Be brave and eat pumpkin bread

What I choose to bake is often a subconscious expression of how I am feeling. When I feel bold I come out swinging with elaborate, multi-stepped recipes. When I feel brave I try a new genre or cuisine. When I feel sad I eat a lot of butter. When I feel angry or confused I bake things that don’t look pretty. When I feel lonely I bake things with cinnamon and nutmeg.

To wit, this pumpkin bread almost didn’t come to be because it was an untested recipe and I have been feeling very anti-bold of late. Some days I am voraciously poring over new recipes, thinking, oooh mama I can’t wait to try that. Those days I put my finger in so many different pots that I run out of fingers. And pots. Lately I have been a bit timid. I don’t feel like trying something new only to find out it sucks. I look at recipes and I think, how can I KNOW? There is no guarantee! I just don’t feel like being disappointed by a new recipe because I get my hopes up and then it turns out to be something different than I imagined. I don’t feel like being BURNED any more, people. WAH.

But the moral of the story is my intense longing for all things fall and home and holidays overpowered my trepidation, and I sacked up and sleuthed out slash made up a recipe for the kind of pumpkin bread that would make me feel warm inside. Because fuck timidity. Fuck that shit. It’s time to be bold again, friends.

And it worked, internet. It satisfied the exact craving I was having, which was essentially that I needed to eat something that tasted like 25 years worth of New York autumns. That tasted like soccer games and wood-burning stoves firing up for the first time all season and hot tea and oatmeal in the morning and hikes in the woods. So I ate about half a loaf (at least) and watched TV and drank bedtime tea and promised myself that I wouldn’t let myself not be brave just because things don’t always work out. Because sometimes they do. But, you know. You just don’t know until you try.

Raisin-Chocolate Chip Pumpkin Bread
adapted from several sources

2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp salt
1 stick butter
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup honey
2 eggs
1 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 cup plain yogurt
3/4 cup chocolate chips
3/4 cup raisins

Preheat oven to 350. Grease 2 loaf pans.
Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, ginger, and salt. In the bowl of an electric mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time. Stir in the honey, pumpkin puree, and plain yogurt. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mix just to combine. Stir in the chocolate chips and raisins. Pour into the loaf pans and cook for 50 minutes or until a knife inserted into the center comes out clean.

Puddle it up

It’s a brownie puddle, people. A dense buttery chocolate pie with holes of chocolate ganache.

What the fuck else can I even SAY? What do you want to hear from me? That it’s easy to make? Well, it is. That you probably already have all the ingredients to make it? I don’t know your shopping habits, but I did. That it can be whipped up in under an hour? It can. That punching holes in warm brownie and filling the holes with warm ganache is a fucking wonderful experience. WELL, IT IS.

You don’t even need a stand mixer. You need 1 bowl. COUNT IT. 1 BOWL. 1 saucepan for the ganache. A tart pan (if you want it to look pretty).

And you end up with one of most perfect brownies I’ve ever tasted. Simple and to the point. And the point is chocolate.

Here’s my roommate helping me out with hole punching. See? Brownie puddles, they bring people together. What exactly is it that you are waiting for?

Brownie Puddle
from the Pie and Pastry Bible

1 cup pecan pieces (i used walnut)
14 tbsp unsalted butter
3 oz bittersweet chocolate
1/2 cup + 2 tsps unsweetened cocoa
1 cup + 3 tbsps sugar
3 large eggs
2 tsps vanilla extract
3 oz cream cheese
1/2 cup all purpose flour
a pinch salt

Ganache
3 oz bittersweet chocolate
1/3 cup heavy cream

Grease and line with parchment a 9.5″ tart pan, then spray with nonstick veggie spray (or oil or whatever)

Preheat oven to 325.
Place pecans on a cookie sheet and toast them, stirring occasionally, for about 10 minutes.
In a double boiler (or just a saucepan, to be honest), melt the butter and chocolate, stirring two or three times. Beat the cocoa, then the sugar, into the chocolate mixture. Beat in eggs and vanilla. When incorporated, beat in the cream cheese until only small bits remain. Add the flour and salt and mix only until the flour is fully moistened. Stir in the nuts.
Scrape into the pan and spread it evenly. Bake for 30-35 minutes or until the batter has set. A toothpick inserted should come out clean.

While the brownie is cooling, prepare the puddle. Melt the chocolate in a double boiler (or, again, just in a saucepan). Add the cream and stir gently until the mixture is smooth and dark.

