Fall Special: Apple Pear Chutney

Thumb-sucking good.

I've been on a sort of bar cookie rampage recently, but the last ones I made were not as good as I remembered (a recipe from my old culinary school's student bakery/cafe). To comfort myself I made this chutney, and it turned out to be fall in a bottle. So wonderful, and almost better than a gingersnap.

I used organic heirloom Pippins and red Bartletts for this (rounded out with a couple of Granny Smiths), but you can experiment with other apple and pear varieties. I think adding the sherry vinegar is a good flavor component, but if you don't have it just use all cider vinegar. The important thing is to achieve a sort of almost too sweet/too sour balance - that's totally the right note for autumn. You can also mess with the spices if you want, adding or leaving them out as you see fit. This chutney would be fabulous on roasted root vegetables (or meat if you eat it, I guess), or chopped a bit and added to a rice salad, or just piled high on a piece of good bread.

Apple Pear Chutney, with Golden Raisins

Makes about 4 cups

5 or 6 large tart apples, peeled and cut in largish chunks

2-3 large firm pears, peeled and cut in largish chunks

2 to 2 1/2 cups packed brown sugar (start with 2 cups)

Juice of 1 lemon

Juice of 1 orange

1/2 to 1 cup granulated sugar (start with 1/2 cup)

1/3 cup cider vinegar

2-3 tablespoons sherry vinegar (or more cider vinegar)

2 cinnamon sticks

1/2 teaspoon each: ground ginger, ground cloves, ground allspice

1 teaspoon dry mustard

1 1/2 teaspoons freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon coriander seeds (optional)

2 tablespoons brandy

1 teaspoon sea salt

1 1/2 cups golden raisins

In a large shallow pan, combine all ingredients BUT the golden raisins. Bring to a boil, lower heat to medium low and cook for about 20 minutes or until fruit has released lots of juice. Add golden raisins and cook for 10 minutes more. Now taste - if it needs more sugar, more vinegar, more spice, add them now. Remember: this should be very sweet and sour. The fruit should be swimming in juice - if so, drain the hot fruit into a sieve set over a medium bowl. Set the drained fruit aside and return the juice to the pan. Reduce juice over medium high heat until it is syrupy and reduced at least by half (the syrup should coat a spoon). Return drained fruit to the bowl and add the reduced syrup. Note: if the apples and pears are dry, you may not have to do the reducing-syrup step - use your own judgement. The end result should look like the chutney in the photo.

Let the chutney cool for a few minutes, remove the cinnamon sticks, then pour into a clean glass jar or a heatproof plastic container. Cover and chill. This chutney will keep for a couple of weeks in the refrigerator.

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich
All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Chocolate Coconut Barrows: low rent, fabulous.

They're not mounds, they're barrows!

You need to make these. No, really -- right now. I say the holiday cookie season is upon us, so make these to celebrate Back to School. Or Halloween/Samhain/Dia de los Muertos. Or Rosh Hashanah! Yeah, that's it. Ring in 5769 with sweetened condensed milk products - v. trayf.

I'd been thinking about those Antipodean chocolate caramel slices I mentioned in my last post and then I started toying with my sister's Magic Cookie Bar [tm Borden's] formula (and everyone has their own even if they won't admit it due to "culinary cringe" [tm Cherry Ripe]). Finally I decided I wanted a facsimile of one of my favorite candy bars, only with a crumb crust. So here they are. I love them and want to smash them to my bosom, only that would defeat their purpose somewhat.

Chocolate Coconut Barrows

Makes 36 tiny squares (and believe me, you'll only want a little bit of these at a time)

Note: I used salted butter throughout this recipe for I am the Star Trek Salt Monster, but if you choose to use unsalted butter just throw a pinch of salt or two into the crust, the coconut filling and/or the glaze. It will give your bars tamm.

For the crust:
10 single or 5 double graham crackers

1/3 cup toasted pecans, coarsely chopped (you can use walnuts or macadamias instead)

2 tablespoons sugar

Tiny pinch of cinnamon

1/4 cup butter, melted

For the layers:
1/2 generous cup good quality (this means NO NESTLE) semisweet or bittersweet chocolate chips or chopped chocolate

1/2 generous cup good quality (see above) milk chocolate chips

2 cups shredded coconut, sweetened or unsweetened (I use half and half)

1 15-oz. can sweetened condensed milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon coconut extract (optional, but you should use it)

For the glaze:
1/2 cup semi sweet or bittersweet chocolate chips or chopped chocolate

1/2 cup milk chocolate chips or chopped chocolate

1/4 cup butter

Preheat oven to 325F. Spray an 8" square pan with more non-stick cooking spray than you ever though possible, THEN line it with one 18" long by 8" wide strip of heavy duty aluminum foil, pushing it along two sides to fit, pressing the overhanging bits down outside the pan. Take another 18" long by 8" wide strip of heavy duty aluminum foil and place it over and opposite the first strip, pushing along the sides to fit, pressing the overhang down, etc. You're creating a sort of double sling effect with overhanging foil on all four sides of the pan. Spray the whole thing generously with nonstick cooking spray. Later you'll be happy you did this.

