Dessert First

Strawberry Mango Verrine

Apologies for my absence last week - I was working on a post that hasn't quite come together yet. Perhaps the brief heat wave we had was partly to blame: who wants to be inside plinking away on a computer when it's a beyond-gorgeous 90 degrees outside with nary a cloud in sight? For once, the tourists in their shorts and sandals weren't out of place, and the city was suffused - nay, drenched in a swell of sunshine that smelled of suntan lotion and ice cream instead of sea and salt and fog.

I walk across my kitchen on bare feet, luxuriating in the smooth feel of the wood, sun-warm even after the rays have long passed. Outside the window, a sunset trails its fingers of tangerine and raspberry and plum and caramel across a darkening sky. Later, when the colors have been scrubbed clean to black, we hear a familiar whistle and pop and look back outside to see fireworks blooming almost shyly from behind Coit Tower. Such a tease of summer. We pull our chairs out onto the balcony, and it's still so comfortingly warm that I think of childhood evenings in San Jose, where many a balmy summer night was spent outside riding bikes and listening to crickets. This night in San Francisco, it's so warm we can wear just tank tops and shorts, and we sit in our chairs watching fireworks glimmer in the sky in some unknown celebration but which we decide is just a spontaneous expression of the pure happiness that comes with being alive on a beautiful day.

So no, I didn't quite get around to doing a post.

But my mother came into town at the end of the week, and I knew she would be expecting a dessert. Something simple and not too sweet, to suit her tastes, and something that wouldn't require me to use the oven in an already-hot kitchen. Answer came in the form of the tumble of fruits on my counter - fruits and summer go together like swimsuits and swimming pools.

Strawberries and mangos - two fruits I love and my mom loves too. I thought of the fruity concoctions served at Hong Kong's Hui Lau Shan, and decided on a strawberry and mango verrine - or a parfait, if you prefer. Layering various components in a glass is one of the simplest and loveliest ways to present dessert.

The mangos were quickly pureed with a bit of lime juice (lemon juice works just as well), and the strawberries cubed and tossed with a bit of sugar. For the top layer, I wanted to do a traditional pastry cream, but I thought it might be a little heavy - most traditional Chinese desserts shy away from heavy, cloying fillings - and lightened it with some whipped cream.

The result is like the thrill of diving into the deep end of the pool; you dip your spoon in through the various layers, coming up to air with a spoonful of pleasure. As with all parfaits, this is easily adaptable to any fruit that suits your fancy: try to go for a mix of colors, tastes and textures (as I contrasted the smooth mango puree with the chunks of strawberries). 

I think my mom enjoyed it, and best of all, she's around for a while longer so I get to celebrate this beautiful weather with her some more. Hope you are enjoying May as spring unfurls towards summer.

P.S. I'm just getting back into the blogging groove after finishing my book, and I barely have time to write about what I'm baking, let alone what I've been reading. In lieu of a book-review post, check out the sidebars for what's been gracing my kitchen table lately - hope you find a tome or two to tempt you!

Strawberry Mango Verrines

Makes about 4 servings

1 cup (218 g) milk

2 Tablespoons (30 g) + 3 Tablespoons (44 g) sugar

3 egg yolks

2 Tablespoons (14 g) cornstarch

1 teaspoon vanilla

3/4 cup heavy cream

3 to 5 mangos (about 600 g total)

1 tablespoon lime juice

1 pint strawberries

sugar to taste

To make the pastry cream, combine 3/4 cup (172g) of the milk with 2 Tablespoons (30g) of sugar in a small saucepan. Heat on the stove over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved and bubbles appear on the edge of the pan.

Meanwhile, whisk together the egg yolks and 3 Tablespoons (44g) sugar in a bowl.

Whisk the cornstarch and remaining 1/4 cup (46g) milk in a small bowl and then add to the egg yolk mixture, whisking to combine.

Pour the hot milk into the egg mixture, whisking constantly to prevent the eggs from cooking.

Return the entire mixture to the saucepan and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly until the mixture thickens. Stir in the vanilla.

Scrape the pastry cream into a bowl, press a piece of plastic wrap to the surface, and refrigerate until needed.

When you are ready to use the pastry cream, whip the cream in a mixer to soft peaks, and then fold gently into the pastry cream to lighten.

To prepare the bottom mango layer, peel the mangos and slice away the flesh from the pit. Cut the flesh into small cubes - you will need about 300g total.

Puree about 100 g of the mango cubes with the lime juice and up to 1/4 cup of sugar to taste until smooth.

Pour the mango puree into the bottom of 4 glasses, filling about 1/3 full.

Wash and hull the strawberries, and cut into small cubes. Toss with about 1 tablespoon (more or less to taste) of sugar.

Pour the strawberries on top of the mango layer in each glass.

Spread the pastry cream on top of the strawberries in a smooth layer.

Decorate the top with sliced fruit.

Refrigerate for about a hour before serving.

Tagged with: strawberry mango verrine

Bite This!

Pandan Cheesecake Pops - An Alluring New Flavor

Elle of Feeding My Enthusiasms and Deborah of Taste and Tell, two blogs I totally adore, picked something quite playful and adorable for this month’s Daring Bakers – cheesecake pops from Sticky, Chewy, Messy, Gooey by Jill O'Connor.

Elle and Deborah gave us quite a bit of leeway in customizing our pops, which I’m sure has resulted in a dazzling display of creativity among all the Daring Bakers. For my part, I found this recipe an opportunity to play with an interesting new addition to my pantry: pandan leaves.

Pandan leaves, or screwpine leaves, as they as also called, come from Southeast Asia, and are used in a variety of ways, from flavoring savory dishes to scenting jasmine rice. Pandan possesses a uniquely nutty, floral flavor, quite unexpected from the leafy green fronds. This subtle sweetness also makes pandan a natural for baking: one classic dessert is pandan chiffon cake, a fluffy, angel-food like concoction distinguished by its spring green hue which comes from the pandan leaf juice itself.

So where are pandan leaves found outside of Asia? Surprisingly, they were almost under my nose – frozen pandan leaves are often carried in Asian supermarkets, and I actually found fresh ones in Chinatown! Another reason why I love living here – there’s always something new to uncover. If you can’t find pandan leaves, there is also pandan extract and pandan paste – in fact, many recipes will often call for these substitutes instead. Having found both at the supermarket, I purchased them to do a little comparison baking in the kitchen.

