Semolina Pudding

Yeah. Sorry about that. A two week lull after what was a phoned in post to begin with is kind of a harsh toke. A brief early spring funk set in, leaving me with the overwhelming urge to do nothing but go through the motions.

And watch a lot of bad movies. Like, Bruce Campbell bad.

I did manage too eek out something interesting a few weeks ago- A semolina pudding. This was inspired by Heather of Gild the (voodoo)lily. Last February, she was in Seattle and met my sister and I for drinks. Over wine and blog gossip, she told me about her upcoming Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24 feast that focused on African cuisine (Heather's 24's are always insane. She has another one up featuring nettles. It's so springy and delightful I could just wet myself). Anyway, she mentioned the hominy grits pudding she was planning to end the meal with. Which is where I realized that in nearly ten years of baking for a living, I had never once made a cooked cereal like that for dessert.



After Heather's post, I began tinkering. So as to not completely rip her off, I explored the flavors of Spain and Morocco. Sweet spices like cardamom, star anise, and cinnamon; the pulp of a vanilla bean, orange zest, and saffron. I opted for semolina over hominy, as it is what I had on hand and seemed to snuggle up with the flavors I was working with.

The warmly scented semolina is cooked, egg is added. Then it's baked in a water bath until it's just set. I baked mine in individual ramekins, because thats usually how I roll- but you could make a big one. You'll have to adjust the baking time.

To garnish, I gave it a drizzle of the clear seville orange caramel I had in the fridge, fresh blood oranges (because they're pretty), fresh mint, crushed salty marcona almonds, and a naughty little dollop of rose scented whipped cream. It made for a lovely weekend dessert special.



I will leave you with the recipe for my version, but the method is a canvas.
I encourage you to play.

Semolina Pudding
serves 7

2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 cardamom pods, crushed
1/2 of a cinnamon stick
1/4 of a vanilla bean, split open
1 star anise
pinch saffron
1/4 cup + 2 Tb semolina
2 oz. butter
1/2 tsp grated orange zest
pinch sea salt
3 eggs
1 egg yolk

Bring the milk, sugar, spices, vanilla bean, and saffron to a boil. Cover, remove from heat, and let steep for one hour.

Cut parchment paper into circles the same size as your ramekins.
spray 7 3" ramekins with pan spray. Line the bottoms with parchment paper circles and spray again. Place ramekins in a roasting pan that has been lined with a tea towel (prevents sliding).

Whisk eggs, yolk, and salt together in a bowl
Return the infused milk to a boil. Strain into a clean pot and bring back to a boil. Slowly whisk in the semolina. Continue whisking over medium heat until mixture has thickened- about 4 or 5 minutes.

Pour a small amount of cooked pudding into the eggs and whisk well. Then, whisk the tempered eggs into the pot. Add the butter and orange zest, then spoon pudding into prepared ramekins. Pour very hot water into the roasting pan until the ramekins are at least 3/4 of the way submerged. Cover pan with foil.

Poke holes in the foil and bake at 325 degrees for 20 minutes. Lift the corner of the foil to release steam (Be Careful!!), then recover and bake about 20-30 minutes longer, or until puddings are set. Cool to room temperature- at least an hour, then invert onto plates. Don't forget to peel off the parchment paper!
Serve with your preferred accompaniments

Seville Orange Flan

My annual obsession with seville oranges continues, this installment being a perfectly textured flan. Yeah, you heard me. Perfect.

It's heavy on the eggs, but doesn't taste too eggy... I personally like it to be a touch on the eggy side, though. Some people get all freaked out by the eggy flan thing, and they should just go eat some creme brulee and get over it.



I don't use any cream in this one because it inhibits the sharp, clean flavor of the sevilles. Whole milk lends just enough richness, but still keeps the flan silky and light.
I cook my caramel for the bottom of the ramekins a hair darker than usual, for some bitter twang.
Lots of vanilla beans and a little drizzle of creme fraiche are the only other players in the dish, providing the equipment for a jooshed up creamsicle.
If you can get your hands on seville oranges, do two things with them. Make the cuban roast pork shoulder from the Dean and Deluca cookbook, and serve this flan for dessert.