Grease the end of a wooden spoon and insert it into the brownie (still warm) at 1″ intervals, all the way to the bottom, twisting slightly as you insert and withdraw it, to create 23-38 little holes. Using a small spoon or a reclosable freezer bag with a small piece cut off one corner, fill the holes with ganache until slightly rounded on top. Cool completely on a rack.

On taking sage advice

Like many of you, I was upset to hear that Gourmet magazine has been cancelled. I mean, not upset like fetch me a pint of ice cream upset.  But upset like, whyyy? Why must the things I like continuously be cancelled? So when I had this bunch of fresh sage and I didn’t know what to do with it, I gave Gourmet.com a whirl, while I still could, and just entered “sage” in the search box. AND THIS IS WHAT IT GAVE ME, because it is a beautiful beautiful magazine that loves me very much and wants me to be happy.

I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve never made gnocchi before. I envisioned complicatedness. For the past however many years I’ve been eating gnocchi (with the exception of a handful of times I’ve eaten them at restaurants), they’ve come from the Trader Joe’s frozen food aisle. God bless that aisle. Those gnocchi, simmered in a frying pan for a few minutes and then inhaled completely even though the bag says serves 4 or whatever, used to be my standard. Sure I knew better gnocchi existed, but not in my HOUSE. Better gnocchi was this far off concept, in some stainless steel restaurant kitchen where surely there was a gnocchi-making-machine installed.

I never brought it to the kitch. Which, turns out, was a huge mistake. Huge. Massive mistake. Because gnocchi? They’re the kind of things that can make a girl forget pain. Homemade gnocchi is like medical marijuana. As soon as you have some (i imagine) everything just feels lovely and you don’t remember why it was you thought you were hurting in the first place.

I didn’t even have a potato ricer. I pushed 4 potatoes through a SIEVE. Yes, sieve of Mortal Enemy Sieve. Me and a spatula. We pushed potato flesh. Through a sieve. For about 45 minutes.

I kneaded dough. I rolled out dough into many ropes. I cut out what seemed like millions of pieces of dough. I rolled them into individual balls. I smushed the balls with the tines of a fork. I went through all these PROCESSES. I boiled them. I scooped them out with a spoon. I sauteed them in butter. I grated some cheese over them.

And, oh my god, y’all. These little fluffy pillows of wonder. They’re all I ever need. I am certain that I was put on this earth to eventually figure out how to make these. So thank you, Gourmet, for this most generous going-away present. I owe you. If you still existed I would subscribe to you. But as it is, just know that my hat is off to your general direction. Well played.

Sweet Potato Gnocchi with Fried Sage and Shaved Chestnuts
from Gourmet, RIP

Serves 6 (main course) to 8 (first course)   <-now this is just a lie. it served me thrice. but i guess sometimes i eat like 2 people.

1 1/4 lb russet (baking potatoes)
1 (3/4-lb) sweet potato
1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1/3 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano plus more for serving
1 1/2 to 2 cups all-purpose flour plus more for dusting
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup sage leaves (from 1 bunch)
1/3 cup bottled roasted chestnuts, very thinly sliced with an adjustable-blade slicer or a sharp vegetable peeler (i omitted the chestnuts, but i’m sure they’re lovely)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

EQUIPMENT: a potato ricer or a food mill fitted with fine disk

MAKE GNOCCHI:
Preheat oven to 450°F with rack in middle.Pierce russet and sweet potatoes in several places with a fork, then bake in a 4-sided sheet pan until just tender, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Cool potatoes slightly, then peel and force through ricer into sheet pan, spreading in an even layer. Cool potatoes completely.
Lightly flour 2 or 3 large baking sheets or line with parchment paper.
Beat together egg, nutmeg, 1 tsp salt, and 1/2 tsp pepper in a small bowl.
Gather potatoes into a mound in sheet pan, using a pastry scraper if you have one, and form a well in center. Pour egg mixture into well, then knead into potatoes. Knead in cheese and 11/2 cups flour, then knead, adding more flour as necessary, until mixture forms a smooth but slightly sticky dough. Dust top lightly with some of flour.
Cut dough into 6 pieces. Form 1 piece of dough into a 1/2-inch-thick rope on a lightly floured surface. Cut rope into 1/2-inch pieces. Gently roll each piece into a ball and lightly dust with flour. Repeat with remaining 5 pieces of dough.
Turn a fork over and hold at a 45-degree angle, with tips of tines touching work surface. Working with 1 at a time, roll gnocchi down fork tines, pressing with your thumb, to make ridges on 1 side. Transfer gnocchi as formed to baking sheets.
FRY SAGE LEAVES AND CHESTNUTS:
Heat oil in a 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat until it shimmers. Fry sage leaves in 3 batches, stirring, until they turn just a shade lighter and crisp (they will continue to crisp as they cool), about 30 seconds per batch. Transfer to paper towels to drain. Season lightly with salt. Fry chestnuts in 3 batches, stirring, until golden and crisp, about 30 seconds per batch. Transfer to paper towels to drain. Season lightly with salt. Reserve oil in skillet.
MAKE SAUCE:
Add butter to oil in skillet with 1/2 tsp salt and cook until golden-brown, 1 to 2 minutes. Remove from heat.
COOK GNOCCHI:
Add half of gnocchi to a pasta pot of well-salted boiling water and stir. Cook until they float to surface, about 3 minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to skillet with butter sauce. Cook remaining gnocchi in same manner, transferring to skillet as cooked. Heat gnocchi in skillet over medium heat, stirring to coat.Serve sprinkled with fried sage and chestnuts and grated cheese.

