A Very Blue Cure for the Monday Blues

If you read my last post about malasadas, or if you are my friend and subjected to my self-indulgent facebook posts, you will know that I was on vacation last week.  It was a great week and, in truth, it was also good to come home.  There is something, however, about that first Monday back at work--the email waiting, the goings-on missed.  It's all rather dreary.

Wanting to resist the funk, and inspired by picture-perfect weather, we opted to finish the day with a little adventure.  Twenty minutes in the car with the windows down landed us at Grisamore Farms for u-pick blueberries.  We wandered the rows and basked in the sunshine and filled our big bowls with a good five pounds of dark, plump berries.  (We also picked up peaches and a huge bag of cucumbers for pickles.)

I'll make muffins this weekend.  If I'm ambitious and organized, I'll make some peach and blueberry preserves, too.  Tonight, however, it's all about the crumble.  I've done peach and blueberry crumble before.  I go back to Ina Garten's recipe because it's that good, but this time I went for one big pan and threw in some almonds for good measure. 

Here's how it goes:

Peach and Blueberry Crumble

For the fruit:
2 pounds firm, ripe peaches (6 to 8 peaches)
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup fresh blueberries (1/2 pint)

For the crumble:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 pound (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, diced

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Immerse the peaches in boiling water for 30 seconds to 1 minute, until their skins peel off easily. Place them immediately in cold water. Peel the peaches, slice them into thick wedges, and place them in a large bowl. Add the lemon zest, lemon juice, granulated sugar, and flour. Toss well. Gently mix in the blueberries. Allow the mixture to sit for 5 minutes. Spoon the mixture into ramekins or custard cups.

For the topping, combine the flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, and the butter in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment. Mix on low speed until the butter is the size of peas. Rub the mixture with your fingertips until it's in big crumbles, then sprinkle evenly over the fruit. Place the ramekins on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until the tops are browned and crisp and the juices are bubbly. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Literate Baker notes: I'm always tempted to skip the dunking of the peaches into boiling water, but it makes them so easy to peel--it's worth it.  As before, I eliminated the cinnamon from the topping and added vanilla to the filling.  I also added about 3/4 cup of sliced almonds to the topping.  I baked it in a 9x13 dish (a little smaller would have been fine) for about 50 minutes.  Oh!  I almost forgot--two full cups of blueberries!

 

Honestly, as I sit here shoveling it in, there isn't anything more to say but...

Keep it sweet.

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Fried Dough for All

Let's be honest.  Who doesn't love fried dough?  Whether doughnut or beignet, state fair confection or sopapilla, it's good stuff.  This morning, I had the pleasure of experiencing fried dough in a new way.  I also had the pleasure of learning stuff.  For a food nerd, it really doesn't get much better.

Note the way the generous size fills a saucer.

I am currently on vacation in Provincetown.  Although it is known now primarily for its status as a gay mecca and artists' community, P-town has a long and fascinating history.  It was, for example the initial landing place of the Mayflower.  It also became home to a vibrant Portuguese community in the 1800s, primarily via Portuguese sailors hired to work on U.S. ships. 

That Portuguese community is still alive and well in the town, evidenced by the bustling Provincetown Portuguese Bakery.  Located right on Commercial Street, the bakery offers a variety of doughnuts and pastries.  It is famous, however, for the malasada.  Malasadas are doughnuts on steroids in all the right ways.  A rich yeast dough, fried until it reaches chewy/greasy nirvana, dusted in sugar.  Chewier than your average yeast doughnut, more tender than your average state fair fried dough.  Save my beloved beignet, this might just be my new favorite.

Note the sugary nooks and crannies.

Chewy yet tender inside.

The fact that the malasada is traditionally a Mardi Gras treat is total Literate Baker bonus.  Since it'll be a year before I'm here for my next one, I might just have to try making them at home.  In the meantime, I hope y'all are getting a little summertime rest and relaxation.  Take it easy and...

Keep it sweet.

