Dessert First

Frosty Relief for a Hot Summer's Day

You know what's really fun on a hot, sweltering, summer's day? Licking a blissfully chilly popsicle down to the smooth wooden stick, racing to finish it before it all melts down your chin.

You know what's really not fun on a hot, blistering, summer's day? Trying to take photos of these popsicles before they melt all over your kitchen table and you have none left to eat!

I made these little pops in the middle of a heat wave last week; they were a no-brainer given that blazing sun coming into apartment + no air conditioning meant turning on the oven = not happening. However, I didn't foresee that I would be attempting to document these ephemeral little dainties on the hottest day of the heat wave. So, unless you are a professional photographer with a climate controlled studio and a food stylist at your side with several dozen popsicles waiting as backup in the freezer, what this means is planning out your shots very carefully in advance, taking out the popsicles at the very last moment, and then snapping away like mad before returning the rapidly defrosting pops to the freezer to recover.

As it was, I just managed to get two different setups, so there's a dearth of images in this entry, but I hope they're enough to convey the sheer delight a frozen popsicle can bring. Have you ever held a popsicle just a hairsbreadth away from your cheek, so you can feel the tendrils of coldness uncurling towards your face? Or unwrapped a popsicle, covered in a dusting of frost, and worked to lick all around the popsicle until its true, vibrant color was revealed entirely? Or saved a red-stained popsicle stick after you had finished off the pop because even though you couldn't eat it, the stick is still an essential part of the popsicle, and it reminded you of how delicious it was?

I decided to make some frozen yogurt popsicles, as I've noticed the frozen yogurt trend has gone from latest new sensation in San Francisco to a full-blown craze. There seems to be a frozen yogurt shop opening on every other block, all of them with some sort of variant of "Yogurt" or "Berry" in their name, and all of them offering tart, creamy goodness in a cup.

I confess when I first heard of the Pinkberry sensation I didn't quite get what was going on. After all, I'd already been through the last frozen yogurt wave in college, when the dinner of choice for dieting co-eds was a 12 ounce of froyo from the shop across the street from the dorms. Back then, frozen yogurt either tasted remarkably the same as ice cream, meaning it didn't contain much yogurt, or it tasted like artificially flavored whipped air - suffice to say not my dessert of choice.

However, it seems like now yogurt actually tasting like yogurt is no longer a liability, and people are flocking to the tart, "yogurty" taste as a healthier, lighter alternative to ice cream. Many of the most well-known frozen yogurt franchises, like Pinkberry and Red Mango, originated in Korea, which is not surprising as tarter, less sweetened versions of yogurt have long been much more popular in Asia than in the US. Also, the favored toppings of fruit and mochi dovetails with classic Asian preferences for fresh, clean, not-too-sweet desserts.

The best part about frozen yogurt to me, though, is how simple it is to make at home. It's even simpler than ice cream, since there's no need to muck about with making an anglaise base or anything like that. Simply take some yogurt, combine with some sugar, chill, and whirl away in the ice cream maker! Much of frozen yogurt's appeal is in its straightforward tang; you want to taste the tartness, not mask it. However, you can add more sugar to taste if you want a sweeter, less assertive flavor. I also added lemon juice to my mixture since the citric flavor of lemon meshes well with the yogurt and makes it even more refreshing; it tastes almost like a lemon sherbet, one of my favorite flavors. Also, since you can't have frozen yogurt without toppings, I tossed in some raspberries, which made them both colorful and even more delicious.

If you have those miniature Dixie cups, they are the perfect size for making little popsicles. Just pour in the churned base, insert some wooden sticks, chill in the freezer, and the next day you'll be able to peel off the paper and enjoy - hopefully under a warm summer sun.

Lemon Frozen Yogurt with Raspberries

Makes about 1 1/2 quarts, or about 12 regular popsicles

To get the truest yogurt flavor, use plain yogurt, not vanilla-flavored or any other flavor, and with as little sugar added as possible. Regular yogurt contains quite a bit of water, so if you use it straight the frozen yogurt can become hard and icy. To prevent this, regular yogurt should be strained. You can place the yogurt into a cheesecloth-lined strainer or colander and place over a bowl. Fold the cheesecloth around the yogurt and place the whole setup into the refrigerator overnight to let the yogurt drain. You will need more than 3 cups of regular yogurt to yield 3 cups after it's been strained. Or, you can use Greek yogurt, which has already been strained and is thick and creamy. The more fat the yogurt contains, the richer the frozen result will be, naturally, but the 2% yogurt I used yielded quite excellent results and it's not necessary to use full-fat yogurt (not to mention it might negate its touted healthfulness!)

