This is the composed salad that we serve every Christmas Eve. Tradition!

This is the Chocolate Mousse Trifle that we served this Christmas Eve–destined to become a tradition.

Hello Friends,

I hope that your holidays have been merry, and that good things loom on your horizon in the new year. As we make our exit from 2011, a bit of a roller coaster year in our household, I’ve been thinking about cycles: beginnings and endings. There’s a life to everything–relationships, jobs, homes—and when one cycle ends, it lays the foundation for a new, often better cycle. In the meantime, there’s that odd place “in between” where one cycle is ending and the other has yet to take hold. Uncertainty can be uncomfortable. It’s a great life lesson, likely to repeated again and again, recognizing endings, forging new beginnings, and surrendering to What Is, in the moment.

I don’t mean to wax all philosophical–this is, after all, a food blog. But we all experience changes–big and small—and life filters into the world of food! Bill recently had a health scare, potential cancer, and he lost his job of 23 years. That he learned both things side-by-side one recent afternoon (”You are cancer-free” from his doctor, post-biopsy, to “We need to discuss your departure date” in a voice message from his manager.) puts a stark perspective on what is really important, what is indeed a blessing.

With big change inevitable in 2012, I know that we’ll all land on our feet–just like our new cat, Sid. In the meantime, I’m sharing two recipes from our holiday dinner, a great beginning: Composed Winter Salad with Brown Sugar Vinaigrette and an amazing ending: Chocolate Mousse Trifle.

Come the new year, I’ll still be cooking, blogging, and staying connected. Always good things in the kitchen and the garden!

Best wishes to you all. As always, thank you for visiting Good Food Matters.

Nancy

CHOCOLATE MOUSSE TRIFLE
12 oz. Bittersweet Chocolate
6 T. Strong Coffee
2 T. Vanilla
2 T. Creme de Cacao
2 T. Creme de Cassis
2 sticks Unsalted Butter, softened, cut into pieces
8 Eggs, separated
1/2 cup Sugar

1 package Savoiardi (firm Italian ladyfingers)
Heady Dipping Liquid: 1/2 c. Strong Coffee, 2 t. Vanilla, 4 T. Rum

Whipped Topping Garnishes:
2 cups Heavy Cream, divided
1/2 c. Confectioner’s Sugar, divided
1 T. Vanilla
2 T. Cocoa Powder

In a heavy 2 qt. saucepan under low heat, melt the chocolate and coffee together.
Whisk in the vanilla and liqueurs. Then, stir in the butter, one chunk at a time, until it becomes smooth and shiny. Remove from heat.
Using an electric mixer with a balloon whisk, beat the egg yolks and sugar together until the yolks become really pale yellow and thickened, almost triple in volume. This will take several (at least 5) minutes. The yolks will cling to the whisk.
Check your chocolate mixture; it should be warm—but not hot.
Beat it into the thickened egg yolks; the mixture will seem like chocolate mayonnaise.
Pour this into another large mixing bowl.
Clean and dry your mixer bowl and whisk. Beat the egg whites until stiff and glossy. Fold about ¼ of the whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then fold in the remaining whites.

Select a pretty glass bowl. One by one, dip the ladyfingers into the coffee-rum mixture and line the bottom of the bowl. Spoon in a layer of mousse. Repeat with another layer of dipped ladyfingers, then more mousse until bowl is filled.

Whip one cup of cream with vanilla and 1/4 cup confectioner’s sugar. Set aside. Whip remaining cup with 2 T. cocoa powder and 1/4 cup confectioner’s sugar.

Smooth the vanilla whipped cream over the top of the trifle. Pipe rosettes with the cocoa whipped cream. Garnish with chocolate shavings, chopped toffee, hazelnuts, or berries, if desired.

Refrigerate for at least 4 hours before serving.

Serves a crowd! (12-16 servings)

FESTIVE WINTER SALAD
Citrus Fruits: Clementines and Ruby Grapefruit
Strawberries
Avocado
Marcona Almonds
Maytag Blue Cheese
Assorted Lettuces

Brown Sugar Vinaigrette

BROWN SUGAR VINAIGRETTE (aka Southern Sweet-Sour Vinaigrette)
4 T. White Balsamic Vinegar
2 T. Grapefruit Juice
1 t. Celery Seed
1 t. Paprika
1/4 cup Demerara Sugar
1/4 piece of a medium Onion
2 t. Dijon Mustard
1 t. Salt
1/2 t. Black Pepper
1 cup Olive Oil

Place all of ingredients EXCEPT the olive oil into a food processor fitted with a swivel blade. Pulse until the onion is pureed into the mixture. While the processor is running, pour in the olive oil slowly. It will incorporate nicely into the vinaigrette. The dijon will keep the dressing emulsified.

Sid is living the good life!

A woman I scarcely knew gave me this cookbook, Blue Ribbon Recipes, in the summer of 1975, an unsold item from her yard sale. She was getting rid of everything–moving out of the sultry South to an arid intentional community on a mesa near Santa Fe. I don’t recall much more about the circumstances, how I’d come to briefly meet her, or why she thought I should have the book.

But I’d like to thank her.

We all know how cookbooks can be—intriguing to thumb through, eye-feasting at times, with the occasional wonderful recipe that you actually use. But not so with this Blue Ribbon. Throughout the years, it’s been one bearing numerous good recipes, ones that I use again and again, such as these Cream Cheese Crescents.

The smudged and splattered pages tell the story.

Mary Ann Hill of Perry, Ohio, won a Blue Ribbon at the Lake County Fair for these flaky confections, sometime in the early Sixties. Her recipe is deceptively simple, but the combination of cream cheese and butter whipped with egg yolks into all purpose flour yields a remarkably light and supple dough that bakes into tangy layers.

I first tried Mary Ann’s recipe around 1980. My sister and I had a kiosk in an old warehouse, “Goodies” where we sold sandwiches and baked goods, including the famous Marbled Cream Cheese Brownies. We were always on the lookout for something delicious and different. This recipe caught our attention.