COOKS’ NOTES:
Uncooked gnocchi can be frozen (first in 1 layer on a baking sheet, then transferred to a sealable bag) up to 1 month. Do not thaw before cooking.
Chestnuts can be sliced 1 day ahead and kept in an airtight container at cool room temperature.
Sauce and topping can be halved; make full recipe of gnocchi and freeze half of it.

You you you autumn know

Hey! Check it:

Yes, I decided to repeat my apple-stacking accomplishments from my favorite Apple Crumble post. There were several non-believers last time. All, you taped them together, right? Taped them? Come on. This time I’m giving myself extra points for 1) variety of apples and 2) seemingly incompatible shapes and sizes of apples. What I’m saying to you is that I have long thought I was the most accomplished apple stacker of my immediate friend group (/generation?), and I have only gotten better.

But anyway. Apples are wonderful. Can we just talk about that for a second? The fall is wonderful and apples are a big part of why. Apple cider. Apple butter. Apple sauce with pork and dumplings. Apple cinnamon oatmeal. But also? Just apples. By themselves. Crisp white flesh and bright reds and greens. I just love them.

I don’t know how to describe to you the way apple-y baked goods make me feel. Warm. At home. Safe. Spiced. There’s no way to categorize the feeling. It’s just a nice feeling, and there are so many recipes I love with all my heart and it’s impossible to choose my favorite way to bake an apple. I could do a Top 5, High Fidelity-style. In no particular order: 1) Apple Dumplings 2) Apple Crumble 3) Apple Pie 4) Apple Streudel and 5) this Apple Cake. Those are 5 fucking phenomenal items, and I hope to bring them all to you at some point. I’ve already told you about the crumble, so let’s move on to this cake.

It’s moist. It’s chock-full of cinnamon-y apples. It’s crisp on the top and then densely delicious underneath. It’s really the best apple cake. The dough around the apples soaks up all that delicious apply juice. It soaks it up and gets dense and flavorful and LOVELY.

It’s the perfect thing if you live in San Francisco but grew up in the northeast. It’s the perfect thing when you wake up longing for crisp breezes and rustling leaves but you are too poor to buy a plane ticket home until Thanksgiving. It’s the perfect thing if one of your favorite feelings is when the underside of your nose is a little chilly and then you warm it up by sticking it over a mug of hot spiced apple cider or hot cocoa.

Plus it’s pretty straightforward. Not much of a looker, but simple and sweet. Come to think of it: it makes me feel safe and warm, it’s not a hassle, it’s straightforward, and it’s only a little bit nutty–in the good way. I think what I’m saying here is that if this apple cake were a human I’d want it to be the future father of my children. And those, my friends, are the sad and cynical thoughts of a single 26 year old lass who spends too much time baking. You’re welcome.

Deb’s Mom’s Apple Cake
yeah, it’s from SmittenKitchen. Sorry.

6 apples, Mom uses McIntosh apples (i used a mixture of granny smith, honeycrisp, and gala)
1 tablespoon cinnamon
5 tablespoons sugar
2 3/4 cups flour, sifted
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup vegetable oil
2 cups sugar
1/4 cup orange juice
2 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs
1 cup walnuts, chopped (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a tube pan. Peel, core and chop apples into chunks. Toss with cinnamon and sugar and set aside.

Stir together flour, baking powder and salt in a large mixing bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together oil, orange juice, sugar and vanilla. Mix wet ingredients into the dry ones, then add eggs, one at a time. Scrape down the bowl to ensure all ingredients are incorporated.