3 cups plain strained regular yogurt, or Greek yogurt

1 to 1 1 /2 cups sugar (to taste)

1 cup lemon juice

1 tablespoon lemon zest

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and stir together until the sugar is dissolved. Refrigerate the mixture for a couple of hours until it is thoroughly chilled.

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

When it has reached the consistency of soft serve, you can either scrape into a container and freeze overnight, or divide among popsicle molds and then freeze overnight. You can swirl the raspberries into the mixture before you freeze the yogurt. If you are making popsicles, you may want to cut the raspberries into pieces so you don't have large frozen berries in the pops.

An Abundance of Apricots

 

Roasted Apricot Cinnamon Sugar Tartlets

Sometimes it's hard to figure out what to make. Sometimes I suffer from a surfeit of suggestions, unable to settle on just one idea, other times it's the dreaded blank slate, when everything seems either too simple or too difficult or too not my style or not my flavors and I end up with my refrigerator and bookcases in disarray and still-clean bowls lining the counter.

That's why I enjoy spring and summer so much, because it's so easy to find inspiration. I just walk down the street to market and see what's come in today: crates of dark red cherries, baskets of plump strawberries, bushels of rosy nectarines. Sometimes I'll finger the exotica: yellow-green papayas, pebbly-skinned lychees, flower bulb-like mangosteens, and ponder whether this is the week I'll try something with them.

This week, however, my eye was caught by a more familiar fruit: the blushing gold apricots. Apricots are the delicate little cousins of peaches and I feel like they often get treated that way: they're not as boldly, sensually curved, and eaten fresh their flavor can be subtler, tarter, unlike the sparkling sweetness of peaches.

I've talked before about holding a peach: it's a gorgeously brazen coquette that fills your hands and boldly tempts you. Holding an apricot, on the other hand, is like holding a robin's egg or a seashell, rare and subtle; you've got to hold it close to find its secrets. When apricots are not fully ripe they can be firm and tart and not the most flavorful. At their peak, though, their flesh becomes lushly yielding, and their flavor takes on a rich, honeyed tone. Cooking is where apricots really shine, which is why you see apricot jam so often: when heated apricots blossom into a wonderful ambrosia, as dreamily sweet as a summer Sunday afternoon.

Apricots have such a short season as well, so very often the apricots you find at market will not be perfectly ripe. I left mine in a paper bag for a few days until they softened and starting scenting the kitchen. I wanted something simple and quick to showcase the fruit, and a puff pastry tart immediately sprang to mind. 

Almond Apricot Frangipane Tartlets

Now, before you start protesting that puff pastry does not fall under the category of "simple and quick", let me direct you to my blitz puff recipe which you really can make on a whim. It take less than half an hour to put together and once you've given it a good chill, you're ready to start cranking out the tartlets.

I kept it as breezily easy as possible: apricot slices, a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar, and instant summer dessert! With a scoop of ice cream, nothing could be simpler for a warm evening. If you're looking to up the ante, a layer of frangipane spread on the pastry, topped with apricots and a sprinkling of almonds, and you've got yourself a luxe little patisserie-worthy pastry.

Naturally, this will work wonderfully with many of summer's fruits, from peaches to plums. You could also add berries on top after they come out of the oven. In any case, the crisp, buttery puff pastry makes the ideal bed for honeyed, ripe fruit. I love how the pastry puffs up so neatly round the fruit every time, like the perfect picture frame. When you add the frangipane, its creamy nuttiness elevates the clean sweetness of the fruit even more.

I'm actually very happy with this week's creation as it embodies many of my ideals about pastry: simple, seasonal, and richly rewarding for the effort one puts in. After all, isn't summer all about minimizing work and maximizing pleasure?

 
Apricot Tartlets

makes about 12 3"x5" tartlets

7 to 8 apricots

1 recipe Blitz Puff Pastry

3 tablespoons sugar

1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

apricot jam for glaze

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a couple baking sheets with parchment paper or Silpats.

Halve and pit the apricots. Slice them thinly. Sort them them groups of 6 or 7 slices - this will make assembling the tarts faster.

Divide the puff pastry in half and return one piece to the refrigerator to keep it cold. Roll out the other half on a lightly floured surface to about 1/4" thick (not too thin).

