Curdles

Upon first tasting the Buttermilk Pie/Melktert I made on Monday, I came very close to deleting all the smack I had talked about Baked Explorations in the Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cake post (previous). I landed on this particular pie not because it sounded so unfathomably delicious, but because, unlike most pies I encounter, it contained no fruit, lemon rind, meringue, or nuts. All the ingredients were handy, and it seemed straightforward enough. I am not custard's most avid supporter, but I was seized with delight at the pie's sweet-but-not-too-sweet-and-slightly-mapley custard innards. I did have some beef with the crust - more specifically 75% of it was raw, but I'll get to that in a minute.

Especially following a certain incident in the summer of 2009, I do not consider myself a pie-maker. On the contrary, I have long considered myself quite pie inept. With this pie, I was determined to be a perfectionist (that I am not one is a shortcoming that has always inhibited the deliciousness of the pies I have attempted). I even followed the instructions when they left out a blind baking step with the crust. For those who are unfamiliar with blind baking, this involves laying the crust dough in the pie dish you intend to use, covering said dough in foil, filling the foil with pie weights/dried beans, and baking it like this for about 15-20 minutes before adding the filling and baking it all together (dried beans and foil excluded). I was a little wary about leaving out the blind bake, but these guys seemed to know what they were doing.

I reckon I should confess that I did some improvising with the dough. It was only once I had embarked upon the Baked recipe that I realized my food processor was far too tiny to fit the dough. I ended up consulting another recipe, which did not need a food processor, and then just making it up.

Pie dough

* 1 cup butter, cold
* 3 cups flour
* 1 tbsp sugar
* 1 tsp salt

* about 6 tbsp ice water

* about 5 tbsp vodka

Mix the flour, sugar and salt in the bowl. Cut the butter into cubes (if it gets warm or melty during this step, put it back in the fridge for a min). Add butter to dry ingredients and mix to coat butter cubes. (It was here that I had a mini-breakdown over the bite-sized food processor). Use a pastry cutter (or two knives? I have never figured out how that works.) to cut the butter into the mixture.

Next, (it was here that I remembered someone once telling me about putting vodka in pie crusts. It makes them flaky and gives an excuse to break into your liquor cabinet) begin adding the ice water. In retrospect, it probably would be wise to alternate a tablespoon of vodka with a tablespoon of water. I added a few of water, then a few of vodka, ultimately adding about 5-6 of each. After the first few tablespoons of liquid, begin gathering the dough together. Stop adding when it is a dough.

Divide into two equal pieces. Freeze, or refrigerate if you will be using it soon.

Filling

* 1 cup buttermilk
* 2 tbsp + 1 tsp flour

* 1 stick butter, melted and cooled
* 4 eggs
* 3/4 cup white sugar
* 1/4 cup brown sugar
* 1/4 cup maple syrup

Pie

Preheat oven to 325˚ F.

Remove dough from refrigerator and roll out on a floured surface. Move into a 9-inch pie dish and freeze for about 30 minutes (until hard).

Whisk the eggs. Add two tbsp of the flour and whisk together. Next add the sugars and whisk. Finally, throw in the butter, buttermilk and maple syrup. Whisk it all together.

Remove the crust from the freezer and sprinkle with 1/2 tsp flour. Pour in the filling, then sprinkle remaining 1/2 tsp flour on top. Bake for 1 hour to 1 hour 10 minutes until custard has set. Note: don't be alarmed if the pie begins to puff up and looks as though an alien creature in growing inside and about to burst forth. This is just how it goes and all alien eggs forms disappear as the pie cools. Let the pie cool for as long as you can possibly wait to allow for proper setting of the custard.

I will end by noting that, after tasting the pie, my father proceeded to polish 1/4 of it, while I inhaled 1/5. I managed to force a good chunk on Emma's family in an effort to ease their sorrow at their daughter's departure for Taiwan, but it looks like the rest might be about to meet its maker....