 

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The Sweet Side of the Sour Cherry

Fresh, sour cherries are a thing of beauty.  They are also a bit of a rarity.  The "season" as it were is so fleeting that when you happen upon them at the farmer's market, you have no choice but to buy them because they won't be there the very next week.

If you are practicing restraint and not planning to make preserves, you content yourself with one quart.  This is just enough cherries to make a pie, or better yet, a crumble.

You will need to use or freeze your cherries within a few days.  Either way, you will need to pit them.  Alternately, you may have a girlfriend who will pit them while you are at work.  Having the latter, it is the method I recommend.

Pre-bake.

Post-bake.

With requisite vanilla bean ice cream.

I cobbled (get it?  cobbled?)  a few recipes together and came up with this:

Sour Cherry Crumble

For Cherries:
4 cups pitted sour cherries
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1/2 tsp. almond extract
pinch salt

For Topping:
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup sliced almonds

•  Combine all ingredients for cherries and pour into a shallow 2 or 3-quart baking dish.
•  Slice 1 tablespoon of butter onto top of cherries.
• Combine remaining butter, brown sugar, and flour and mix until butter is the size of small peas.  Add oats and almonds and mix to combine.
• Sprinkle topping over cherries and bake at 325 degrees for one hour and fifteen minutes or until top is golden and cherries are bubbly.

Literate Baker notes:  It was still vexingly hot when I made this, so I baked it in my toaster oven.  Not quite as evenly baked as a regular oven, but passable.

Literate Baker confessions:  This, like the blueberry cake, was good for breakfast.

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A Pound of Inspiration

Once again, it's been a while since I've brought you any sweet somethings, nothings, or otherwise.  It's been a time around here--new job, crazy commutes, and moving.  In addition to having really no time to write, I've been thoroughly uninspired to bake.  It's been rather unsettling.

That changed a bit last weekend when we took a lovely stroll to the farmer's market.  That, however, is actually another post.  Which I'll write soon.  Promise.

Yesterday, I feel like the mojo truly returned.  I was taking a break from making curtains to cover some doorless kitchen cabinets, scrolling through my Facebook feed, and there it was--Alton Brown's Blueberry Pound Cake.
 

The curtain.

The cake.

The picture was pretty, the recipe simple, the ingredients on hand.  And, perhaps most importantly, the temperature is well below 90 for the first time in what feels like weeks.

The batter came together quickly and easily.  It really is important to beat the butter and sugar for a long time, them beat it again after adding the eggs.  It allows you to walk that deliciously fine line of rich and light.  

Butter and sugar the pan.

Whip the butter and sugar, and whip it some more.

Flour your berries.

Spread your batter.

Admire your handiwork.

From Mr. Brown's very own website:

Blueberry Pound Cake

Recipe Courtesy Alton Brown, 2013

Yield: 12 servings
This cake is a summer tradition in our house. Coating the pan with butter and sugar gives the cake a thick, crunchy crust.

Software:
8 ounces unsalted butter, softened, plus 1 tablespoon for the pan
15 ounces (2 cups) sugar, plus 3 tablespoons for the pan
15 ounces (3 cups) all-purpose flour, divided
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
4  large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 dry pint (10 ounces or about 2 cups) fresh blueberries
Strawberries, optional for serving
Whipped cream, optional for serving

Procedure:
Heat oven to 325˚F. Heavily coat a tube bundt pan 1 tablespoon butter and 3 tablespoons sugar

Whisk together 10 ounces (2 cups) all-purpose flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

Cream the remaining butter and sugar together in a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment on medium speed for 5 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, until fully incorporated. After all 4 eggs are in, add the vanilla extract and beat for 3 minutes until fluffy. Add the flour mixture to butter mixture and combine on low speed. Do not overbeat.

Combine the blueberries with the remaining 5 ounces (1 cup) all-purpose flour in ziptop bag and shake. Fold berry mixture into batter. Pour into prepared pan.

Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes or until probe thermometer comes out clean and registers 210˚F. Cool in the pan on a cooling rack for 15 minutes before depanning and cooling completely. Serve with strawberries and whipped cream.