Onto the recipe itself: I must confess that this was not my favorite recipe. The cheesecake was easy enough to make and set nicely, but I had difficulty forming it into balls for dipping. The cheesecake was a little too soft to work with, although I think it was an excellent texture for cheesecake: if I had baked it longer, I think it might have turned rubbery. So it was a good cheesecake, but I just had trouble getting it into its final form.

Dipping the cheesecake balls in melted chocolate proved not too tricky either, but I think these pops might store better in the freezer than the refrigerator. Storing them in the fridge kept the cheesecake centers a little too soft so the wooden skewers did not stay in very securely. Ultimate verdict: this is a nice recipe, and very nicely adaptable, but I think I enjoyed it more for the chance to experiment with flavors than actually making them.

In working the pandan leaves, I wasn’t convinced at all initially that these long leaves would actually work as described. They had a grassy smell (naturally), and after blending them with some water to get pandan juice, it still smelled grassy – and tasted that way too. I was certainly glad I had some pandan extract at this point!

I added the juice to half the batter, which fortunately did not change color – I was afraid I’d be breaking the challenge rules! Apparently it takes a lot of pandan juice to add color to a dish – many recipes call for food coloring or pandan paste in addition to achieve the verdant hue. Pandan extract and pandan paste usually have food coloring that will most certainly turn whatever they’re added to quite green!

I added a teaspoon of pandan paste to the rest of the batter and sure enough, it immediately turned bright green. Here’s an image of the two cakes for comparision:

Tastewise, I had yet another surprise. Both cheesecakes tasted very similar. I was so certain the one with pandan juice would taste grassy, but in fact it somehow transformed in the oven into a smooth, creamy cake with an elusive, sweet flavor almost like a floral vanilla – and it no longer smelled like grass. The cheesecake with pandan paste tasted a little stronger, perhaps because of the amount of paste I added, but the flavor itself was quite close. What a pleasant discovery! So I can recommend using pandan extract or paste if you can’t find leaves, as the results are close enough to be indistinguishable.

I’ve almost used up the leaves, but the paste will last me a long time – and now I’m curious to keep playing around with this intriguing new flavor!

Thanks for another fun Daring Bakers Challenge!

Cheesecake Pops

Makes 30 – 40 Pops   

5 8-oz. packages cream cheese at room temperature

2 cups sugar

¼ cup all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

5 large eggs

2 egg yolks

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

¼ cup heavy cream

Boiling water as needed

Thirty to forty 8-inch lollipop sticks 

1 pound chocolate, finely chopped – you can use all one kind or half and half of dark, milk, or white (Alternately, you can use 1 pound of flavored coatings, also known as summer coating, confectionary coating or wafer chocolate – candy supply stores carry colors, as well as the three kinds of chocolate.)

2 tablespoons vegetable shortening   

Assorted decorations such as chopped nuts, colored jimmies, crushed peppermints, mini chocolate chips, sanding sugars, dragees) - Optional   

Position oven rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 325 degrees F. Set some water to boil.

In a large bowl, beat together the cream cheese, sugar, flour, and salt until smooth. If using a mixer, mix on low speed.  Add the whole eggs and the egg yolks, one at a time, beating well (but still at low speed) after each addition. Beat in the vanilla and cream.   

Grease a 10-inch cake pan (not a springform pan), and pour the batter into the cake pan. Place the pan in a larger roasting pan. Fill the roasting pan with the boiling water until it reaches halfway up the sides of the cake pan. Bake until the cheesecake is firm and slightly golden on top, 35 to 45 minutes.

Remove the cheesecake from the water bath and cool to room temperature. Cover the cheesecake with plastic wrap and refrigerate until very cold, at least 3 hours or up to overnight.   

When the cheesecake is cold and very firm, scoop the cheesecake into 2-ounce balls and place on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Carefully insert a lollipop stick into each cheesecake ball. Freeze the cheesecake pops, uncovered, until very hard, at least 1 – 2 hours.

When the cheesecake pops are frozen and ready for dipping, prepare the chocolate. In the top of a double boiler, set over simmering water, or in a heatproof bowl set over a pot of simmering water, heat half the chocolate and half the shortening, stirring often, until chocolate is melted and chocolate and shortening are combined. Stir until completely smooth. Do not heat the chocolate too much or your chocolate will lose it’s shine after it has dried. Save the rest of the chocolate and shortening for later dipping, or use another type of chocolate for variety.   

Alternately, you can microwave the same amount of chocolate coating pieces on high at 30 second intervals, stirring until smooth.

Quickly dip a frozen cheesecake pop in the melted chocolate, swirling quickly to coat it completely. Shake off any excess into the melted chocolate. If you like, you can now roll the pops quickly in optional decorations. You can also drizzle them with a contrasting color of melted chocolate (dark chocolate drizzled over milk chocolate or white chocolate over dark chocolate, etc.) Place the pop on a clean parchment paper-lined baking sheet to set. Repeat with remaining pops, melting more chocolate and shortening (or confectionary chocolate pieces) as needed.   

Refrigerate the pops for up to 24 hours, until ready to serve.

 

Tagged with: Jill O'Connor + pandan cheesecake pops + pandan + daring bakers

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Another New Year to Celebrate

One thing about living so near the San Francisco Chinatown - you'll never miss Chinese New Year, because the sound of firecrackers will start resounding through the neighborhood about a week before the actual celebration.

Of course, that's exactly how the Chinese would have it - I'd love to see a week-long celebration here in the US for, say, Fourth of July, or Thanksgiving, or our own New Year. Back at my parents' home in Hong Kong, my mom has been busy cleaning every room of the house and preparing many of the traditional New Year's dishes, like whole fish, dumplings, and jai, or Buddha's Delight, a vegetarian noodle dish. My dad is undoubtedly stuffing dozens of red envelopes with lucky money for all his nieces and nephews.

There is a traditional Chinese New Year's cake, called nian gao, which means literally year cake but which can also translate to "every year higher; suggesting that if you eat this cake you'll do better every year! Nian gao is made from glutinous rice flour mixed with Chinese brown sugar and steamed to a sticky, chewy consistency, similar to Japanese mochi and other sweets made with glutinous rice flour.

Is that what I made for Chinese New Year? I have to make a confession: Nian gao really isn't one of my favorite sweets! I'll eat it, but I haven't really been tempted to make it in the kitchen. Maybe for next year I'll attempt a version that captures my tastebuds a little more. But for this year, I decided instead to use another traditional New Year food, the tangerine in my baking. The word for tangerine in Chinese sounds similar to the word for luck, and you'll see people carrying potted tangerine trees or bags of the bright orange fruit home in Chinatown.

