Grown-up Spaghetti.

Nothing has quite the positive impact on my disposition than spending an afternoon in the kitchen. Scratch that- Nothing has quite the positive impact on my disposition than finding fresh rhubarb at the grocery store (thanks Pacific NW!) and spending an afternoon in the kitchen with Garth Brooks and a beer.


I baked the rhubarb pie that I love so dearly- and remembered to take a photo this time!

After I was done preparing dessert, I thought it would be a good idea to tackle dinner, and settled on a decidedly adult spaghetti dish. I don’t do much spaghetti these days- I suppose I’m a little burnt out on the marinara sauce. However, I used to eat my noodles exclusively with shredded cheddar cheese and butter with my pasta sauce on the side. I wasn’t much of a picky eater as a kid, but that was definitely my preference- cheesy, butter noodles. I suppose that I’m trying to say that I’ve eaten enough bland spaghetti in my life that I always think there are more interesting things I could be eating.

Saveur magazine did a bit on Roman food this month and I happened to come across a spaghetti recipe that spoke to me- Spaghetti alla carbonara. This dish involves pancetta, a whole lot of crushed black pepper, and raw eggs. I’m a huge fan of raw eggs- their whites in cocktails, their yolks in salad dressing, and now in pasta sauce! There’s a certain silky texture that raw eggs bring to the party that is able to trump any competitor. I strongly encourage the use of fresh farm eggs if you have access to them.


Spaghetti alla Carbonara- From Saveur Magazine

4 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
4 oz pancetta cut into ½ inch pieces
2 tsp freshly cracked black pepper
1 ¾ cups finely grated Parmesan
1 egg plus 3 yolks
salt
1 lb spaghetti

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add pancetta and cook, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned (6-8 minutes). Add pepper (either crushed with a mortar and pestle or ground with pepper mil on its coarsest setting) and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant (about 2 minutes). Transfer pancetta mixture into a medium bowl and let cool slightly. Stir in 1 ½ cups parmesan and egg and yolks. Stir to combine and set aside.
Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add spaghetti and cook until al dente (8-10 minutes for sea level, more like 10-12 for folks at 5,000 feet). Reserve about 1 cup of pasta water, then drain pasta. Turn off heat on element and return pot to the stovetop. Add drained pasta and toss with pancetta mixture. Add pasta water a little at a time to make a creamy sauce. Season with salt (if needed) and pepper. Serve with remaining Parmesan.

I’m usually a one-dish dinner kind of gal, but for such a deceptively anemic looking main dish, I highly recommend pairing with a zippy arugula salad with toasted walnuts, sliced pear and chevre cheese.

Bread, and an apron to bake it with.

I'm afraid that my title doesn't make sense- that you can't actually bake bread with an apron. I'm afraid that my small reading population will take me too literally. I finally got around to making an apron for myself that is the same pattern as the one I made for Audrey many months ago. I spend enough time in the kitchen, I thought it was about time that I should protect my clothing from spills, splatters, hand wipes and the like.

I splurged on the fabric (with the pattern in mind) in Portland way back when we went to Oregon for Thanksgiving. Fabric is great like that- it's the gift that keeps on giving.

In the past several months I have been honing my bread baking skills. Sourdough to be exact. We don't yet have any pets, so I have resorted to calling my fermentation projects my pets. I have a kombucha baby (or mother, depending on who you talk to) and also a sourdough sponge. Neither have names and I am currently taking suggestions.

The sourdough is not 150 years old, nor did it come from the Yukon. Nic and I made it from 'scratch' by harvesting wild yeast from the air (which I just find exceedingly cool). It gets fed at least once a week, and I have adapted a time-consuming bread baking process into one that fits into my lifestyle. I've done it enough times now I don't even need a recipe (a good thing seeing as how the bread baking book was left in Ohio). This bread is on the sour end of sourdough, which is just how I like it, keeps for several days and has a really great crumb.


the crusty crust was created by adopting the no knead bread technique of baking your bread in an already-hot dutch oven, thereby steaming the bread which in turns creates a lovely crust. And with just 4 ingredients I just think it's the most beautiful thing ever. It's almost too good to eat... almost.