Literate Baker notes:   I doubled the vanilla extract and also added a teaspoon of almond extract.  Blueberries love almond.  Lemon zest would be nice, too.  I served it with vanilla bean ice cream because I had it on hand.  Blueberries (as well as cakes and anyone of sound mind) love vanilla bean ice cream.

Literate Baker confessions:  We ate it for breakfast, too.

Here's hoping life has been treating you well.  I'm happy to have the old mixer back in action and happy to be back here.  Mostly, though, I'm happy to...

Keep it sweet.


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Whatchmacallit? Fuggedaboutit!

My best baker gift this Christmas was the Bouchon Bakery cookbook.  You know... Thomas Keller, French Laundry, Bouchon Bakery?  Right.  Swoon.

Seriously.  This book is food porn.  The recipes are intense.  The photos are mesmerizing.  I'm going to have to make croissants from scratch now.  And maracons.  Soon.

This weekend, I wanted to give one of the recipes a whirl, but I did not want to go to the store.  I was seduced by Keller's riff on the rice krispies treat.  We all know how I feel about rice krispies treats.  Well, Keller adds a layer of caramel and then covers them in chocolate.  Whoa.

Wait.  That sounds sort of like... Those could almost be... That's right.  I speak of the Whatchamacallit, one of my favorite candy bars of all time.  All that's missing is a little peanut butter.  I wonder...

Oh yes, I did.  Oh yes, they were.  Oh, you know you want to.  Here's how:

Crispy Bit
2 T butter
4 cups marshmallows
4 cups rice cereal
1/2 cup peanut butter

Caramel (almost identical to Keller's Caramel Jam)
1/2 cup plus 1 T sugar
1/4 cup corn syrup
1 T butter
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 tsp. salt (fleur de sel if you have it)
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Chocolate
8 oz milk chocolate, melted

1. Melt butter, marshmallows, and peanut butter over low heat until melted.  Stir in cereal.  Press into 8x8 pan sprayed with non-stick spray.
2. Spread half of the chocolate over the cereal treats.  Place in refrigerator to set.
3. Meanwhile, cook sugar and corn syrup over medium heat until melted an bubbling.  Swirl pot, but don't stir.  When sugar is a dark caramel color (with the faintest wisps of smoke), remove from heat and add butter, salt, cream, and vanilla.  Return to heat and stir until smooth.  Set aside to cool.
4. Remove cereal treats from fridge and invert onto a piece of parchment paper.  Flip over and return to pan, chocolate side down and with the parchment paper.
5. Pour caramel sauce over top of cereal treats.  Place in refrigerator until just starting to set.  Carefully spread remaining chocolate over the top.  Return to fridge until completely set. 
6. Cut into 1x2-inch pieces.  Store at cool room temperature or in the fridge.

I know these sound complicated, but they're really quite easy.  You don't even have to turn on the oven!  The intensity of the homemade caramel really puts them over the top.  I promise they're worth it.

Keep it sweet.



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The Reflective Baker

Happiest of new years to you, dear readers.  I shall address you as though you still exist.  Well, of course you exist.  Whether you still follow, subscribe to, or stumble upon The Literate Baker on occasion is another question entirely.  I'm an optimistic person, though, so choose to believe I'm not solely writing for myself.

I hope the last few months have been good to you.  Mine were marked by good food and good friends, some career soul searching, and lots and lots of writing (courtesy of a graduate writing course with the legendary Minnie Bruce Pratt).  All in all, I find myself happy and ready to embrace whatever 2013 tosses my way.

Although I'm avoiding resolutions specifically, I am attempting a renewed commitment to writing.  Naturally, that includes this blog.  What I'm still wondering, however, is the form that will take.  I'd given myself some rules with regard to this blog.  Silly, I know, but I wanted to be a professional.  I wanted to have a baking blog, not a personal reflection outlet.