Tangerines come in several varieties, from Clementines to tangelos, which are actually grapefruit-tangelo hybrids. The tangerines you will most often see in Chinatown, with deep green leaves still attached, are sometimes called mandarins and have a brighter, tarter flavor than oranges. They make a superb substitute for lemons, which is exactly what I decided to do - make my favorite lemon curd with tangerines.

The tangerine curd is delectably smooth, pleasingly tart, and a dollop is the perfect topper for a slice of sponge cake - in this case, a version of the Japanese castella. Sweetened with honey, its rich flavor and tight, fine crumb make it a perfect tea time cake.

I also used up my remaining Meyer lemons to make some lemon curd - I couldn't resist. Both of them are irresistible on the castella.

Thursday marks the official first day of Chinese New Year 4706, or the Year of the Rat. I'm sure by Wednesday night the occasional firecracker pop outside my window will have become a deafening cacophony - but I wouldn't have it any other way. Happy New Year, and best wishes of happiness and prosperity to you all, in your baking endeavors and everything else!

For other Chinese New Year's traditions, you can read last year's post.

Oh, and as a reminder, voting opens today (Monday) in the Death by Chocolate contest at Culinate! Please consider clicking on the image below to go to the Culinate website and vote for me! Remember, if you vote you get a chance at winning a trip to Napa as well! Thank you so much!

Tangerine Curd

adapted from Pierre Hermé's Desserts

makes about 1 1/2 to 2 cups

1/2 cup sugar

zest from 3 tangerines

2 eggs

1/2 cup freshly squeezed tangerine juice

3 1/2 ounces butter, cut into 1 inch pieces, softened but not melting

Create a water bath by placing a saucepan of water over heat to simmer and placing a metal bowl unto the pan so its bottom does not touch the water. Combine the sugar and tangerine zest together with your fingers and add to the metal bowl. Whisk in the eggs and tangerine juice.

Cook the mixture over the simmering water, whisking constantly, until the cream reaches 180 degrees and thickens. Keep whisking while the mixture is heating up to prevent the eggs from cooking.

Once the cream is thickened - you should be able to make tracks in the mixture with your whisk - take the cream off the heat and strain it into the bowl of a food processor or blender. Let the cream rest for a bit until it cools to about 140 degrees.

Add in the butter pieces a few at the time and combine on high speed. Once all of the butter has been added, let the mixture combine for a few minutes longer to ensure the mixture is perfectly smooth. It is the addition of butter that changes this recipe from a simple lemon curd to a rich, satiny-smooth cream.

Once the cream is finished pour it into a container and let it chill in the refrigerator for about half an hour before assembly.

Honey Castella

adapted from Pichet Ong's The Sweet Spot

makes 16 mini cakes

1 1/2 cups ( 7 1/2 oz) flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

7 large eggs

3 egg yolks

1 3/4 cups (11 oz) sugar

1/4 cup ( 3 1/2 oz) honey

1/4 cup oil

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. If you have mini cake pans (about 9"x13" with slots for eight cakes), grease the pans well. Or you can make one large 9"x13" cake.

Combine the flour and salt together in a bowl and set aside.

Beat the eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and honey together in a bowl and set over a saucepan of simmering water. Whisk constantly until the mixture is thick and smooth and the sugar dissolved, about 6 to 8 minutes. Do not let the mixture get too hot or boil.

Pour mixture into bowl of a stand mixer with the whisk attachment for several minutes on medium speed until the mixture is pale yellow and has increased in volume, about 10 minutes. Carefully fold in the flour mixture with a rubber spatula.

Pour about 1 cup of the mixture into a medium bowl. Pour in the oil, whisking to incorporate. Slowly pour the oil mixture back into the rest of the batter and whisk thoroughly to combine.

Divide batter among cake pans. Bake in the oven for about 10 minutes, then turn the temperature down to 300 degrees and bake for another 15 minutes until the tops are dark brown and a tester inserted into the center of the cakes come out clean.

Let cakes cool on rack before unmolding.

Tagged with: Chinese New Year + tangerine curd+ lemon curd+ honey castella

Bite This!

Daring Bakers Challenge: Lemon Meringue Lovelies

It barely seems like the new year's had time to settle in, and it's time for Daring Bakers already! This month's host is Jen of the lovely The Canadian Baker, and she picked a great classic for us to make: lemon meringue pie. When I think of lemon meringue I always think of those Strawberry Shortcake dolls I played with as a child; I had the Strawberry Shortcake doll (of course) and my sister had the Lemon Meringue doll. I remember she had a big poufy hat that looked just like a swirl of fluffy meringue. I never did understand why her pet was a little frog though; I guess they were running out of different animals to assign to each character!

(As a aside, maybe I'm showing my age, but I like classic Strawberry Shortcake. I'm not really too keen on the modernized trendy new Strawberry Shortcake dolls I'm seeing in stores. And it looks like they gave Lemon Meringue a new pet - a skunk! Wow, this girl just can't catch a break, can she?)

I'm really glad Jen picked the lemon meringue pie, because I'm seeing some beautiful Meyer lemons at the market right now, little splashes of perky sunshine just begging to be used. I really love Meyer lemons, from their painter's palette-bold yellow color to their elegant smooth skins to their subtle tang. I'm already hoarding a batch in my kitchen with eager ideas for them, and making lemon meringue pie fit right into the plans.

I have to give a real thumbs up to this recipe as well; easy to execute with fantastic results. I'm not really a pie person; long time readers will notice I'm more of a tart girl, but this pie crust recipe came together and rolled out like a dream. My only issue was that the crusts shrunk a little more than I anticipated during baking, so I didn't get as deep-dish a pie as I wanted. Nevertheless, the baked crust was flaky, buttery, and a lovely container for the lemon curd filling.

Since I used Meyer lemons, the filling didn't have the traditional zing of other lemon meringue pies, but a creamy, smooth, and wholly satisfying lemon flavor. I really liked the addition of butter to the filling, as it reminds me a great deal of my favorite lemon curd by Pierre Herme. As luck would have it, it's been pouring buckets here in the Bay Area, and anyone who's dealt with meringues knows that humidity is meringue's worst enemy. And why does it always seem to turn humid the day you decide to whip up some egg whites? Nevertheless, the meringue whipped up as billowy and satin-shiny as you please, and baked up beautifully in the oven.

Playing around with piping the meringue made for great fun as well: I liked the little dots as shown in the first picture above.

Or you could go for some ruffly peaks.

Or perhaps just the classic swirly mounds.

These little darlings are really best eaten right out of the oven, though; especially on a rainy day, they just don't hold up for very long. Altogether this was a great Daring Bakers exercise; the little pies were polished off quite handily. Thanks to Jen for another fun challenge!