Loose lips sink chips

I hate to say this, but for the first time, my favorite cookbook of all time of the moment has failed me.

I'll start at the beginning: The first item that demanded my attention in the Baked Explorations cookbook was a recipe for Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cake. Oatmeal and chocolate chips just so happen to be two of my favorite things in the world, and cake is not too shabby either. Furthermore, this cake happened to be in the breakfast section of the cookbook. Breakfast IS my favorite thing in the world, so naturally, I went for it.

Now don't get me wrong - this cake ended up being far from disgusting. It was not only edible, but even tasty (a certain co-worker of mine had three pieces). Sadly, though, it entirely failed to live up to my (lofty) expectations. Here is how it went:

Oatmeal chocolate chip cake

From Baked Explorations by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito

* 1 1/2 cups plus 2 tbsp flour

* 1 cup rolled oats

* 1 stick unsalted butter (I have become very good about using unsalted butter when called for, and, on the whole, I hate to say I don't think my diligence has been sufficiently rewarded in the taste category)

* 2 eggs

* 3/4 cup sugar

* 1 1/4 cups brown sugar

* 1/2 tsp salt

* 1 tsp baking soda

* 1 tsp baking powder

* 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon (note: next time, I would diminish this to 1/2 tsp or eliminate completely. The cinnamon overwhelmed all other flavors and otherwise contributed nothing. Dani agrees)

* chocolate chips, 3/4 of a bag or so

* 1/2 tsp-ish bourbon, scotch, or, when all else fails, rum

Preheat oven to 375˚ F.

Boil 1 1/4 cups water. Cut the butter into cubes. Put the butter and oats in a medium sized bowl. Pour the water over the butter and oats and stir until the butter is melted (my heart sang with joy upon seeing these instructions. Firstly, nothing is more delicious than oatmeal with butter and secondly, nothing is more thrilling than realizing you will not have to do any strenuous butter creaming in the baking process). Set aside.

Put the chocolate chips in a small bowl. Add the liquor (I used rum because house guests drank all our Scotch) and mix with the chocolate until each chip is covered. Add the 2 tbsp flour and coat each chip. Now, I will pause to complain: this additional step was meant to keep the chocolate chips from sinking to the bottom of the cake because presumably the flour will cling to the batter and keep the chips afloat. I have encountered such a step before in baking, so the Baked dudes did not just include this to make my life harder and drive me to the rum bottle. Apologies for ruining the suspense, but I must reveal that in the final result virtually all the chocolate was at the bottom of the cake. Perhaps sinkage would have been worse had I not coated the chips. Either way, having religiously followed this recipe, I was more than a little perplexed at the apparent failure of this extra measure.

But I digress.

In a larger bowl, give the eggs a quick whisk, then add the sugars, salt, b. soda, b. powder and cinnamon (or no cinnamon). Fold in the oatmeal. If the oats are not quite cool yet (they are supposed to sit for 25-30 minutes but who has that kind of patience), add them slowly so as to temper the eggie batter (I made this step up, and I also think tempering mixtures in general is kind of b.s., but eh, I don't think it hurt in this case. Or did it?). Lastly, stir in the drunken chocolate chips.

The recipe had me pour the batter into a greased 9 x 13 inch pan, but I think a loaf pan would have yielded a preferable cake. After consulting yesterday with foodie Victoria, I am convinced that this would have drastically improved the cake.

Bake for 40-45 minutes. Let the cake cool (or don't, and endure mushiness and a burned mouth), then cut up and serve to your friends and work compadres.

Final note: I am somewhat ashamed to share this, but my baker's integrity obliges me to. The original recipe includes a cream cheese frosting (yes, still in the breakfast section. I might have to move to Brooklyn to marry these boys). Being me (lazy and blasé), I did not produce a cream cheese frosting to accompany the cake. There is no doubt in my mind that aforementioned frosting would have exponentially bettered the cake (as cream cheese frosting does with everything it touches). Lesson learned (and deeply embedded in my head).