We tweaked it slightly, and substituted almonds for walnuts.

The dough is made in advance, and can be divided and frozen, even, if need be.
The recipe can also be easily cut in half–but for catering purposes, it made sense for us to leave it as it is. The complete batch makes up to 8 dozen filled crescents!

We also valued the recipe for its versatile nature. You could enhance that seductive meringue filling with cocoa, espresso powder, different extracts, if you wanted another flavor profile. You could add pecans, pistachios, even dried fruit and jam.

The pastry dough is not sweet at all, and only gets its sweetness from being rolled in the powdered sugar on the work board.

Indeed, Mary Ann Hill deserved the Blue Ribbon for this recipe, and should be pleased, if she’s still on the planet, that it is inspiring cooks today. It is a delicious shaped cookie.
I’d like to thank her, too.

An afternoon of rolling, filling, twisting and folding–this is why I love baking cookies.

A soothing rhythm that results in a roomful of treats–
Crescents for now, Crescents for later, Cresents to keep, Crescents to share.

ALMOND CREAM CHEESE CRESCENT COOKIES adapted from Blue Ribbon Recipes

Pastry Dough:
1 lb. softened Butter
1 lb. Cream Cheese
4 cups All Purpose Flour
4 Egg Yolks

Confectioner’s Sugar—at least 2 cups

Filling:
4 Egg Whites
1/2 cup Sugar
1 t. Almond Extract
1/4 t. Vanilla
1 cup toasted, ground Almonds

Method:
Using a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and cream cheese together. Beat in egg yolks, then the flour. Separate dough into 4 balls. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate overnight. Take reserved egg whites and refrigerate overnight as well.

The next day:

Make Filling:
Beat egg whites into soft peaks. Beat in sugar, almond and vanilla extract. Filling will hold its shape without being too stiff.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees (325 degrees, if convection)

Sprinkle 1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar on the work counter, and roll out dough ball. Flip and roll on the other side, so that the sugar gets layered in.

Score dough into 2″ squares, and sprinkle with ground almonds. Place a dab of filling in the middle of each, and roll up–diamond corner to corner.

Place rolled crescents onto a parchment lined baking sheet. Dust with more ground almonds, if desired.

Bake for about 20 minutes, until puffed and golden brown.

Makes 7-8 dozen crescents.

Here’s a happy Post Script.

Many of you were so kind when I posted about the passing of our sweet old cat, Cass, just three months ago. Last week, I awoke early to the sound of plaintive crying somewhere outside, near my home. I investigated, called out, and this young fellow bounded up onto my front porch, encircling my legs, positively beaming that he’d been heard.

I’ve checked around the neighborhood, posted on the area list serv. No one has claimed him. I took him to the vet for a check-up. No micro chip in him. But the poor guy, neutered and declawed, had been somebody’s cat—and he had been out in the world for a while. Dirty, dehydrated, anemic, hungry, a terrible mouth infection….but he’s coming around nicely.

My vet says that sometimes that Cat Angels take over—send someone new to replace the one who died. Bill says that our previous cats sprayed the word “Suckers” all around our house, so that any in need would immediately know that ours was a cat-friendly place.

In any case, Sid is safe with us, in a good home. An early Christmas present!
We’re crazy about him already.

Sid, the Christmas Cat, aka Sid-Not-Vicious

Serendipity and A Tale of Quinces

I had never seen a quince, let alone eaten one, but the benevolent forces aligned last week…

It started the morning I read Rachel’s latest blogpost, “Quincing My Words.” Her description of this odd but intriguing fruit drew me right in: Illusive. Ancient. Properly Sensual.

Picture, if you will, a bulbous cross between an apple and a pear, with a heady fragrance both floral and citric.

My mind whirled, imagining its heft and scent, a fruit both exotic and seductive. (Perhaps these were the love apples of Venus?) I could envision bowls of quinces perfuming kitchens of antiquity, and prized trees laden with great yellow-green knobs planted outside Persian homes.

Rachel made the quince sound paradisaical, something from a dream. I doubted that I’d ever have the chance to taste this fruit, but enjoyed the read, and went about my day. My cousin Cathy was soon arriving to visit, and speak at the Southern Festival of Books.

That night we went to Anatolia’s, our favorite Turkish restaurant, and Cathy inquired about dessert.

“We have a special tonight,” our waiter said. “Baked quince. It is stuffed with walnuts and pistachios and we top it with cream. It is beautiful dessert, only here for a few weeks.”

Ahhhhhhhhh. Yes!

He presented the confection, half an oblong fruit baked firm but spoon-supple, its center filled with a mixture of finely chopped nuts, cinnamon, and sugar. The pastry chef had garnished it with sweetened whipped cream and a scatter of pomegranate seeds.

The quince was like nothing else I’d ever eaten. Its texture much firmer than apples or pears–but smooth, not grainy–and its sweet-tart taste embodying a bit of both, but with layers of lemon and rose.

The whipped cream indeed gilded the lily, and the pomegranate seeds were little tangy firecracker bursts in each bite. Sublime!

And so was born our mission to seek them out, and recreate the dish.

The next day, Cathy and I began our quince quest. First stop: Whole Foods, as recommended by the waiter at Anatolia’s. No luck. We drove across town to a large global market, again to no avail. And then Cathy made this observation, “This is a Middle Eastern dessert. We need to shop at a Middle Eastern market. Do you have one?”

Of course! We motored from the west side of town to the southside, out Nolensville Road, Nashville’s diverse global corridor for shopping and dining. A sign with distinctive script advertising fruits, vegetables, and Halal meats held promise but its owner had sad news; he had sold out a couple of days ago. “I have a friend. He may have some at his store.” He made the call, turned to us and said, “Only two pieces.”

Sold. Two would be all we needed.

Blocks away, there they were, awaiting us, in a small market that held other delicacies worth exploring.