Sourdough bread (my apologies if you do not have a sourdough sponge. I recommend that you procure one as soon as possible).

1 c sourdough sponge
2 c bread flour
1 tsp salt
1/3-1/2 c warm water

In a mixer with a dough hook, mix all ingredients together and continue to mix on medium speed for about 5 minutes, add more water or flour as needed to obtain a firm and elastic dough.

Turn dough out into a lightly oiled bowl. Cover and let rise for at least 4 hours (I sometimes let it rise overnight). Punch dough down and shape into desired loaf style (round). Let dough rise for at least 1 hour, ideally 2 on floured surface.

Within the last 1/2 hour of the 2nd rise, preheat the oven to 450 and place a dutch oven or other oven-save lidded casserole dish into the oven.

When dutch oven is preheated, place bread with a deep 'X' to accommodate rise in the hot dish. Cover and return to oven. When 20 minutes has passed, remove lid and continue baking for at least 10 minutes, or until bread is golden brown.

Let cool for 1 hour before devouring.

Ohio for the Holidays

Ohio was quite lovely. I had never visited this state and aside from finding out that where we were staying was referred to locally as 'Cancer Valley' found both the surrounding and the contents quite agreeable. The part of Ohio where we stayed is in the southern-ish eastern corner of the state where the hills roll and so do the buggies of the Amish.

Aside from a day trip here and there and visiting with Nic's family, there was much ado about eating and drinking and being merry. We picked up the latest issue of Saveur at one of the several airports that we visited on our way to our destination and we were inspired by the section describing the Sweedish holiday treats.


And so Nic made Lussekatter (Saffron buns).


We also made Pepparkakor (gingerbread cookies) as well as some Polkagriskola (peppermint caramels). All of these items were nibbled upon throughout the week, except for the Lussekatter which dissapeared within a couple of days.

I fancied a cardamom-pistachio cookie as well- taken from The Wednesday Chef, which falls into the realm of the 'icebox cookie'. They were good looking and tasty. 'Nough said.


To the host of Christmas dinner, I offered my pie-baking services and succeeded in a lovely and delicious apple pie. I am almost to the point where I do not need a recipe for pie... which I think is a pretty great accomplishment. I was also fortunate to be baking at a lower elevation than Bozeman, which might have increased my baking comfort level.


The vacation was also highlighted by a new (to me) hot beverage by the name of Tom & Jerry. I was so enamored with the drink that I supplied the residents of the house with a constant supply of batter.

Tom & Jerry's

2 eggs, separated
1/8 tsp cream of tartar
Rum
Brandy
2/3 c sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/8 tsp allspice
1/8 tsp cloves
Milk
Nutmeg

In a large bowl, wisk egg whites and cream of tartar to stiff peaks. In another bowl, mix yolks, 2 tsp rum, sugar, cinnamon, allspice and cloves. Fold egg whites into yolk mixture. Cover bowl and chill.
To serve, heat milk over medium-low heat. Put 1 heaping tbs batter into a mug and stir in 1-2 tbs each of brandy and rum. Fill mug with 6 tbs milk. Stir until frothy and garnish with nutmeg.

Enjoy!

Photo-less Pie

I just realized that this pie has no photos, which is a shame. It's not because the pie was un-photogenic, or ugly in any way, quite the contrary- it was the best pie I have ever made. I almost decided that the lack of photographic evidence was reason enough not to share it with y'all, but that would be a travesty upon itself. There are many good things about this pie, and it must (must!) be shared.

My grandmother on my father's side passed away before I could learn how to make pies from her- apparantly they were good. So good, that my mother refused to make pie because she thought they could never measure up- so I never learned how to make pie from my mother either. It was fine that she didn't make pie- there were plenty of Australian desserts that made up for the absence of pie from my childhood (besides, I didn't know any better). However, pie, being one of those quintessential American things, came into my radar in high school when people would bring beautiful pies to summer barbeques. It may have been that that sparked what was (until now!) my quest for the perfect pie crust.

If you don't think about the amount of sugar that goes into a pie... any pie... and instead focus on the fact that it's a purist confection, giving seasonal fruit the attention it certainly deserves, especially in summer (berries) and fall (everything else).