Chocolate claw

Contrary to popular belief, it is rare that I will bake something simply because I want to eat it. For somewhat obvious reasons, I most often bake with the intention of sharing, giving away, or storing whatever emerges from the oven. This week was different. As happens on occasion, I was overcome on Tuesday with a need to consume chocolate. Sadly, in my home, there is never any chocolate for more than a few hours before the vultures attack.

So I decided to take charge of the situation and quell this overwhelming craving. I considered running to the corner store and purchasing a candy bar, but I knew this was not going to suffice. I jumped on my bike and rode to Rainbow grocery, where I picked up some plain dark chocolate, butter and chocolate chips (planning ahead!). Upon arriving home, I got to work. The wonderful Nic had gifted me a most splendid baking book for New Year's. It is entitled Baked Explorations, written by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito. These dishy men are the brains behind the Baked bakeries that have sprung up around the country. Although I have never tasted their creations, after receiving this book, I intend to as soon as humanly possible. On Tuesday, having read the book cover to cover at least three times, I knew exactly what I would be making. I also knew that, for once, I would be following the recipe to a tee.

Double chocolate loaf cake
from Baked Explorations

* 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
* 1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
* 1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
* 3/4 cup granulated sugar
* 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
* 3/4 tsp baking powder
* 1 tsp salt
* 2 eggs
* 1 egg yolk
* 3/4 cup buttermilk
* 1/2 cup vegetable oil

* 1 tsp vanilla
* 3.5 oz dark chocolate (note: at this point I did diverge from the original recipe. I only had a 3.5 oz bar of chocolate to work with, but the recipe called for 8 oz. This is a mistake I will not repeat.)

Preheat oven to 350˚ F.

If you are using a chocolate bar, chop the chocolate.

Place the brown sugar in a bowl (the recipe calls for a standing mixer, but since I still lack a kitchenaid, I did it the hardcore way) and mush out the lumps with a spoon. Mix in the cocoa powder, flour, sugar, baking soda, b.p., and salt.

In another bowl, whisk the eggs and yolk. Add the buttermilk, oil and vanilla, and mix until blended. Slowly pour the wet ingredients into the dry. Stir until just combined. Add the chopped chocolate and mix in. Pour the batter into a greased loaf pan and bake for 1 hour to 1 hour ten minutes.

The Baked book included a peanut butter cream cheese mixture to accompany the cake. Due to my excessive laziness and feeling that there was enough sugar in this treat already, I chose not to prepare this topping in its entirety. I did, however, mix equal-ish parts cream cheese and peanut butter and spread this on my first slice of cake. Highly recommended.

Irish-ish

Proud as I am of my South African heritage, a part of me has always secretly longed to be Irish. From the accents to the ability to drink like nobody's business, the Irish do have it all. Sadly, the closest I can ever come to being Irish is having green eyes and family who can't cook. Still, a girl can dream.

In an effort to improve my Irish street cred, while simultaneously satiating my neverending desire to eat bread, I recently made soda bread. I was inspired when Heidi Swanson of 101cookbooks posted a recipe for oat soda bread, and decided to go for it (when Heidi bakes, my heart sings). I followed the recipe as closely as humanly possible for me, only eliminating a final buttermilk wash and a topping with mixed seeds (ew).

Despite a slight gumminess (probably could have used another 2 minutes in the oven) and some whinging by Dani (not enough salt?), I found the bread to be very tasty. One thing I might experiment with next time would be the lack of sugar. Last time I made soda bread it was rather sweet. I would not quite go so far again with the sweetening, but a tablespoon or two could add something to the flavor.