Using a sharp knife, cut the pastry into roughly 3 1/2" x 5 1/5" rectangles. You can make the tartlets any size you want; square, round, etc. If you make one big tart, though, you may have to adjust the baking time and watch for the outer edges baking before the center.

If you want to use frangipane(see recipe below) on these tartlets, spread a thin layer on top of the puff pastry, leaving a 1/2" border as the frangipane will puff and spread in the oven.

Arrange 6 to 7 apricot slices on each rectangle. Combine the sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over each tartlet.

Bake in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, rotating halfway through. The puff pastry should puff up and turn golden brown. Place tartlets on a wire rack and brush lightly with apricot jam. Let cool slightly before serving.

Frangipane (adapted from Nick Malgieri's How to Bake)

3/4 cup blanched almonds

1/2 cup sugar

1 teaspoon almond extract

2 eggs

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1/4 cup flour

Place almonds and sugar in a food processor. Process until almonds are very fine.

Add almond extract and one of the eggs and process until smooth.

Add the butter and process until fully combined and the mixture is smooth.

Add in the egg and process just until incorporated.

Add in the flour and process just until incorporated.

You can use the frangipane immediately or store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Tagged with: apricot puff pastry tarts + almond apricot frangipane + puff pastry

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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

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Strawberries For the Birthday Girl

There are so many things I love about spring: longer, sunnier days, which means I can finally hang up my scarves and wool coats; flowers blooming everywhere, filling the air with their scent (I always know it's spring when the honeysuckle at my parents' home begins to perfume the air with its delirious, heady fragrance); the advent of all manner of fruit colorful and sweet (including my favorite, strawberries - naturally). And, of course, spring means my birthday!

I always enjoyed having my birthday in May; all the gorgeousness of spring always puts in me in a celebratory mood already, so getting a cake with candles to blow out is just a bonus. Of course, back in my school days, having a May birthday meant it was also end-of-school test time, which sometimes put a little damper on things. This year proved no exception, unfortunately: I've been so busy trying to wrap up this book that I hardly realized that oh-so-special day was creeping up on me. How come when you're young waiting for your birthday to arrive is an agony, yet when you're older it sneaks up on you like a wayward butterfly?

No matter - I've been working furiously on my manuscript so I can take today off to celebrate. And I'm also happy to say that the book will be off to the printers very soon, which means that 1)no more late nights trawling the manuscript for errors 2)the book will be out by the holidays, 3)more time to return to the blog (and all you dear dear readers), and 4)I'll be able to share more details on the book very soon! I know I've been tempting you with all sorts of vague references and allusions, but once the book's been formally announced, I'll be able to tell you what's it all about and my experiences writing it!

Also, my birthday is also extra-special now because I discovered a year ago that I shared it with no other than Bea of La Tartine Gourmande!  Bea is of course the most fabulously talented chef, stylist, and photographer I know, not to mention very sweet and charming - I'm more than honored to share my birthday with her!

So I e-mailed Bea a month ago and suggested that we make the same thing for our birthday, and she suggested, since she also loves strawberries, that we do a strawberry rhubarb tart. Well, happy birthday dear Bea! Here is my version of strawberry rhubarb tart, paired with a brown sugar ginger ice cream, all ready for our birthday!

I have loved the combination of strawberries and rhubarb ever since I made a strawberry rhubarb compote to go with an ice wine ice cream. I also love French-style tarts, so what could be better than Pierre Hermé's lovely shortcrust filled with a mixture of strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, and vanilla? Baked in the oven to soft, bubbling perfection, it's an elegant, tea-party version of the classic American strawberry rhubarb pie. The voluptuously sweet strawberries commingle with the barely-crisp, tart rhubarb into an unfettered pleasure on the tongue. The rich buttery pâte sucrée  makes a luxurious backdrop for the beautifully, vibrantly, red fruit. No birthday cake could be better.

While the ice wine ice cream was a quite excellent companion for strawberries and rhubarb, I wanted to go in a more robust direction and created a brown sugar ginger ice cream to accompany the tart. Just-sweet, pleasantly piquant, it's ice cream at its warmest and most comforting, and enhances the flavors of the tart beautifully. I used egg yolks in this ice cream, which, combined with the brown sugar gave it almost an eggnog taste until I added the ginger; next time I might leave out the eggs, but either way it's scrumptious.