But what about the spring pie? The answer to this can be found in the odd vegetable matter called rhubarb.

This isn't just any rhubarb pie, it is a rhubarb pie with orange zest. These days I am continually surprised at what the addition of citrus zest brings to the table... or party... preferably both. Since I can't let the photo speak for itself, imagine:

a two-thirds eaten pie in its dish, a fork lingers on the porcelin next to hap-hazard smears of rhubarb-pink stuck with flakes of crust.

Speaking of crust, this is the best crust I have ever made (I just had to say that again). It turns out that while ingredients are very important in the composition of a crust, so too are tempreature and technique. I used to make pie crust in a bowl, containing the crumbs of butter and flour- but no more. I now prefer to make the dough on a flat tabletop, things can get messy, but that's why I have an apron.

Fresh Rhubarb Pie with Orange Zest
Adapted from Orangette

Pie Crust (from Saveur):
3 c flour
2 tsp salt
14 tbs cold cubed unsalted butter

Pie Filling
1 1/3 c granulated sugar
6 tbs flour
pinch of salt
zest from 1.5 oranges (I just had to make this diffifult)
1 1/2 lbs fresh rhubarb
1 tbs unsalted butter

Umpqua vanilla ice cream, for serving.

Mix flour and salt together. Working quickly (cold butter is one of the keys to a Perfect Pie Crust), add butter and work butter into flour with hands. Once all butter is incorporated, create a well in the center of the mixture and add 1/2 cup ice water. Mix together with hands until dough forms a cohesive ball. Next, frisage dough.

Frisage is a fancy (fancy-named anyway) technique- where you take a small amount of dough (walnut-sized) and smear it along the table surface with the heel of your hand. For lack of better understanding of the technique, it flattens out sheets of butter to create more layers and therefore a flakier pie crust.

Reshape dough into a ball, divide in half, flatten into discs and refrigerate for 1-2 hours.

Cut rhubarb into 1/2 inch slices. Mix together sugar, flour, zest and salt. I know it seams like a lot of sugar, but that's okay. Really. Toss rhubarb with sugar mixture. Let sit while you roll out the dough.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out pie dough to 1/8" thickness. Line a pie dish. Dump rhubarb filling into dish. Spot with remaining 1 tbs of butter.

Roll out second pie dough. Wet the rim of the first pastry sheet and lay the second over the rhubarb (2 techniques that can be used for this sometimes awkward process of transporting dough to pie dish is to fold gently into fouths, and then unfold onto the pie. Also, roll sheet over rolling pin and roll onto pie). Trim excess, Crimp and fold edges to look pretty. Cut slits into dough to allow steam to relase.

Brush the top of the crust liberally with egg and sprinkle with sugar for an added dramatic effect.

Cover crust with aluminum foil to prevent premature browning.

Bake at 450 farenheit for 15 minutes. Lower tempreature to 350 and continue baking for 45-55 minutes, until the rhubarb begins to bubble through the slits in the top and the top of your pie is golden.

Pulling out all the stops.

As soon as I thought of this title for this post, I started doubting myself... do people really say this? Will anyone understand? Thanks to the Internet and idiom checkers, it's confirmed:

Pulling out all the stops: to do everything you can to make something successful. In this case it included 3 cups of cream, 2 pounds of chocolate, 2 sticks of butter, rum and 7 eggs (not pictured)

I've had a hard time with my confidence with expressions from my childhood. On multiple occasions none of my college friends had any idea what I was talking about. I'd say 'it's colder than a well-digger's ass' in reference to the February weather and get looks like you wouldn't believe.

Yesterday was a very good friend's birthday- a birthday that deserved all stops be pulled out. I had recently bought a new springform pan, and so I offered up my cake baking services. Audrey requested a chocolate birthday cake and I found the chocolate cake to end all chocolate cakes in Saveur Magazine. Demel, THE Viennese bakery was highlighted in this issue and included their recipe for Truffeltorte (with an umlaut over the u)- a three-layer chocolate cake soaked in a rum syrup and partitioned with layers of whipped chocolate ganache. This would be my most challenging cake recipe to date.