Pour half of batter into prepared pan. Spread half of apples over it. Pour the remaining batter over the apples and arrange the remaining apples on top. Bake for about 1 1/2 hours, or until a tester comes out clean.

Rolling in it

Wow I am not even kidding, readers. Don’t even MAKE these. You’ll watch yourself put in 2 whole sticks of butter and end up with like…2 dozen cookies. Most of which you’ll eat yourself, god damn it, despite telling yourself to STOP. STOP THIS. IT’S EASY. JUST DON’T PUT ANOTHER ONE IN YOUR MOUTH. but if i eat them now they won’t be around later to tempt me! THAT IS TERRIBLE LOGIC. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO YOURSELF. ok maybe just half WHO LEAVES HALF A COOKIE aaaaggghhh.

And then you feel like the kind of girl who relates to those Cathy cartoons. And ACK! You did NOT sign up for THAT ONE.

So then you have to own your gluttony. All, no Ack. No crazed lines coming from my head. No frazzled diet diatribes (dietribes?). You are your OWN WOMAN and you EAT THOSE SNICKERDOODLES because you are slender and you work out and it’s your hot body and you DO WHAT YOU WAUNT.

Which, you know, brings up Cartman from South Park. And then your mind goes through one of those morphing animations wherein you go from your nice healthy frame to Cartman’s rotund shape in a small number of transitions. And what you don’t see in the off camera is the approximately 90 million snickerdoodles that made that transition possible.

But then there’s half a cookie sitting there and who are you to leave that kind of thing laying around?

Snickerdoodles for those with Insane Willpower
from Martha’s Cookies

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsps baking powder
1/2 tsp coarse salt
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
1 1/2 cups plus 2 tbsps sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsps ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 350. Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt into a bowl. Put butter and 1 1/2 cups sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Mix on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Mix in eggs. Reduce speed to low; gradually mix in the flour mixture.

Stir together the cinnamon and remaining 2 tbsps sugar in a small bowl. Shape dough into 20 1 3/4 inch balls; roll in cinnamon sugar. Space 3 inches apart of baking sheets lined with parchment paper.

Bake cookies, rotating sheets halfway through, until edges are golden, 12-15 minutes. Let cool on sheets on wire racks. Cookes can be stored between layers of parchment in airtight containers at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Noodling

I had this whole post written out, and I had reread it, and to be honest, it was really terribly written in the way only I know how to do. As is exemplified yet again in this newly written post’s very first sentence. Run on, too many commas, self-centered, and, and, and.

And. Then I read this article in the most recent NYT Magazine (the food issue, huzzah!). It was beautifully written, the kind of writing that is completely out of reach for someone like me. I do well with honesty, and I do well with emotion, but my words are never eloquent or useful or touching. I don’t TOUCH people with the words I write, which is ok. To be honest, I never hoped to touch people with the words I write. That’s not one of my life goals, as it must be for some people (english majors all I’d imagine).

What I have hoped before, and continue to hope, is that I can touch people with what I want my life to be. Who I want to be and what I create. The things that didn’t exist in the world before I made them exist.

What does all this have to do with fresh pasta? Well, not everything, but not nothing either. It’s just that, I hope you read this post and you make this pasta, and you throw it into a big pot of boiling salted water on a cloudy evening. And I hope you top it with some homemade meat sauce that bubbled quietly on your stove for several hours.

I hope that you pour yourself and any surrounding loved ones a glass of wine and I hope the steam from your dinner touches the wine glass for a moment and I hope you slide your finger over the condensation. I hope you eat this pasta with freshly grated cheese and I hope it makes you happy. I hope it brings you happiness like it brought me happiness, the kind of happiness food alone can bring you. Which isn’t a life-changing or complete happiness. But it’s warm and soft and I hope you sit down and have some. These are my immediate hopes for you, reader. And that is how I hope my writing touches you, by spurring you into an action that results in something that gives you that feeling.

That happiness, followed by, you know, maybe love and friendship and companionship and children and a satisfying career and health and many moments of feeling alive. But with fresh pasta all along the way.

And I promise that’s the last of my heartfeltedness today. Next post, back to my EMOTIONS and SPILLING THINGS and ISN’T LIFE A MESS?