I hope today is as sweet and springlike for you as it is for me, and I wish I could celebrate with all of you! Thanks so much for coming to Dessert First - it means so much to me, and I hope for many more years of sweetness!

Strawberry Rhubarb Tart

makes about 6-8 tartlets

Pâte Sucrée (adapted from Pierre Hermé's Desserts

(recipe makes more than enough, so save the rest for another tart)

1 1/4 sticks ( 146 g) unsalted butter, room temperature

3/4 cup (86 g) confectioner's sugar, sifted

1/4 cup (5 g) almond meal or ground almonds

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 egg, room temperature

1 3/4 cups (232 g) all purpose flour

Filling

2 cups (about 9 ounces) strawberries

3 stalks (about 7 ounces) rhubarb

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

For the tart shells: Place the butter in a food processor and process until soft and creamy.

Add the confectioners' sugar and process until well blended and smooth.

Add in the almond meal, salt, and vanilla extract and process until well blended.

Add in the egg and egg yolk and process until just blended; scrape the bowl down as necessary.

Add the flour and pulse just until the dough starts to come together into a ball; don't overprocess. The dough will be very soft like cookie dough.

Scrape the dough out of the food processor and make into a ball. Flatten out into a disk, wrap in plastic, and chill in refrigerator for at least 4 hours until it is firm enough to handle.

When you are ready to bake off the tart shells, take the dough out of the refrigerator - let it warm up a bit if necessary but not too much because it will start melting fast.

Roll out the dough between two sheets of plastic wrap to 1/8" thickness. If the dough gets too soft, place back in the refrigerator to firm up.

Place the tart rings you will use on a baking sheet lined with a Silpat or parchment paper.

Cut out circles of dough to fit into desired tart rings. Press the dough carefully into the tart rings and up the sides, being careful not to stretch the dough or it will shrink when baked. Place the rings into the refrigerator to chill for at least 30 minutes. Trim off the excess dough from the top of the rings.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F while chilling the tart shells. When you are ready, line the shells with parchment and fill with beans or rice to keep the shells weighed down.

Bake shells for about 15-18  minutes until they are lightly colored and the shell feels dry to the touch. Remove from the oven and place on a rack. Remove the beans and parchment and brush the bottoms of the shells with a light egg wash (made from an egg white and a bit of water).

For the filling: Wash the strawberries, hull them, and slice into 1/8 thick slices (not too thin).

Wash the rhubarb and cut into small pieces.

Combine the strawberries and rhubarb with the sugar and vanilla in a bowl and toss thoroughly to mix. Let sit for about 5 minutes so the fruit juices start mixing with sugar.

Divide the fruit mixture among the tart shells. You can lay the fruit down in a pattern or simply spoon it in, but be careful not to overfill. When the tarts bake the juices from the fruit will bubble out and you don't want them to overflow.

Place tarts back into oven and bake for about 20-25 minutes until the filling is thick and bubbly.

Remove from oven and let cool on wire racks.

Brown Sugar Ginger Ice Cream

makes about 1 quart

1 cup heavy cream

1 cup milk

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/2 cup light brown sugar

4 egg yolks

pinch of salt

Combine cream, milk, and ginger in a saucepan and bring to a simmer on medium heat on the stove.

Meanwhile, whisk brown sugar, egg yolks, and salt together in a medium bowl.

Pour about half of the hot milk mixture into the yolks, whisking constantly.

Pour the egg mixture back into the saucepan and return to the stove. Cook on low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the mixture thickens and coats the back of the spoon.

Remove from heat and strain into a bowl. Chill in an ice bath until room temperature, then cover and chill overnight.

Prepare ice cream in an ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions. Store in freezer to firm up.

 

Tagged with: strawberry rhubarb tart + brown sugar ginger ice cream + pierre herme + birthday

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For Love of Lychees

When I visited Amai Tea House in New York, one of their treats I sampled besides their tea cookies was a moist lychee brownie. The brownie was pleasantly thick and fudgy, but it didn't have quite enough lychee flavor for my taste - I am quite fond of the fruit, so perhaps I hoping for a bit more punch.

I carried the thought back with me to San Francisco, and last week when I picked up some of the season's first strawberries, it all came together - a light lychee butter cake with strawberries and rose cream.