But before I baked the cake, I had to make a gift. I believe I mentioned in my previous post how I had visited Fabric Depot and had gotten a lot of inspiration... it came mostly from one fabric in particular- a lovely map print of France and its regions. I'm a sucker for maps. Maps are up there on the list of things I love, in between waffles and baby animals. I knew that I needed this fabric, but also knew that if I didn't have a particular plan for it, it would languish away in a cabinet, perhaps for years, before a suitable project was found to showcase its glory. And so I made a decision, bought supplies and left the fabric store with a bounce in my step and a finished product in the very near future.

I pre-washed and cut the fabric the night I brought it home, and it was finished before I went to bed the next evening. Behold, the Friday Night Apron by Vanilla House Designs. I wanted badly to keep it for myself, but I did the right thing an informed Audrey of the impending gift (vaguely) to ensure I would not try to sabotage her birthday with my selfishness.

Ricrac is my new favorite thing to sew with- it really made the apron pop and was instantly more fun. It makes the finished product more suited to making cupcakes, or a hip cocktail party, rather than making weekday morning gruel.

Happy Birthday, Audrey!

Mother's Day Marathon.

A baking marathon, to be more specific. I've yet to participate in any large, well-organized walks or runs. Probably the only similarity that my marathon has to your standard marathon is that it's for a good cause.

That, and I think it's high time I shared my favorite quiche and all-star brunch item. As a quiche is a custard with a tasty filling, it is endlessly adaptable to whatever is in season or to whatever the preference of the chef. I took a trip to the Farmer's Market yesterday morning to look for a seasonal tasty filling. Knowing the weather would be nice, I was sure the mayhem (thousands of people wander, sometimes aimlessly, through the booths every Saturday) would start earlier than on less gorgeous days- and I made it there before 10- which wasn't early enough to miss the crowd, but, more importantly, I made it to the market before all of the farm-fresh eggs had been snatched up.

I made a B-line to Raynblest farms, some folks from Elkton who sell everything from eggs to honey and beeswax creations but also prunes and limes. Barb and Gus Eberhardt's eggs are perhaps the best I've ever seen or eaten what with their incredibly orange and firm yolk. I will continue to do my best to drag myself out of bed on Saturday mornings if only for these eggs.
Once in my posession, I went back home to prepare two items where good eggs are able to shine- lemon curd and a quiche.

I've made lemon curd before- and it was tasty, but I used a light brown sugar (all I had at the time) which made the curd turn, well, light brown. Also, I didn't strain the zest from the curd at the end which made the texture a little less smooth. If you do these things, your curd (an unfortunate name) will look, feel AND taste wonderful.

Lemon Curd

3 meyer lemons (zest and juice)
3/4 cups sugar
2 eggs
1 stick butter, sliced into 6-ish pieces

In a double boiler, combine sugar, lemon juice and zest and eggs, stirring constantly until mixture starts to thicken. Add sliced butter and continue stirring until incorporated. Remove from heat and strain through mesh colandar to remove zest. Pour into containers and refrigerate.
With how tasty this stuff is, I don't think anyone needs to worry about it going bad- it will be long gone before that happens.

Mushroom, Leek and Gruyere Quiche
Adapted from The Moosewood Cookbook.

I've been making this quiche for years and have yet to be dissapointed, I'm just sayin'.

Crust-
1 cup flour (3/4 white and 1/4 whole wheat)
1/3 cup cold butter (if unsalted, add 1/4 tsp salt to flour)
3 tbs milk or buttermilk

Cut butter into flour until well incorporated. Add liquid and mix until dough holds together. Refrigerate for at least one hour.

Filling (endlessly adaptable)-
a couple knobs of butter
3 medium leeks
1/4 lb mushrooms of choice (I used shitake this time around)
thyme, salt and pepper
1 1/2 cups gruyere cheese

Sautee leeks and mushrooms in butter. Add thyme, salt and pepper halfway thrugh the sautee process.
Grate gruyere cheese and place in the bottom of the pie pan. Cover cheese with vegetable mixture.

Custard-

4 eggs from Raynblest farms
1 1/2 cups milk
1-2 tbs dijon mustard
1/2 tsp salt
3 tbs flour

Pour custard mixture over veggies and cheese.