Homemade Fresh Pasta
from the INTERNET

2 cups flour (i used 1 cup all purpose and 1 cup whole wheat pastry)
3 eggs
1/2 tsp salt

Mound the flour on a clean surface and make a well in the center. Crack the eggs into the well and beat them with a fork without disturbing the flour. Add the salt and mix. Gently incorporate the flour into the egg mixture with a fork (or your hands). With your hands, blend mixture until it becomes a dough. Knead until the dough is smooth, about 7 minutes. Let dough rest for 15 minutes.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough until it is as thin as you want, no thicker than 1/8″ (and it should be much much thinner…basically just keep rolling until you want to throw the rolling pin out the window and then roll like 3 more times).  Cut the dough with a pizza cutter into 1/4″ strips (or however fat you like your pasta).

Cook the pasta in boiling salted water for 2-3 minutes or until al dente. See? That was not hard at all.

Toast is good.

Life. It repeats itself. Even the bad parts. There exist days when it seems like ONLY the bad parts repeat. But you can take hold of the good parts and make sure that they repeat themselves as well.

Like this cinnamon raisin bread, for example. I’ve made it before, I’ve eaten half the loaf by myself, warm from the oven. So I made it again. Because there are things in life that you can’t control, and you’ll never be able to control them. And that’s ok.

Because you have the ability to put together flour and yeast and honey and milk and cinnamon and sugar and raisins. Your hands can knead the dough and you can preheat your oven and bake this bread. You have complete control over the presence of cinnamon raisin bread in your life. And by god, isn’t that nice?

Cinnamon Raisin Loaf
from the Bread Bible

Dough Starter (Sponge):
2 1/4 cups plus 2 1/2 tbsps all-purpose flour
scant 1 3/4 cups water at room temperature (70 to 90 degrees)
2 tbsps plus 1 tsp honey
3/4 tsp instant yeast

Make the sponge. In a mixer bowl or other large bowl, combine the flour, water, honey, and instant yeast. Whisk until very smooth to incorporate air, about 2 minutes. The sponger will be the consistency of a thick batter. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and cover it with plastic wrap.

Flour Mixture and Dough:
2 cups plus 3 tbsps
1/4 cup dry milk
3/4 tsp instant yeast
9 tbsps butter, softened
2 1/4 tsps salt

1 cup raisins

Combine the ingredients for the flour mixture and add to the sponge: In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour (reserve 1/4 cup if mixing by hand), dry milk, and instant yeast. Sprinkle this on top of the sponge and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Allow it to ferment for 1 to 4 hours at room temperature. (I let mine sit out for 1 hr then refrigerated overnight)

Add the butter to the bowl and mix on low speed with the dough hook for 1 minute or until the flour is moistened enough to form a rough dough. Scrape down any bits of dough. Cover the top of the bowl with plastic and allow the dough to rest for 20 minutes.
Sprinkle on the salt and knead the dough on medium speed for 7 to 10 minutes. It will not come away from the bowl until toward the last minute or so; it will be smooth and shiny and stick to your fingers. With an oiled spatula, scrape down any dough clinging to the sides of the bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to relax for 10 minutes.
Add the raisins and mix on low speed about 2 minutes to incorporate them evenly. But don’t worry too much about how well they distribute because deflating and folding the dough after the first rise will distribute them more.

Let the dough rise: Using an oiled spatula, scrape the dough into a 4-quart dough-rising container or bowl, lightly oiled with cooking spray or oil. Push down the dough and lightly spray or oil the surface. Cover with a lid or plastic wrap and allow to rise to double in volume, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
Using an oiled spatula scrape the dough onto a floured counter and press down gently to form a rectangle. It will be full of air and resilient. Try to maintain as many of the air bubbles as possible. Give the dough 1 business letter turn and set it back in the container. Oil the surface again, cover, and refrigerate for 1 hour to firm the dough for rolling.

Cinnamon Sugar Filling
1/4 cup plus 2 tbsps
4 tsps cinnamon
1 lightly beaten egg

Whisk together the sugar and cinnamon.