You’ll notice a light downy fuzz covering the quince that you’ll need to rinse off. And, until cooked, they remain devilishly hard. The yellower the quince, the riper. But, the oven-poach will transform even a green quince into a wondrous thing.

At the Turkish restaurant, they may have baked the quince in some rosewater–a splendid idea. We chose pear nectar and lemon, which imparted lovely notes to the poach, and its resulting caramel-like sauce.

When Cathy visits, she likes to bring recipes for me to try. The wedge you’ve seen plated with our quince is Oat Pudding, a simple rustic dessert from the Friuli region of Italy that Cathy had been making recently. We knew that this pudding would be an ideal accompaniment to the fruit.

OVEN-POACHED QUINCES, STUFFED WITH WALNUTS AND PISTACHIOS
2 Quinces, cut in half, and cored
1/4 c. Pistachios, finely chopped
1/4 c. Walnuts, finely chopped
3 T. Sugar
1/2 t. Cinnamon
2 T. Butter
1 1/2 cups Pear Nectar (or juice)
1 1/2 cups Water
1 Lemon, cut into strips

Optional: Pomegranate seeds (taken from a quarter section)
lightly sweetened Whipped Cream

You’ll need a good sharp knife for this. The quinces are hard-hard, but will remarkably soften and yield their marvelous flavor in a long oven-poach.

Mix water and pear nectar in a deep casserole dish. Add lemon strips.
Mix nuts, sugar, and cinnamon together in a small bowl. Press nut mixture into the center core of each quince half. Dot with butter.

Place each half, facing up, into the pear-water bath. Cover loosely with aluminum foil and bake in a pre-heated 325 degree oven. Bake for an hour and uncover. Baste the quinces. Bake uncovered for another 20-30 minutes.

Serve warm, and drizzle the caramelized juices over the quince.
2 Quince=4 large half-size servings, or 8 nice wedges to eat with Oat Pudding.

OAT PUDDING
adapted from Recipes from an Italian Farmhouse by Valentina Harris
1 1/4 c. Oatmeal
2 1/2 c. Milk
4 Egg Yolks
7 T. Sugar
2 T. Pear Nectar

Spread oatmeal on a baking sheet and toast in a 225 degree oven for 15-20 minutes.

Bring milk to a boil. Sprinkle in oatmeal, lower the heat, and stir constantly for about 10 minutes. Add more milk if the mixture seems too stiff. Remove from heat.
For a smooth pudding: puree oatmeal in a blender. For heartier texture, leave the mixture as is.

Beat egg yolks until fluffy and light lemon colored. Add sugar and beat for at least 5 minutes longer. Fold into oatmeal mixture and cook on low heat for 7 minutes, stirring until thickened and custardy.

Coat the bottom of a small mixing bowl with pear nectar. Pour in oat pudding mixture. Chill for at least 4 hours. Turn out and serve.

Serves 6-8

Sweet Potato Tart with cornmeal crust

Maple Pecan Tart with gingersnap crust

Today, an embarrassment of riches!

Between house parties and a special local farm dinner, I’ve been busy-busy cooking this month. In the process, I’ve created a couple of lush desserts suited for fall.

It’s a beautiful day in Nashville, the essence of early autumn: sunny, neither warm nor cool, with that slant of light that makes all things clear.

Ripe for sharing both recipes.

The first, sweet potato pie with cornmeal crust, was one that I made for the local farm dinner, hosted by Fretboard Journal, a guitar-afficianado’s dream-magazine based out of Seattle Washington. With all the “box” pickers, builders, traders, and listeners, Nashville is one guitar lovin’ town, the perfect site for the Inaugural Fretboard Feast.

My friend, organic farmer Tally May, and her husband, guitar builder extraordinaire, Kipp Krusa hosted the event on their Turnbull Creek Farm, just west of Nashville.

Working with Tally, I designed a menu, basing it on what was seasonal and available at the moment. We sourced meat, eggs, fruit, and vegetables from her farm, and her neighboring farmer-colleagues.

Here are some of the highlights: Rosemary-Sage Roasted Fresh Ham with Fig Sauce, Fall Lettuces with beets, pears, walnuts, chevre, Sherry-Plum Vinaigrette, Butternut Squash-Swiss Chard Gratin, October Beans, Pole Beans, and Leeks with blistered cherry tomatoes and peppers, Yukon Golds and Harukei Turnips roasted with Thyme and Garlic…

And, this very local pie, distinctively Southern with its slightly gritty cornmeal crust. A drizzle of sorghum, a dollop of lemon-basil scented creme fraiche, and Mer-cy, was it ever down-home elegant good. Have a bite, please!

SWEET POTATO PIE WITH CORNMEAL CRUST

The Crust
3/4 cup Yellow Corn Meal
3/4 cup All Purpose Flour
2 T. Sugar
1/2 t. Salt
7 T. cold Butter, cut into pieces
3-4 T. Ice Water

Place all dry ingredients in a food processor fitted with a pastry cutter blade (or swivel blade). Pulse quickly to “sift” them together. Add cold butter, and pulse until the pieces are cut throughout the cornmeal-flour mix. Continue pulsing, add water, one tablespoon at a time. The dough will begin to amass. Continue pulsing until it forms a ball. Collect, pat into a firmer ball, cover in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. (You can do this well ahead of time–a day in advance.)

The Filling
2 cups cooked Sweet Potatoes (2 medium or 1 large Sweet Potato, baked, meaty insides scooped from the sweet potato shell))
1/2 cup Brown Sugar
1 cup Cream
1 T. Vanilla
1 t. Ginger
1/2 t. Cinnamon
1/2 t. Nutmeg
pinch ground Cloves
3 Eggs

I used the food processor (swivel blade) for the filling too.

Place sweet potatoes into the food processor and process until smooth. Add brown sugar, cream, vanilla, and spices. Continue processing. Taste, and adjust for seasoning. Add eggs, one at a time, and process until very smooth and well-incorporated.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Remove doughball from refrigerator and allow to soften. Sprinkle counter with a little flour and roll out crust. Fit into a 9″ or 10″ pie pan. If the dough breaks or crumbles, (which it might) don’t worry. The cornmeal makes it a bit that way, but is very forgiving as far as piecing the crust back together.

