groove food

butterscotch pecan cookies

you are not reserved to pie this month. pumpkins, for instance, can be consumed as pancakes, muffins, and lattes. if a heavy slice of pecan pie with a week's intake of sugar sounds unappealing, i am happy to report you can have it in five-bite, relatively guilt-free cookie form. meet the butterscotch cookie. thin, lacy-edged, textured with pecans, scented of warm sugar, it is a recipe that has traveled through time. orginally served at an old soda fountain called schrafft's in manhattan, the recipe disappeared for several years until james beard and judith jones tracked it down. it is simple, though sophisticated, and complexly flavored for so few ingredients. if months had cookies like states had birds and slogans, these would be november's.

butterscotch pecan cookies

(makes about 30 cookies)

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

14 tablespoons (1 3/4 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/4 cups dark brown sugar (i prefer to use organic, which is even darker than conventional varieties)

1 egg, at room temperature

2 tablespoons nonfat dry milk

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1 cup finely chopped pecans

preheat the oven to 375. line two cookie sheets with parchment paper or a silpat baking mat. alternatively, you can grease your cookie sheets.

whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl.

in the bowl of a stand mixer (or, alternatively, in a bowl using a handheld mixer), cream together the butter and the brown sugar on medium speed for approximately 4 minutes, until lightened in color and fluffy. add the egg and beat to combine, followed by the nonfat dry milk and the vanilla, mixing until just combined.

add the flour mixture in two additions, mixing on low until just combined. using a spoon, fold in the pecans. form cookies into rounded, heaping tablespoonfuls (you will be able to fit about 9 per sheet, unless your cookie sheets are massive). using damp fingers, gently press down each round into 2 - 3 inch discs. bake for 8-10 minutes, until lightly browned. let cool on the cookie sheet for a minute or two before removing the cookies to a rack to cool. repeat until you have a pile of golden butterscotch cookies.

notes

* i originally found this recipe by way of molly wizenberg, who found it in the tenth muse by judith jones, who got it from james beard after he called the former owner of schrafft's when the parlor had closed.

* nonfat dry milk can be found in the baking aisle in most cases.

waiting for butterscotch cookies?

fig & honey galette

rustic galettes are a nice thing to have up your sleeve if you struggle with making pastry dough look pretty like i do. rustic essentially means anything goes, handmade is the motto, sloppy-crusts-r-us. somehow, the more misshapen, the better these things seem to taste. my recent round of galette dough became home for two pints of unbearably perfect mission figs. floating atop a pool of honeyed pastry cream, corralled in flaky crust, baked until a melted mass of autumnal sweetness, this is enough to spin your brain out into a hundred forms of desire, starting with a scoop of hazelnut gelato.

fig & honey galette

(serves 8)

for the galette dough

1 3/4 cups (8 3/4 ounces) all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon kosher salt

3/4 cup (6 ounces) chilled, unsalted butter, cut in 1/2-inch cubes

3 tablespoons ice water, or more as needed

1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

for the honeyed pastry cream

seeds scraped from 1 vanilla bean

1/2 cup half & half

1/4 cup dark amber honey

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

for the galette

1 - 2 pints ripe figs, stemmed and quartered

2 tablespoons granulated or demera sugar

to make the galette dough:

combine the flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. whisk to combine, then place the bowl in the freezer for 10 minutes.

add the butter to the flour mixture and toss until each cube is coated with flour. cut the butter into the flour using a pastry blender or, my preferred method, your fingers. you want the ingredients to become coarse and crumbly. the butter pieces should be slightly smaller than a pea.

stir the water and lemon juice together, then drizzle it over the dough, tossing with a fork to moisten the mixture. the dough should be shaggy, but should hold together when squeezed in your hand. if it is not holding together, add additional water by the teaspoon until it holds.

dump the dough onto a lightly flour surface and press it down, folding it over on itself a few times until it holds together. don't handle it too much, or it will get warm and overdeveloped. flatten the dough into a disc that is about 1 inch thick. wrap tightly in plastic wrap and chill in the fridge for an hour, or until ready to use.

make the pastry cream:

place the vanilla beans, vanilla pod and half & half in a medium saucepan. cook over medium heat until hot, but not boiling. separately, whisk the yolks, honey, sugar and salt together in a large bowl until the mixture has lightened in color. add the cornstarch and whisk until combined. slowly and carefully pour half of the hot half & half mixture into the yolk mixture, whisking constantly until combined. pour the yolk mixture back into the saucepan and cook over medium-low heat, whisking constantly, until the mixture begins to thicken. strain the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl then whisk in the butter. discard the vanilla pod. chill in the fridge for 1 - 2 hours.