Seville Orange Flan
yield: 5 (or more if using smaller ramekins)

Caramel:
3 oz water
1 1/2 cups sugar

Custard:
3 cups whole milk
zest of 1 large (or 2 small) seville oranges
2 vanilla beans
3/4 cup sugar
pinch salt
4 eggs
7 egg yolks
1 Tb grand marnier

1. Infuse the milk: split open the vanilla beans and scrape the seeds into a sauce pot. Add the pods to the pot. Add the orange zest and milk. Bring to a full boil, then cover, remove from heat, and let steep on the counter for 2 full hours.

2. Make the caramel: Spray 5 ramekins with pan release. Place ramekins in a roasting pan lined with a tea towel (this keeps the ramekins from sliding around). Combine the sugar and water in a pot. Stir very gently with your finger until the sugar is absorbed. Place pot over high heat and cook, brushing down the sides of the pot with a pastry bag dipped in water (OR- this is what I do: Cover the pot with a lid and allow the condensation to wash down the sides of the pot for you. Just stay close so you can occasionally peek to see how your caramel is coming along)
Once the sugar is reaching an amber color, remove pot from the heat. Tilt pot around gently to encourage even caramelizing. Ladle the caramel into the ramekins. Set aside while you make the custard.

3. Custard: In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, yolks, sugar, and salt. Have a heatproof container and a fine sieve or chinois at the ready. Remove cover from pot of infused milk and bring to a full boil. Gradually whisk the hot milk into the eggs. Strain custard, then stir in the grand marnier. The custard base can be made ahead of time.

4. Bake: Pour custard base into the prepared ramekins. Fill the roasting pan with
very hot water so that the ramekins are about 3/4 of the way submerged. Cover pan with foil and bake in a 325 degree oven for 60-90 minutes, until flans are set but not wobbly. Once ramekins are cool enough to handle, remove from the water bath and let sit at room temp for about 10 minutes (putting hot flans right in the fridge causes the custard to crack). Refrigerate overnight for best results.

5. Serve: Run the tip of a knife around the edge of ramekin. Place a dessert plate on top of the ramekin. Invert flan onto the plate (you may need to shake it a little until you hear the flan separate from the ramekin). Drizzle with a little creme fraiche a la Jackson Pollack.

Humble little citrus bars

There is nothing fancy about these bars. I am completely aware of the fact that none of my readers will be wowed or have their hair blown back.

But they are so, SO good.

I made these for the first time last summer to bring to a BBQ, using just the zest and juice of key limes and garnishing with toasted coconut.
I had also brought strawberry shortcake- made in the height of local strawberry season, with a mascarpone whipped filling. I was expecting that to be the crowd pleaser, but everyone kept going back for the lime bars.
I knew I would need to revisit the recipe when citrus season rolled around.

Here we are, six months later with an abundance of cool citrus fruits to play with. This particular batch was made with the zest and juice of limes, meyer lemons, and cara cara oranges- garnished with a piece of candied grapefruit zest (leftover from my Grapefruit Campari Sorbet. Stay tuned).
I will be making these again in a few weeks using all seville oranges (my fave) for a super tart party in my mouth.

It's hard to say exactly what makes these simple little bars so addicting. I really love the animal cracker crust as a stand in for the everyday graham crackers. And the texture of the filling is nothing short of dreamy- having just enough cream cheese in them for a slight tang, but not so much that they are cheesecakey (nothing against you, cheesecake- but there is a time and a place.)

This recipe comes from a well known cooking periodical. I will not tell you which one, because the word on the street is that they are total nazis about food bloggers reprinting their recipes.
I'm going to break all kinds of laws here, and supply you with the recipe- without citing the source. Lets see if thugs wearing little red bow ties come after me brandishing rapier swords and chucking ninja stars.