Then, of course, I considered whether I should have multiple blogs.  And then I took a writing class where the point (for me at least) was to find ways of integrating my many, seemingly contradictory, selves.  Right.  Well then.

All I know for sure is that I want--no, need--to write more.  So here I am.  What that means and where we shall go remains to be seen.   I do hope you'll stick around.  I'll do my best to make it worth your while and...

Keep it sweet.


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The Apple Crisps Again

Weird weather made the apple harvest in New York paltry this year.   Undeterred, I went apple picking anyway.  Although the specimens were small and scarce, they were pretty. 

They were also more than sufficient for apple crispage.  Yes, I said crispage.

Fine-looking crispage.

 I start with the Apple Crisp recipe from Epicurious:

Topping
1 1/4 cups old-fashioned oats
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup walnuts, chopped

Filling
4 pounds pippin or Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored, sliced
1 1/2 cups golden or brown raisins
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon all purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Vanilla ice cream

Preheat oven to 375°F. Butter 9 x 13 1/2-inch glass baking dish.

For Topping:  Mix old-fashioned oats, brown sugar, all purpose flour, ground cinnamon and salt in large bowl. Add unsalted butter and rub into mixture until coarse crumbs form. Mix in chopped walnuts.


For Filling:  Combine sliced apples, raisins, sugar, fresh lemon juice, flour and ground cinnamon in large bowl. Mix well to blend. Transfer apple-raisin filling to prepared dish. Spread topping over. Bake until topping is golden brown, about 55 minutes. Serve crisp warm with scoops of vanilla ice cream.

Literate Baker notes:  As much as I love nuts and raisins, I make this recipe without.  I know--weird.  Also, I used a combination of my pickin's: Northern Spy, Empire, and Fuji. 

Put this out for the squirrels. 

Say what you will about apple pie, apple cake, apple streudel--they are nothing compared to this crisp.  It's insanely good and the most delightful fall way to...


Keep it sweet.



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Judging a Bake-Off

This weekend, I got to be a judge at a local bake-off.  The Great Tully Bake-Off is part of the Tully Fall Festival and helps to raise money for a local food pantry.  It was very cool to be asked.  Oh, and if you click on the website, I might just be classified as a local celebrity.  A bit of an overstatement, sure, but still!  I felt very fancy-pants indeed. 

I had my very own spot, complete with judging cards and a thank you gift:

I got to sample cookies made by kids:

And pies and cakes by adults:

 

It was lots of fun, but not easy!  How do you compare pumpkin cheesecake to coconut cream?  And even with only a bite or two of each, I ended up in a serious sugar coma.  It was a good cause, though, and I had good company in my fellow judges, YNN news reporter Brad Vivacqua and Chris Weiler, owner of Encore Video.

Big props to Linda Milea (cake decorating goddess in her own right) for organizing such a great event!  Hopefully, the sale of all the entries after judging will allow the food pantry to expand both its space and the number of people it serves.  A great cause and a feel-good way to...

Keep it sweet.

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Why Are Rice Krispies Treats So Good?

No, really.  They are so good.  Eat the whole pan good.  Almost instant gratification good.  Make a whole batch for less than five bucks good.  I don't even miss the chocolate good.  (Although M&Ms in them are also crazy good.)  They are so good that I'm going to write a post about them.

I don't make "crisp rice squares" very often.  For one, because they aren't overwhelmingly sweet or rich, I think I probably could eat a whole pan.  For another, as someone who enjoys baking, it feels sort of like cheating.  When I do, and I bring them somewhere, people--without fail--go nuts.  Go figure.

According to the official Kellogg's Rice Krispies website, here's how you make them:

3 tablespoons butter or margarine
1 package (10 oz., about 40) regular marshmallows
- OR -
4 cups miniature marshmallows
6 cups Kellogg's® Rice Krispies® cereal

1. In large saucepan melt butter over low heat. Add marshmallows and stir until completely melted. Remove from heat.
2. Add KELLOGG'S RICE KRISPIES cereal. Stir until well coated.
3. Using buttered spatula or wax paper evenly press mixture into 13 x 9 x 2-inch pan coated with cooking spray. Cool. Cut into 2-inch squares. Best if served the same day.