to assemble the tart:

line a baking sheet with parchment paper. roll the galette dough into a 14 - 15 inch circle (it helps to turn the dough a quarter turn between each roll). transfer the dough to the baking sheet. it will overhang by a little. spread the cooled pastry cream over the dough, leaving a 2-inch border. arrange the fig quarters in a circular pattern over the cream, skin side down, stem end facing the edge of the galette. fold the outer edge over the figs, pleating the dough as you go. put the galette in the fridge for one hour.

position an oven rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 375. bake the galette for 50 - 60 minutes. cool for 30 minutes before serving.

notes

* the galette dough can be made and chilled for up to a week in advance

* the baked galette will keep for 2 days at room temperature, covered by a tea towel

* this recipe was adapted from cory schrieber and julie richardson's recipe in their book rustic fruit desserts

new york times chocolate chip cookies

i know what you are thinking. "say what! this girl's blog is supposed to be original. what is she doing re-posting someone else's recipe from two years ago?" well, two things:

1. today is crazy! the tomatillo salsa with poblanos & pumpkin seeds is just not ready to share with you yet.

2. chocolate chip cookies are incredibly important! i have yet to find a better method for making them than david leite's recipe from the july 9, 2008 issue of the new york times. they are a bit of heaven in every bite. his method calls for overnight marination of the cookie dough, resulting in an immensely flavorful cookie, golden and crisp at the edges and gooey, warm perfection in the middle. the only thing i vary is the type of sea salt i sprinkle on top before baking (the addition of which is a stroke of genius, mr. leite). other than that, i have no desire to alter this recipe one single bit. happy baking.

notes

* if you'd like the full story on the development of this recipe, you can read it here

 

yogurt panna cotta with honey & pomegranate

ending a meal is like ending a story. dessert touches on all that came before, then draws the curtain. ultimately, the very best desserts are ellipses. they haunt us into the next day, coquettish little things that they are. i've spent seven years in suspended lust over a panna cotta in rhubarb consomme. i swear that thing was trying to sleep with me.  i haven't dared touch a panna cotta recipe for fear i could not get it right. then, a gift of honey arrived, gleaming up from its jar like the iris of an eye, and i knew it was time. my first go was a miss. a recipe from chanterelle involved straining yogurt overnight, egg white custards, and a total of ten bowls. the result was blah and the kitchen was a mess. i compared recipes, i tweaked, i added a twist of pink peppercorn to flirt with your tongue, and finally, a panna cotta fit to be home for a glaze of dark honey and pomegranate rubies. one entirely worthy of punctating a meal, or being consumed solo, cross-legged on your bedroom floor, seduced.

yogurt panna cotta with honey & pomegranate

(serves 6)

1 1/2 teaspoons gelatin

1 1/2 cups whole milk yogurt (preferably greek or goat's milk yogurt)

2 cups half & half

1/2 cup confectioner's sugar

1/4 teaspoon pink peppercorns (optional)

1 cup pomegranate arils

1/4 cup honey

place 2 tablespoons of water in a small bowl. sprinkle the gelatin over the water and set aside for ten minutes to allow the gelatin to bloom.

whisk together the yogurt and 1 cup of half & half in large bowl. place the remaining cup of half & half and the confectioner's sugar in a small saucepan. bring to a low simmer, and add the gelatin, stirring until it is integrated.  pour the warm half & half into the yogurt mixture and whisk to combine. add cracked pink peppercorns if you are using.

pour the panna cotta into pretty glasses or individual ramekins. cover each with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight. serve cold, with honey and pomegranate arils spooned over the top of each panna cotta.

notes

* an adaptation of amanda hesser's adaptation of mario batali. we cooks are shameless thiefs.

no funny business carrot cupcakes

can you believe there was ever a time in our nation when cupcakes weren't revered like the beatles? when cities large and small were absent of darling cupcakeries that tout five bite gems like banana creme and pumpkin-cardamom? with the abrupt disappearance of an economy which permitted a new wave of conspicuous consumption, let us rejoice in the return of the cupcake and conspicuously consume them. personally, i like sloppy cupcakes the best. these are the kind that find their way to you from a tupperware tray after being thickly smeared with frosting in somebody's kitchen. my carrot cupcakes come in that spirit, and they don't mess around with pecans, raisins, or the like. these are straight up carrot. no funny business. as such, my daughters will devour them. they manage to be tender and light, though dense with the brightness of carrots and a warm hint of spices. a generous sweep of cream cheese frosting will have you swooning like you just saw paul mccartney, if he's your sort of deal.