Place graham crackers, pecans, sugar and pinch cinnamon in the bowl of a food processor and pulse several times to make fine crumbs. Add the 1/4 cup melted butter and pulse to combine (alternatively you could put the graham crackers, pecans, sugar and cinnamon in a plastic bag, press out the air, seal it and whack it several times with a rolling pin to crush everything. You'll need to transfer it to a bowl to mix in the melted butter, though). Press this mixture evenly into the bottom of the prepared pan. Bake crust for 12 to 15 minutes, or until golden at the edges and firm to the touch.

Meanwhile, in a medium bowl mix coconut, sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract and cococut extract to combine.

When crumb crust comes out of the oven, scatter the two half cups of semi/bittersweet and milk chocolate chips evenly over the bottom. Wait a couple of minutes and swirl this now-softened chocolate over the crust with a spoon or offset spatula. Carefully pour coconut mixture evenly over this, spreading carefully to the edges of the pan with a clean offset spatula (or spoon). Return to oven and bake for 7 minutes, then turn pan around front to back and bake again for another 7 minutes or until coconut layer is very lightly golden and is firm-ish to the touch. Remove from oven and cool on a rack for about 10 to 15 minutes.

For the glaze: Place semi/bittersweet chocolate, milk chocolate and butter in a microwaveable bowl. Microwave at 75% power for 25 seconds; remove from microwave and stir to mix. Microwave again at 75% power for another 25 seconds, remove and stir until all chips are melted and mixture is smooth (you may have to microwave it again at 75% power for 10 to 15 more seconds to achieve this). Pour glaze over baked bars and smooth with an offset spatula or a spoon. Let set at room temperature for about 20 minutes, then refrigerate until glaze is set and bars are cold (4 hours to overnight).

To cut, pull foil overhang up on all sides and ease the bars out of the pan (be patient and don't tug too hard). When bars are out of pan, peel aluminum foil off. Place bars on a cutting board and let rest at room temperature for about 15 minutes. Using a long sharp knife, cut into 36 pieces (cut cake in half, then each half into three long strips; turn cake and repeat cuts to make 36 pieces). Store bars in an airtight container in the refrigerator, but let bars sit at room temperature for 15 or 20 minutes before serving.

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich
All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Go-to cookie: the Anzac biscuit.

Much, much easier than pie.

When I was in Australia, I sort of ignored Anzac biscuits. They were too plain-Jane, too ubiquitous, and I was on a quest for the rare and strange: vanilla and anise checkerboard ice cream in an edible cellophane frame, passionfruit mousse and curd with the crunchy black seeds left in (Australians would watch me closely as I ate these, to see if I'd crack with the usual American distaste for odd bits - I didn't), steamed upside down quince pudding, etc. While I was entranced by Cherry Ripe candy bars and chocolate caramel slices (which for all its downmarketishness is a cookie which makes brownies look like bupkis) , Anzac biscuits seemed too much like your run-of-the-mill American oatmeal cookie to turn my head.

Hah! What a fool I was. A month ago I stopped in at a very twee deli in the nearby foothill community of Montrose, and there in their pastry case were Anzac biscuits, looking really, really good amidst the Key Lime shortbread and pecan toffee cookies. The counter girl had no idea why they sold them ("Everybody always says the only place they've ever seen them is in Australia and New Zealand"), but no matter - they were fabulous: crisp, chewy, buttery, caramelly, sort of like a British flapjack, only better.

And then it hit me: what both cookies have in common is Golden Syrup, a staple of British and Commonwealth dessert and cookie (well, pudding and biscuit) cookery. You may have seen Nigella Lawson pour it over Yorkshire pudding which she'd already slathered with double cream and then devour it, an image which has stayed with me, you betcha. It is simple cane syrup, much like the one sold in this country in the South, only less...molasses-y. It is essential in the making of British treacle tart and those flapjacks (which bear no resemblance to American pancakes but are instead a sort of crisp oatmeal bar), and to Anzac biscuits, the ultimate oatmeal cookie.

I hauled this recipe back from Australia, but this is the first time I've baked them. The best things about them: they literally take two minutes to make and can be turned into a vegan cookie by substituting vegan stick margarine for the butter. Parchment paper and nonstick cooking spray are essential for these. This recipe makes a small batch, so you won't feel awash in cookies - they'll just feel like a small treat.

Anzac Biscuits

Makes 16

3 ounces butter or 3/4 of a stick (I use salted butter, but if you use unsalted, add 1/4 teaspoon extra salt) OR 3 ounces vegan stick margarine

2 generous tablespoons Golden Syrup (available in most good supermarkets, in the baking aisle or jam aisle, next to the molasses)

2/3 cup all purpose flour

2/3 cup old fashioned rolled oats (DO NOT use instant oatmeal - quick oats are OK, but old fashioned are best)

1/3 cup sugar

1/3 cup flaked coconut (I've used sweetened and unsweetened - both are OK)

A pinch of salt (if using salted butter)

A tiny, TINY, bitty pinch of ground cinnamon - really, just a breath

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 325F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and spray the paper lightly with non-stick cooking spray. Set aside.