Fill the pie with the sweet potato mixture and bake for about 35 minutes. Test in the center for doneness (whatever you stick in to check will be clean when removed)

Cool. Serve with lemon-scented creme fraiche.

LEMON BASIL SCENTED CREME FRAICHE
1 cup Heavy Cream
1 T. Buttermilk

3 T. Lemon Basil Simple Syrup
1 T. Lemon zest

Mix the cream and buttermilk in a clean glass mixing bowl. Cover with plastic wrap, and let it sit out, in a cool dark place, for 24 hours, to thicken. Stir occasionally. Refrigerate, and allow to culture for 3 days.

Make your simple syrup. (recipe below)

Whip the creme fraiche with lemon zest and simple syrup until fluffy. Serve over pie.

Lemon Basil Simple Syrup
1/2 c. Sugar
1/2 c. Water
1/2 c. Lemon Basil Leaves

Dissolve sugar into water in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Plunge in the lemon basil leaves.
Stir well and simmer. Allow to cool. Strain the leaves.

Next up, Maple Pecan.

Southern pecan pie is traditionally made with corn syrup, and I’ve generally made it this way, with delicious results. But, for this tart, I wanted to use maple syrup that I was able to source from a farm in neighboring Kentucky. I had always thought about maple syrup coming from New England and Canada—so it’s nice to know that locals are making it too.

And, a different, “spicier” crust seemed to be in order. For its sweet and heady bite, a crust made from ginger snaps makes a nice shell to hold that pecan studded custard, and is a snap to make.

I’ve used the same recipe, pressed the crust into an 8″X8″ square baking pan, and made Maple Pecan Bars, instead of the round tart. This works, easy-peasy.

I hope you all are enjoying the change of season. Take time outside, have a slice of one of these tarts, sip hot coffee, drink in that rare slant of light.

MAPLE PECAN TART WITH GINGERSNAP CRUST

The Crust:
24 Ginger Snap Cookies (from an Archway Cookie Bag)
3 T. Melted Butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Pulse gingersnaps in a food processor into fine crumbs. Place into a mixing bowl, and stir in melted butter. Press mixture onto the bottom and sides of a 9″ pie pan. Bake for 5 minutes.

The Filling:
1 cup Maple Syrup
1/2 cup Sugar
1 stick melted Butter, slightly cooled
1 T. Vanilla
3 Eggs
1/2 t. Salt
2 cups Pecan Halves

Line the bottom of the gingersnap crust with pecans.

Make the filling, using a stand mixer, or a hand-held. Beat maple syrup, sugar, vanilla, and butter together. Beat in eggs, one at a time, until well incorporated. Pour over pecans in the pie pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes.

Serve warm or cold, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. (drizzled with caramel sauce!)

Pausing, midday, for a cup of hot tea is one of those treats I rarely allow myself. That shouldn’t be the case. Taking time to step away from the stove, or the computer screen, is so beneficial to my general well-being; it should be a natural part of my day. That moment to regroup, restore, and refill the creative well is as easy as bringing water to a boil.

I was reminded of this when I was asked to sample some organic herbal teas for a company, Sacred Rose. I set aside my work, took out the only tea cup left from a set that once belonged to my grandmother, and poured a delicious, heady brew. That bit of self-nurturing was just what I needed–and the non-caffeinated concoction gave me a little boost, without the spike and drop of coffee.

Sometimes, it’s nice to take the pampering a step further.

I follow a blog, Darjeeling Dreams. Here, Joyti has written much about the world of tea: the types and blends, tisanes and infusions, the rituals of steeping and sipping. She also has some wonderful recipes–mostly desserts—many of which are perfect to enjoy with that vibrant midday cup.

One recent recipe caught my eye. It had all the right elements–a pleasing aesthetic, and an intriguing complexity in flavors created in a simple preparation. It is also her friend’s favorite: a one layer, unfrosted, fresh Raspberry Buttermilk Cake.

One day, I decided to make it, although with slight variation. I had just a handful of raspberries in the house, and a couple of very ripe peaches. Peaches and raspberries baked onto a buttermilk cake sounded appealing, too.

It’s the sort of cake that you can whip up by hand. I like that. No need to lug out the stand mixer. There’s a wee bit of preplanning: be sure to have the butter softened, so that it will cream nicely with the sugar. And, have the buttermilk at room temperature–it will more readily blend with the creamed butter-sugar mixture without clumping.

Joyti makes her cake with a combination of whole wheat and white flours. My pantry offered only unbleached all purpose white flour, so, again, there’s a slight variation.

It baked beautifully.

And the taste? Elegant.

This is a barely sweetened cake, and the buttermilk imparts a rich tang. The crumb is soft. The raspberries almost melt into the batter as it bakes. This aspect is what really makes the cake special, and if you have only raspberries–so much the better. The peaches, while pretty, remain sitting on top–their juices don’t influence the cake’s outcome so much.

One night, I served it to friends with a scoop of vanilla ice cream drizzled with peach and plum sauces I had made.

But now, it’s just me. So, I’ll steep a pot of this grounding tea, and have a slice. If you’re in the neighborhood, come on over. I’d love to share.

RASPBERRY-PEACH BUTTERMILK CAKE
(adapted from Joyti’s Darjeeling Dreams)
2 Cups All Purpose Flour
1 T. Baking Powder
pinch Salt
1/2 Cup Sugar
6 T. Butter, softened
1 1/3 cups Buttermilk, at room temperature
Zest from 1 Lemon
1 Egg
1/2 Cup Fresh Raspberries
1-2 sliced Peaches
2 T. Demerara Sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line the bottom of a 9″ springform pan with parchment, and butter the sides.
Mix dry ingredients–flour/baking powder/salt in a bowl and set aside.
In another bowl, cream the softened butter and sugar together,
Whisk in the buttermilk, lemon zest, and egg.
Stir in the dry ingredients, and mix until well incorporated.
Pour into prepared springform pan.
Arrange sliced peaches around the circumference of the caketop. Place raspberries in the center.
Sprinkle with Demerara Sugar and bake for 30-35 minutes.
Allow to cool 15 minutes before removing .