Oat Soda Bread

from 101cookbooks.com

* 2 cups oats

* 2 1/4 cup flour

* 1 3/4 tsp baking soda

* 1 1/4 tsp salt (that's a lot, Dani)

* 1 3/4 cups buttermilk (homemade, in this case, with milk and 1 tbsp white vinegar per cup (=put 1 3/4 tbsp white vinegar into a liquid measure and add enough milk to make 1 3/4 cups))

First, make oat flour. As Her Majesty Heidi Swanson notes, it would work just as well to buy oat flour. Making it is so easy, though, you might as well. To do so, place the oats in a food processor (I imagine a blender would do the trick. Compared with my food processor, which turns on and off at will, with or without provocation, a blender may be preferable). Anyway, process/blend the oats until they are well ground and flour-like. I did this for about 45 seconds, which left the flour slightly course.

Preheat oven to 400˚ F. Mix the flours, baking soda and salt in a large bowl. Make a well, then add the buttermilk. Let Dani, or an equally obsessive compulsive assistant, gently incorporate the dry ingredients into the buttermilk (after the first ten minutes of extra careful stirring, I grew impatient, seized the spoon and finished the combining with some vigor. Not too much, but enough to get the job finished).

Now, again, my inability to read recipes flared up. I skipped the detail in Heidi Swanson's instructing to knead the dough for about a minute. Instead, I dumped the dough into a buttered loaf pan and flung it into the oven.

Bake for 30 minutes on a middle rack. At this time, move the rack and the bread up to the top of the oven. Bake for another 15-20 minutes until crispy and hollow sounding. Remove from the oven and cool on a rack.

Eat with (real) butter or peanut butter.

Red Velvet-ish

Who doesn't love red velvet cake? Losers, that is who. Not only is it a mostly bland, sweet, inoffensive cake, it almost without fail is coated in the god of all frostings: cream cheese frosting (truthfully, I don't really consider a cake red velvet unless it has cream cheese frosting. Buttercream? Never!). So when Nic requested that I make some form of red velvet concoction, I seized the opportunity to indulge in food coloring and powdered sugar. Since Nic has been a long time supporter of my culinary adventures, I was all too eager to go one step further with these treats and make them vegan. Nic is not vegan, but she frequently voices her preference for baked goods that lack animal byproducts. Considering my delightful experimentation with flax seeds, I decided to venture forth into the land of hardcore vegan baking. Mashing bananas into cookies and switching oil for butter are baby steps; I prepared to take the plunge.

I obtained a reference recipe for vegan red velvet cupcakes from BabyCakes, a delicious bakery in NYC in which all products are vegan, gluten free, and/or some other variety of non-traditional. My wise foodie accomplice, Ava, joined me. She proved very helpful with a few minor mishaps (the most notable being using a pastry cutter to cut the solid coconut oil into the mixture. Note: it might be wise to melt the coconut oil before adding it, as its consistency is not conducive to creaming, but it is too hard at room temperature to mix directly into the batter). We were also able to create a slightly benign, but nonetheless tasty vegan cream cheese frosting to top it all off.

Responses to the cupcakes varied, but the overall consensus was that they were a not too sweet, though dense, chocolatey and overall butter-free version of a highly esteemed dessert. Interpret as you will.

Vegan red velvet cupcakes
(adapted from the BabyCakes cookbook)

* 1/2 cup soy milk
* 2 tbsp white vinegar
* 2 cups whole wheat flour
* 1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
* 1/3 cup cocoa powder
* 4 tsp baking powder
* 1/2 tsp baking soda
* 2 tsp salt
* 2/3 cup coconut oil
* 1 1/4 cups agave nectar
* 2 tbsp vanilla
* 3 tbsp red food coloring

Preheat oven to 350˚.

Mix the soy milk (the original called for rice milk, but it seems either works) and vinegar in a bowl (or liquid cup measure).

In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients. Add the agave nectar, vanilla, and coconut oil (this would be a good time to reiterate that melting the coconut oil would have allowed the oil to actually mix into the whole thing. It would have saved us the effort of pastry chopping the oil in as well, as probably would have led to superiorly blended cupcakes) to the dry ingredients and mix well. Add the milk/vinegar and mix, then add the food coloring (you can add more or less depending on how red you want them) and give a final stir. The result will be more dough-like than batter-like.