Lychees are surely a fruit for the sweet-toothed - with their honeyed, floral flavor and ambrosial fragrance, they are nature's bonbons, albeit in a prickly-than-usual package. Lychees aren't quite in season yet; they are found in abundance during the summer months at Asian markets, and a frosty lychee tapioca drink is one of my favorite thirst quenchers on a hot day. However, canned lychees can be found year round; they're usually packed in sweet syrup, much like many canned peaches, which can render them even more shockingly sweet. In this cake though, I found the syrup can be used advantageously to boost the lychee flavor.

The cake is a sunshiny cloud of happiness - I was aiming for a looser, fluffier texture rather than a tight, pound cake-like crumb. Gorgeously golden, it promises rich buttery flavor and delivers, along with a dose of fruitiness from the bits of lychees sprinkled throughout and laced into the cake batter. The lightness and delicacy of the cake helps showcase the lychees instead of competing against it like a heavier, more intense cake might. I also found that using the syrup from the canned lychees really helps boost the flavor - as well as making the cake irresistibly fragrant! If you're a little uncertain as to how sweet you want your cake, you can always decrease how much syrup you add in. Also, dry off the lychees before you add them to the batter - that will also get rid of more syrup and prevent them from sinking to the bottom of the cake.

In pondering what to serve the cake with, I first thought of some obvious tropical companions like coconut or macadamias, but I really wanted to use those strawberries - they were too tempting to ignore. So really, this dessert ended up being a minor riff on the Ispahan - raspberries would be wonderful with the cake too, as their tartness would match well with the sweetness of the lychees - but I think the strawberries, draped with a spring-pink rose-scented cream, fit the bill just fine.

The strawberries are adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert, but I added some rose syrup to the whipped cream to intensify the flavor and give it color. If you can't find it, rosewater will work just as well, but if you do get your hands on some rose syrup, it's a fun ingredient to work with; it's jewel-pink color never fails to bring a smile to my face.

It's awfully windy and blustery out here in San Francisco, but the bright skies and lengthening days tell me that spring is definitely here. And when strawberries start showing up at the market, who am I to disagree?

Lychee Butter Cake

1- 14 oz can lychees (about 1 cup lychees, reserve the liquid)

2 cups (240g) flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup (160g) unsalted butter, room temperature

3/4 cup (160 g) sugar

2 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8x8 baking pan.

Drain the lychees and cut into small pieces; set aside.

Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt into a bowl and set aside.

In a stand mixer, cream the butter and sugar together on medium speed for several minutes until light and fluffy.

Add the eggs, one at a time, and then the vanilla. Mix to combine.

Add in about 4 -6 tablespoons of the reserved lychee liquid slowly. Mix between additions to fully incorporate before adding more.

Toss the lychee pieces in the flour mixture to coat (this will help keep them from sinking to the bottom of the batter).

Add flour and lychee mixture to the batter and mix to combine.

Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake for 30-45 minutes, until a tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool on wire rack before serving.

Strawberries with Rose Cream

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes about 6 to 8 servings

3 pints ripe strawberries

1 cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon rose water

2 teaspoons rose syrup

Wash the strawberries. Hull and cut them if desired.

In a stand mixer, whip the cream, rose water, and rose syrup into soft peaks. Do not overwhip.

Serve over strawberries.

Tagged with: lychee butter cake + strawberries with rose cream+ Alice Medrich

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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

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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

Bite This!

Apples Blooming in Autumn

Remember Pâtisserie Philippe's gorgeous apple tart from my last post? If you didn't get a good look at it, here is an outtake from my photo shoot:

Isn't it just beautiful? The perfect, wafer-fine crust, the carefully layered slices of apple fanning and furling into a blooming rose in the center; this is a dessert designed to elicit oohs of appreciation upon sight, and sighs of delight upon tasting. The filling for this tart is completely made of apple, and a glorious tribute to the fruit it is. I was amazed how a crisp buttery crust topped with smooth, rich applesauce and fork-tender, just-sweet apple slices could taste as satisfying delicious as the most complex of pastries - proof that nobody does desserts that are simultaneously simple yet elegant like the French.

After consuming about half of Philippe's tart, I was determined to try and make my own version. To my happy surprise, Dorie Greenspan came to the rescue again with her version of Normandy Apple Tart in her Baking book. Upon reading the recipe, I discovered it really was as simple as making a tart crust, filling it with applesauce, and covering it with apple slices.

