Dessert First

Goodbye Summer, Hello Fall: Peach Brown Sugar Ice Cream with Hazelnut Sugar Cookies

I am so glad that I was able to make it to BlogHer Food! The prospect of meeting friends I'd made through the food blogosphere, virtually in my backyard, was too compelling to ignore. Combine that with some extraordinarily educational and inspiring talks on everything from photography techniques to the politics of food blogging, and I definitely emerged feeling re-energized and motivated to continue my blogging adventure.

I've also said time and again that the people I've met while food blogging are some of the kindest, sweetest, and FUN people I know. It's hard to love food and be a sourpuss, I imagine! I had the singular joy of having a fellow blogger tell me that my blog was the first one she read (*blush* I feel honored - and old). Conversely, as I shyly tried to untie my tongue in front of the big-name bloggers, they were all wonderfully gracious and down-to-earth. I feel quite lucky to have be a part of this community!

So I don't think I've revealed this before, but I'm a very shy photographer. Probably because I'm still figuring this photography thing out, but I get really self-conscious with my big dSLR slung around me like an inept third eye. I don't why I felt the same way at BlogHer, where nearly everyone wore their camera as an unofficial badge; if there's one thing I would tell the sponsors of the conference, it would be to make darn sure you're showing some photogenic food because you can be certain it will be photographed within an inch of its life by about 300 food lovers!

The upshot of this confession is that of course I have very few shots of the conference (I did catch an unspectacular shot or two). For some wonderful photos and a thorough recap of the weekend, I suggest you head on over to photographer (and food lover) extraordinaire use real butter.

We also seem to enjoyed the last burst of summer at BlogHer Food; by Monday morning I swear I could see summer swirling away, empty tree branches clutching and waving forlornly in suddenly-brisk air.

We were promised a longer Indian summer, and in anticipation of that I had churned a batch of ice cream with some last ripe peaches. I guess eating ice cream on a chilly evening is not the most autumnal of activities, but now it tastes like a just-formed, perfectly-encapsulated memory of summer.

The yellow peaches were so ripe they were perfuming the entire house; to capture the idea of their heady voluptuousness I made a creme anglaise, folding the peaches into a welcoming cushion of eggs, sugar, and cream. On a whim I substituted some of the sugar with brown sugar, to give it a tingle of fall (how appropriate that choice turned out to be!)

Ice cream made with a custard base always has that creamy depth of color, like an oil painting, compared to the crisp, crystalline hues of sorbets and sherbets. I loved how comforting the ice cream looked. The brown sugar gives this ice cream a warm, caramelized edge that makes me think of peach cobbler - a dash of ginger in the mix might have been a nice thing as well.

To nudge this ice cream even further along to fall (hey, it's fall and time to accessorize with scarves and hats, right?) I whipped up some hazelnut sugar cookies. Some ground up toasted hazelnuts added to my trusty rolled sugar cookie recipe made the perfect topping for a bowl of ice cream.

I'm sitting at home with a bowl of peachy brown sugar goodness, reminiscing over the memories I made last weekend, and watching a burnished orange sunset through my window, snuggled on the couch. Sounds like a perfect way to welcome fall, doesn't it?

Peach Brown Sugar Ice Cream

makes about 2 quarts (this may be too much for a smaller ice cream maker; you might have to do it in two batches)

4 ripe peaches (about 2 lbs)

1/2 cup sugar

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1 1/2 cups milk

3/4 cup light brown sugar

3 large eggs

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Peel and slice the peaches into small pieces.

Place in a medium saucepan and combine with the sugar and lemon juice. Cook for about 15 minutes on medium heat. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature.

Combine the milk and 1/2 cup light brown sugar in a medium saucepan and heat on medium over stove until bubbles form around the edges.

Meanwhile, whisk the eggs and remaining sugar together in a medium bowl. Place the cream in a separate large bowl.

Pour the hot milk into the eggs in a steady stream, whisking constantly to temper the eggs.

Pour the mixture back in the saucepan and place back on stove. Cook on medium-low heat, whisking constantly, until mixture thickens slightly and coats back of a spoon. Do not overcook (it will look curdled and you will have to start over).

Strain mixture into the cream and stir to combine. Add vanilla and stir to combine.

Chill in an ice bath until it reaches room temperature. Stir in the peaches and chill mixture in refrigerator overnight.

Freeze in ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions.

Hazelnut Sugar Cookies

Makes 36  2 ½  inch diameter cookies  

1 2/3 cups all purpose flour

½ tsp baking powder

¼ tsp salt

½ cup (4 oz) unsalted butter, room temperature

¾ cup + 2 Tablespoons sugar

1 large egg, room temperature

1 tsp vanilla extract

1/3 cup ground toasted hazelnuts 

extra all purpose flour for rolling out the dough

In a bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder and salt and set aside.

In stand mixer with paddle attachment, cream together the butter and sugar on medium speed until light in color and fluffy.

Scrape the bowl sides and bottom well. While mixer is on low speed, gradually add the egg and vanilla extract. Mix to combine and scrape bowl sides as needed.

Add the dry ingredients gradually while mixer is on low speed until incorporated. Add ground hazelnuts and mix until a uniform dough is formed.

Divide dough into 2 pieces and flatten into ½ inch thick discs. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 hours to firm up dough. At this point the dough can be double wrapped and frozen for up to 2 weeks. To defrost dough, place in refrigerator overnight.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F and grease several cookie sheet pans or line with parchment paper.

On a floured board, place on piece of the dough and dust with flour. Gently roll out the dough to a thickness of 1/8 inch. Using a cookie cutter, cut out cookies and place on sheet pan, leaving 1 inch apart between cookies.

Bake for 14-16 minutes or until edges are golden brown.

Transfer to wire racks with a spatula to cool completely.