Lemon Meringue Pie
(from "Wanda's Pie in the Sky" by Wanda Beaver)
 
Makes one 10-inch (25 cm) pie

For the Crust:
3/4 cup (180 mL) cold butter; cut into ½-inch (1.2 cm) pieces
2 cups (475 mL) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup (60 mL) granulated sugar
1/4 tsp (1.2 mL) salt
1/3 cup (80 mL) ice water

For the Filling:
2 cups (475 mL) water
1 cup (240 mL) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (120 mL) cornstarch
5 egg yolks, beaten
1/4 cup (60 mL) butter
3/4 cup (180 mL) fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp (15 mL) lemon zest
1 tsp (5 mL) vanilla extract

For the Meringue:
5 egg whites, room temperature
1/2 tsp (2.5 mL) cream of tartar
1/4 tsp (1.2 mL) salt
1/2 tsp (2.5 mL) vanilla extract
3/4 cup (180 mL) granulated sugar

To Make the Crust:
Make sure all ingredients are as cold as possible. Using a food processor or pastry cutter and a large bowl, combine the butter, flour, sugar and salt.Process or cut in until the mixture resembles coarse meal and begins to clump together. Sprinkle with water, let rest 30 seconds and then either process very briefly or cut in with about 15 strokes of the pastry cutter, just until the dough begins to stick together and come away from the sides of the bowl. Turn onto a lightly floured work surface and press together to form a disk. Wrap in plastic and chill for at least 20 minutes.

Allow the dough to warm slightly to room temperature if it is too hard to roll. On a lightly floured board (or countertop) roll the disk to a thickness of 1/8 inch (.3 cm). Cut a circle about 2 inches (5 cm) larger than the pie plate and transfer the pastry into the plate by folding it in half or by rolling it onto the rolling pin. Turn the pastry under, leaving an edge that hangs over the plate about 1/2 inch (1.2 cm). Flute decoratively. Chill for 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350ºF (180ºC). Line the crust with foil and fill with metal pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes. Carefully remove the foil and continue baking for 10 to 15 minutes, until golden. Cool completely before filling.

To Make the Filling:
Bring the water to a boil in a large, heavy saucepan. Remove from the heat and let rest 5 minutes. Whisk the sugar and cornstarch together. Add the mixture gradually to the hot water, whisking until completely incorporated. Return to the heat and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly until the mixture comes to a boil. The mixture will be very thick. Add about 1 cup (240 mL) of the hot mixture to the beaten egg yolks, whisking until smooth. Whisking vigorously, add the warmed yolks to the pot and continue cooking, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to a boil. Remove from the heat and stir in butter until incorporated. Add the lemon juice, zest and vanilla, stirring until combined. Pour into the prepared crust. Cover with plastic wrap to prevent a skin from forming on the surface, and cool to room temperature.

To Make the Meringue:
Preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Using an electric mixer beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar, salt and vanilla extract until soft peaks form. Add the sugar gradually, beating until it forms stiff, glossy peaks. Pile onto the cooled pie, bringing the meringue all the way over to the edge of the crust to seal it completely. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, or until golden. Cool on a rack. Serve within 6 hours to avoid a soggy crust.

Tagged with: lemon meringue tartlets + Daring Bakers

Bite This!

Mango Memories

One of my favorite treats to get while I was in Hong Kong was a cold mango drink from Hui Lau San. I particularly gravitated towards a concoction of mango juice mixed with coconut milk, tapioca balls and chunks of fresh mango - rich and refreshing tropical bliss.

I decided to create a dessert version of that drink when I returned home, and here's the result: a parfait made of layers of mango cubes, rich coconut pastry cream, soft mango mousse, and a sprinkling of tapioca on top, like a dash of caviar.

Unfortunately the coconut pastry cream didn't come out as white as I'd hoped due to the eggs in the recipe; although I lightened it with a bit of whipped cream the resulting hue is still fairly close to the color of the mango mousse. I didn't get the tri-color layering that I wanted - but the flavors are still a sensual combination of creamy, fruity, velvety, chewy, fluffy: a sweet memory of Hong Kong.

 

It's hard for me to imagine anyone not loving the mango, which embodies all the honeyed, voluptuous charms tropical fruits possess, from the rainbow-hued skin to its florid scent. Consuming a burstingly ripe mango by hand on a warm summer's day is a gloriously heady exercise. Most likely mangoes will still be firm and unripe when you purchase them; let them sit in a paper bag for a few days until the flesh yields slightly under light pressure, and the fruit smells wonderfully sweet.

Of course, mangoes are also known for that annoyingly large pit in the center. I used to have to practice slicing and scoring halves off of mangoes to make those pretty "blossoms" to decorate fruit tarts; now I discover there's a handy pitter that's been invented to easily separate the mango flesh from the pit. Does it work? I don't know, but it could be worth a try!

The sweet fruitiness of the mango makes a lovely partner to the lush creaminess of coconut. Using coconut milk in place of dairy milk to make pastry cream results in an even richer, thicker product; sinfully velvety on the tongue and a perfect foil to the airiness of the mango mousse.

The chilly winds of winter are still blowing here, but a bite of this dessert and I can almost feel the sunshine coming through the clouds.

Mango Coconut Parfait

makes about 6-8 servings

Coconut Pastry Cream

1 cup (218 g) coconut milk

2 Tablespoons (30 g) + 3 Tablespoons (44 g) sugar

3 egg yolks

2 Tablespoons (14 g) cornstarch

1 teaspoon vanilla

3/4 cup heavy cream

Fresh Mango and Mango Mousse

3 ripe mangos (about 600 g total)

1 1/2 teaspoons gelatin

1/2 cup (100 g) sugar (plus more to taste)

1 cup heavy cream

To make the pastry cream, combine 3/4 cup (172g) of the coconut milk with 2 Tablespoons (30g) of sugar in a small saucepan. Heat on the stove over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved and bubbles appear on the edge of the pan.

Meanwhile, whisk together the egg yolks and 3 Tablespoons (44g) sugar in a bowl.

Whisk the cornstarch and remaining 1/4 cup (46g) coconut milk in a small bowl and then add to the egg yolk mixture, whisking to combine.

Pour the hot milk into the egg mixture, whisking constantly to prevent the eggs from cooking.

Return the entire mixture to the saucepan and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly until the mixture thickens. Stir in the vanilla.

Scrape the pastry cream into a bowl, press a piece of plastic wrap to the surface, and refrigerate until needed.