Mystery Citrus Bars (as I made them)

crust:
5 oz animal crackers
3 T packed brown sugar
2 T melted butter
1/8 tsp fine sea salt

Pre heat oven to 325 degrees. Line an 8 inch square baking pan with aluminum foil, leaving excess to overhang pan sides. Spray with non-stick cooking spray.
Pulse animal crackers in a food processor until broken down. Add brown sugar and salt. Pulse until you have evenly fine crumbs. Add butter and pulse until crumbs are moistened.
Press evenly into the bottom of prepared pan (use the bottom of a drinking glass or measuring cup). Bake until golden brown. About 18-20 minutes. Cool while you make the filling.

filling:
2 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 1/2 tsp each of grated lime, meyer lemon, and orange zest (mince zest with a sharp knife after zesting)
1/8 tsp fine sea salt
14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1 egg yolk
4 T lime juice, 2 T meyer lemon juice, and 2 T cara cara* orange juice

*cara cara oranges are slightly less sweet than regular oranges. If using regular oranges, decrease juice to 1 T and increase either meyer lemon or lime juice by 1 T.


Go Oregon Ducks

Stir the cream cheese, zest, and salt with a rubber spatula until softened and creamy. Add sweetened condensed milk and whisk thoroughly until no lumps remain. Whisk in egg yolk. Add juices and whisk until incorporated.
Pour filling into crust, spread to corners, and smooth surface with a spatula. Bake until set and edges begin to pull away slightly from the sides of the pan. 15-20 minutes.
Cool to room temp, then cover with foil and refrigerate until completely chilled- at least 2 hours.
Loosen edges with a paring knife and lift bars from baking pan using foil extensions. Cut bars into 16 squares.

Not your grandmother's bread pudding

warm gingerbread pudding with meyer lemon chantilly

It's not that I forgot to blog for the last two weeks. It's just that my stoopid computer caught one of those trojan virus thingys and was at the computer doctor for a week. Then I was lazy for a few days.
It's fixed and life/my blog may return to it's regularly scheduled programming.

Let's talk bread pudding, shall we? I first developed my geriatric-like obsession for this dessert (because, lets face it. The vast majority of those who ordered this dessert were of The Greatest Generation) while I was working at this little bakery in high school. It was a simple affair, made from the leftover cinnamon, orange, and pecan rolls. The combination of flavors from each roll was amazing. Caramel, cinnamon, and orange. All bound together with a very gently sweetened custard. The occasional pecan or golden raisin would pop up every other bite or so- but never obtrusively, for as a general rule, I am anti-raisin in bread pudding.

I have since eaten many other forms of this dessert made with brioche, cake, croissants, and plain old white sandwich bread. Some have been lovely (I once worked with a pastry chef that made a version using dried chocolate cake and a caramel custard. Holeee shit. That was a tasty 'un), and some have been downright despicable. There is a reputable restaurant in this city (who shall remain nameless) that prides itself on it's bread pudding. It is mushy, overly sweet and cloying. Nothing short of a travesty.

I think it comes down to the fact that there are two schools of thought on bread pudding. Those who allow the bread to completely soak up the custard before baking, creating a solid unit of indiscernible mush. And those who use a little restraint with that step, creating a pudding with more depth. I prefer the latter.

This gingerbread pudding is probably my second favorite incarnation of the dessert. The first being the one from my high school days. Sadly, I pretty much never have leftover cinnamon rolls, pecan sticky buns, and orange rolls sitting around. And unless we're visiting my in-laws, I avoid my hometown of Issaquah like the plague. That first taste of bread pudding will probably have to remain romanticized in my memory.

Okay- the recipe. I know it seems foolish to bake a perfectly good batch of gingerbread, only to cut it up and dry it out like croutons in the oven. Never will this seem more idiotic than with this recipe. It is that good. I took David Lebovitz's gingerbread recipe and tinkered with it. I replaced the oil with brown butter, and added the spices right in the pot with the butter as it browned to help their flavors bloom a little more. The result is a really tender, extra spicy (it almost tastes "hot") ginger cake. You may want to double the recipe so you have some fresh cake to snack on while the bread pudding bakes.



I garnish this dessert with meyer lemon chantilly, which is just a simple meyer lemon curd with a little whipped cream folded in....good enough to eat with a spoon, standing in front of the fridge with the door still open. But not that I've done that.

