crumbly shortbread base was a nice counterbalance to the tart of the fruit jam.  They had a certain nuttiness whose origin I could never quite figure out.  And, they were cheap.

Being the classy girl I am, I threw myself a kegger when I finished graduate school (really though, as far as keggers go, this one was classy).  Of course, the raspberry bars were on the menu.  Still being poor and having spent what little cash I had on the beer, I found a recipe for my beloved fruit bars.  It is a classic and according to me, perfect as written. Save for changing the dimensions of the baking pan, I have stayed true to the original Martha Stewart recipe.

That nuttiness I couldn’t quite put my finger on?  It came from the shortbread.   Ground, blanched almonds help make-up the bar’s base.

When Bessy makes an appearance, you know it’s going to be a good day.

The original recipe provides instruction for hand-cutting the shortbread dough.  I don’t do that because I’m lazy and I have Bessy.  A food processor is fantastic for just pulling together shortbread and pie doughs.  In this recipe, half of the crumbly dough goes into the pan and half gets reserved for the topping.

Here is where my one recipe adjustment comes in.  The original calls for a 10X14 pan.  This makes much too thin a bar for this girl.  I prefer a 9X13.  Then again, I like my bars super strueselly.  If you don’t, opt for the larger pan.

Have we talked about how I don’t like to get things on my hands?  Well, I don’t.  I know Ina says clean hands are a cook’s best tool, but I draw the line at sticky stuff.  Like shortbread dough.  This is a protracted way of explaining that to mold the dough I use parchment and a spatula.  Of course I didn’t take a picture of it.  It works, trust me.

And, into the oven the base goes until golden brown.

Go ahead and let the cookie cool completely.

Then, things get really fun.  Add a layer of preserves.

And finally,  the strussely [sic] topping. To that you can sprinkle some caster sugar over the top for a little sparkle.  And really, who doesn’t need a little sparkle in their life?

Back into the oven until the top gets nice and golden.   I admit  my personal preference is to over-cook the topping.  I don’t usually do it though since I generally like other people to consume at least one or two of the finished product.

Once out of the oven, let everything cool completely and cut.

Mmmmm…just like the Anderson School cafe used to make.

Raspberry (or any preserve) Bars, Martha Stewart

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and butter and line a 9X13 inch baking pan with parchment.

2 1/2 sticks butter, at room temperature, cut into pieces
1 3/4 cup blanched almonds (about 11 ounces), finely ground in a food processor
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 3/4 cups raspberry jam

In food processor (or if you are a purist and care what Martha Stewart thinks about you), in a bowl, combine ground almonds, sugar, salt and flour.  Add butter a few cubes at a time and pulse to combine (or cut-in butter with a pastry blender or fingers).  Dough should barely just almost come together.

Press 1/2 of dough into pan and bake for 20 minutes.  Cool completely.  Add an even layer of jam and top with remaining dough.  Then back into the oven until topping is golden.  Let cool and cut.