Making the Most of Mistakes: Strawberry, Rose, and Coconut Sorbet Sandwiches

Ok, I have a confession to make. Actually, two. Remember when I made these mango coconut verrines a few weeks ago? Well, they were supposed to have these little discs of coconut dacquoise nestled inside the layers as a crunchy surprise. So I made these dacquoise discs a day in advance, and kept them in a nice dry place so they wouldn't go all soggy.

However, (first confession) it turned out the new dessert glasses I got were even itty-bittier than I thought they would be - way too small to fit the dacquoise in. So I set them aside, thinking maybe I could cut them down to fit. I went to finish making the coconut cream, and - here's the second confession - I forgot all about the dacquoise. I got all caught up in carefully the coconut and mango into the shiny new glasses, and decorating the tops just so, and it wasn't until I was getting ready to take photos, that I saw the plate of dacquoise sitting, quietly neglected, off in the corner.

Well, nothing to be done at that point but to keep going with the verrines. But, you know in the pastry world (and culinary world) there's a mantra that nothing gets wasted. You always find a way to use up some leftover ganache, extra fruit, bit of pastry cream - sometimes the best inspiration comes out of pulling stray components out of the refrigerator, leftovers-style, and letting your imagination roam free.

So I put my little dacquoise discs into a container, set it prominently on my kitchen table and left them alone for a day (the great thing about these dacquoise is that they can last quite a while, stored properly). I came back the following morning, looked in the refrigerator, saw a bunch of strawberries I hadn't eaten yet, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do: I wanted to make a strawberry sorbet, and I wanted to use the coconut dacquoise as end-pieces to make little sorbet sandwiches. And then I decided to throw some rosewater in, just to tie all the flavors together. It feels so good when inspiration strikes, you know?

Back to the titular characters of this story, the coconut dacquoise: They are adapted from a recipe that originally had the dacquoise piped out into full side circles, to use as a base for fresh fruit. I really like dacquoise as a alternative to the traditional pâte sucrée tart crust; the flavor possibilities are boundless and the ability to pipe it into various shapes give it a lot of versatility. This coconut-infused version reminds me of a lighter, crispier version of a coconut macaroon: the important thing with dacquoise, as with all meringue-based recipes, is to be sure to bake it enough that it thoroughly dries out, to prevent it from turning soggy and sticky later. I live in California, where it's fairly dry, so I have a pretty easy time of it: if you live in more humid climes, keep these in a airtight container to preserve their freshness longer.

The strawberry rose sorbet is a new creation for me that I'm quite enamoured with: strawberry sorbet has always been a summertime pleasure for me, and I wanted to up a complexity a tad by adding a hint of rose. The scientist in me couldn't resist experimenting, and I actually made two batches, one with rosewater, and one with rose syrup, since the two are often called out interchangeably in recipes these days.

My preference was the strawberry and rosewater sorbet: Just about a tablespoon of rosewater gave a subtle, enchanting floral note to the strawberry - I could even smell it in the sorbet. Rose syrup, while equally rosey in scent, has a heavier, sweeter taste, since it's basically a rose-infused sugar syrup. It made my sorbet a little too one-dimensionally sweet, and the rose flavor didn't stand out as much. If I used it again, I'd probably dial back on the sugar added to compensate for the sweetness of the syrup. The syrup did make the sorbet an almost preternatural shade of red, though; I wondered if it would leave my mouth stained like the rocket pops from the ice cream truck did. (The answer is no, by the way).

Like most homemade sorbets, this one is best eaten fresh out of the ice cream maker, when it's so soft and lushly textured it's like spreadable summer. Most sorbets tend to freeze rather hard in a couple of days, since they are mostly water and there isn't much fat to keep the sorbet soft and creamy. I can't imagine this lasting long, anyways: to me, sorbets seem so much more ephemeral than ice creams; they're meant to be enjoyed, fleetingly, dripping down your chin and then gone.

Cocooned between coconut dacquoise, the sorbet turns into a sweet little after-dinner nibble. They almost look like macarons, don't they? Who says that good things can't come out of mistakes?

:

Coconut Daqcuoise

1 ounce ground blanched almonds

4 ounces confectioners' sugar, sifted

3 1/2 ounces grated coconut

5 ounces egg whites

1 3/4 ounces sugar

1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line several baking sheets with silicone baking mats.

Combine ground almonds and confectioners' sugar together in a medium bowl.

Add in coconut and stir to combine.

Place egg whites in a stand mixer and whisk on medium speed until they become foamy.

Add in half the sugar and the cream of tartar and whisk until soft peaks form.

Add in the rest of the sugar and whisk until peaks are stiff.

Scrape out meringue into a large bowl. Using a rubber spatula, fold the coconut mixture a bit at a time into the meringue until combined.

Spoon the mixture into a pastry tip fitted with a round tip. Pipe small rounds onto the prepared sheet.

Bake for about 15 minutes until dacquoise are golden and firm and dry to the touch.

Let cool before using.

Strawberry Rose Sorbet

Makes 1 quart

1 pint fresh strawberries

1/3 cup sugar

1 1/2 tablespoons rosewater

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1/8 teaspoon salt

Wash and hull the strawberries. Place in a food processor and puree until smooth. Strain through a sieve to remove the seeds.

Combine the pureed strawberries in a bowl with the sugar and 1/4 cup water. Stir in the rosewater, lemon juice, and salt.

Refrigerate the mixture overnight.

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

Cherry Ice Cream Profiteroles with Almond Granita

Is everyone swooning over cherry season like I am? Of all the myriad sybaritic pleasures of summer, a bowl of ripe cherries ranks near the very top. At the waning of a lazy, sun-drenched afternoon, bare legs turned a few shades darker, book propped open and half-finished in your lap, a pile of cherry pits and ruby-stained fingers - perfection.

So, what to do when you get carried away at the market and come home with more cherries than even you can possibly eat? Solution: Ice cream, another summertime icon.