Enjoy with a cup of tea.

SACRED ROSE ORGANIC HERBAL TEAS www.sacredrose.us

Sacred Rose’s “Mother Earth Zest” (one of their 8 special blends) is a gently invigorating tea. Ginger and spearmint are the dominant notes, layered with fennel and sage. It is designed to refresh and to ground, and is pleasant tea to drink in the afternoon. It has lovely aromatics, too.

Sacred Rose is a planetary-conscious company, whose teas honor the energy and restorative powers imbued by the plant kingdom.

Last fall, when I was in the midst of massive preparations for my daughter’s wedding, Gigi called me with a request. ” I know that you’re REALLY busy right now, and this is still a LONG way away, but I was looking ahead, and our April potluck happens to fall on my 50th birthday.”

It was clear where she was headed with the request—mostly. She continued, ” I love white wedding cake, and since I don’t think that I’ll ever get married, would you make me a white wedding cake for my 50th?”

Without hesitation, I agreed. As time drew near, I checked back with her about the cake. “White cake, white icing, but don’t you want a something else as a filling? Strawberry? Lemon?”

She shook her head. “No, just vanilla. White White White. Give this sugar junkie her fix.”

“Okay,” I said. But it stuck in my mind that the cake might need something else Defining. Oh, I would make her white-white cake, à la wedding, but this was, after all, her significant Zero Birthday. This called for something all its own. I would just have to wait and see what might inspire me.

There are numerous recipes for white wedding cake, which gets its color and oomph from copious egg whites. In some recipes, they are whipped separately, and folded into the batter. The recipe that I used eliminates that step. It comes off the box of King Arthur Cake Flour, where the egg whites are simply beaten into the batter.

Cake flour is key to this cake—its soft fine grain builds a lovely texture. I also pulsed my sugar in the food processor to make the crystals more like the “superfine” sugar that the recipe recommends. Aerating the dry ingredients in the mixing bowl before adding softened butter is another important procedure in insuring a good structure to the crumb.

When it came time for me to assemble the cake, I found a very large, very ripe mango in that back of my produce bin. Ah–mango puree for filling in this white wedding cake, a glisten of yellow-orange glaze, that line of tropical tang running alongside vanilla cream. Yes!

This was the inspiration that I was seeking, the defining ingredient to Gigi’s special birthday non-wedding wedding cake. Gigi, I’m happy to report, agreed.

Who knows that she’ll never get married? To say Never just limits the possibilities of the universe.

As they say, Never say never.

WHITE BUTTER CAKE adapted from King Arthur Flour
5 1/2 cups Unbleached Cake Flour
3 1/3 cups Sugar: superfine is best (can make it finer in the food processor)
2 Tablespoons Baking Powder
1 1/2 teaspoons Salt
3 sticks Unsalted Butter, softened
8 Egg Whites, 2 whole Eggs
1 cup non-fat Greek Yogurt
1 cup Cream
4 teaspoons Vanilla
2 teaspoons Almond Extract

2 10″ cake pans, greased and lined with parchment

Place flour into mixing bowl and mix on low speed to aerate. If using regular sugar, put it in the food processor fitted with the swivel blade and process for 2 minutes, to make the crystals finer.
Add fine sugar, baking powder and salt to the flour and mix well.

Beat in soft butter, then egg whites, then eggs, scraping the sides well between additions, to build the cake’s structure. Continue the process, adding yogurt, then cream, then extracts.

Pour batter into prepared cake pans and place in preheated 350 degree oven.
Bake for 40-45 minutes.

Remove and allow to cool before splitting the layers to fill and frost.

Makes 2 10″ rounds, that can be split, making a grand 4 layer cake.

Note: Cut the recipe in half to make 2 8″ or 2 9″ rounds, or one 9″x13″ sheetcake.

WHITE FROSTING
1 lb. Unsalted Butter, softened
1 lb. Cream Cheese, softened
2 T. Vanilla (or more, to taste)
2 1/2 cups Confectioners Sugar

Using a stand (or electric) mixer, cream butter. Slowly add pieces of soft cream cheese, creaming it smoothly into the butter. Mix in vanilla, then confectioners sugar. Taste for sweetness, and vanilla, and add a tetch more, to your taste.

MANGO FILLING AND GLAZE
1 large, very ripe Mango
1 cup Water
1 1/2 cups Confectioners Sugar
1 Lemon, for juice

Peel the ripe mango and cut into pieces, placing them, (and the juices!) into a saucepan. Add 1 cup of water, and 1 1/2 cups of confectioners sugar. Stir well and bring to a simmer. Cook until mango pulp becomes dissolved, and incorporated into the liquid. Add lemon juice. Simmer until somewhat thick and glazy. Remove from heat, pour into a bowl, and allow to cool.

Gigi and her birthday cakes

Combining myriad dried fruits, pecans, and coconut, this luscious bar has its roots in an old-timey recipe, curiously called “Japanese Fruit Pie.” I first encountered said pie several years ago at a church social, the contribution of Jean, a terrific cook from Asheville, North Carolina.

Jean used to cater professionally, back-in-the-day, and although she is in her eighties, she still likes to keep hands in the pot, so to speak. Her style of cooking always conveys down-home Southern-hospitality, in a posh way. Rich and tangy, her pie was a coconut-pecan custard studded with raisins. I was surprised by how much I liked it, and I had find out more.

“My mother’s recipe,” she said. “It’s Japanese Fruit Pie.”

“It’s really good,” I said. But I failed to see the connection to Japan. “Why the name?”

“Oh, I think because long ago people associated coconuts and Japan as far away and exotic. This was country folks’ way of making something special,” she laughed. “More high-falutin’.”