Stick into oven at 375 for about an hour or until the custard has set and does not so much jiggle when shaken, but shakes when jiggled.

Let cool for about an hour or refrigerate and consume the next day.

There's a little french pastry chef inside of me.

French (or Parisian) macaroons have been on my list of things to make for over a year now. I've read testimonials about how the cookie is really really (really) fussy, and that one should not expect success on first attempt. Being afraid of failure, I did what I do with other things I am afraid of failing at- avoid it. If I don't try, I don't fail. Great logic...

One week ago today I had a root canal. Because I am very anxious and apprehensive about such a procedure, the endodontist was kind enough to prescribe some very effective sedatives for me (it was that, or risk another anxiety-induced freak out). Nic was kind enough to skip class in order to drive me to an from the procedure. After I was all numb and had the roots of tooth #31 filled with putty, we went to Fred Meyer for some more drugs. I was still a bit high from the sedatives, but took the opportunity of being in a grocery store to do some shopping. I remember buying beets, eggs and maybe some fruit or yogart.

Two days after the seditives wore off, I thought back to Fred Meyer and asked Nic if I had, in fact, bought almond meal. He replied in the affirmative. My subconsious was telling me that it was time to make parisian macaroons.

And so I did. I used this recipe.

And exactly 2 out of 24 macaroon cookies turned out perfectly! It was a successful baking venture. Out of which I learned several things. Namely, after the batter is squeezed out of a pastry bag (or plastic bag with a hole in it), it should be allowed to sit for several minutes to help form a nice 'skin' on the macaroon, so that it doesn't crack and look like a desert in the middle of a 10-year draught.

But it doesn't matter that 1/2 of my cookies are drought cookies- because I made 2 perfect ones!

I also made a chocolate ganache for the filling. I'm going to take most of them to work tomorrow so that I don't end up eating them all.
Perfect!

Plum Cake Goodness.

I mentioned the plum cake two posts ago- but I think it deserves mentioning again- mostly because I've acquired more plums.

Plums in March? Yes, but not in the way that you think. My father cans the fruits of summer whole and in jam and jelly form; peaches, pears, plums, figs, blackberries, grape, etc. If I am a good daughter, he sometimes gives me jars of summer fruits if I promise to bring the jars back to him (I've got at least one shelf dedicated to 'dad's mason jars' and the small jam jars make excellent wine glasses). The peaches are always coveted the most- and for good reason- there is nothing better than a home-canned peach, except, of course, a fresh peach- unless it's march which is not the time for eating stone fruits if you care anything about flavor.

Plums are a bit of a different animal when they're canned. A stone fruit it is, but a juicy peach it is not. The plum's skin has a slightly bitter bite to it, and the flesh of a canned plum is somewhat sodden and deflated- which is to say that appearances are deceiving- especially if the jar is dusty.
I manage to somehow turn a blind eye to the fruit on the top of the jar that is exposed to preserved air and may have some odd spots on them. I try my best to forget about how awful botulism is, and remind myself how simple and tasty a plum cake is.
Plum Cake
Adapted from The Splendid Table website who got it from Marian Burros

This is a humble cake. It doesn't need any fancy presentation. I usually slice and eat it right out of the pan. It's good slightly warm and even better for breakfast the next morning.

• 1 stick butter- room temperature
  
• 1/2 c sugar
• 1/4 c brown sugar
• 3/4 c white flour
• 1/4 c whole wheat pastry flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla or lemon zest
  
• pinch salt
• 12ish canned plums (if fresh are in season, those will work).
• Cinnamon & Sugar
  

Butter a cake or pie dish. Or a spring form pan if you want to call this tasty creation a torte. Preheat oven to 350.

In a mixer, cream butter. Add sugar. Mix until fluffy. Scrape down sides and add eggs and vanilla or zest. Mix well.

In separate bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Add dry ingredients to everything else and mix until a batter is created.

Turn batter into prepared dish or pan.

On a cutting board, half and de-stone the plums. Arrange plums on top of the batter, skin side down. Dust generously with cinnamon and sugar.