When I make fruit ice creams, I like to try and preserve as much of the fresh fruit as possible. So instead of pureeing the cherries to a perfectly smooth coulis, I roughly chopped them up, then cooked them in a saucepan with a little sugar on a low simmer until the cherries had softened up, and their juices had thickened slightly. Then I swirled the cooled, jammy mixture into ice cream base, poured it all into my ice cream maker and let the machine do its magic. The result? A gorgeous cherry-blossom-pink ice cream studded with pieces of cherries, tasting vividly of the fruit. There's no eggs in this ice cream, so it's closer to a sherbet; especially when trying to showcase fruit, I find the fewer ingredients, the more your star flavor will shine.

 

Now, I could also just sit on the porch and eat my way through a tub of this ice cream (are you sensing a theme here?), but to take this ice cream to the next level, I decided to make some pâte à choux and create some cherry ice cream profiteroles. To finish it off, I remembered an almond granita that I'd had at a local restaurant - I'd been wanting to try to reproduce it and now it seemed like the perfect accompaniment. If you're wondering how this simple summer treat turned into a major dessert project, umm, it seems to happen to me quite often. Inspiration may be a capricious muse, but I'm never one to turn down her visits!

Granita is the Italian version of snow cones, made from water mixed with fruit puree or other flavorings, which is then frozen and broken up into sparkling crystals. Icy-cold fruit granitas are a natural refresher for a hot day in Rome; however, I'd encountered an almond granita served with espresso cream at an osteria in SF that had me swooning. 

While most granitas are made with water, this one is also made with almond milk and almond paste, which gives extra depth of flavor. It's also why it's less icy-looking. I spent an interesting morning trying to make almond milk from almonds - while the result is tasty and certainly a tasty alternative to dairy milk, you're perfectly fine picking up some almond milk from the store.

Making granita is a fascinating exercise as well: to get the crystals to form, you should break up the granita with a fork about every half hour so it doesn't freeze into a solid block. If you're the multitasking type, you can work this into the pate a choux making process, so that when you're finished baking the puffs and filled them, you'll also have a beautiful granita ready!

 

Does it seem like an awful lot of work to get up from the poolside lounge for? Well, I think it's worth it - I'll certainly be making another batch before cherry season is over!

Oh, and by the way, if you haven't noticed to the right of the Dessert First page, I've put some some of the videos I made for Chow to promote my Field Guide to Cookies. I demonstrate a few cookie-making tips in the kitchen. I also hope to have some news to share about the candy book very soon!

Cherry Ice Cream

makes about 1 1/2 quarts

3/4 pound cherries, pitted and roughly chopped

2/3 cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

2 cups heavy cream

1 cup milk

Combine cherries, 1/3 cup sugar, salt, and lemon juice in a medium saucepan. Cook on medium heat for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the cherries turn soft and jammy and the mixture is  bubbling. Remove from heat and let the mixture cool to room temperature.

In another medium saucepan combine the cream, milk, and remaining 1/3 cup of sugar. Heat over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is almost simmering.

Remove from heat, pour mixture into a bowl, and chill over an ice bath until it is room temperature.

Stir in the cherries. Cover and chill the mixture in the refrigerator for 4 hours or overnight.

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

Pâte à choux Dough

makes 20-24 puffs

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup water
4 ounces unsalted butter, cut into pieces
3/4 teaspoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup all-purpose flour
4 + 1 large eggs, room temperature

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

Combine milk, water, butter, sugar and salt In a heavy bottomed medium saucepan and heat on medium high.

Once the mixture is at a rolling boil, add all of the flour at once, reduce the heat to medium
and start to stir the mixture vigorously with a wooden spoon. The dough should come together into a ball. Continue stirring for another 3-4 minutes until it is completely smooth and soft.

Transfer the dough into a bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and beat to cool it down slightly. Add in four eggs one at a time, beating after each egg has been added to incorporate it into the dough. The dough should be very thick and shiny but not liquidy.

Transfer the dough to a pastry bag fitted with a 1 inch plain tip. Pipe out mounds of dough on the prepared baking sheet, spacing about 2 inches apart.

Beat the last egg with a little water to form an egg wash, then brush lightly over the puffs.

Bake in oven for about 15-18 minutes, rotating halfway through. The puffs should turn golden brown and be dry to the touch. It's easier to underbake than to overbake; make sure they are dry before taking out.

Place sheet on a wire rack and let puffs cool before slicing in half and filling with ice cream to make profiteroles.

Almond Granita

1 cup almond milk

1 cup water

3 ounces almond paste

3 tablespoons sugar

1/4 teaspoon lemon juice

Combine all the ingredients in a blender and process until very smooth.

Strain into an 8 inch square baking pan (stainless steel is best).

Place in freezer and let freeze for about an hour. Using a fork, break and crush the mixture into small pieces. Freeze for another 30 minutes and repeat the process, turning the pieces into even small crystals. The mixture should be firm and ready to serve after about 2 hours of this process.

A Twist on the Familiar: Tonka Bean and Cocoa Nib Ice Cream

 

Do you ever wonder how just about everyone's favorite ice cream flavor seems inextricably tied to his or her childhood? After divulging their #1 choice, people will nearly always follow up with, "This was the only flavor I ate when I was a child!" or some variant thereof. I am no exception. Strawberry ice cream was my one true love (ok, there was a brief foray into orange sherbet territory, but I reconciled with strawberry pretty quickly). My sisters: chocolate and mint chip. My boyfriend: good old vanilla. I find it fascinating, and touching, that ice cream is such a cultural lodestone. It also makes me smile to think that with all the funky, jazzy, new ice cream flavors

That's not to say that I don't also embrace the flip side of ice cream: its workhorse versatility, its perfection as a canvas for endless flavor experimentation. Once I learned ice creams all start from a similar dairy base, I realized that just about any flavor was possible. Once I got an ice cream maker, there was no stopping me.

There are two main types of ice cream: French style, which is made with eggs, and Philadelphia or American style, which does not contain eggs. The French style ice cream, which uses the eggs to create a custard base, crème anglaise-style, has a richer, smoother mouthfeel owing to the emulsifying properties of the eggs; these ice creams are the ones that attract a raft of over-the-top adjectives like "indulgent", "decadent", and "sinful." Philadelphia style ice creams, which rely only on the milk and cream for richness, have a lighter, more delicate taste. Oftentimes, the recipes for Philadelphia style ice creams do not even require any cooking, making them quite simple to put together.