The next time I saw Jean, she had a recipe card made out for me. I studied it–six ingredients, with white vinegar contributing the distinctive tang. And, it set me thinking. As a caterer, I was always on the lookout for new recipes—or old recipes that could be made anew. The pie was so rich, you could only handle a sliver. But what if it were baked into bars or squares? And cut into nice little pick-up bites?

I talked with Tonya, our baker. We decided that there was no reason why we couldn’t make the pie into a bar. A shortbread crust would be good. And, we always kept an assortment of dried fruits in the kitchen. There was no reason why we couldn’t embellish–make it more “high-falutin’” by stirring in apricots, cherries, dates…

Our final tweaking of the recipe added ground pecans to the shortbread crust, and a splash of balsamic vinegar, instead of the traditional white, to the filling. The balsamic was inspiration! It lent a darker, more caramel color to the custard, and a deeper tang to the fruit.

We were really pleased with the results. The different fruits glistened like little jewels. Regarding those “jewels”–we could readily modify the recipe—based on whatever fruits we had on hand.

The bars froze with no ill effects; in fact, they were delicious, super-cold. And the slab could be cut into neat bite-sized shapes: a welcome addition to our assorted petite sweet trays. We tried to think of another name for them, but decided that Japanese Fruit Bars would suit, since they were inspired by Jean’s Japanese Fruit Pie.

Recently I spent a day baking with my friend Maggie, in her country kitchen, and we cooked up a batch. I had quite the festive array of dried fruits, and some unsweetened coconut to toss into the mix.

Once out of the oven, though, we couldn’t wait for the bars to cool. Maggie made a small pot of coffee, and we relished our high-falutin’ treats.

JAPANESE FRUIT BARS

For the Pecan Shortbread Crust:
1 stick of softened Butter
1 Cup Brown Sugar
1/2 Cup ground Pecans
2 Cups All Purpose Flour

9″x13″ Baking Pan

In a mixing bowl (if using stand mixer, use the beater on low speed),cream butter and brown sugar together. Mix in ground pecans, and begin adding flour, 1/2 cup at time. Form a ball. Wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. This can be made ahead of time, and refrigerated overnight.

When you are ready make the bars, remove the dough ball and let it soften.

Preheat oven to 350°

Roll and press the crust into a 9″x13″ baking pan, or pyrex dish, bring it up the sides.
Place into oven and bake for 10 minutes. Remove and let cool while you make the filling.

For the Filling:
12 T. melted Butter, cooled to tepid
1 1/2 Cups Sugar
3 Eggs
2 T. Balsamic Vinegar
1 T. Vanilla
1 1/2 cups Assorted Dried Fruits: apricots, cranberries, raisins, blueberries, dates, cherries….your choice….coarsely chop the apricots and dates
1/2 cup Shredded Unsweetened Coconut (in the freezer section)
1/2 cup chopped Pecans

Whisk melted butter and sugar together. Add eggs and continue whisking until sugar becomes dissolved. Add balsamic vinegar and vanilla. Mixture will become glossy. Stir in dried fruits, pecans, and coconut.

Spread over cooled crust.

Bake at 350° for 20-25 minutes, until filling feels set. Allow to cool before cutting into bars. Unless you can’t wait.

The bars improve with age. They also freeze nicely.

Because my mom’s birthday is one week before Valentine’s Day, I always like to make her a dessert that captures both Birthday and Valentine Spirit.

For her–and for me—this means Dark Chocolate.

Each year, I seek to create that perfect chocolate delivery system-
a divine dessert that has both depth in nuanced flavors–
and lightness,
a dreamy melt on the tongue that reveals its complexities in layers.

One time, I made her fluffy mousse in martini glasses and for her 80th, it was that Amazonian multi-chocolate layered cupcake.

This year, I decided to use these Le Creuset heart-shaped crocks, and make chocolate pots de cremes. I had some compelling contenders in my pantry—gifts from the holidays that included an 80% bittersweet bar from France, a lustrous Italian “Venchi” that makes a bright crack when you break off a piece, and some fine Ghiradelli Cocoa.

Working with chocolate, I have learned about its receptivity. That different varieties combine well, and flavor profiles can be pushed by introducing fruits, extracts, liqueurs, coffee, caramel, cream, pepper, spice, salt. Its enjoyment is enhanced by these many layers of possibility.

But, it all begins with good quality chocolate–hard and glossy bars that, depending on the where their cacao beans were harvested, fermented, roasted, and blended, will impart pure pleasure.

We are fortunate that there are so many available in the marketplace!

Pots de cremes are rich custards, oven-simmered in hot water baths.

Here’s what I know:
They are not difficult to make. The ingredient list is not long. Assembly time goes quickly. Baking time is under an hour. They improve as they cool, refrigerate, and therefore can be made up well in advance of serving.

For these pots de cremes, I laced the chocolate mixture with some strawberry preserves. Not a lot–just a couple of tablespoons to add a nice berry note. It seemed like the right red thing.

I also used brown sugar, sparingly, as a dark sweetener for the cocoa. Feel free to improvise here. Some espresso would be good. Or a glug of creme de cacao. Or some orange zest—citrus is sublime with chocolate.

If you don’t have these (dare I say darling!) heart-shaped crocks, don’t worry. You can use white ceramic ramekins, or small souffle cups instead. I will tell you that I was very pleased with these LeCreuset baking pieces–not just for the sweet shape, but also for their convenient lids.

The pots de cremes must be covered while they bake. Instead of fitting pieces of aluminum foil over each ramekin, I could simply use the heart-shaped cover.

When they emerge from the oven, you’ll notice a sheen, and a little surface cracking. They will be fairly firm–a little middle jiggle–but that will set up in cooling.

Before serving, whip up some heavy cream, scarcely sweetened with confectioners sugar, and garnish. Fresh strawberries would be pretty too–but since my dad hates fresh strawberries (they have “googies” but that’s another post–) I couldn’t use them here.