carrot cupcakes

(makes 36)

1 1/2 pounds carrots, peeled and finely grated

4 extra large eggs, plus 1 egg yolk (at room temperature)

2/3 cup buttermilk

3 cups sugar

2 cups safflower or grapeseed oil (or vegetable oil)

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

4 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

3 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons table salt

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

cream cheese frosting

12 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature

1 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 pound powdered sugar, sifted

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

preheat oven to 325 with racks in the top and bottom third of the oven. line standard muffin tins with paper liners (you may have to do several batches). whisk together the carrots, eggs, egg yolk, buttermilk, sugar, oil, and vanilla. in another large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamom, ginger, and cloves. gently stir the flour mixture into the carrot mixture until it is combined.

divide the batter evenly among lined cups, filling each three-quarters full. an ice cream scoop makes easy work of this. bake the cupcakes for 23-30 minutes, rotating the pans halfway through, until a cake tester comes out clean and the centers of the cupcakes spring back when touched. transfer the tins to wire racks and cool for 10 minutes, then lift the cupcakes out of the tins to let cool completely.

make the frosting: beat the butter and cream cheese in a stand mixer (or with an electric mixer) on medium-high speed until fluffy, 3 minutes. reduce speed  to low and add the powdered sugar, 1 cup at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl in between, until well combined. add the vanilla and mix until smooth. spread 1 - 2 tablespoons of frosting on cooled cupcakes.

notes

* the cupcakes will keep in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 3 days. bring to room temperature, if desired, before serving

* feel free to make these "funny business" carrot cupcakes by adding a combination of raisins, nuts, and/or chopped pineapple, even

* this recipe was adapated from one appearing in martha stewart's cupcake cookbook

dessert in bangladesh

my interest in ice cream, gelato, and frozen custard has never waned, and when it comes to the frozen dessert family, i've never favored one child over the other--until i met kulfi, a dense, endlessly creamy indian version of ice cream that is typically sold from pushcarts in flavors like pistachio, saffron, and rosewater. making it the traditional way requires patience and arm strength as you essentially create your own sweentened condensed milk by gently reducing creamy milk, stirring constantly to toast it. that is what gives kulfi its irresistible richness and depth of flavor. this cardamom and cashew kulfi achieves a very similar effect through using convenient (albeit kitschy) canned milk. it requires nothing more than whisking a few ingredients together and freezing them in molds or paper cups. the result is a dessert that tastes like silk, or what a rose petal would if it could melt. the prettiness of the milk is matched to a pool of bright strawberry, a feat to watch as it happens on the plate.

cardamom & cashew kulfi with strawberry sauce

(serves 6 - 10, depending on the size of the molds you use)

1 can (14 ounces) sweetened condensed milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 can (12 ounces) evaporated milk

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 cup roasted, unsalted cashews, finely ground

2 cups strawberries (about 16 ounces), hulled and sliced 1/2 inch thick

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

2 tablespoons granulated sugar or honey

2 teaspoons rosewater (optional)

special equipment: stainless steel brioche, tart or baba au rum pans OR small paper cups OR popsicle molds

combine the sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, heavy cream, cardamom, and cashews in a medium bowl. gently whisk all the ingredients together.

pour the milk mixture into the molds you have chosen. place them in the freezer and freeze for at least 3 hours, or overnight. 

make the sauce:  gently stir the strawberries, sugar, lemon juice, and rosewater (if using) in a medium bowl. let sit for 15 - 20 minutes until the strawberries have released some of their juices. puree the strawberries and juices in a blender until completely liquefied. push the mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a bowl, discarding the seeds left behind. chill the sauce.

when ready to serve, spoon strawberry sauce onto individual serving plates and use the back of the spoon to sweep the sauce into a circle. dip the bottom of a frozen mold in dish of hot water for a few moments (this will help the kulfi release more easily). flip the mold over onto a clean plate, squeezing gently to release the kulfi. use a small spatula to lift each kulfi onto the plates with strawberry sauce. serve immediately.