Both styles have their merits, however, when I am experimenting with ice cream flavors I usually like using a Philadelphia style recipe, because the simplicity of the ingredients really lets the added flavors shine through. Alice Medrich touches on this in her book Pure Dessert, where she discusses her experiments in the kitchen to really let the essence of the flavors come through; oftentimes it led to her editing out or reducing amounts of ingredients previously thought necessary.

In fact, this ice cream I made is based on Medrich's cocoa nib ice cream, one of my very favorite ice cream flavors. Now, I think this is amazing because well, 1)Medrich is an amazing pastry chef, but also 2)it's pretty difficult to displace people's ice cream preferences. If you look at at a top ten list of ice cream flavors, it always has the same perennials: strawberry, vanilla, chocolate chip, butter pecan. While I enjoy playing ice cream mad scientist in the kitchen and I think most people are now used to seeing "exotic" ice cream flavors when going out to restaurants, I'd still wager that most people are not going to list lavender honey praline or coconut lemongrass as their top flavor. Perhaps foodies in the future will prove me wrong! But I believe the power of nostalgia is hard to overcome. Also, the reason such basic flavors like chocolate and coffee have such staying power is because they are so simple and pure: they appeal to a very elemental part of us.

Which is why I found Medrich's cocoa nib ice cream such a revelation: cream infused with cocoa nib had a taste that seemed very different and yet was teasingly familiar. Cocoa nibs have a taste very remisicent of chocolate, yet also unique - they have a nutty, rustic, darker edge to them - raw, unprocessed chocolate, as it were. So when I tasted this soft, delicate ice cream, with a hue somewhere between eggshell and mocha, it tasted like a far-off memory of chocolate. I think that's why this ice cream is so appealing - it triggers just enough of a sense of familiarity, yet has a twist. Just about everyone I've urged to try this ice cream is fascinated by it.

I decided I needed my fix of this ice cream last week, and as I set about making it I thought of adding another ingredient: tonka beans. These deliciously fragrant little beans (see above) are another example of a twist on the familiar: they smell very similar to vanilla beans, mixed with cloves, cinnamon, and, some say, hay. When I tasted a tonka bean it has a taste like vanilla but also a a bit grassy, so I could see the hay comparison. Tonka beans have been used as a substitute for vanilla, so what, I wondered, would cocoa nibs and tonka beans taste like? Chocolate and vanilla or something entirely different?

As it turned out, the tonka bean added a wonderful layer of complexity to the ice cream. The chocolatey, nutty flavor of cocoa nibs is the first to fill your mouth. Then the top notes of clove and sweet vanilla round out the finish. I kept eating spoonful after spoonful, trying to discern all the different components, and then realizing that I was also really enjoying it!

A health note: tonka beans seem to be quite popular in the dessert world right now: I was turned on to them by none other than Tartelette herself. However, there have been concerns raised on the internet as to the possible dangerous side-effects of these beans. Tonka beans contain coumarin, which in large doses is considered toxic by the FDA. I'm not sure if it's actually illegal to sell tonka beans in the US, although they appear to be available in other parts of the world. My two cents is that I don't think the small amount of tonka bean used in this recipe should be dangerous for anyone who is healthy. I guess I wouldn't recommend eating tonka beans every day, but again this advice could be true for many things. If you are concerned or want to know more there is a good thread on eGullet. Also, even if you don't have tonka beans I would still highly recommend making the cocoa nib ice cream - it's that good!

To go with the ice cream I made the pizzelles from my cookie book, with a tablespoon of cocoa powder added, and dipped them in white chocolate and pistachios to create little handmade cones. Did that bring back memories of wanting my ice cream in those outrageous triple-dipped chocolate-and-sprinkled-covered sugar cones? Yep, but that's a story for next time...

And, once summer gets closer, you can be sure I'll be working on the perfect strawberry ice cream!

 

Tonka Bean and Cocoa Nib Ice Cream

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

1 1/2 cups (13 oz) whole milk

1 1/2 cups (13 oz) heavy cream

1/2 cup (3 1/2 oz) sugar

1/3 cup (2 oz) cocoa nibs, coarsely chopped

1 1/2 teaspoon grated tonka bean

1/8 teaspoon salt

Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat.

Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for about 20 minutes.

Strain mixture into a clean container, cover, and let chill overnight.

Freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

Chocolate Pizzelles

2/3 cup + ½ cup (5 1/2 oz) all purpose flour

1 tablespoon cocoa powder

1 ½  teaspoon baking powder

2 pinches salt

2 large eggs, room temperature

½ cup (3 1/2 oz) sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

6 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Sift all purpose flour, cocoa powder baking powder and salt into a bowl and set aside.

In a stand mixer with whisk attachment, whip the eggs and sugar on high speed until thickened, about 1 minute. Scrape down bowl sides as needed.

Combine vanilla extract with the melted butter and with mixer on low speed gradually add to egg mixture. Mix just until combined ,scraping down bowl sides as needed.

Remove bowl from mixer and fold in the sifted dry ingredients with a rubber spatula, making sure to mix until smooth and free of dry patches.
Cover bowl with plastic wrap and allow to rest for 15 minutes.

Preheat the electric pizzelle press as listed in the instruction booklet.

Once pizzelle press is heated, open press and place 2 teaspoonfuls of  batter on each pizzelle grid and gently close the press and bake following the pizzelle press instruction booklet. Note: the first few pizzelle are never perfect,note the positioning of the batter and finished color  so you can make adjustments for the following pizzelles.

Gently lift pizzelles from press and cool completely on a wire rack.