Stick the cake-to-be in the oven for about 45 minutes or until golden brown and tasty.

Oh, Martha!

I've been in a cake baking rut. A rut in the sense that my past 3 of 4 cake-like items I have baked have turned out sub-par. This not only upsets me, but makes me not want to bake for fear of another failure.

First there was a cake I made for work. I was so ashamed of the lack of sponginess that I referred to it as a torte.

Then there was the cupcakes that turned hard and resembled hockey pucks.

Then there was a successful plum cake/torte(!).

Lastly there was a less-than-successful plum cake/torte, The plums were enveloped by the cake when they should have been surrounded by it. I made a repeat of the plum cake/torte for two reasons.

1. An attempt at consistency.

2. To boost my confidence.

Instead, I apologized profusely to my guest and boyfriend as we destroyed (ate) the evidence of the sunken-plum cake.

This past weekend I decided it was time to put away silly doubts, It was Jody's Birthday, and she deserved a homemade cake. In order to get over my self-doubt I tried some positive self-affirmations (something I learned in my self-defense for women class- but a handy technique when applied to other areas of life). 'I AM a strong and powerful woman!' was adapted to, 'I CAN bake a delicious cake!' I thought back to double-layered cake successes, as well as incredibly moist and perfectly spiced pumpkin cupcakes. I thought some more and remembered where I had found the most perfect pumpkin cupcake recipe- why from Martha Stewart, of course! Whatever you say about Martha Stewart, you cannot talk shit about her cakes. I'm sure savvy business sense helped her get where she is today- but she certainly couldn't have done it if her cakes sucked. After briefly searching her website (which, by the way, is a lovely and calming yet cheerful shade of Tiffany green/blue), I settled on a decidedly classy and un-fussy Devils Food Chocolate Cake.

And you know what...

It was a success!

I felt so confident about my baking on Saturday, that I not only baked a cake, but also a loaf of bread (no-knead style),

and a tuna-noodle casserole (made with cream of mushroom soup from Soup Swap), complete with breadcrumbs!

After that, I was exhausted. So I watched Gone With The Wind.


Devils Food Chocolate Cake
-Adapted from Martha Stewart

• 1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, plus more for pans
• 3/4 cup natural unsweetened Hershey's cocoa, plus more for pans
  
• 1/2 cup boiling water
• 2 1/4 cups sugar
• 1 tablespoon vanilla extract
• 4 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 3 cups sifted flour
  
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 cup milk

Preheat oven to 350. Butter 2 cake pans. Cut out some circles in parchment paper and put in bottom. Dust with cocoa and set aside. Add boiling water to cocoa powder. Mix and set aside.

In your boyfriend's Kitchenaid mixer, whip butter with paddle attachment. Add sugar and blend until fluffy. Scrape down sides and whip again. Add vanilla and eggs gradually. Blend until smooth and uniform.

Sift all dry ingredients together. Stir milk into cocoa paste- it will look delicious, but it is not.

Alternate adding flour and cocoa mixture, to butter/sugar whip. Mix until mixture is mixed.

Divide batter evenly among cake pans. Bake for 35ish minutes- or until toothpick or other sharp item you stab into cake comes out clean.

Let rest for 15 minutes. Turn out onto wire rack to cool.

Make frosting.

Tasty Chcolate Frosting-

• 1 stick butter
• 2 cups powdered sugar
• 1 1/2 cups chocolate pieces
• cream

In a double boiler, begin to melt chocolate pieces. In mixer, whip butter. Sift powdered sugar into butter. Add cream and more powdered sugar if desired to acheive the consistancy you want.

When chocolate pieces are melty, remove from heat. pour in some cream- give it a good glug. Stir. Allow to cool for a bit then add to butter/sugar mixture. Whip to desired consistancy.

When the cake is COMPLETELY cooled, you're ready to frost. Start with a bread knife and cut off the rounded tops of the cake- this not only gives you something to nibble on- it also gives you great surfaces to work with. No wonky cakes here, no sir.

Frost the top of one cake. Put the other cake on top of the first. Frost the rest of the cake. Put a crazy-huge daffodil on your cake for beauty and to remind everyone else about spring... and GMO daffodils.

Enjoy!