When you are ready to use the pastry cream, whip the cream in a mixer to soft peaks, and then fold gently into the pastry cream to lighten.

To prepare the bottom mango layer, peel the mangos and slice away the flesh from the pit. Cut the flesh into small cubes - you will need about 300g total. Save the rest of the mangoes for the mousse.

Puree about 100 g of the mango cubes with 1/4 cup (or more to taste) of sugar until smooth.

Combine the mango cubes with the puree and pour into individual serving glasses to make the first layer.

Top the mango layer with a layer of the coconut pastry cream. Refrigerate while you are making the mango mousse.

To make the mango mousse, puree the remaining mango flesh with about 1/4 cup (or more to taste) of sugar until smooth.

Place about a third of the puree in a saucepan with the gelatin and heat on low heat, stirring constantly until the gelatin is melted.

Pour the warm puree out into the rest of the puree and let it cool slightly until it thickens a bit, but don't let the gelatin solidify.

Whip the cream in a mixer bowl until it holds soft peaks.

Carefully fold the whipped cream into the mango puree until it is combined. Divide it among the serving glasses. Refrigerate overnight to let the mousse set.

Tagged with: mango coconut parfait + coconut pastry cream + mango mousse

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Daring Bakers Challenge: Teeny Bostini

One of the best aspects of being in the Daring Bakers is learning about new recipes you've never heard of or might never have thought of trying. This was the case this month, when our host Mary of Alpineberry unveiled our challenge: her favorite recipe for Bostini Cream Pie. This dessert was actually created in San Francisco by Donna Scala and Kurt Baguley of the Bay Area classics Scala's Bistro and Bistro Don Giovanni. A twist on Boston cream pie, this recipe consists of a zesty orange chiffon cake in a pool of velvety vanilla custard, drizzled with a deep chocolate sauce. Every spoonful is pure creamy luxury in your mouth, a perfect comfort dessert for the cold winter months.

Since the recipe components were fairly straightforward and Mary gave us free reign to assemble them as we pleased, this was an opportunity to get creative with our plating techniques. My first thought when I looked at the fluffy cake, the pale yellow custard, and the rich dark chocolate was that this could be one of Pierre Hermé's Emotions, those little test tubes in which gustatory delight are alchemized into museum-worthy perfection. I decided, what more elegant way to show off and contrast the various elements of the Bostini than layered in a glass?

Although the Emotions are presented in wider, rounder, glasses, I went with smaller, narrower vodka glasses because I liked the idea of displaying them all on ice, just like shots of vodka. Indeed, with a glass this small and narrow, you almost want to "shoot" the entire dessert at once - or at least make sure there is an appropriately tiny spoon handy!

It's not necessary, of course, to use shot glasses - be sure to check all the other Daring Bakers to get some other very creative and lovely takes on this recipe - but you should try out the recipe at least once, as I really loved the combination of flavors and textures. The only thing I might do differently next time is to bake the cake in a smaller pan; I spread the cake batter out in a half sheet pan and cut out circles for the glasses from it, but it wasn't quite thick enough to get the depth I needed so I ended up having to layer several cutout circles. I probably should have used a smaller pan so it would have baked up thicker in the first place. Nevertheless, the cake was wonderfully light and moist, and the orange was a nice tart note to balance out the richness of the custard and the chocolate. Thanks Mary for giving the Daring Bakers another fun challenge!

Bostini Cream Pie
makes 8 generous servings

Custard:
3/4 cup whole milk
2 3/4 tablespoons cornstarch
1 whole egg, beaten
9 egg yolks, beaten
3 3/4 cups heavy whipping cream
1/2 vanilla bean

1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon sugar

Chiffon Cake:
1 1/2 cups cake flour
3/4 cup superfine sugar
1 1/3 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup canola oil
1/3 cup beaten egg yolks (3 to 4 yolks)
3/4 cup fresh orange juice
1 1/2 tablespoons grated orange zest
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup egg whites (about 8 large)
1 teaspoon cream of tartar

Chocolate Glaze:
8 ounces semi or bittersweet chocolate
8 ounces unsalted butter


To prepare the custard:

Combine the milk and cornstarch in a bowl; blend until smooth. Whisk in the whole egg and yolks, beating until smooth. Combine the cream, vanilla bean and sugar in a saucepan and carefully bring to a boil. When the mixture just boils, whisk a ladleful into the egg mixture to temper it, then whisk this back into the cream mixture. Cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Strain the custard and pour into 8 large custard cups. Refrigerate to chill.

To prepare the chiffon cakes:

Preheat the oven to 325°F. Spray 8 molds with nonstick cooking spray. You may use 7-ounce custard cups, ovenproof wide mugs or even large foil cups. Whatever you use should be the same size as the custard cups.

Sift the cake flour, sugar, baking powder and salt into a large bowl. Add the oil, egg yolks, orange juice, zest and vanilla. Stir until smooth, but do not overbeat.

Beat the egg whites until frothy. Add the cream of tartar and beat until soft peaks form. Gently fold the beaten whites into the orange batter. Fill the sprayed molds nearly to the top with the batter.

Bake approximately 25 minutes, until the cakes bounce back when lightly pressed with your fingertip. Do not overbake. Remove from the oven and let cool on a wire rack. When completely cool, remove the cakes from the molds. Cover the cakes to keep them moist.

To prepare the glaze:

Chop the chocolate into small pieces. Place the butter in a saucepan and heat until it is just about to bubble. Remove from the heat; add the chocolate and stir to melt. Pour through a strainer and keep warm.

To assemble:

Cut a thin slice from the top of each cake to create a flat surface. Place a cake flat-side down on top of each custard. Cover the tops with warm chocolate glaze. Serve immediately.

Tagged with: bostini cream pie + Daring Bakers

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SHF#35: A Feast of Figs

Trust Ivonne of the wonderful Cream Puffs in Venice to come up with the perfect theme for this month's Sugar High Friday: figs. I will admit that figs were never my favorite fruit; I liked them well enough but I always preferred eating, and baking, with other more familiar fruits. This might partly be because whenever I thought of figs I thought of Fig Newtons, that bar-like cookie filled with what was supposed to be fig jam, but which tasted awful to me. I took Ivonne's theme as a challenge to renew my acquaintance with the fig and discover how I could use it in my kitchen.