Our next slight catastrophe was my realization that I had left my sole muffin tin at Emma's house. I resigned myself to making a less portable and less adorable red velvet cake, when a lightbulb in Ava's head saved the day. We managed to cram cupcake papers into round cake tins (about 6 in each tin) and fill each with the batter/dough. They (sort of) maintained their shape during the baking process.

Bake for 22-25 minutes, then remove and cool on a rack.

While they are cooling, make the frosting:

Vegan cream cheese frosting (not as gross as it sounds!)

* 1/2 cup tofutti cream cheese
* 1/2 cup margarine
* 3 cups powdered sugar

We busted out the old hand mixer for this one. As much as I love the wooden spoon, I find it is better not to mess around with frosting. We consulted a vegan cream cheese frosting recipe, but ended up improvising and tasting along the way for sweetness. The end result was not too sugary or flavorful, but complemented the rich cupcakes nicely.

Lastly: frost the cupcakes with a knife, spoon, fork, whatever. Bring to Portland and offload them on your friends.

Fried frogs; new horses

Last week was über-productive. I cooked myself a spectacular fried egg for breakfast; I rode my new bike downtown and picked up a $10 new years dress; I cleaned out the baking cabinet. Pause. For anyone who is unfamiliar with my home and its inhabitants, the thought of cleaning out a baking cabinet might not seem like such a treacherous, praiseworthy achieved victory. Well, you are mistaken. The flour, sugar, baking soda, etc. also shares accommodations with a multitude of dried things. More specifically, rice, lentils, pasta, kasha and such.

Now make no mistake, I find all these things to be joy-inducing (except maybe pasta, which I think is kinda overrated). Admittedly I don't often have the patience or foresight to cook any of them, but I still appreciate having them nearby just in case. Upon closer examination, though, I was far from thrilled with the mess of extremely hard food items that were most likely older than I am. Even after disposing of a number of clumps of rice, the cabinet was still overflowing with dried things. There was only one way to proceed.

Dhal
from vegetarian.about.com

* 1 1/2 cups dried yellow split peas
* 3 cups vegetable broth
* 1 tsp tumeric
* 1/4 tsp cayenne
* 1/2 tsp salt
* 1 tbsp margarine (butter is fine if you are not keeping the recipe vegan)
* 1 onion, diced
* 1 1/2 tsp cumin
* 2 cloves
* pepper

First, make sure there is nothing growing on/living in the split peas you are using. Put the peas and broth in a big pot. add the cayenne, tumeric, and salt. Feel free to add a little more cayenne for a tad more spice. Bring to a simmer.

Pause again. Let me proceed by saying that, firstly, this was my first time making dhal. Secondly, I am not much of a cook. I have my fair share of baking fiascos, and I am far more comfortable with flour and sugar than with lentils and onions. Needless to say, it was here that my first problem arose. I somehow managed to skip the part in the recipe where is says to cover the pot and continue simmering for at least 20 minutes.














About 15 minutes later into the uncovered simmering, I prepped the onion and began frying it in the margarine with the cloves and cumin. Once the onions were soft and slightly translucent (about 5 minutes) I gave the peas another stir and a quick taste. They were almost rock solid. Rather than panicking, I let them continue cooking for another five minutes or so, then I added the onion mixture, cloves and all. The recipe instructed to allow these to all cook together for at least 5 more minutes. After 5 minutes, the peas were still far from being cooked. Perplexed, I re-consulted the recipe. It was here that I discovered the part about covering the pot. I quickly added some more water and covered the pot. I allowed the dhal to continue cooking, checking every 10 minutes or so. After an additional 40 minutes of cooking time (total about 1 hour), I concluded that the peas had probably been in a state of solidity for too long to ever reach perfect softness.

Irregardless, they were cooked sufficiently for consumption, if not for qualification for a James Beard award. Perhaps due to the extended cooking time, the spices were augmented and the flavor was splendid. But let this be a warning: always exercise caution when cleaning out your kitchen. It can lead to new experiences, but it will probably just be dangerous.