Literate Baker Notes:  I use 4T of butter instead of 3.  I needn't explain why.  I also put a little non-stick spray in the pot with the marshmallows, in the bowl with the cereal, and on my hands to spread them out.  Doing so makes the process and the dishes much easier.

In addition to their taste and texture awesomeness, RKTs are fairly light and remarkably sculptable.  That makes them the perfect product for 3D elements on cakes.  If you're a professional cake maker or addicted to cake shows on TV, you probably already know this.  I imagine many of you are not either of those things.  But maybe you want to be.  Or maybe you just want an excuse to make/play with Rice Krispies Treats. 

I'm making a sneaker (a Nike Air Jordan, to be specific) as the topper for a groom's cake this weekend.  Other options...

Your favorite mascot.

A monkey head.

Wings and drumsticks.  (Really.)

Of course, maybe your just want to eat them.  I know I do.

Keep it sweet.




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So Long, Summer!

It's fall; I'm giddy.  This is no surprise to any of you.  I know.  I know some of you are with me and some of you are rolling your eyes and fantasizing about being somewhere tropical.  I'm not subtle and neither are you. 

Anyway.  It's fall.  But before I launch into all thinks apple-pumpkin-warm-spicy-good, I'll bid adieu to summer with a sweet homage to my favorite summer fruits.  I give you... the peach and blueberry crumble.  Sweet and tart and crispy and juicy and so, so lovely with vanilla ice cream.  The recipe from Barefoot Contessa was my inspiration, but I tweaked a bit.  Here's my version:

Peach and Blueberry Crumble

For the fruit:
2 pounds firm, ripe peaches (6 to 8 peaches)
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups fresh blueberries

For the crumble:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 pound (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, diced

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Peel the peaches, slice them into thick wedges, and place them in a large bowl. Add the lemon juice, sugar, and flour. Toss well. Gently mix in the blueberries. Allow the mixture to sit for 5 minutes. Spoon the mixture into ramekins or custard cups.

For the topping, combine the flour, granulated sugar, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, and the butter in a bowl. Rub the mixture with your fingertips until it's in big crumbles, then sprinkle evenly over the fruit. Place the ramekins on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, until the tops are browned and crisp and the juices are bubbly. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

Literate Baker notes:  I kept mostly true to Ina's recipe.  I used less sugar and more blueberries in the filling and eliminated lemon zest because I didn't want it to taste lemony.  I eliminated cinnamon from the topping for the same reason.

How much do you love square ramekins?

Bubbly good.  Don't forget the parchment paper!

Yes, that's homemade ice cream.  But that's another post.

Of course, I'm sure you now want these and peaches and blueberries are no longer in season.  Sorry.  I hear frozen fruit makes a pretty good crumble.  I'd allow it to thaw and drain off any excess liquid, maybe add a touch more flour.  Or you could do what I'm going to do--go pick apples and make an apple crisp.  As I said, it's fall, my favorite time of year to...

Keep it sweet.


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Ready for My Closeup

Sorry I've been absent this week, darlings.  Turns out Cupcake Wars did come a'calling.  Of course, it's never as easy as all that.  There is a lengthy application and, no surprise, they want a video!

Despite having virtually no video experience, I armed myself with a camera, tripod, and macbook (thanks, Jim!) and figured out how to use them.  I give you the result, complete with clips from my lovely, albeit geographically challenged, assistant Sohug.

 

I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with myself.  Let's hope the folks at Food Network agree!  I promise I'll remember y'all when I'm rich and famous and I'll always...

Keep it sweet.


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If Cupcake Wars Comes Calling...