And, if these weren’t for my mom, I’d scoop up a spoonful and show you the deep creaminess of the custard. In a perfect chocolate world, this could be your heart’s desire.

Oh, my.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY FROM GOOD FOOD MATTERS

(and Happy Birthday, Mom!)

CHOCOLATE STRAWBERRY POTS DE CREME
2 Cups Half-and-Half
6 oz Bittersweet Chocolate (can be a mixture of chocolates, like 4 oz of 70% bittersweet and 2 oz semi-sweet)
1 T. Cocoa
2 T. Brown Sugar, divided
2-3 T. Strawberry Preserves
2 t. Vanilla
pinch Salt
4 Egg Yolks

In a saucepan on medium heat, warm the half-and-half. Stir in the chocolates, cocoa, 1 Tablespoon brown sugar. Continue stirring until the chocolate is melted throughout, and the cocoa powder is incorporated into the mixture. Remove from heat and stir in strawberry preserves, vanilla, and a pinch of salt. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks with the remaining tablespoon of brown sugar. Slowly pour the cooled (as in tepid) chocolate mixture into the beaten yolks. Beat well. Pour this into your ramekins. This will fill 4 8 oz containers.

Cover the ramekins with foil and place into a bain marie (water bath)

Bake in a 325 degree oven for 50-55 minutes. The pots de cremes will be set up, with a little jiggle. Uncover and allow to completely cool before refrigerating.

Serve with a dollop of lightly sweetened whipped cream.

Gifts! More Gifts!

It’s just days before Christmas, and the hustle is on to fill in the missing pieces of the present-puzzle. I have to navigate with care getting those last minute goodies, and quell those did-I-get-enough-maybe-I-should-get-just-one-more-thing feelings.

Whew. Stop! There’s more the enough.

As we like to say in the South, there’s Gracious Plenty.

But I didn’t want to forget you this season. Wouldn’t think of it! You’ve been so nice to come along with me on these little culinary forays. And, since this is the Two Year Anniversary of Good Food Matters, (whoo-hoo! we are 2!) it seems only fitting that I offer you not one but two cakes. Please. Yes, you deserve them.

This first cake, the lavish Italian Cream (sometimes called Italian Wedding Cake) has so many delicious elements–lemon zest, toasted pecans, shredded coconut–that combine to create a complex cake with terrific texture. People who do not like coconut like this cake. Layers are light, a little spongey–thanks to eggs that are separated, whipped, and folded throughout the batter.

I hadn’t made one in a long time, and remembered this tip, in preparation: Do not overbeat the egg whites—you want soft peaks that will fold with ease. Stiff egg whites will result in stiff (tough!) crumb. But otherwise, this is a simple recipe, elegant under a coat of lemony cream cheese. Enjoy.

And then there is the Red Velvet Cake, the Enigma. It elicits an initial Shock of the Red, and speculation of what its flavor could be.

It’s a flavor that has nothing to do with its color, (eek! red food dye!) and cannot truly be described as chocolate or vanilla, even though cocoa and vanilla extract are recipe ingredients.

Buttermilk and vinegar make major contributions to its alluring tang.

Created at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in the 1920s, Red Velvet was popular for its regal crimson layers. In the times of scarcity that soon followed, Red Velvet was preferred over chocolate cakes for its modest use of cocoa. Sometimes beet juice was used as a coloring agent. The butter roux icing mimicked whipped cream. Somewhat.

It never made sense to me that I should like this nebulous concoction, but it has a beguiling je ne sais quoi.

Once, I thought I had pinpointed its mysterious appeal. I was leveling the tops of some Red Velvet layers, which left some thin slices behind. I slathered them with the icing, and rolled them up to eat. In this fashion, the Red Velvet reminded me of a cherished childhood treat, like a “Yodel” or a “Devil Dog.” Hmmmmm. Somewhat.

ITALIAN CREAM CAKE

1 cup Butter, softened
2 cups Sugar
5 Eggs, separated
2 cups All-Purpose Flour
1 teaspoon Baking Soda
1 cup Buttermilk
2 teaspoons Vanilla
1 teaspoon Lemon zest
½ teaspoon Salt
1 ½ cups shredded Coconut
1 cup chopped toasted Pecans

3-8” or 2-9” cake pans, spray coated, bottoms lined with parchment

Cream butter and sugar together. Beat in egg yolks, buttermilk, vanilla and lemon zest.
Sift flour, baking soda and salt together and beat into mixture. Fold in coconut and pecans. Whip egg whites until soft peaks form and gently fold into batter.

Divide batter between the cake pans.

Bake in preheated 325 degree oven for 20-25 minutes.
Cool, remove from pans, and frost with cream cheese icing.
Garnish with toasted coconut and pecans.

CREAM CHEESE ICING
1 1b. softened cream cheese
½ lb. softened unsalted butter
1 T. Vanilla
1 T. Lemon Juice
2 plus cups Powdered Sugar (to taste!)

Cream the butter and cream cheese together until smooth. Add vanilla and lemon.
Gradually add powdered (confectioner’s) sugar, a cup at a time, until you reach desired sweetness.

RED VELVET CAKE
¼ lb. softened Butter
½ c. Canola Oil
1 ½ c. Sugar
2 Eggs
3 T. Red Food Coloring
3 T. Cocoa
1 t. Vanilla
1 c. Buttermilk
2 ½ c. All Purpose Flour, sifted
½ t. Salt
1 t. Baking Soda
1 t. Vinegar

Cream butter, oil, sugar, and eggs together. Make a paste of cocoa, food coloring, and vanilla, and beat into mixture. Beat in buttermilk and flour alternately, then add salt, baking soda and vinegar.

Pour batter into 2 -9” or 3-8” buttered and floured cake pans and bake in a preheated 350 degree oven for 30 minutes, if in 9’ pans, or 24 minutes, if in 8” pans. Allow to completely cool before frosting.