Taking a Sip of Memory

It's been lamentably long since my last visit to Rome, and all my memories of it have taken on that misty, dreamy quality when you're not sure whether it's a true remembrance or one half-embellished with your fantasies of what really happened. Although, Rome is so very old and layered in memory that I wonder whether this happens to everyone who passes through. As you walk down the cobblestone streets or gaze at the magnificent monuments, it's hard not to think of all the hundreds of thousands of people who have done the same over the centuries. You're just the latest in the unending chain of people doing the same thing in the eternal city. The person throwing coins in Trevi Fountain? The person buying flowers in Campo de' Fiori? The person gazing skyward at the frescos in the Sistine Chapel? I'm sure I did all those things, just as I'm sure so many have done so before me, and will after me. It's easy to turn my trip into some sort of "Stereotypical Greatest Hits of Rome" after all this time.

There are a few memories that stand out as I riffle through them: seeing Piazza Navona for the first time, lined with buildings in all shades of terra cotta and sienna and umber. The train ride from Rome to Florence, watching the countryside uncurl outside the window. Running into an acquaintance from work at the Uffizi (now that memory, I know I didn't make up!) Learning how to order my favorite flavor of gelato (stracciatella).

And then there is the memory of one hot afternoon wandering around Florence, eyes overstuffed with art and feet protesting another museum foray. We stopped at a cafe to take una pausa, whereupon my companion declared that now was the perfect opportunity to try that immortal Italian liqueur, limoncello.

Of course, limoncello is classically meant as a digestif, preferably on a balmy summer night next to the Amalfi coast. But it's a very fine companion for a lazy afternoon as well, and as tourists, we at least had the excuse of ignorance. The limoncello arrived in tiny glasses, chilled and frosty white. The almost shockingly yellow liqueur looked like distilled sunshine. I took a sip and let that frozen shard of sunlight unfurl itself, tingling, inside me.

Years have passed since that trip to Rome, and just as long since I've had a sip of limoncello. But when I found myself in possession of a bottle of it the other day, it was as easy as falling into dream to take a sip and remember that dusty summer afternoon and my first taste of limoncello.

Now, as with any other new foodstuff that I encounter since I've gone to pastry school, I find myself pondering, how could I use this in my baking? The answer revealed itself in a most serendipitous manner when I came across a recipe in Delicious magazine for a strawberry and limoncello semifreddo - the name itself positively wafts summer.

What can be confusing about semifreddo, as I've detailed before, is that it's really more of a class of dessert than one specific recipe. That's why when you go researching semifreddo you're likely to find a whole range of techniques, from Italian meringue to pâté à bombe to crème anglaise. You have semifreddo that is studded with nuts and nougat, formed into a terrine, and served in slices. You have semifreddo that is frozen into cups and eaten with a spoon, like a mousse. The only consistent qualification for semifreddo, it seems, is that is must be light and fluffy - to the point of gossamer insubstantiality.

The point of the various techniques that go into making semifreddo is to incorporate air into the mixture, which is what gives the final product its fabulous lightness. Since there's no ice cream machine doing the heavy work of aerating, all the trapped air must come from the whipped cream, the whipped eggs, etc. This recipe falls on the simpler, breezier side: there's whipped cream and whipped egg whites which are folded into a just-whisked egg yolk and sugar mixture. The result is very soft, creamy, and light - my ideal semifreddo.

Even if you have an aversion to spirits, there's no need to shy away from this dessert. The limoncello gives the semifreddo a dreamily smooth, sublime lemon flavor, without the bright tartness usually imparted from the fruit. It's like a cross between lemon curd and lemony whipped cream - what I imagine to be the perfect density of sunlight-dappled clouds. The swirl of sweetened strawberries adds a rich fruitiness to ground the etherealness of the semifreddo.

Although the alcohol in the limoncello will help the semifreddo from becoming rock-hard in the freezer so quickly, it's still best to take the semifreddo out about a half hour before you plan to serve it, to give it time soften slightly (if you make individual cups, like I did, it may need even less time - don't let them melt!)

Strawberry Limoncello Semifreddo

adapted from Delicious Magazine

about 8-10 servings

1/2 cup (110 g) sugar

2 pints strawberries, hulled and roughly chopped.

1/4 cup (60 ml) limoncello

4 large eggs, separated

2 1/2 cups (600 ml) heavy cream

Place a 2 1/2 quart heavy ceramic dish, or individual glasses of your choice, in the freezer to chill.

Combine 1/4 cup of the sugar with 1/2 cup water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat and then simmer for 3 minutes until the sugar has all dissolved and the mixture has thickened.

Add the strawberries and stir to combine. Take the saucepan off the heat and use a fork to mash the strawberries into the sugar syrup. Stir in 2 tablespoons of the limoncello, then let the strawberrie cool to room temperature.

Combine the egg yolks and the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar in a bowl and whisk together until pale and thickened. Add in the remaining limoncello and stir to combine.

Whip the cream in a stand mixer on high speed until soft peaks form.

Whip the egg whites in a clean bowl just until soft peaks form - do not overwhip.

Carefully fold half of the whipped cream into the egg yolk mixture to lighten it up. Fold in the rest of the whipped cream, taking care not to deflate the cream too much.

Fold in the egg whites, again taking care not to deflate the whites.

Pour the mixture into the pre-frozen dish or cups.

Stir in the strawberry mixture. Because the semifreddo mixture is so light, I find the strawberries tend to sink to the bottom and if there's too much liquid it also starts deflating the mixture. If your strawberries are in a lot of liquid, you may want to strain it before you add to the semifreddo. Pour them in gently and quickly, and don't overmix into the semifreddo.

Cover with plastic wrap and freeze for at least 5 hours or overnight. Take out of the freezer about 30 minutes before serving, less for individual portions.

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.

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

Bite This!

Sesame, Says I

Well, I haven't made those citron vodka-laced chocolates from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert yet, but I did try another one of the inspiringly original recipes from her book. I must mention that it's turning into one my favorite books of the year; if you remember my shortlist of baking books from a while ago (and I'm embarrassed to mention how many of those have made their way onto my bookshelf already), I certainly would put this at the top of the list. Every time I leaf through it, I find myself tempted by another creation that I must make right away.