Gingerbread

1 1/4 cups flour
1/4 tsp salt

4 oz butter
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground clove
1/4 tsp ground ginger
1/8 tsp ground black pepper

1/2 cup molasses
1 egg
1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup boiling water
1 tsp baking soda

2 T minced candied ginger

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a sheet pan with baking release (like pam), line with parchment paper, and spray again. Sift the flour and salt together and set aside. Place a pot of water in the stove to boil. Combine the butter and the spices in a pot and melt over medium heat. Allow the butter to brown a little (this takes a minute or two, and will be difficult to tell when it has browned, as the spices are in there. Go by smell- it should begin to smell nutty.) Set aside to cool. In a large bowl, whisk the molasses, sugar, and egg together. Add the butter/spice mixture and whisk to combine.
Add the flour and stir with a wooden spoon until just combined.Measure out the 1/2 cup of boiling water and quickly stir the baking soda into it. Add to cake batter and stir gently until combined. Finally, add the minced ginger and stir. Pour the batter out onto the prepared sheet pan and bake for approximately 14 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool completely.

Cut the cooled gingerbread into 1/2" cubes and place on a cookie sheet. Bake at 325 for about 10 minutes. After the gingerbread has cooled, it will be somewhat crisp, like croutons.


Gingerbread pudding

8 cups loosely packed cubed gingerbread

3 cups milk
2 cups heavy cream

9 eggs
2/3 cup brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp Chinese five spice
3/4 tsp salt

2 tsp vanilla extract
1 T calvados, or brandy

Whisk the eggs, sugars, and spices together in a large bowl. Bring the milk and cream to a boil, the gradually whisk into the eggs. Strain the custard, then stir in the calvados and vanilla.
Butter a large souffle dish. Place the dried gingerbread in the dish and slowly pour the custard over the gingerbread. Place in a large roasting pan. Fill the roasting pan with hot water, until the souffle dish is about halfway submerged. Bake at 325 for about 45 minutes. The custard will be set, but slightly wobbly in the center.
Cool to room temperature and serve.

Comfort Food

Huckleberry Creme Brulee: scented with fresh bay leaf and served with brown butter tuiles

You know what hurts, like really bad?
A fractured rib.

Those of you who follow my twitter updates already know, I was in a car accident on Monday evening. Yes, folks- it's one woe-is-me post after another here. And by the way, thank you for all of your kind words about my kitty. Percy is doing much better-he's just as sprightly and obnoxious as ever, just the way we love him. He has, however passed his cold on to his sister- but she's always been a rockstar and seems to be kicking it's ass.

So, back to my whining: I was hit on the drivers side in the middle of an intersection. My car is kind of totaled (I can't close the driver's side door). The guy was in his mid 50's, driving a Lexus. Needless to say- he's got tons of insurance- so ya know, there's that.
Luckily, he was only going about 35 miles an hour. But that was enough to give me a nasty bruise on the side of my head, a healthy case of whip lash, and a fractured rib. Which hurts like a bitch. The other driver is totally fine, and I could be in much worse shape. For the most part, I am thankful that we are both okay.

But this rib....good god. Please don't make me laugh, cough, or sneeze. For that matter, I'd prefer not to breathe if thats possible. Anyone who has ever had one of these knows that there is nothing the doctors can do. I was given a weeks worth of codeine and told to "take it easy".

The last couple of nights, as I've been nursing my aches and pains- I've been craving comfort food (wine and the doting husband can only do so much). The combination of hurting, the cold weather, and this post, which I read just hours after the accident, brought it all on.

I need a hug

It seems like the general dining public is craving it as well. Some of my fancy pants desserts at the restaurant are being snubbed for the simple, snuggly ones. Huckleberry creme brulee in particular seems to be all the rage right now. Which is fine by me- as it couldn't be easier to make.

I use frozen huckleberries procured by the very same hippies that forage the wild mushrooms for the restaurant. They come all cleaned and ready to go (huckleberries are a fucking nightmare to clean). Those of you not living in the pacific northwest might be shit-out-of-luck. There is no commercial licence for huckleberries (which are native to the mountainous regions of Northwest forests), so they can be hard to find if you live in Skokie, Illinois. Blueberries would work (but they're nowhere near as good. sorry).

I infuse my brulee base with a vanilla bean and some fresh bay leaves. If you've never tried a dessert made with fresh bay leaves, for the love of god try it. It's really good infused into creamy substances such as flans, ice creams, and of course brulees. If you live in an area where huckleberries are nigh impossible to get your hands on, I highly recommend you just try the bay-scented brulee. Trust me on this. Have I ever let you down?