notes

* kulfi, like ice cream, is a canvas for flavors. try instant espresso, almond, orange blossom, rosewater, saffron threads, or ground pistachio.

not so secret chocolate cake

there are two types of people: those that share recipes and those that guard them. i fall into the the first category, but only because if something is delicious, i immediately want to go tell it on the mountain. the world needs recipe keepers, too. kfc stores the colonel's spice recipe in a high tech safe in louisville, kentucky. they also enlist some bizarre security measures to be certain none of their suppliers can entirely decipher the formula. i may have incentive to guard a recipe if it was worth several million dollars. alas, i have only one recipe worth protecting: my chocolate cake. the only reason i would keep it to myself is because i've become a bit of a cake celebrity in certain circles. it's possible the sole reason i am invited to social events is due to the likelihood i will bring the cake. i also know a bevy of inappropriate jokes. i suppose that is just the icing, though. here's to hoping my tasteless humor will be my saving grace. in honor of recipe sharing, my chocolate cake:

warm chocolate almond torte

(serves 10-12)

9 ounces bittersweet chocolate (70%), chopped

1 cup + 2 tablespoons unsalted butter

6 eggs, separated

¾ cup granulated sugar

¼ cup brown sugar

½ teaspoon cream of tartar

½ cup very finely ground almonds (use food processor to grind, or mortar & pestle)

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

powdered sugar (for dusting)

place an oven rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350.

grease a 10 inch spring form pan with butter and line with parchment paper. grease parchment and flour the pan and parchment.

melt the chocolate and butter together in a double broiler or a bowl set over a pot of simmering water. set aside to cool until just barely warm.

in a large mixing bowl, whisk the egg yolks and both sugars until pale, about 1 minute. whisk the cooled chocolate to the egg yolk mixture and then gently fold in the flour & ground almonds.

using a stand mixer with a whisk attachment or a handheld mixer, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar until soft peaks form and hold.

gently fold the egg whites into the chocolate mixture until just combined. pour the batter into the prepared pan & bake until just set, about 25 minutes, give or take. let the cake cool for 10-20 minutes on a rack. runa knife around the edge before releasing the spring form pan. dust with powdered sugar. serve warm. 

notes

* it is pretty much unthinkable to serve this cake without ice cream

* the cake will keep at room temperature for up to three days

* i like to play around with the chocolate in this cake. sometimes i use a combination of bittersweet and semisweet, but i always use the best quality chocolate i can get my hands on. 

*oh, how i wish i could claim this recipe is all mine! the truth is, it is an adaptation of the deep, dark, practically flourless chocolate cake served at chez panisse in berkeley.

 

blissed out in wonkaland

i like watching people eat chocolate. they close their eyes and their faces become entirely unguarded. at that moment, i steal a little bit of their pleasure. shhh...don't tell anyone. intent on making the ultimate dark chocolate cookie, i decided to create a mash-up of my go to chocolate chip cookies from the ny times and my favorite chocolate crackles. the result is a cookie with the intensity of the fudgiest brownie, but a lighter, smoother texture. nearly every bite yields a chunk of chocolate, be it milk or semisweet, a couple of which melt into luscious chocolate rivers. for a moment you might close your eyes and drink it in just like augustus gloop, on his way to oblivion.....

oh, don't mind me. i'm just watching you.

chocolate-chocolate chunk cookies

(makes 4-5 dozen, depending on the size of your cookies)

8 ounces semisweet chocolate (64-66%), melted over a double broiler and cooled to room temperature

1 3/4 cups cake flour

1 1/2 cups bread flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 cup (8 ounces) unsalted butter, softened

2 cups firmly packed brown sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2/3 cup dutch-processed, unsweetened cocoa

3 large eggs, at room temperature

8 ounces milk chocolate, chopped into chunks (1/4 inch - 1/2 inch)

8 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped into chunks

1/2 cup granulated sugar (organic cane sugar is extra sparkly)

Place oven racks in top and lower third of the oven and preheat to 350. Line two insulated cookie sheets with parchment paper or a silpat baking mat.

Combine the cake flour, bread flour, baking soda and salt in a medium mixing bowl and whisk to combine.

Place the butter, brown sugar, and vanilla in the bowl of a stand mixer (alternatively, use a large mixing bowl and hand mixer). Sift in the cocoa powder. Beat for 5 minutes at medium speed. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating briefly to combine between additions. Add the melted, cooled semisweet chocolate and beat until combined. On low speed, add the dry ingredients in 3 additions, until all the flour has been incorporated. Fold in the chocolate chunks using a spoon.