This Sesame Seed Cake is one such recipe that beckoned to me from the beginning. It called for black sesame seeds, which I've rarely seen beyond a fairy-kiss sprinkling on bowls of softly mounded rice in Japanese restaurants, a sort of reverse snow-capped Mount Fuji if you will (The Japanese are such masters of visual poetry).

I last used black sesame seeds in my Black Pearl truffles, and I was eager to experiment with them again. I was also intrigued by the fact that the cake took its sesame flavor from both sesame seeds and sesame oil. Sesame oil is a staple of Asian kitchens, and I love the smoky-sweet, nutty scent that diffuses through the air when I cook with it. But I'd never used it in baking before, and I was curious what gustatory revelations awaited me from the familiar bottle of sesame oil on my shelf.

Medrich describes this as having an irresistible velvet texture, and that's fairly on the mark. It has a tight, elegant crumb that makes it a dream to slice, and crumbles delicately on the tongue. As for the flavor, I'll never look at my sesame oil the same again. I was used to using it as a seasoning, to add a supporting note to my dishes, but here it's the star - and it certainly shines. It infuses the cake with its distinctive nuttiness, which combined with soft buttery-vanilla undertones make it a teatime treat both cozily familiar and thrillingly exotic. If you can't imagine what a cake with sesame oil tastes like (and I must admit with my savory associations with the oil, I was both excited and apprehensive), do try it - your taste buds will thank you.

It's such a beautiful cake, too - the black sesame seeds look like stray flecks of calligraphy on an unrolled canvas, or fallen feathers on a snowfield. They add a pleasant, subtle crunch to the cake too -although black sesame seeds are supposed to be more bitter than white ones, I didn't notice. Black sesame seeds can be found in Asian grocery stores - if you can't find them, white ones will do just as well. Medrich notes that toasting black sesame seeds can be tricky, but the ones in the Asian stores are often already toasted.

On the matter of toasting, Medrich also notes that sesame oil used should be toasted, and that Asian sesame oils are toasted as a matter of course, even if the label doesn't say so. I had never even thought of that before - such are the blind spots wrought by cultural differences! To me, sesame oil was always that deep golden-brown oil in the tall cylindrical container; I had never thought about the fact that its color came from toasting the seeds, and that there might be other sesame oils made from untoasted seeds.  Be sure when you buy your oil that it says pure sesame oil; often you will find sesame/soybean oil blends on the shelves. Also, Medrich cautions against using old, possibly rancid sesame oil. I can see why, as its flavor is so prominently figured in this cake and indeed any sour notes would sound out loud and clear. However, sesame oil is one of the most stable of oils, and hardly ever goes rancid. If you can't remember when you purchased your bottle, I might suggest buying a new one, but I wouldn't worry overly about your oil spoiling quickly.

Medrich suggests serving this cake with her Heavenly Honey Ice Cream, and it's a gorgeous pairing - as well as an excuse to use up the rest of my honey. As simple as milk and cream suffused with honey, it sings of fat bees buzzing through sunlit fields of wildflowers, of summer just gone. Of course, this is a great medium to experiment with different honeys - a softer, floral honey would go very well with the sesame cake. Just be sure to use a honey with character - you don't want to use those bland, overly sweet mass-produced ones.

So if you're looking for something a little different, a little exotic...give this cake a try. It's one of the my most delicious - and beautiful - horizon-expanding experiences so far.

Sesame Seed Cake

from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes one 8-in round cake

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 large eggs, room temperature

2 1/2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

8 tablespoons butter, room temperature

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup buttermilk, room temperature

1/4 cup toasted black sesame seeds

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the bottom and sides of a cake pan or a springform pan - I find the springform works really well. Make sure the pan has high enough sides as the cake really rises in the oven!

Combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together in a bowl and set aside.

Beat the eggs together in a bowl with a whisk. Add the sesame oil and vanilla and thoroughly combine.

Place the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat with the paddle attachment on medium for a few minutes to soften it up. Add the sugar and beat for several more minutes until it is light-colored and fluffy.

Add in the egg mixture a little at a time while the mixer is still running, letting it slowly combine over a couple of minutes.

Stop the mixer and pour in a third of the flour mixture, and beat just until combined. Scrape down the sides as necessary.

Add half the buttermilk and beat until combined.

Repeat with half of the remaining flour mixture, the rest of the buttermilk, and finally the rest of the flour mixture with the sesame seeds. With each addition, beat it only until it is just incorporated.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake in the oven for about 30-40 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Let the cake cool on the rack for a few minutes before unmolding. If you baked the cake in a regular cake pan, invert it onto the rack, and turn it right side up to finish cooling.

This cake will keep in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

Heavenly Honey Ice Cream

from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes about 4 cups

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup honey

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 cups cream

Heat the milk in a small saucepan until it just starts to simmer. Pour it out into another bowl and let it cool completely. Otherwise it will curdle when you add the honey.

Whisk in the honey and salt.

Add in the cream and stir to combine.

Cover and chill for at least 4 hours, or overnight.

Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Tagged with: Alice Medrich + Pure Dessert + sesame seed cake+ honey ice cream

Bite This!

Tales of the Elephant Heart Plum

Check it out: this post is featured on Yumsugar and Serious Eats!

How fabulous is the bounty of fruit at the farmers' markets right now?

I wanted to make something with plums before they disappeared, and this week when I went to market I saw a variety that I hadn't baked with before: the oh-so-intriguingly named elephant heart plums.

If the slightly macabre name does not give you pause, the fruit's appearance might: a rather mottled and dusty variegation of greens and purples, making one wonder if they've been pulled, half-ripened, out of a kitchen drawer, or, perhaps, if they are something rich and strange from the depths of some sun-dappled forest.