Shape the dough and let it rise: Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and cut it in half. Keep one piece covered while you work on the other.
On a lightly floured counter, roll out one piece of dough to a rectangle 7.5 x 14″ and about 1/4″ thick. Using your fingertips, gently press the dough all over to deflate air bubbles that result in gaps in the spiral. Brush the dough with the lightly beaten egg leaving a 3/4″ margin all around.
Sprinkle half the cinnamon sugar evenly over the dough, leaving a 3/4″ margin on all sides. Starting from the short end closest to you, roll the dough up tightly; brush the top of the dough with the egg and squeeze the dough gently all along the length of the roll with each roll so that it will adhere well to the filling. When you come to the end, make a seam by tightly pinching the edge of the dough to seal in the filling. Push in any inner coils of dough on hte sides that make have worked their way out and pinch the ends of the dough tightly together to seal. Tuck them under so that the load will fit into the pan. Place the loaf seam side down. Repeat for second loaf.
Cover the pans with a large container, or cover loosely with plastic wrap. Allow to rise 1 to 2 hours or until the center is 1 1/2″ above the sides of the pan. When the dough is pressed lightly with your fingertip, the indentation will remain.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees 45 minutes before baking. Have an oven shelf at the lowest level and place a baking stone or baking sheet on it before preheating (I put my baking sheet on the bottom of the oven).

Bake the bread: Quickly but gently set the pans on the hot baking stone and immediately shut the door. Bake for 50 minutes or until the bread is medium golden brown and a skewer inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Glaze and cool the bread: Remove the pans from the oven and set them on a wire rack. Brush the tops of the breads with melted butter. Unmold and cool top side up on a wire rack until barely warm, about 1 hour.

Fucking CHIFFON and shit

The first thing I should note about today’s recipe, a Gingery Pear Chiffon Tart, is that the preamble to the recipe states that it is ideal for a “gala dinner.” Well, I don’t know about you, but I am 26 years old and I work for a nonprofit and I live in the 2nd most expensive city in the country, so there aren’t a lot of “gala dinners” around these parts. In fact, for the most part, my dinners are a nightly challenge to see 1) how many random odds and ends I can incorporate into my meal, and 2) exactly how many days past the expiration date I am willing to go before throwing something out. You do not even want to know the answer to #2. All I can say is that I haven’t yet gotten food poisoning, but lord, I should’ve.

So, you get the idea. This recipe is a tad on the snotty side. I mean, what is something that has the word “chiffon” in the title that isn’t a bit on the snotty side? And so it shouldn’t surprise you that instead of making this for a gala dinner at which all my learned and sophisticated friends gathered around tinkling glasses of cava and goat cheese appetizers while we discussed New Yorker articles and listened to the latest track from the newest musical collective brought to you by some member of Of Montreal or Neutral Milk Hotel or Panda Bear or some band I ain’t never even HEARD OF yet, I just kinda made this. For myself. On a random Saturday afternoon.

Because that is how I ROLL my people. I don’t need some fancy dinner guests to spend 5 hours making a tart. That is the kind of shit I do willingly. Because while others might think poaching pears on a Saturday evening sounds super lame (justifiably), that is the kind of activity that brings me great joy.

Let’s talk about the recipe. First. I totally f’ed up the meringue the first time. When I’m making a multi-component recipe and I screw one of the components up, usually I just forge ahead and ignore ignore ignore. But this was unignorable. I think I added the sugar too early (patience, you fickle mistress) and the egg white never really meringued. It just got super goopy, like melted marshmallow. So I threw it out. Which was the like the first time I’ve ever thrown out something I messed up. Usually I eat it and pretend it’s not so bad. The second time I conquered my premature sugar tossing ways and was able to make a proper meringue, and the net cost was only 1 egg white, 2.5 tbsps sugar, and 1/4 tsp lemon juice, so it didn’t hurt too much when I poured the failure batch down the drain. Too much.

And the decoration is fun, right? Not as awesome as the Open-faced Designer Apple Pie (also a Rose Levy Beranbaum recipe ARE YOU SHOCKED) but you know? There is just something so satisfying about slicing a fruit really thinly and then fanning it out on the top of a tart. There is just something about that process, specifically, that elicits a reaction in my brain that no other process can elicit. It’s the thinly-sliced-and-then-fanned-out-fruit feeling. It’s a thing. It should be its own thing. Defined in some dictionary. Right?

But how do I feel about how it tastes? Well. Friends. First of all: Gingery sweet cookie tart crust. Fucking make it. I don’t care what it holds. It’s crazy good and you need to blindly trust me on this one. The chiffon? Billowy and delicious. Light and airy and fucking (remember when I was going to lay off the f-bombs?) subtly lovely. The pears? Vanilla-y and cool and refreshing. It’s the most snotty and sophisticated thing I’ve ever made, and I considered sipping champagne or something while eating it. But instead I forked it into my mouth at 7:30am Sunday morning for breakfast while I watched dirty hipsters do walks of shame down 24th st. With my pinky held out.