Well, thank you, Ivonne, because now I have yet another ingredient to incorporate into my pastry daydreams. After much deliberation, I ended up making two desserts, because I really wanted to try both of them, and I had just bought over two pounds of black Mission figs at the market. Below, the very happy results of trying something new:

Honey Panna Cotta with Grilled Figs

The Honey Panna Cotta is from Alice Medrich's excellent new Pure Dessert, from which I can't stop baking; I saw the recipe and I thought it would be perfect paired with some figs. Indeed, the subtle, elusive sweetness of the figs, along with the slight crunch of their seeds, is a perfect foil for a silken panna cotta infused with the bright, rich flavor of honey. I had a bevy of honeys to choose from at the farmers' market; the delicately floral lavender honey was a nice match for the figs, but feel free to use your favorite.

Medrich's panna cotta is a wonder of simplicity: with cream, milk, and just a bit of gelatin, she creates an ethereal wisp of a dessert that just barely quivers under the touch of a spoon and dissolves in your mouth into pure flavor. This is about as far from Jell-O as you can get. Because Medrich is so particular about the amounts of gelatin used in order to achieve that barely-solid, on-the-verge-of-collapsing state, she prefers that this panna cotta is served in its ramekin rather than being unmolded, since it will lose its shape when it is turned out. A small price to pay for such exquisite delicacy. The warm figs, drizzled with a little more honey, taste mellow and earthy next to the panna cotta. A dreamy fall dessert.

Fig and Huckleberry Tart

This tart is one I was very excited to make, because fresh huckleberries are hard to come by in the Bay Area. I finally found some last weekend, so that triumph combined with getting the figs meant that this little number was a must. From Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life, this tart is a bit of a project but the rewards are immensely satisfying: a sweet crust filled with huckleberries and figs rendered gloriously gooey and jammy in the oven, topped with a lattice of puff pastry. Yes, this recipe calls for making both tart dough and puff pastry, and, of course, forming the shells and making the latticework. If you make the doughs the night before, the tart will probably take you a morning to do and you'll have a fabulously fragrant kitchen and some very delectable dessert by afternoon!

With berries in the filling and a top crust, this tart is almost like a kissing cousin of a pie. I liked having the tart dough for the shell, though; it had a buttery sweetness and the delicate crispness of the best pâte sucrée. Instead of using my old standby Pierre Hermé for the tart dough I tried Zuckerman's recipe since her other ones have turned out so well for me. Her recipe yields a dough that is remarkably soft and supple (I did have to work quickly with it before it started melting) but that bakes into a flavorful and tender crust. It's worth trying out to see how you enjoy the results. The huckleberries and figs married wonderfully together, the softly sweet figs mixing with the tart berries (my boyfriend describes huckleberries as extra-tart blueberries, and I'm inclined to agree). Tossed with a bit of sugar and butter, they turn into a filling both homey and sophisticated. Zuckerman suggests omitting the puff pastry lattice if you are short of time, but I urge you to make it if you can; the airy, sweet crunch of buttery puff on top really pushes the tart into the realm of extraordinary.

There you have it! I will never underestimate or neglect the noble fig again. Thanks again to Ivonne for showing me what I was missing out on!

Honey Panna Cotta with Grilled Figs

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes (6) 6-oz ramekins

1 1/2 cups (290 g) milk

2 1/2 teaspoons (5 g) powdered unflavored gelatin

3 cups (700 g) heavy cream

1/3 cup (108 g) honey, plus extra for drizzling

1/8 teaspoon salt

12 figs

confectioner's sugar

Pour milk into a bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over it. Set aside for a few minutes to let the gelatin dissolve; the milk will turn spongy.

Combine the cream, honey, and salt in a small saucepan and heat on stove over medium heat until it begins to steam.

Take cream mixture off the heat and add in the milk and gelatin, stirring well to make sure all the gelatin dissolves and there are no hard bits.

Pour mixture into a clean bowl and set into a larger bowl filled with ice cubes and water. Let mixture cool to room temperature, stirring often.

Divide mixture among ramekins, cover with plastic wrap, and store in refrigerator to chill and set overnight.

When you are ready to serve the panna cotta, slice the figs in half lengthwise, sprinkle with a bit of confectioner's sugar, and place on a toaster oven tray or baking sheet if you using the oven broiler unit.

Grill for a few minutes until they are lightly colored on the edges; don't let them burn!

Serve immediately with the panna cotta.

Tagged with: SHF + SHF #35 + figs + Alice Medrich + honey panna cotta with figs+ Kate Zuckerman + fig huckleberry tart

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La Festa al Fresco: Lemon Verbena, The Scent of Summer

 

I can't believe it's already been a year since the last Festa al Fresco, the blog party to end all parties, hosted by the lovely Ivonne and Lis, two of the friendliest and most enthusiastic ladies in the blogosphere.

My choice of ingredient for this go-around of la Festa? Lemon verbena. I had seen this fabulously fragrant herb before but never baked with it. Once it came into season and started appearing in the farmers' markets, I was determined not to lose my chance this time!

It is nearly impossible to miss, or ignore, lemon verbena when you encounter it. Just brushing by its brilliant green fronds will release an intoxicating lemony fragrance; sharp, citrusy, and herbal at once. Almost involuntarily you will lean in to get another whiff - and then you will end you buying a whole bunch and walk home trailing its heady scent behind you. Summer is lemon verbena; it tastes like sunshine and smells like happiness.

With its clear resemblance to lemon, without the strong acidity of the fruit, so it's not surprising that lemon verbena can be substituted in many recipes that call for lemons. However, lemon verbena really shines when the unique qualities of its flavor are explored and highlighted; beyond the initial lemon impression, it has a bright, distinctly floral edge that lingers in the mouth. Steeping lemon verbena in hot water will create a fabulously aromatic tea that allows you to appreciate the distinctiveness of this herb. Indeed, infusing lemon verbena in any number of liquids, from water to cream to oils is one of the best ways to capture its flavor and utilize it in a multitude of recipes from drinks to desserts to sauces.

So how did I use my lemon verbena, which was rapidly (and wonderfully) scenting my apartment? I chose two recipes I'd been meaning to try, and which I think make delightful summer party contributions.

 

Lemon Verbena Ice Cream

First, Claudia Fleming's lemon verbena ice cream from The Last Course. This is such a perfect, most indulgent way to enjoy lemon verbena - you must try it if you've got your hands on the herb. Satisfyingly creamy, zesty and refreshing, taste it and you are transported to the middle of green fields, warm summer wind in your hair and sunshine on your shoulders. This would pair well with another berry dessert - lemon verbena plays nicely off fruit. Or you can just enjoy another scoop of this ice cream all on its heavenly own.