WHIPPED BUTTER ROUX ICING
4 ½ T. All Purpose Flour
1 ½ c. Milk
1 ½ c. Sugar
2 t. Vanilla
12 T. softened Butter (1 ½ sticks)

Stir flour and milk together until lumps are removed, and cook in a saucepan over medium heat. Simmer, continuing to stir, until thickened. Cover with plastic wrap (so that it will not get a “skin”) and allow to completely cool.

Cream butter, sugar and vanilla together. Beat in cooked milk/flour mixture until fluffy. Icing will become whipped cream-like.

WISHING YOU ALL LOVE*PEACE*HEALTH*HAPPINESS*GOODWILL*GOOD CHEER!!
Have lovely holidays, and we’ll gather again soon. x Nancy

Of all the recipes I have posted, of all the recipes I have ever cooked, these brownies—marvels of rich marbled chocolate—are what I have made the most. Thousands of batches!!

Because of so many Auspicious Numbers—this marking the 100th Good Food Matters BlogPost, and 30 Years of Brownie Baking, all on the heels of 10-10-10 my daughter’s wedding—I wanted to share with you the recipe and the story.

It all started in an old warehouse in downtown Nashville.

It was called Goodies: the brainchild of Barbara Kurland, who rented the three story brick Victorian warehouse in 1976 as an emporium for little eateries and retail shops, along with art galleries, and studios for artists and craftsmen.

Rent was Cheap.

More than true urban pioneering–our riverfront district was not to be “developed” for another decade or so—Goodies was a place for underdogs and their dreams. For $30 or $50 or $100 a month rent, you could try your hand at whatever business you’d fancy.

Over its seven-year life, Goodies served as stage for more than 125 assorted ventures. Some were long standing–a stained glass shop, a photography studio, a museum card store, a saucy hot dog stand. Others, such as the painted pebble sculptor, the iris reader, the holograph artist, made their appearances and vanished, odd blips on the downtown screen.

When my daughter turned one year old, I was offered to take over a little food kiosk inside Goodies. Barbara’s daughter Amy had been running it, selling little quiches, chess tarts, and walnut brownies. She had decided to go the Culinary Institute. My sister and I decided to go for it.

Simply called “The Bakery,” the Kurlands had outfitted that warehouse kitchen sparely but to health codes specs. When my sister and I took over, we inherited two used refrigerators with defunct defrosters, a hand sink, a triple sink, a single hot plate and a relic of the sixties: an avocado green residential electric double oven that distinguished itself with its minimalist heating properties. The upper oven only operated at 400 degrees and the lower either on warm or broil.

No matter. You’d be surprised at what good things you can make with limited and/or funky equipment. We expanded the menu with sandwiches, salads, cakes-of-the-day, and tweaked the brownie recipe to make these swirly cream cheese delights.

Back then, I used a 4 qt. glass bowl–”Duralex” made in France, tempered to withstand high temperatures–for melting the chocolate in that minimalist oven. Countless searing rounds had fused bits of chocolate and sugar to the inner diameter of the bowl, distinguishing it with the look of a spinning comet’s tail.

Today, a microwave will do the same work, without the same cosmic results.

That funky kitchen and kiosk formed the foundation for a successful run in the catering business. And, the cream cheese brownies became one of the favorite treats–turning up in thousands of box lunches and on thousands of dessert trays. There are few ingredients and the basic recipe can be embellished with any variety of nuts. It can be mixed by hand for one batch, or multiplied by 8 (as we did years later when the business had grown and we had a 20 qt. Hobart mixer. )

The creativity comes in the swirling.

Globs of almondy cream cheese are spooned into warm batter, and with a chopstick or stem of beater, you can marbelize that creamy goodness throughout the chocolate. Tonya, who baked untold batches for us in the catering kitchen, always said she felt like she was writing a poem when she swirled. Or drawing a picture.

This morning, I was writing a couple of cream cheese brownie poems.

I have been busy making and freezing swirly slabs in preparation for the wedding reception. They will be cut up into nice bites, served with some petite chocolate cupcakes, alongside a grand tiered Wedding Cake. The wedding day is fast approaching–Sunday October 10th—10/10/10 !!

And so, dear friends, this 100th post will have to hold us for a few days–I invite you to make these brownies and swirl away. Craft your poem, paint your chocolate portrait. Have a warm brownie and cup of coffee. We shall visit again soon. I’ll post again, after the Big 10-10-10 doings! x Nancy

NANCY’S BEST MARBLED CREAM CHEESE BROWNIES

The Brownie
4 oz. (squares) Unsweetened Baking Chocolate
1/2 lb. (2 sticks) Butter
2 c. Sugar
4 Eggs (at room temperature)
1 c. All Purpose Flour
2 t. Vanilla
pinch Salt

Preheat oven to 325 degrees, convection oven (350 degrees conventional). Coat 9×13 baking pan with butter or pan spray.

In a heatproof (pyrex) bowl, melt chocolate, butter, and sugar together. Stir until you are certain that sugar is dissolved and no lumps of chocolate remain. Beat in eggs, One At A Time. Add vanilla and salt. Beat in flour. Do not overbeat. Pour batter into coated baking pan and add The Swirl.

Bake in the center of the oven for 25 minutes.
Makes 1 dozen big brownies.

Swirling Material
1/2 lb. Cream Cheese
1/4 c. Sugar
2 t. Almond Extract
1 t. Vanilla

Beat cream cheese well with sugar and extracts. Taste for sweetness, and intensity of almond, and adjust.

Using a tablespoon, gently but generously dollop several blobs of cream cheese mixture in spaced spots allover the top of the brownie batter. Take a “swirling tool” (like a chopstick, or the end of an electric beater) and begin rhythmically swirling and drawing the material through the batter, making your marbleized pattern.

Beware of overswirling—your design will disappear and you could lose the separation of the chocolate and the almond cream cheese.

After Baking: Maldon Finishing Salt
This is optional, but I found that a mere scatter of this chippy salt over the top (added after the brownies come out of the oven) brought another compelling flavor dimension to brownie.

The One Hundredth Post!!