Gingery Pear Chiffon Tart
from the Pie and Pastry Bible, natch

Sweet Ginger Cookie Tart Crust
8 tbsp unsalted butter, cold (I froze mine so I could grate it into the bowl)
1/4 cup sguar
1 1/2 scant cups all-purpose flour (still don’t know exactly how much less “scant” means so I just kinda scooped a little off the top)
1/8 tsp salt
1 large egg yolk
2 tbsp heavy cream
2 tsps freshly grated ginger

(I’m amending and paraphrasing these instructions….you know how I feel about Rose’s directions. I don’t have the power to be so precise) Use a box grater to grate the butter into a mixer bowl. Add the sugar and blend until the sugar disappears. Add the flour and mix (I used the whisk attachment on my kitchenaid) until the butter is no larger than small peas (you might have to do some cutting). In a small bowl mix together the yolk, cream, and ginger. Add it to the flour mixture and mix until incorporated. The dough will be in crumbly pieces. Empty it into a plastic bag and press from the outside just until it holds together. Remove from the bag and place on a large piece of plastic wrap. Form into a disc and wrap tightly. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 425. Roll the dough out to 1/8″ thick or use a box grater to grate the dough into the tart pan (I used an 11″ tart pan and had JUST ENOUGH DOUGH). Press the dough into the pan and freeze it for like, I don’t know, half an hour? Bake at 425 for 5 minutes, checking every few to see if huge air bubbles have formed–if they have, prick them lightly with a fork. Then turn the oven down to 375 and bake for 10 or 15 minutes more, until the crust is golden. Cool on a rack. (Don’t remove from the pan)

For the poached pears:
2 large ripe but firm Bartlett pears, unpeeled (I used D’Anjou and I poached 3 of them and thank god, because I mangled one and needed backup)
1 1/2 cups water
2 tsps fresh squeezed lemon juice
2 tbsps poire william eau-de-vie (sorry, what? OMITTED)
1/4 cup sugar
1 inch of vanilla bean, cut lengthwise

For the custard:
2 tbsp sugar
a pinch salt
1 1/2 tsps gelatin
3 large egg yolks
3/4 reserved syrup from poaching pears
1/2 cup heavy cream

For the meringue:
1 egg white
1/8 tsp cream of tartar (or 1/4 tsp lemon juice)
2 1/2 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp poire william eau-de-vie (NOT)

For the glaze:
3/4 cup reserved syrup from poaching pears
1 tsp arrowroot (or corn starch)

Halve and core the pears just before poaching so they do not darken. In a 10″ skillet combine the water, lemon juice, and eau-de-vie (right. that.). In a small bowl, place the sugar and vanilla bean, and, using your fingers, rub the seeds into the sugar. Add the vanilla sugar and the vanilla pod to the skillet and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Place the pears, hollow side down, in the skillet and bring the liquid to a boil. Place a round of parchment on top of the pears (i just used a pot lid. is that not ok?). Simmer over low heat for 8 to 10 minutes or until soft but still firm. Remove the pan from the heat and cool to room temp. Transfer the pears and their syrup to a bowl. Cover tightly and refrigerate until ready to use. Drain the pears, reserving the liquid (about 1 3/4 cups). Remove the vanilla bean. Cover the pears & refrigerate them. Pour the liquid into a small saucepan. Boil down the liquid to 1 1/2 cups.

Make the custard filling: Chill a mixing bowl for whipping the cream. Have a fine strainer suspended over a small mixing bowl ready near the range.
In a small heavy nonreactive saucepan, using a wooden spoon, stir together the sugar, salt, gelatin, and yolks until well blended.
In another small saucepan, heat 3/4 cup of the reduced pear poaching liquid to the boiling point. Stir a few tbsps of the hot poaching liquid into the yolk mixture; then gradually add the rest of it stirring constantly.
Heat the mixture to just before the boiling point (this happens super quickly, so don’t waste time TRYING TO TAKE A PICTURE OF IT or your custard will boil and then i don’t know what happens…the world ends?). The mixture should be slightly thicker than heavy cream and will leave a well-defined track when a finger is run across the back of the spoon. Immediately remove from the heat and pour it into the strainer, scraping up the thickened custard on the bottom of the pan. Set it aside.
In the chilled bowl, whip the cream until it mounds softly when dropped from a spoon. Refrigerate while preparing the meringue.

Make the meringue: In a mixing bowl, beat the egg while until foamy. Add the cream of tartar (i substituted 1/4 tsp lemon juice, which is apparently legitimate) and beat until soft peaks form when the beater is raised slowly. Gradually beat in the sugar and continue beating until stiff peaks form. Set aside.