Shape 1 - 1 1/2 tablespoon balls of dough, gently rolling between your hands. Coat each ball with the granulated sugar by rolling back and forth in a bowl. Place the balls 1 1/2 inches apart on the cookie sheets. Bake for 10-12 minutes, until the tops are cracked. Alternate the cookie sheets halfway through. Let cool for a few minutes on the cookie sheets before gently removing to a cookie rack to cool completely.

notes

* these cookies entirely depend on the quality of the chocolate you use. i prefer vahlrona chocolate and cocoa powder here. scharffenberger makes for an even more robust chocolate flavor. callebut and ghiaradelli are good alternatives.

* make sure the melted chocolate has cooled adequately or your chocolate chunks will melt in the warm batter.

* love these with a minimal sprinkle of sea salt on top before baking

* you can make the cookie dough balls ahead of time and keep them in an airtight container in the fridge for a day or two. i bring them to room temperature and re-roll them in sugar before baking.

hunny do list

'when you wake in the morning, pooh,' said piglet at last,
'what's the first thing you say to yourself?'
'what's for breakfast?' said pooh. 'what do you say, piglet?'
'i say, i wonder what's going to happen exciting today?' said piglet.
pooh nodded thoughtfully.
'it's the same thing,' he said. (--a.a. milne)

i have a lot in common with pooh bear. i suspect our interest in food is built in some part on a bottomless affinity for "hunny." i cannot eat honey without feeling like something out there is in love with me. maybe it is a bee, maybe it is something bigger. maybe the bee and the bigger thing are one and the same. i'll take it whenever it is offered, in any language: miel, mella, honig. i would even fly to seattle for a jar of moon valley fireweed honey at pike place market. treacly, floral, smoky, grassy--each jar is suffused with landscape and season. in the world of food, honey is the most seductive storyteller.

ten things to do with honey:

1. infuse a jar of it with rosemary, lavender, sage, bay leaves, hibiscus, or thyme. let it steep a few days before using.

2. move over peanut butter: tahini, banana, and honey sandwiches sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds

3. drizzle a tiny bit over thick slices of heirloom tomatoes. it's like putting a push up bra on a tomato's sweetness. 

4. st. agur blue cheese + honey. if you have not tried this classic combination, i command you to stop reading and find your way to the nearest fromagerie. 

5. use honey in lieu of sugar when making lemonade. i'm pretty sure honeyed lemonade & iced tea is how they serve an arnold palmer in heaven.

6. caramelize roasted vegetables: toss with olive oil, honey, salt & pepper before they hit the oven.

7. chop honeycomb into pieces the size of half your pinkie nail. fold into softened vanilla ice cream. refreeze before serving.

8. smear honey over a halved grapefruit before slipping it under the broiler until bubbling. 

9. preserve clementines in honey

10. dip your spoon in a jar of honey and lift it. watch and wait as most of it luxuriously slides back to the origin. lick the rest off the spoon as slowly as possible. repeat as often as needed. 

dreaming in dessert

when i'm in the kitchen, i practice restraint. but when i dream of dishes, i do so in technicolor. i go especially over the top when it comes to dessert. as a kid in the 80's, i designed an extensive collection of womens aerobic wear on one of my dad's yellow legal pads. page after page of side ponytails, legwarmers, and leotards with absurdly puffy princess sleeves and neon lightening bolts. i embraced the concept "more is more" with fervor. today it finds its way out in a red notebook where i sketch flamboyant desserts like "almond joy," a warm chocolate-almond torte with toasted coconut ice cream and almond brittle. "my dad's lemon tree lemon meringue bars," have thick layers of lemon curd on pine nut crust. why stop there? no, these need copious piles of lavender meringue (think absurdly puffy princess sleeves), and drizzles of fruity olive oil and lavender honey. 

(psst...click on the photo to read the mad professor's notebook)

at what point do we start being judgmental and doubtful of our dreams? as a kid i imagined i'd have a house with a jukebox and bellagio fountains in my front yard. now i think a pottery barn sofa and white porcelain sounds more appropriate. i have a pewter paperweight beside me etched with the following message: "what would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?" i would start by making s'mores: vahlrona brownies with graham cracker crust, topped with marshmallow ice cream and a bruleed marshmallow.