Cut one open, and they indeed resemble something from a fairy tale: a jewellike, blood red interior that is softly, sweetly fragrant and begs to be bitten into, Snow-White style. Don't resist; the flesh is firm and burstingly juicy, the flavor sublimely sweet and tangy at once, redolent of honey and vanilla with tart berry undertones.

I adore this plum, with its perfect heart shape and rich ruby color, the subtle complexities of its flavor such a contrast to its bolder, more straightforward cousins. Incidentally, the dustlike bloom you may see on them at the market is actually a good sign; elephant heart plums are quite delicate and bruise easily, so seeing bloom means that have not been overhandled. Pick plums that are tender but not squishy soft or too firm either. Even a not-perfectly-ripened elephant heart plum is a thing of joy, but a perfect one is like the end of summer distilled into ambrosia.

After eating a couple of these little beauties, I actually had to make sure I didn't get carried away and eat them all before I could bake anything with them (addictive, as in all the best fairy tales! or was that Persephone and her pomegranate seeds?) These plums are of course delightful out of hand, but also spectacular in many late summer or early autumn standards like galettes, tarts, or coffee cakes. The plums hold up well in baking and develop an even richer, more robust flavor.

I went with a recipe I had been waiting all year to try from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream: a plum cornmeal cake paired with a plum sorbet. She calls for Santa Rosa plums in her recipe, a similar plum that's already had its season here in the Bay Area, but any red-fleshed plum like the Elephant Heart would work, or any plum or pluot that is not overly sweet (those that are both sweet and tart work best).

The recipe is a simple and fun one to make; the batter is thick and puddinglike and does not seem to be enough to yield a full cake, but don't worry, it rises prodigiously in the oven to a glorious puffy golden cloud. Be generous in sprinkling the plum pieces over the batter; even if it seems like a lot once the cake bakes up to its full height it will be quite thick and you will want it to be liberally studded with fruit. Not too sweet, pleasingly light and fluffy in texture with the slightest crunch from the cornmeal, this cake is lovely warm from the oven for breakfast or teatime.

The cake would be wonderful all on its own, but I had to make the accompanying plum sorbet, if only to show off that gorgeous wine-red color of the plums just a little more. It's also perfect for emphasizing the fruit in the cake; the chilly sorbet's intense sweetness and tanginess makes me think of plums in the snow. However you choose to devour these plums, they are surely one of the sweetest sendoffs to summer.

    

Plum Cornmeal Cake

adapted from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream

Makes one 9 1/2-in cake

4-6 ripe red fleshed plums

1 1/2 cups (212 g) flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

pinch of salt

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (64 g) cornmeal

6 oz (172 g) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup (200 g) sugar

3 large eggs

1/3 cup (60 g) milk

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Cut up the plums into small even pieces (eighths are a good size).

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the bottom and sides of a 9 1/2-in springform pan.

Sift the flour, baking powder, and cinnamon into a bowl. Add in the salt and 1/2 cup cornmeal and stir together to combine.

Put the butter and sugar into a mixer bowl and beat on medium speed until light-colored and fluffy.

Add in the eggs one at a time, making sure one is incorporated before adding the other.

Combine the milk, lemon juice, and vanilla extract in a small bowl.

Add the flour mixture and the milk mixture to the mixer bowl in additions, starting and ending with the dry flour mixture. Beat just until all the ingredients are combined.

Spread about half of the mixture into the springform pan, spreading evenly. Place about half of the plum pieces over the batter.

Spread the rest of the batter into the springform pan and top with the remaining plums. Sprinkle the 1 tablespoon of cornmeal over the top of the batter.

Bake in the oven for about 50 minutes until a tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

Plum Sorbet

adapted from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream

Makes one 9 1/2-in cake

2 pounds red fleshed plums

1/2 cup (100g) sugar

1/4 cup (45 g) water

pinch of salt

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Cut the plums into small pieces (about 1/2-in)and discard the pits. Place plums in a food processor and puree until smooth.

Strain the puree into a bowl - there should be about 2 3/4 cups.

Add in the sugar, water, salt, and lemon juice and combine. Taste and add more sugar if necessary.

Refrigerate the base for at least 2 hours to thoroughly chill.

Freeze in an ice cream machine per manufacturer's instructions. You will get a very soft sorbet that will require further freezing (about 4 hours) in the freezer before you can scoop and serve it.

Tagged with: Emily Luchetti + elephant heart plum + plum cornmeal cake + plum sorbet

Bite This!

Pure Dessert, Pure Inspiration

When I met up with Veronica of Veronica’s Test Kitchen a few weeks ago, not only did I get the pleasure of a fun night out with a fellow baker, but I was also clued in to an early release of Alice Medrich’s newest book, Pure Dessert – one I’d been eagerly awaiting. Veronica had just taken a class earlier in the day from Medrich at my alma mater, and what surprise did Medrich have in store for her students but several copies of her latest tome, fresh from the printer! Of course my immediate question was, “Are there any copies left?” Veronica, who shares my ardor (and impatience) for new cookbooks, very sweetly had a copy set aside for me when she returned to class the following day, for which I’m happily indebted to her. Thanks so much, sweetie!

In a sea of lookalike cookbook releases, many of them tired riffs on dusty old themes, Medrich’s book is an elegant, assertive breath of fresh air. Moving far beyond her familiar domain of chocolate, she re-examines the very concept of dessert from ingredient up, espousing her new philosophy of simplicity and purity. There are no elaborate, multi-component desserts or fancy, cutting-edge techniques in this book; instead, Medrich returns to the basics and turns them inside out, reinventing them into something new and exciting.

Medrich does what I would love to do all day long (alas, until I find someone to pay me for it, I must fit kitchen time in with the rest of real life): experiment in her kitchen. She takes apart recipes, examines methods and ingredients, and hones everything down to reach the most perfect, purest expression of flavor. Her boundless curiosity and rigorous methods are illuminating and inspiring; like the very best standard-bearers of any field, she makes possibilities seem endless and exploration an exhilaration. I’ve had people ask me, “well, how many desserts could there be? After you’re done a chocolate cake and a vanilla cake and a strawberry tart and a blueberry pie, haven’t you pretty much made everything?” Medrich’s book is a resounding no to that sentiment and an exuberant yes to experimentation, creativity, and imagination.