Chill the pear custard by placing the bowl in a bowl of ice water with a tbsp of salt added to it to speed chilling. Stir occasionally for the first 10 minutes and then slowly but constantly for about 10 minutes longer (not going to lie. very. loosely. followed those directions). When a small amount dropped from the spoon mounds very slightly on the surface before disappearing and the mixture has started to set around the edges but is still very liquid, remove from the ice-bath and whisk in the pear eau-de-vie (RIGHT). Continuing with the whisk, fold in the meringue and then the whipped cream until just incorporated. The mixture will be billowy but soupy like melted ice cream. Pour at once into the pastry shell. Cover tightly and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Use a sharp thin knife to slice the pears lengthwise into thin slices. Place a fan of overlapping slices on top of the filling with the pointed ends at the center.

Make the glaze: In a small saucepan, boil down the reserved 3/4 cup of poaching syrup to 1/4 cup. Cool it to room temperature, then add the arrowroot (cornstarch). Heat, stirring constantly, until thickened. Remove it from the heat and, using a brush, coat the pears with the glaze. Refrigerate and all to set for at least 4 hours before serving.

Under Pressure (that burns a building down, splits a family in two, puts people on streets…um ba ba beh, um ba ba beh, ee deh da)

What, do you not like Queen? Come on. Freddy Mercury? The man could SING. Oh friends, I believe I just thought of the perfect transition here. Under Pressure –> Queen –> Fat-bottomed girls –> Black bottomed cupcakes. Oh Trina. (you can’t call me that, by the way) How Do you Do it?

The real reason for the blog post title is because I was under PRESSURE whilst making these cupcakes. Because this is one of those situations where I was making someone’s FAVORITE recipe. A recipe someone else has mastered and loves dearly. One of those recipes that defines a person’s baking repertoire. And that is a Lot Of Pressure. Pushin down on me. Pushin down on you. Etc etc.

Plus this particular recipe comes from an invaluable kat in the kitch helper. Last week I baked another 80ish cookies for a small conference, and I owe most of my sanity to my kitch helper. The kind of helper that brought me a burrito and a glass of wine at exactly the right time. Who washed about a million dishes and watched as I reused them all and they needed to be washed again. And then, again. So kitchen helper gets a LOT of credit. I owe him. Big time. So I didn’t exactly want to mangle his favorite recipe. AND THAT IS A LOT OF PRESSURE.

Here is how the recipe was transcribed to me over the phone. First, I was given the ingredients. Then there was my favorite part, the instructions, which were as follows: Mix the filling. Then taste it. Then taste it again. Because it’s effing (editor’s note: trying to lay off the f-bombs) good.

These are the kinds of instructions that a girl like me can really get behind. And you know how I like to follow directions. Exactly. To the letter.

And then I got some warnings. Like, oil the shit out of the muffin pan, because otherwise these will stick. And of course I wasn’t allowed to use cupcake liners. That would be “cheating.” Cheating! Well. I’m no cheater. What I am, apparently, is a terrible muffin pan oiler. Because as you can see 2 photos above, I MANGLED. THE. CRAP. out of the first batch of these. MAN. GLED. Extreme fail. To the max. I mostly blame the fact that I was working with mini muffin pans that needed to be reused for batch 2, so batch 1 couldn’t really cool completely before being pried ever so gracefully out of their little homes. Batch #2 was slightly more put together, but still not cleanly extracted.

But the beauty of these cupcakes is that, no matter how destroyed they look, they still taste so very very good. In fact, I got more compliments on these at work than any other baked good I’ve brought in. To sum up, Queen-style: Black bottom cupcakes, they make the bakin’ world go round. (guitar solo)

Black Bottom Cupcakes
from my invaluable kitchen helper’s mother

Filling:
1 egg
1 80z package cream cheese
1/3 cup sugar
1/8 tsp salt
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Batter:
1 1/2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup water
1/2 cup veggie oil
1 tsp vinegar (i used white)
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350. Oil the SHIT out of some muffin tins, or cheat and use liners. (editor’s addition)

Mix together the ingredients for the filling. Put your finger in there a few times. Taste that. It’s good, right?

Sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. Whisk in the sugar. Add the veggie oil, vinegar, water, and vanilla and stir until smooth.

Fill the cups 1/3 of the way up-ish with the chocolate batter. Plop a heaping spoonful of the filling on top. Bake for 20-25 minutes. Let cool and then remove from pans, preferably in one piece unless you are extremely incapable, in which case these will look like shit.