In between football games and school work, I spent some of this weekend catching up on my recorded episodes of Cupcake Wars.  If you haven't seen the show, bakers go head to head to make the tastiest and prettiest cupcakes.  The catch: there is a prescribed theme (a.k.a. "the big event" where the cupcakes are to be front and center) and a mishmash of mystery ingredients (some of which are inevitably strange).  Judges include the original cupcake queen Candace Nelson, discriminating French pastry chef Florian Bellanger, and a rotating guest specific to "the big event."  Zany host Justin Willman keeps time and makes wonderfully horrible jokes.

As with all such competitions, there are borderline absurd time limitations for each round.  Ingredients go flying (or are forgotten altogether).  Drama and wackiness ensue.  The winner gets to attend "the big event," cupcakes and tricked out display in tow.  He or she also gets to take home $10,000.

Since its debut, I've been watching the show pretty faithfully.  I know, for example, that Florian hates artificial extracts and is rarely impressed by red velvet.  Candace always far a clever turn of phrase for her critique.  What I haven't done, however, is think that I should be on the show in earnest.

Well, well, well... whaddaya know?  A quick google search reveals that Cupcake Wars is casting.  My credentials have been submitted and I shall wait with bated breath for the phone to ring.  Okay, not bated breath.  I do have a cake business, a blog, a graduate class, a hokey notion of running a 5K, and (oh yeah) a day job.  But still... I'll definitely be answering if they come calling.

In the meantime, I've given myself the following to-do list:

1. Figure out exactly how much cayenne should go into a spicy chocolate cake batter.
2. Buy a fun apron so I can look super cute (but professional) on camera.
3. Practice smack talk in the mirror.
4. Never forget to...

Keep it sweet.


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Pepperidge Farm Fest

When you need a cookie on the quick, it's hard to beat Pepperidge Farm.  So many flavors, just the right amount of indulgent.  So when I saw the "I Ate Ever Variety of Pepperidge Farm Cookie" headline on Slate, I couldn't resist.  It's a great article, as much about the history of the cookies as it is about which flavors are the most awesome. You should read it.

Literate Baker WARNING: Reading this story will likely make you crave cookies.  If it's mid afternoon and you're feeling sluggish, this craving will consume you.

I'm with the writer--Chessmen are the best.  Not homemade shortbread, but buttery enough to feel legit.  With an iced coffee or (ahem) a diet coke, they're the perfect little pick-me-up.  And what do you know, the convenience store on campus stocks them!

They're even cute.

120 calories well spent.

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A Honey of a Tart

Theoretically, this post is about baking with lavender.  In reality, it's about a chocolate honey tart.  How did that happen?  Well, it all started at the Ithaca Farmer's Market...

Surrounded by beautiful plants and planning my first real garden (with help!), I got a bit carried away by the herbs.  Not just thyme, but lemon thyme as well.  Basil and curly purple basil.  And lavender.  I've never tried to grow lavender, but the thought of it made me feel very French.  I picked out a pretty one, with visions of lavender shortbread dancing in my head.

Immediately, I began trolling for lavender recipes.  The Chocolate-Honey Tart at Epicurious caught my fancy.  There was only one problem.  My little lavender plant was no where near flowering.  Undeterred, and with a dinner party on the horizon, I decided to try the tart anyway, upping the honey and adding some honey roasted almonds in lieu of the lavender blossoms.

I don't know if it's the fact that I've been on a honey kick lately or what, but this tart was killer.  So rich, so chocolatey.  Silky smooth, but with the crunch of both crust and nuts.  Oh, and I doubled the crust.  Because double the chocolate graham crackers is always a good idea.  It was so good, I don't think I'll even attempt the original version when I have blossoms to bake.

Here's my (minor) adaptation:

18 whole chocolate graham crackers
9 tablespoons room, divided and at room temperature
3 tablespoons honey, divided
1 cup whipping cream
12 ounces bittersweet chocolate chips
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 c. honey almonds (see below)

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray 10-inch diameter tart pan (you could use a springform pan, too) with removable bottom with nonstick spray. Grind graham crackers with 6 tablespoons butter and 2 tablespoons honey in processor until fine crumbs form. Press crumbs evenly onto bottom and up sides of prepared tart pan. Bake until set, about 12 minutes. Cool. Sprinkle all but a few of the almonds on the bottom of the crust.