Of course, the devil's always in the details, which is why Philippe's is so flawless and mine is merely an eager aspirant. It's not easy to get tart dough so thin and flaky, or the applesauce so smooth and velvety, or all the apple slices so thinly sliced and artfully arranged. But this recipe is one where you won't mind trying again and again to get it just perfect. A couple of tips: use the best, most flavorful apples you can find, since this tart is all about highlighting them - you shouldn't be burying the taste beneath butter and sugar. You can use store-bought applesauce if you like, but I agree with Dorie that it's so much better when you make it yourself - take advantage now before apples are gone from the farmers' markets! Finally, if you're nervous about slicing your apples evenly, a mandolin works wonders.

A slice of this apple tart, still warm from the oven and topped with a bit of crème fraîche, makes me think of fading afternoon light shining through the few copper and russet leaves clinging to the trees, fuzzy woolen scarves tucked into snuggly warm sweaters, and the cool, crisp smell of autumn in the air. If you have the chance to try Philippe's apple tart, please do. If you don't, maybe you'll try making it yourself, and you can feel just like a French pastry chef in your own kitchen.

Normandy Apple Tart

adapted from Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours

makes one 9-inch tart

Pâte Sablée

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 cup confectioner's sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

9 tablespoon butter, very cold, cut into small pieces

1 egg yolk

Applesauce

2 pounds baking apples, such as Empire, Cortland, McIntosh, or Pippin

1/4 cup water

1 tablespoon light brown sugar

1-4 tablespoons sugar to taste

Topping

2 medium-sized, firm apples, such as Golden Delicious or Granny Smith

1 egg for egg wash

1/3 cup apple jelly for glaze

For the applesauce: Peel and core the apples, and cut into smallish chunks. Place into a 3 quart, heavy-bottomed saucepan.

Add in the water and brown sugar, and stir to combine.

Cover the saucepan and cook the apples over the medium-low heat, stirring occasionally to make sure none of the apples scorch.

If the water seems to be boiling away too quickly, you can add in a little more. Over about 20-30 minutes, the apples should start reducing and softening in the bubbling water. Don't leave the pan unattended for too long or the water could boil over or the apples burn.

When the apples are soft enough to be mashed with a spoon, remove the pan from heat. Scrape the apples into a food processor and blend quickly to turn into applesauce - don't process too long or you'll liquefy the apples. The applesauce should still be thick.

Taste and add sugar to taste - traditionally this applesauce is not meant to be very sweet, but you can add at your discretion.

Pour the applesauce into a container, press a piece of plastic wrap to the surface, and refrigerate until it is no longer warm before using. You can keep the applesauce in the refrigerator for up to 4 days.

For the tart shell: Put the flour, confectioner's sugar, and salt in a food processor and pulse a few times to combine. Add the pieces of cold butter and pulse until the butter is cut into pea-sized pieces. Add the egg yolk and combine in several pulses until the dough starts to turn from dry to clumpy. Do not let the dough form one giant ball or it will be be overworked - just keep checking after every pulse and when the dough pieces looks like they will stick when you press them together, stop.

Butter a 9-in tart tin with removable bottom. Turn the dough out into the tin and press into the bottom and up the sides with your fingers. You probably will not need all the dough - save the extra for patching the shell after you bake it. Do not press the dough too hard or it will become tough - just enough for it to form to the tin.

Freeze the tart shell for at least 30 minutes. When you are ready to bake it, preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

To partially bake the tart shell, take a piece of foil and butter the shiny side, then press the buttered side tightly to the shell. You do not need pie weights. Place the tart shell on a baking sheet and bake for about 25 minutes, until the shell is dry and lightly colored. If any places have cracked, repair with the extra dough. Let cool on a rack until room temperature.

For the tart: When you are ready to finish the tart, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Fill the tart shell with the applesauce almost to the top of the crust and smooth the top. Place the tart on a baking sheet lined with parchment or a silpat.

Peel and core the two apples. Cut each apple in half and then again lengthwise. Cut each apple quarter into about 7 slices - they will be quite thin.

Arrange the apple slices over the top of the applesauce in a pleasing pattern. I found that the apple slices shrink a bit while baking so be sure the edges overlap the tart crust and each other enough.

Make a egg wash by beating the egg with a teaspoon of water. Brush the egg wash over the apple slices.

Bake the tart in the oven for about 40 to 50 minutes. The applesauce will puff up a little bit and the apples slices will turn golden and slightly burnt at the edges. When the apple slices are soft enough to be pierced by the tip of knife, you can take out the tart.