Huckleberry-Bay Creme Brulee
makes 4-6 individual servings, depending on the size of your ramekins

9 fresh bay leaves
1/2 of a vanilla bean, split and scraped
3 cups whipping cream
6 egg yolks
1/4 tsp salt
4 oz. granulated sugar
1/3 cup huckleberries, fresh or frozen

Tear the bay leaves and combine them with the cream and vanilla bean. Bring to a boil. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 2 hours.
Whisk the eggs, salt, and sugar together in a large bowl. Bring the infused cream back to a boil and temper it into the eggs. Strain through a fine sieve.


Line a roasting pan with a tea towel to keep the ramekins from sliding around. Pour hot tap water into the pan until the cups are halfway submerged. Divide the huckleberries amongst the ramekins. Pour the brulee base into each cup. Cover pan with foil and bake at 350 for 45 minutes to 1 1/2 hour (start checking after 45 minutes). Brulee is done when custard is set, but slightly wobbly. Remove cups from water and chill for at least 4 hours, overnight if possible. Just before serving, sprinkle with granulated sugar and (if you have a propane turbo torch) torch until the sugar melts. Otherwise, place under the broiler until the top is golden brown. Don't walk away, this happens fast!
Serve with cookies.

SHF# 45- Berries

Three weeks in heaven- buttermilk panna cotta, local berries, crispy phyllo, strawberry-balsamic reduction

First of all, thanks to all of you for your get better comments and for bearing with me during my silent period. I am starting to feel better, though I still seem to be drowning in phlegm (yeah, sorry thats disgusting. But sometimes you just gotta share).

If I haven't completely grossed you out, shall we talk about this month's Sugar High Friday? Susan at Food Blogga is hosting with the seasonally apt theme of berries.
I beam with pride when we get our first flat of local strawberries. As I have previously boasted, the Pacific Northwest is berry country. My neighbor to the south (Portland, to be exact- which is probably the coolest city on this planet) Heather pointed out that it's the volcanic soil. All I know is that with my first taste of the season, I renew my pact I have made with myself to never move from this glorious land.

My berry can kick your berrie's ass

This year, nature has been cruel to us. Our already short local strawberry season was almost a month late. Strawberries like a nice cozy 70-75 degree climate, which is why June and July here is perfect for them. But this year's weather has been all fucked up, resulting in a three week long season for our beloved strawberries. It ended on Saturday. I am still grieving.

I had a delightful dessert on the menu to showcase the lovelies this year. I am boycotting strawberry shortcake, due to the fact that I just need a break from it- and it's a somewhat tired (delicious, but tired) dessert. Instead, I turned to Claudia Fleming's buttermilk panna cotta. I have found many of Fleming's recipes to be hit or miss. Many of them are excellent ideas, but need some tweaking. Her buttermilk panna cotta, however, is stellar as is. All I did was replace the plain sugar with vanilla bean sugar. I firmly believe that the sight of vanilla beans makes people happy. And I am in the business of making people happy.

Next to the panna cotta and sliced, sugared berries are a a couple of triangles of crispy phyllo and a squiggle of strawberry balsamic reduction- which is equal parts strawberry puree, balsamic vinegar, and a little sugar reduced until it gets kind of jammy. This concoction is also amazing when brushed onto a roasted pork tenderloin. I would eat this dessert over shortcake (which I still love) any day. It almost feels..oh god.. "light" ..eek!

Buttermilk panna cotta
adapted from Claudia Fleming

1 1/4 cup heavy cream
4 oz sugar
1 1/2 tsp gelatin
1 3/4 cup buttermilk

Place the gelatin in a small bowl and sprinkle with 1 T cold water. Let soften for 5 minutes. Spray 6 large (or 10 very small- thats what I do) ramekins with pan release. Combine the sugar and cream in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved and cream is hot. Add the softened gelatin and continue stirring until gelatin is completely dissolved- do not let mixture boil. Remove from heat and stir in buttermilk. Strain into a measuring pitcher and pour into prepared ramekins. Let chill until set- at least 3 hours. Invert onto a serving plate and top with sliced, sugared berries.