Bring cream and remaining tablespoon of honey just to boil in small saucepan. Add chocolate and stir over low heat just until melted and smooth. Add cocoa powder and remaining 1 tablespoon butter; stir until melted and smooth. Pour chocolate mixture into crust, making sure to keep nuts evenly distributed.  Sprinkle remaining nuts over the top.

Chill at least one hour before serving.  Serve cold or allow to sit at room temperature up to 30 minutes to soften.

Honey Almonds:  Combine 1/2 cup sliced almonds, 1 tablespoon butter, 2 tablespoons honey, and a pinch of salt in a small skillet.  Cooke over medium-high heat until almonds smell toasty and honey is a fairly thick coating, about 8 minutes.  Spread on parchment paper to cool.

Making the honeyed almonds is a little bit of a hassle, I know.  But, really, they make the whole tart.  In addition to enhancing the honey notes in the chocolate and crust, they provide crunch and a hint of salt.  The result is like a super sophisticated candy bar.  This recipe is definitely a keeper.  When my lavender finally comes in, I'll have to find a new way to...

Keep it sweet.


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Feeling Fall

I am officially ready for fall.  Truth be told, I'm sort of always ready for fall.  Today, however, I'm feeling it keenly.

The students have returned to campus, so there is no more clinging to the quiet of campus in the summer.  I've grilled and grilled and grilled some more.  I'm ready to wear tights.  I'm ready to break out the crockpot.  As I wait for power and phone service to be resumed for my mom (and I watch with sadness the destruction left behind my Isaac), I'm ready for hurricane season to end. 

I suppose I'm feeling reflective, wistful even.  When that happens, I look to the kitchen--to sugar and flour and the scent of things in the oven--to find my center.  Fall baking is best for that.  It's hard to feel morose over an apple crisp or a pumpkin bread.  At least it is for me. 

Everything is warm and comforting.  Even the clothes are better.  I love puttering around the kitchen in sweatpants and slippers, a football game on in the other room.  Kicking leaves.  Picking apples.

I'm ready.  Are you?

Keep it sweet.




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The Lemon Icebox Pie Mystery

Lemon icebox pie was one of my favorite childhood sweets.  Like key lime pie but with lemons, it's cool and refreshing, tart with just the right amount of sweet.  While perusing one of my new favorite websites, Garden & Gun (think Southern Living, but younger and hipper), I happened upon a feature on the summer treat and knew I just had to make one.

Upon further inspection, however, I realized that the recipe called for baking the pie.  I am certain that my Mamaw did not bake her lemon icebox pie.  Hmm.  Turns out quite a few recipes out there call for baking the whole pie or cooking the filling like custard.  Well, not only did this seem wrong, I wanted the pie that night, so a filling that was at any point in time hot would simply not do.

Then I found Emeril's recipe.  No bake.  Super simple.  The problem?  Cream cheese felt just as inauthentic as baking.  Sigh.

Eventually, I decided Emeril's was the better option, at least for that moment in time.  The result: not exactly how I remember it, but still pretty darn tasty. 

Emeril's Lemon Ice Box Pie

1 (8-ounce) package cream cheese, at room temperature
1 (14-ounce) can condensed milk
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoons lemon zest
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 prepared graham cracker crust

Combine the cream cheese, milk, lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla in a large bowl. Mix on medium speed until smooth. Pour into the pie crust. Refrigerate overnight.

Literate Baker notes: I creamed the cream cheese first so I would have to worry about lumps. Also, it was set enough to slice and enjoy within about two hours.

A measuring cup is good for shaping the crust.

 

So, I did have a tasty pie.  I still have a bit of a mystery, though.  What's the recipe I remember from my childhood?  I know sweetened condensed milk is the key, along with fresh lemon juice, but I'm not sure what I'm missing.  Do you know?

Keep it sweet.


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Everyone's a Winner!