Remove the tart and let cool on a wire rack. If you'd like to glaze the top of the tart, mix the apple jelly with a teaspoon of water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Brush the glaze lightly over the top of the tart.

The tart should be served as soon as possible to prevent it from getting soggy.

Pâtisserie Philippe

655 Townsend Street

San Francisco, CA 94103

415-558-8016

info@patisseriephilippe.com

Open M-F 8-6, Sat 8-5

Tagged with: San Francisco bakeries + Patisserie Philippe + Dorie Greenspan+ apple tart+ Normandy apple tart

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SHF#36 : Tipsy Apples

Andrew of Spittoon Extra has picked a very fun and timely theme for this month's Sugar High Friday: Apples and alcohol. Timely because the markets are overflowing with all sorts of apples in their round-cheeked, rosy-skinned glory, and fun because, well, spirits always make things a little more fun.

I also found the perfect recipe to celebrate apples and the increasingly nippy weather. (Apologies to those who are already moving from autumn's soft shivers to winter's frosty grip: we have just had our first weekend where you wake up to a brilliant, hard-etched blue shell of a sky outside the window and realize, as you throw back the covers to jump out of bed, that you're not emerging into any toasty beams of morning sunlight, but instead the air hitting your sleep-warmed body is rather...cold, and you're scrambling for slippers and a robe before your mind can even register that it's no longer summer anymore.) When I get home now from work, it's not to a sunlit or even grey-fogged afternoon, with sunset still hours off; now it's purple and crimson sky fading to black, myriad lights already coruscating in a city half shadowed. At this moment, my apartment seems cozier than ever, and the best thing I can imagine is to fill it up with the murmur of music and the smell of something in the oven.

This recipe, from Claudia Fleming's The Last Course, certainly fits the last bill: the scent of baking apples, caramelizing brown sugar, and toasting nuts is as heavenly a paean to fall as I can imagine. It's amazingly satisfying, too, for surprisingly little work. Apples, carefully hollowed out, are filled with a mixture of sugar, nuts, dried fruit, and butter, and placed in the oven to bake into little cups of fall bliss. Fleming's recipes doesn't use any spices, instead relying on the brown sugar and butter to infuse the apple with sweet caramel flavor, but I think a sprinkling some cinnamon, nutmeg, or allspice would go wonderfully with the recipe. The toasted pecans and almonds add crunchy interest, and the dried cherries a vivid sweet punctuation to the dessert. Again, this recipe seems ripe for adaption: walnuts, dried cranberries or dried figs spring to mind as lovely substitutions.

When baking apples, pick firmer ones that will hold up in the oven - you don't want them to turn to mush. Fleming suggests Cortland; McIntosh, Empire, and Gala work well too. Of course, Granny Smith and Golden Delicious are old standbys, but if you can find some other varieties try them out: many of them have their own distinctive, lovely flavors. I used Pippin apples, which are crisp and slightly less tart than Granny Smith, and turn nicely tender but not mushy in the oven.

So where's the alcohol? In a Calvados caramel sauce made to drizzled over and around the oven-hot apples. The apple brandy adds a smooth richness to the sweet caramel and turns the baked apple from simple treat to luxe dessert. I realized when I was thinking of how to plate my apples, that with all the different colors, shapes, and textures of the components, it was almost like a modern art piece. So I present to you: Autumn Whimsy in Apple and Caramel. I like to think of it as a colorful little ode to fall.

By the way, I found out about this after I'd already made the apples, so I couldn't incorporate it into SHF, but if you are looking for a really nice combination of apples and alcohol, I would recommend Lindemans Pomme apple lambic: I'm normally not a big beer drinker, but this is like a sweet fizzy cider. Maybe too sweet for regular beer drinkers, but for someone with a sweet tooth, it's quite a tasty way to imbibe.

Baked Apples with Dried Fruits and Nuts

adapted from Claudia Fleming's The Last Course

makes 6 servings

1/3 cup dark brown sugar

3 Tablespoons dried cherries, roughly chopped

2 Tablespoons sliced almonds, roughly chopped and toasted

2 Tablespoons pecans, roughly chopped and toasted

6 large, firm baking apples, cored but not peeled

3 Tablespoons unsalted butter

1/2 cup apple cider

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Combine the brown sugar, cherries, and nuts in a small bowl.

Place the apples in a baking dish large enough to hold them all comfo