Sugar High Friday #37: The Beta Carotene Harvest

Sweet Potato Flan with cider reduction, brandy snaps, and glazed pecans


Last month, I barely made the deadline for Sugar High Friday, and now I'm early for November's event. Blogs and blog events can be difficult to keep up on, and I'm still pretty new to the whole thing. The evil pie lady robs me of sleep (I am writing this post at 11:20 pm, which means it will not be done until 1:30 or 2 am- And yes, I do have to work in the morning), and keeps me from doing things like laundry and dusting... But it is just SO DAMN FUN!! And I hate wretched laundry and dusting, so any excuse to avoid such activities will do. Seriously, If it were not for SHF's, Daring Bakers, Retro Recipes, and all the other Internet foodie "parties" like that every month, I would probably get bored to tears with my blog and ditch it. I am so happy to have met such an interesting, talented and kind group of people (cue Aw Track a la "full house": Awwwwwwww). But really, I am.
Sugar High Friday #37 is hosted by the lovely and hilarious Leslie of Definitely Not Martha. Her blog is one of those gems that blends really funny writing with great recipes and photography. If you're unfamiliar with her, follow the link to her page. Now. I'll wait.
Ain't she a hoot?

Anyway, in honor of the upcoming US Thanksgiving, Leslie has chosen beta carotene as the November theme. Desserts using sweet Potatoes, squash (or as several of my family members like to call it "squaRsh"), carrot, etc. are all acceptable entries. So....I'm cheating, well- not cheating, but it's not like I made this recipe once, photographed it and entered it. I actually have been making this recipe every day for the last 4 weeks. It's on my dessert menu. Is that bad? I know, maybe I should have tried something new, but I had been planning on posting it before Thanksgiving anyway and it was just too perfect for this month's SHF's theme.

For it's first 2 weeks on my menu, this dessert was entitled "sweet potato flan", but it wasn't selling and no one could figure out why. All of the servers loved it, so they were pushing it with as much gusto as possible. All of the guests who did order it claimed to be delighted with it. Then, one of the cooks bet me a dollar that if I changed the menu to say "sweet potato creme caramel" it would sell better. Well, he was right. The next day I was out a dollar and completely sold out of flans. They are now one of the top selling desserts on the menu.
People are so weird.
Call it what you want, this stuff has a similar mouth feel to sweet potato pie, but with that nice custardy-eggyness and "self-saucing" caramel that can only come from flan. I'm serving mine with a brandy snap, glazed pecans, and cider reduction- but really, it is still just as tasty and chic when served alone.

Sweet Potato Creme Caramel
makes 6 individual servings

flan base:
2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1 cinnamon stick, broken apart
4 grams (about 2 T) whole cardamom, crushed
1/8 tsp each grated nutmeg and clove
1/2 vanilla bean, split and scraped
10 oz. sweet potato puree*
4 eggs
2 egg yolks
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 T brown sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1 oz. calvados brandy

Combine the milk, cream, vanilla bean, and spices in a sauce pan and bring to a simmer. Cover, remove from heat, and let steep for 2 hours.

Meanwhile, spray 6 ramekins with baking spray. Combine
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup water
in a pot and cook until amber in color. Be careful- caramel gets hot as hell and will cause some of the yuckiest burns ever. Carefully ladle 1 oz of the caramel into the bottom of each ramekin. Set aside while you finish the custard base.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, yolks, sweet potato puree, sugars, and salt. Bring the milk mixture to a full boil, then remove from heat and slowly whisk into the egg mixture. Strain the custard and stir in the calvados.
Place the prepared ramekins into a hotel pan and fill with hot water until the cups are halfway submerged. Pour the custard into the ramekins, then cover the whole pan with foil. Bake at 300 degrees for 1 hour to 1 hour 15 minutes, or until set. Remove from water bath and chill at least 2 hours.

At serving time, run the tip of a paring knife around the custards. Place a serving plate on top of the cup, then invert the whole thing onto the plate.

*To make sweet potato puree, roast 4 or 5 sweet potatoes in a hot oven until very soft and beginning to caramelize. When cool enough to handle, peel away the skin and puree the meat of the potato in a food processor until very light and fluffy.