Thanks to everyone who participated in our Literate Bakes Giveaway.  As promised, everyone is a winner!  To claim your prize, please send an email to theliteratebaker  (at) gmail.com with the following information:

Name
Address
Title(s) you'd like on your books
How you follow The Literate Baker

I look forward to making these sweet reads for you!

Keep it sweet.


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Not My Mama's Biscuits

As you know, I'm Southern.  I grew up on jambalaya and fried chicken, sweet tea and pecan pie.  I also grew up on biscuits.  No surprise, right?
Well, there's something you need to know.  The biscuits of my youth were not made from scratch.  There, I said it.  I feel better.

When I was a kid, we typically had one of two types of biscuits: the "flaky" ones out of the can or "homemade" ones whipped up from Pioneer baking mix (the Southern version if Bisquick) and milk.  It's just what we did.

Perhaps not ironically, it's living in New York that has stirred my passion for real homemade biscuits.  Or, maybe, it's just getting older.  It's like a vicarious nostalgia that makes me think fondly of a time and a place that isn't quite my past.  I could explore the psycho-emotional meaning of that.  Or I could make biscuits.

Let's make biscuits.

Since I don't have my grandmother's recipe, I use Alton's (I do want him to be my wacky uncle at least).  From it's home on the Food Network website:

2 c. flour
4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. salt
2 T shortening
2 T cold butter, diced
1 c. cold buttermilk

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.
2. In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Using your fingertips, rub butter and shortening into dry ingredients until mixture looks like crumbs. (The faster the better, you don't want the fats to melt.) Make a well in the center and pour in the chilled buttermilk. Stir just until the dough comes together. The dough will be very sticky.
3. Turn dough onto floured surface, dust top with flour and gently fold dough over on itself 5 or 6 times. Press into a 1-inch thick round. Cut out biscuits with a 2-inch cutter, being sure to push straight down through the dough. Place biscuits on baking sheet so that they just touch. Reform scrap dough, working it as little as possible and continue cutting. (Biscuits from the second pass will not be quite as light as those from the first, but hey, that's life.)
4. Bake until biscuits are tall and light gold on top, 15 to 20 minutes.

Literate Baker notes:  Although real buttermilk is best, you can fake it with a scant cup of milk and a tablespoon of vinegar.  That said, buttermilk freezes well.  I buy a quart and freeze it in 1-cup containers or baggies.

These are a little big; my favorite biscuit cutter has gone missing.

I firmly believe biscuits are best with a good dose of butter and your choice of honey, jam, or spicy breakfast sausage.  Or fried chicken.  If it's a good cause (or a good friend), I'll consider sausage gravy.  If possible, consume in bed or on the back porch with coffee and the Sunday paper.  Nary a grain of sugar, yet one of my all-time favorite ways to...

Keep it sweet.


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Hubig's: How a Pie Can Tell the Story of a Place and More

If you grew up in New Orleans, or within a hundred mile radius of it, you know Hubig's Pies.  From gas stations to supermarkets to po-boy shops, these little fried pies have been a staple in Southern Louisiana since 1922.  My favorite was always lemon, though people swear by the sweet potato variety that only came out during the holidays.

After Hurricane Katrina, Hubig's closed for about two months.  When the bakery reopened and deliveries to local retailers resumed, the pies were a sign of the determination and resiliency of New Orleans and its people.

This July, Hubig's was destroyed in a fire.  I remember that the entire week following the fire, my Facebook feed was filled with headlines, memories, and hopes for rebuilding.  The story even made the New York Times. 

I find myself thinking of Hubig's this week.  I think I might be feeling a little homesick.  It's also the busiest time of year at my day job, so my snack radar is on in a serious way.  Both of those are telling--the way a food can be a simple pleasure and yet so much more.  It can conjure up a place or a time, a person or a whole community.

Despite the total loss, Hubig's has every intention of reopening.  They're using proceeds from their online store to help in the process.  If you love being part of a comeback story, or if you're just a serious "Pielover," you should check it out.  Support your local bakers and always...

Keep it sweet.


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