In her book, Medrich plays with the variety of ingredients, new and old, available to bakers: buckwheat and kamut flours in her scones, kafir cheese in her tarts, sesame oil and muscovado sugar in her cakes. She reconsiders baking techniques and recipes with the mind of a scientist: cakes are made with both cold and room temperature butter; spices are incorporated into batter or sprinkled directly over just-baked cookies; tea infusions are made with both hot and cold cream. Her thoughtful reasoning, and her dissection of her experiments, leads to some fascinating discoveries and a greater understanding of how baking works and how to best use various ingredients in this process.

The result is a wonderfully eclectic, marvelously original, and deeply personal collection of recipes. Like some of my other favorite recent cookbooks (Kate Zuckerman’s The Sweet Life, Pichet Ong’s The Sweet Spot, and of course Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours), Medrich’s book moves beyond a mere compilation of desserts to a glimpse inside the author’s mind and her thoughts and feelings – you share in her ideas writ tantalizingly in sugar, chocolate, fruit, and honey. I found what Medrich had to say enormously captivating. She wants one to see baking the same way cooking is being viewed today, as the search to best express the qualities and flavor of an ingredient. Baking doesn’t have to mean tons of white sugar and whipped cream everywhere; it also doesn’t have to mean following the same rigid rules to get the exact same result every time. It can mean using unrefined sugar or honey to give new nuances of sweetness to custards, or using whole grains to add nutty dimension to shortbread, or cooking fruit to enhance its flavor before turning it into ice cream.

Inspired is the perfect word for how you will feel after reading this book. You will be inspired to run to the grocery store and pick up ingredients you had never used before in baking. You will be inspired to look at the ingredients you have in your pantry with a new eye. You will be inspired to look at a basket of berries, or a jar of honey, and think about how to best capture and showcase it in a cake, or ice cream, or cookie. You will be inspired to know that you don’t need to make a multi-layer cake or an elaborate composed dessert or use ten different pastry techniques to make something sweet and satisfying.

One of the many desserts that caught my eye as I was leafing through the book was Medrich’s Bittersweet Citrus Tart with Jasmine Cream. You may remember that she had a similar recipe in her Bittersweet cookbook, the tempting Bittersweet Chocolate Tartlets. Here, they are reimagined in a more elegant incarnation, with a deliciously grown-up combination of flavors. One thing I like about Medrich is that she is unafraid to reexamine and redo her own recipes. There is no resting on her laurels, only a constant drive to update and improve. The new version of her tart has a ganache-like layer of citrus-hinted chocolate in a crisp buttery tart shell. Infused with the zest of pink grapefruit and blood oranges, enriched with butter and egg, the chocolate is as luxuriously smooth as a truffle center and pleasantly tangy to the taste. Medrich places a dollop of jasmine scented cream on top, but I took it a step further and turned it into a delicate ice cream. A scoop of this ethereal, floral ice cream makes refreshing and intriguing foil to the robust richness of the tart.

Pure Dessert should be available in most bookstores by now, so you can see for yourself what Veronica and I have been raving about. As an inveterate bedtime reader of cookbooks, I can vouch that this book has not left my nightstand since I've gotten it!

   

Bittersweet Citrus Tart

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes one 9 1/2 in tart or (6) 3 1/2 in tarts

Crust

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1/4 cup sugar

3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup (4 1/2 oz) flour

Filling

8 oz semisweet chocolate (62% preferred, I used Guittard 61%)

5 tablespoons butter

1/2 teaspoon grated blood (or regular) orange zest

1/2 teaspoon grated pink grapefruit zest

1 large egg yolk, room temperature

1/4 cup boiling water

For the crust: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Combine the melted butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt in a bowl and mix together with a wooden spoon.

Add in the flour and mix until combined. You can let the dough sit for a few minutes to firm up if it seems too soft to manipulate.

Grease the bottom and sides of your tart pan(s)  - I suggest ones with removable bottoms to make it easier to remove the tarts after baking. Press the tart dough into the bottom and sides of the tart pans, taking care to spread the dough as evenly and thinly as possible (this is not difficult but may take some time and patience.)

Bake the tart shells in the oven for about 20 minutes or until the shells appear golden brown and firm. Remove and let cool completely on a wire rack.

For the filling: Combine the chocolate, butter, and citrus zest in a bowl and set over a saucepan of simmering water to create a bain-marie. Stir frequently to ensure the chocolate and butter melt together evenly. When the mixture is completely melted, take off the heat and set aside.

Place the egg yolk in a small bowl and slowly whisk in the boiling water, taking care not to cook the egg. Place the bowl over the simmering water and whisk the egg mixture continually until it reaches a temperature of 160 degrees F.

Pour the egg through a strainer into the chocolate mixture and stir gently to combine - try to avoid creating air bubbles in the mixture.

Pour the filling into the tart shells and spread evenly. Place the tarts in a covered container and chill in the refrigerator for at least 3 to 4 hours to set the filling.

When you ready to serve the tarts, take them out of the refrigerator about half an hour beforehand to let it soften and regain the shine on its surface.

Jasmine Ice Cream

makes about 1 quart

2 cups heavy cream

2 cups milk

4 tablespoons loose jasmine tea (leaves or pearls will work)

1/2 cup sugar

pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients in a heavy saucepan and place on stove over medium heat. Stirring occasionally, heat until the mixture just comes to a boil.

Take mixture off heat and let cool to room temperature. Pour into a container, cover, and chill for at least 6 hours or overnight. You may want to check the mixture while it is chilling to make sure it has not become too strongly flavored from the tea.

Strain the mixture to remove all the loose tea. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

Tagged with: Alice Medrich + Pure Dessert + Bittersweet Citrus Tart + jasmine ice cream

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