Fall in Seattle...

Retro Recipe Challenge #10: Story Book Food

What is the matter with Mary Jane?
She's perfectly well and she hasn't a pain,
And it's lovely rice pudding for dinner again!-
What is the matter with Mary Jane?

A.A Milne
"Rice Pudding"
When We Were Very Young
1924

It's retro recipe time again. This month's host is Naomi from Straight into bed, cakefree and dried and she has chosen a really unique theme- story book food. I love, love, LOVE this theme. Retro food is extremely comforting to me. This is most likely because of the work I do at the restaurant. I'm always trying to think outside the box and come up with really cutting edge desserts (I know, pie is not exactly cutting edge- it's the one "comfort" item on my menu, and it is special it it's own way. Very few "urban bistro" dessert menus in Seattle have the balls to feature a granny's kitchen-style fruit pie.), at home, I like to get down to my roots in the kitchen. After a long day of making gateaus, salt caramel tarts, sweet potato creme caramel, and anise hyssop sorbet- it's nice to come home and soothe my tired self with simple desserts from my childhood.
With Naomi's theme this month, the retro cooking in my kitchen is extra comforting. Not only do I have an excuse to cook something childlike and cozy, but I get to dig through old children's books to find my idea.

On a blustery day, I went to a used book store and found a book of poems called "When We Were Very Young" by A.A. Milne. This was published in 1924- I'd say thats retro enough- and featured a poem about a teddy bear who "however hard he tries, grows tubby without exercise". This would be a little character known as Winnie-the-Poo's first appearance in Milne's writing. Another poem, entitled "rice pudding", jumped out at me as a perfect candidate for this month's RRC. I absolutely adore rice pudding and I have not made it in at least 5 or 6 years. Not to mention, there was a good chance that the hubby might even like it. He loves rice in just about anything, and despite his lack of a sweet tooth, custard and vanilla are two things he will happily devour. So, the opportunity to introduce him to something new was an added bonus to this event.

I wish I could tell you all where I got the recipe for this rice pudding. I have a big binder in my kitchen cupboard with the words "CHEF BRITT" written down the binding in sharpee. The contents of this book are hand-written (sometimes on the back of unopened phone bills dated 2001) recipes in no particular order. This thing is an ungodly mess, but for many years, it has worked for me. These recipes are usually jotted down while I am cooking without a net, given to me by friends, or scribbled down while watching cooking shows.
Now, my binders at work are a different story. I have two. One is for recipes from the current menu. They are divided by each dessert item. Between each tab, my assistant will see every recipe needed for a particular item, right down to the garnishes. The second binder is full of archive recipes and notes from dessert specials I have ran in the past. Everything in both books is typed neatly and inserted into a sheet protector. Since I have to be anal at work. I choose to be messy at home. Ying and the yang, ya know?
This rice pud' comes from the scribbly-sloppy book. I truly cannot remember where it came from. I guess recipes written in chicken scratch with unknown origins are the essence of the RRC. I can tell you that if you do chose to try it, you won't be disappointed. It's creamy and cozy. Trevor loved it and has pre-requested it for the next time he is sick. We ate it while snuggled up under fleece blankies, watching the Simpsons. I don't know that you can get more comforting than that.

Rice Pudding
serves 6-8

6 cups milk
1 cup sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1 vanilla bean
2/3 cup long grain white rice
1 lg egg
2 lg egg yolks
1/2 cup raisins or dried fruit (optional)**I omitted them so that my husband wouldn't freak out**
ground cinnamon and nutmeg for sprinkling

In a heavy bottomed pot, slowly bring the milk, sugar, salt, and split vanilla bean to a boil. Stir in the rice with a fork. Cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until rice is quite tender. About 40 minutes. Remove the vanilla bean; scrape the seeds into the rice mixture and stir in.
Pre heat the oven to 400 degrees. Butter a casserole dish. In a bowl, beat the egg, egg yolks, and remaining milk until combined. Add this mixture and the raisins, if using to the rice and stir to combine. Set the baking dish in a roasting pan and place in the center of the oven. Fill with enough hot water to submerge the dish halfway. Bake for 25 minutes, stir gently to redistribute the rice. Bake for another 25 minutes. Sprinkle the rice pudding with cinnamon and nutmeg. Bake for 25 more minutes (total baking time is about 1 1/4 hours, it varies depending on the size of your dish- do not over bake)
Remove from water bath and cool on a wire rack. Serve lukewarm or chilled.