Vanilla Bean and Lemon Verbena Parfait with Summer Raspberries

At first glance, this seems quite similar to the ice cream. But I thought it was interesting experiment to compare the two. Since the parfait is made with lemon verbena-infused whipped cream folded into a pâte à bombe, which is then frozen, it has a much lighter, mousselike texture that gives this dessert an airier feel. The intensity of the lemon verbena is also muted here; it serves as a tantalizing undertone to the vanilla, giving a parfait an elegant complexity and subtlety. Topped off with some ripe raspberries, this dessert is a most fragrant toast to summer.

Whether as a leading note or supporting player, lemon verbena works its surprising magic. As one of the joys of summer, it's not to be missed - I'll certainly be sad when this year's crop is over and I'll have to wait for it to show up again next year. For now, please enjoy - and thanks to Ivonne and Lis for hosting the festa! I'll see you all there on Monday - this weekend, I'll be at my sister's wedding!

Lemon Verbena Ice Cream

adapted from Claudia Fleming's The Last Course

makes about 1 quart

3 cups whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 1/4 cups sugar

1 ounce of fresh lemon verbena leaves

12 large egg yolks

Combine the milk, cream, 1 cup sugar, and lemon verbena leaves in a heavy saucepan. Heat on medium-high until the mixture reaches a simmer.

While the mixture is heating, whisk the egg yolks and 1/4 cup sugar together in a large bowl until smooth and thick.

Remove the milk mixture from the stove and pour a little into the eggs to temper it, whisking constantly. Pour the eggs into the milk mixture, whisking all the time, and put the saucepan back on the stovetop.

Cook the mixture over low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. When the mixture has thickened enough so that it coats the back of the spoon and can hold a line drawn through it, remove from the heat.

Pour the mixture into a clean bowl and let cool. Strain to remove any lumps and then cover the mixture with plastic wrap and let chill in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours, preferably overnight.

Freeze in an ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions.

This will keep in the freezer for about a week.

Vanilla Bean and Lemon Verbena Parfait with Summer Raspberries

adapted from Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life

makes 2 quarts

1 vanilla bean

3 cups cream

4 fresh lemon verbena leaves

8 egg yolks

2/3 cup sugar

pinch of salt

Slice open the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds onto a plate. Combine the vanilla pod, cream, and lemon verbena leaves in a saucepan.

Heat the mixture on medium-high until the cream is about to boil, then remove from heat, cover the saucepan, and let infuse for about 20 minutes.

Strain the mixture and chill it in a refrigerator for about an hour until it is completely cold.

Combine the egg yolks and 2 tablespoons sugar in a mixer bowl and whisk on medium speed.

Meanwhile, combine the rest of the sugar, 3 tablespoons water, and the vanilla bean seeds in a saucepan. Cook on high heat until the syrup reaches 248 degrees F.

With the mixer still running, pour the hot syrup down the side of the bowl into the egg yolks. Add the salt.

Let the mixer keep whisking for about 7-8 minutes until the bowl has cooled to warm, and the mixture is light and thick and has tripled in volume.

In a clean, chilled mixing bowl, whip the cold infused cream to soft peaks.

Scrape the whipped cream onto the egg mixture and carefully fold in with a rubber spatula until fully combined.

Pour the mixture into glasses, molds, dishes of your choice and freeze for at least 4 hours.

This will keep in the freezer for up to a week.

Tagged with: festa al fresco + lemon verbena + lemon verbena ice cream + lemon verbena parfait  + Claudia Fleming + Kate Zuckerman

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My Own Remembrance of Things Past: Dan Tats

Johanna of The Passionate Cook announced a most interesting theme for this month's Sugar High Friday: local specialties. While living in the Bay Area affords me the luxury of having many famous local goods to choose from, I really wanted to pick one that was close to my heart: Chinese egg custard tarts, or dan tat.

When I was young, my family lived about an hour south of San Francisco, and back then they didn't have many stores around that sold Asian groceries - Chinese vegetables, dried herbs and mushrooms, fish and meat fresh and butchered to the customer's order. (As a lifelong resident of this area, it's amazing to me how much the gastronomic landscape has evolved over the years - now Asian shopping centers dot the Bay Area like pearls along the necklace of highways that encircle the bay.) So every weekend our parents would pile us kids into the station wagon and we would drive up north on the highway to the big city, and to the venerable Chinatown on Stockton Street where they could find the ingredients to make the dishes they remembered from Hong Kong, their homeland.

I remember Chinatown being a cacophonous kaleidoscope to the senses: boxes overflowing with lychees and Chinese broccoli and all sorts of things I never saw in my local Safeway; shoppers jostling and bumping around the stands, assiduously picking through the produce to select only the best specimens; tiny old ladies in smocks unloading even more produce from the back of delivery vans, proclaiming the quality and inexpensiveness of their goods (if you walk through Chinatown and you don't speak Chinese, you may wonder why the grocers appear to be screaming at the top of their lungs at you - they're actually urging you to buy their cherries/peaches/item of the day, which are of course much better and cheaper than any other place on the block, so why don't you buy some now?)

Chinatown was a sort of farmers' market before farmer's markets came into vogue: although nobody threw around words like "sustainable" or "organic" back then, everyone who went shopping in Chinatown showed a passion and care for the food they bought that mirrors the spirit of sustainable agriculture today. No one would be caught buying ragged, limp greens or bruised, unripe fruit or less-than-fresh fish; indeed, the person who tried to sell such inferior goods probably wouldn't be patronized for very long!

My mother would adroitly navigate the streets of Chinatown, going to the places she knew and trusted: the stand with the best bok choy and lotus roots; the butcher who gave her the best chickens and cuts of beef; the dried goods store with the bins of dried shrimp and scallops and seaweed she used in her soups. I'm embarrassed to admit that although I spent years watching my mother bargain with and haranguing the shopkeepers in her quest for the best, I have nowhere near her shopping skills; even today, when I go to Chinatown with her, I always stand back and watch her mastery on display, as she somehow cajoles and convinces the grocers to give her the good stuff they're holding back, and to charge her just a little less.

It was fun, as a child, to see the incredible excitement and bustle in Chinatown, but sometimes I would get tired of getting bumped around by pushy shoppers, or waiting as my mother conducted another interminable bargaining session. I would start tugging on her arm and whine about when we would be done, or better yet, when we would get to eat. My mother would tell me to be patient, just one more stop, and then we would go the bakery and I could get something sweet (I have always, always had a sweet tooth).