Thanks again to Naomi for hosting this month. She will have the round up posted on her blog after the holidays.

East Meets West: The Daring Bakers are at it again...

And this time, I'm playing too!


Bostini Cream Pie

It's official! One of the many reasons why I started this little food blog was to get in on the action with the Daring Bakers. This is a rapidly growing community of baking enthusiasts who meet up via the blogospere to partake in a monthly baking challenge. Created in November of 2006 by Ivonne of Cream Puffs In Venice, and Lis of La Mia Cucina, these guys and gals have tackled everything from Strawberry Mirror Cake (involving components such as Bavarian cream, sponge cake, and gelatin) to the doozy of them all: Gateau St. Honore. Also known as "The Patron Saint of Bakers", this dessert in his honor involves puff dough, pate a choux, pastry cream, and caramel sugar work to boot. All of which are some of the most difficult skills to master. Especially from the home kitchen. I've watched in awe from the sidelines, amazed that the majority these talented people don't do this for a living. Last month, after drooling over the milk chocolate caramel tart they conquered, I knew I wanted to play.

I waited all month in anticipation of what our October challenge would be. The ants can now leave my pants. This month's event, hosted by Mary at Alpineberry, is a Boston classic, updated by the San Fransisco Restaurant scene. "Bostini Cream Pie" is a similar idea to the Boston Cream Pie, but sexed up a little. Rather than the standard issue vanilla sponge cake, filled with standard issue vanilla pastry cream, and finished with ganache; the bostini version is an individual dessert of orange chiffon cake nesting atop a layer of vanilla bean custard. Each portion is glazed a la minute with warm bittersweet chocolate. I knew right off the bat that this dessert and I would get along famously. Chocolate and orange is such a heavenly combination, and I love a good eggy custard.



The actual recipe required that we first make the custard and pour it into ramekins. We were then supposed to bake the chiffon cake in ramekins that were the same size as our custard cups. This way we would have an individual cake to unmold and place inside the ramekin of custard, then pour chocolate over it. It was meant to be served inside the ramekin. Confused yet? This seemed like a very silly way to go about putting this dessert together. For one thing, I don't have the 16 ramekins required for this recipe sitting in my cupboard. I was convinced the procedure could be tweaked and I was right. The custard is basically a pastry cream, which will hold up on it's own if it's properly cooked. And why not just bake the chiffon cake in a sheet pan and use cookie cutters to punch out the desired size? This was a recipe from a very well reputed San Fransisco restaurant, but sometimes the way things are done in professional kitchens are not prudent for the home.

Armed with ring molds, parchment paper strips, and refrigerator space, I went about making the custard. The recipe for this is pretty straight forward. I ladled the cooked pastry cream into the parchment lined ring molds and refrigerated them overnight. The chiffon cake was also easy to put together, and delicious! Once the cake was cooled, I cut out adequately sized rounds and placed them over the chilled pastry cream. Once the glaze was cooked (no problems there either), it was time to unmold. I slipped off the ring, peeled away the parchment and poured the warm chocolate over the whole thing (side note: the sight of warm chocolate cascading down a piece of cake is the hottest thing ever. It kind of turns me on).

The verdict? Pretty darn good. The custard itself was just too rich for me. I'm used to pastry cream made with all milk. This was mostly cream. A few bites were all the hubby and I could get through with out feeling sick. The chiffon was my favorite. It has lots of orange juice and zest, adding tons of flavor to a normally somewhat dull cake. And the chocolate? You just can't go wrong with good bittersweet chocolate (I used Scharffenberger- a San Fransisco treat) and butter. It was as good as it sounds. I would make this again, but for the sake of my ever growing bum, I would make an all milk pastry cream. Other daring bakers have substituted the orange in the cake for things like coconut milk and raspberry puree, which also sound delicious. speaking of other daring bakers, check out their versions of the bostini, you will be impressed, I promise...these people have chops!


For the recipe for Bostini Cream Pie, head over to Mary's blog