Chinese bakeries are like any other business in Chinatown: microcosms of incredible chaos and efficiency at once. While I am inspired and delighted by the pâtisseries of Paris, I have the utmost admiration for my local bakeries in Chinatown, which produce a staggering amount and variety of breads, cakes, tarts, and other pastries day in and day out. Every time you walk in the door of a bakery, you are greeted with case upon case of meat-stuffed pastries, custard-filled buns, elaborately frosted cakes, fruit-covered tarts, loaves of bread...and there are more trays coming out of the kitchen in a constant stream.

Although you may want to stand there goggle-eyed at the overwhelming array of choices, the counter staff and regular customers are seldom indulgent; it's best to know what you want or the salesgirls will most likely move on to someone in less of a dither. Stepping up and speaking your order loudly will usually get you fast service; if you hover indecisively in the background you might never get served at all. However, the staff will usually give a quick description of any item you are curious about, and they are also quite good at pushing freshly baked items on you; if you're not careful, you may end up walking away with a dozen piping hot something-or-others in a pink box.

The most amazing thing is, though, how inexpensive everything is. Most of the buns, which are usually a soft, fluffy, sweet bread with either a sweet or savory filling, are less than a couple of dollars. Other items in the cases are similarly priced, which is mind-boggling considering they are all homemade and you can find coffee shops selling a factory-made cookie for 4 dollars or more. To me, this affords one the incredible freedom to try almost anything since it will only cost you a dollar or two and you will quickly find your favorites. My boyfriend, who does not speak Chinese, has successfully bought many things at Chinese bakeries simply by pointing; he's often come home with a six or seven different items which I have to explain to him and then he will happily try them all and decide which one he likes best.

My favorites? The cocktail bun (named not because of when it's meant to be served but because its oblong shape resembles a rooster's tailfeathers), a plain little bread filled with a creamy, coconut-flecked custard, and the egg custard tart, the actual subject of this entire post - thank you for your patience, dear reader!

Egg custard tarts are thought to have sprung from the British influence in Hong Kong; custard tarts with a smooth milky filling in a shortcrust pastry are a classically British dessert. There is also a Portuguese variant, the lovely pastéis de nata, which have a similar custardy filling but a caramelized, crème brûlée style top. Hong Kong residents often go on day trips to Macau, a former Portuguese colony about a 45 minute hydrofoil ride from Hong Kong, and a can't-miss activity there is to sample the authentic pastéis de nata still made by local bakers. However, egg custard tarts in Hong Kong have evolved into their own unique and delicious creature, and a staple of Chinese bakeries and dim sum houses everywhere.

What distinguishes an egg custard tart is its flaky, tender shell (the most authentic ones are made with lard)that resembles puff pastry at its crisp and buttery best, cradling a bright yellow custard that teeters flan-like, just on the edge between set and gooey. Fresh from the oven, it is the sunniest, most comforting piece of bliss I can think of.  An old dan tat, with limpid gummy crust and rubbery Jello-y filling, is a tragic thing indeed.

In San Francisco's Chinatown, one of the oldest and most famous Chinese communities in the world, there are many bakeries and restaurants selling egg custard tarts, but there is one place that stands above the rest - one that people in the know like my mother would go to - Golden Gate Bakery on Grant Ave.

Such is the reputation of the egg custard tarts at Golden Gate Bakery that lines routinely snake out the door into the street. As the scent of butter and vanilla wafts outside, you can see people shifting their feet, hoping to reach the front of the line soon enough to snag some of the freshly baked tarts before they are gone. I know of no other bakery in Chinatown that has the audacity to close down for several weeks at a time while the owners go on "extended vacation"; making excellent egg custard tarts must have proven very profitable for them indeed!

Golden Gate Bakery's egg custard tarts are considered on the "expensive" side at about $1.25 a piece - this is one of the reasons very few people make them at home because it really is so much cheaper to buy them. The tart shell pastry is also notoriously difficult to duplicate - although most recipes for Chinese flaky pastry involve a "water dough" and "oil dough" similar to the détrempe and beurrage used in puff pastry and the execution seems straightforward, somehow the tarts from the good bakeries always seem to have a supernatural flakiness and crispness that is, so far, out of my reach. If anyone has managed to penetrate the secrets of the egg custard tart, let me know!

If you do make it to San Francisco and visit Chinatown, do wander down Stockton Street and take in the amazing bustle of its denizens shopping, working, and living shoulder to shoulder in one of the most densely populated neighborhoods in the US. You'll see stores and restaurants that have been around for years with yellowed menus taped to the walls, delis with whole barbecued pigs and roast ducks hanging in the windows, giant delivery trucks unloading produce at all times of day to the hands of waiting shoppers. Don't go onto neighboring Grant Street unless you want a hefty dose of cheesy touristy silliness; wait until you get to Jackson Street to turn onto Grant, because Golden Gate Bakery will be just a few stores down. There will probably be a line, and be sure you bring enough cash because that's all they accept. But it's worth it for those sweet happiness-inducing handfuls - I'm as enamored of them now as I was years ago as a small child.

Golden Gate Bakery

1029 Grant Avenue

San Francisco, CA 94133

415-781-2627

For those of you wanting to brave egg custard tart making at home, here are a few online recipes as well as a dedicated eGullet thread. Several of these recipes use a shortcrust pastry, which is considerably simple and can yield delicious results as well - I've had more successes with them than with the flaky pastry.

Tagged with: dan tat + egg custard tart + Golden Gate Bakery

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SHF #33: Passion Fruit Soufflé Glacé with Pineapple Fruit Soup

My homegirl Mary of Alpineberry is hosting this month's Sugar High Friday, and she picked an appropriately summery theme: Tropical Paradise. It's been lusciously sunny this weekend, but when the fog rolls in, especially on the western side of the city, San Francisco can seem a very chilly place to spend summer.

So how better to transport myself back to paradise than with this stunner of a dessert from Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life: an island of passion fruit soufflé glacé in a sweet sea of chilled pineapple soup, dotted with an archipelago of strawberries and peaches.

Zuckerman names her soufflé glacé so (it means frozen souffle) because her airy concoction is made of a passion fruit curd base combined with whipped egg whites, similar to a soufflé, as well as whipped cream. The resulting fluffy mixture is frozen into something like a French parfait but even lighter and dreamier. If you remember my semifreddo post, this is yet another just-as-good-as-ice-cream frozen dessert that does not require an ice cream maker!

As an ardent fan of passion fruit, I found this recipe a spectacular expression of the passion fruit's heavenly sweet-tanginess. Using passion fruit in both the curd and in the meringue creates a multilayered intensity of flavor, while combining whipped cream and a meringue gives the end result a wonderful smoothness and lightness - it dissolves in your mouth like care