In a small non-reactive saucepan, melt the butter and Golden Syrup together over low heat. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, mix all purpose flour, rolled oats, sugar, coconut, breath of cinnamon and pinch of salt (or extra salt if you're using unsalted butter) together until well blended. Add the teaspoon of baking soda to the butter-Golden Syrup mixture (it will foam up a bit) and pour this over the dry ingredients in the bowl. Add the 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract and stir everything together with a spatula or spoon until all ingredients are just blended.

Wet your hands a little, and form the dough into sixteen balls about the size of large marbles. Place eight balls on each cookie sheet, well spaced, and flatten each ball a bit with your slightly wet fingers. Place sheets in the oven. Bake for about 4 to 5 minutes. At this point (and using oven mitts), turn the sheets around, back to front. Bake for another 4 to 5 minutes, watching carefully, or until the cookies are a uniform golden brown (see above photo). Remove from the oven and allow cookies to cool on the sheets for about another 5 minutes, or until they are somewhat firm to the touch. Using a metal spatula, remove cookies from the baking sheets and place on cooling racks. Let cookies cool thoroughly. Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator (they seem to do better stored this way, and cold cookies rule).

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Jam jam jam jam - lovely jam, wonderful jam.

Jam on it.

When I worked at Pasadena's late, lamented Old Town Bakery, we used to make this jam in huge rondos (actually braziers) every day, because the restaurant would go through buckets of the stuff during every breakfast shift.

I remember the bakery's owner (hi, Amy!) skimming off the foam from the top of the simmering jam and then pouring this reserved byproduct over our homemade vanilla ice cream. Sounds disgusting, was delicious.

Anyway, you should make this, especially if you make the mistake of going to a farmers' market or Costco and buying about two metric tons more strawberries than you can actually consume before they spoil. This recipe will reduce those tons (or "tonnes," for our British friends) down to a couple of manageable little cups.

Oh, and these ingredients might sound as if they make some sort of horrible aberrant bad-Margarita-from-Chili's strawberry jam, but actually the Grand Marnier and lime juice serve to make it strawberry-er, if that's possible. The play up the taste. Trust me. Not only is this ridiculously fast, it's purely delicious, and great on toast, crackers, ice cream, in ice cream (as you're freezing it), on pound cake, as a shortcake or summer pudding enhancer, etc. etc.

Quick, Delicious Strawberry Jam

Makes about two or three cups.

6 heaping cups of hulled, washed, halved fresh strawberries

1 1/4 cups sugar

3 tablespoons Grand Marnier (or other orange-flavored liqueur, like triple sec, Cointreau, Mandarine Napoleon, etc.) - don't omit this because it is a subtle but crucial flavor enhancer

Juice from one medium-sized lime

Two things: this is a non-jarred jam which must be stored in the refrigerator, AND it has a peculiar equipment requirement: you will need to cook it in a 10" non-corrosive skillet or frying pan - that is, one made of stainless steel, tempered glass or enamel. I've never tried it in a Teflon-coated pan, but as long as there are no weird smells clinging to it, it might work. At any rate, DO NOT cook this in a saucepan or an aluminum or cast iron pan, because a saucepan is much too deep and will not allow for quick reduction of the strawberry juice, and because an aluminum or cast iron pan will turn the jam a horrible color and impart a terrible taste (aluminum and cast iron react with the acid in the strawberries AND the lime juice).

So - pile the strawberries in the skillet (don't worry; it may look overfull but like spinach it will cook down quickly). Top with the sugar and 2 tablespoons of the Grand Marnier. Don't stir yet. Place on a stove burner and crank the heat to medium low. Let the strawberries cook for a few minutes until they start releasing their juice, then stir carefully with a big spoon. Bring them to a simmer, then set a timer for 10 minutes. You can walk away for this amount of time, but make sure the heat is on the low side.

When the timer goes off, return to the strawberries and add the lime juice. You may see some foam collecting on top - skim this off with a skimmer or a large spoon. Set the timer for 10 minutes again and let cook.

When the timer goes off again, you will see that the strawberries have released a lot of their juice and there may be more foam on top -- skim it off (save it or throw it -- your call). Add the last tablespoon of Grand Marnier and turn the heat up slightly - the strawberries should just come to a gentle, rolling boil. Let cook for another 5 to 10 minutes, or until the juice is reduced and thickened and strawberries are cooked. It may still look soupy - this is OK - it will thicken as it cools. Remove from the heat and pour into a storage container. Cover and chill thoroughly. Keep this jam in the refrigerator for about a week (ours only lasts a few days). You may be able to freeze this, but I've never tried it, so don't do it on my account.

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich
All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

I would never, EVER ask you to make tuiles.

Lovely, isn't it? RUN CHILD RUN.

Tuiles are the Devil's Cookies, the...Biscuits of Beelzebub. They are the antithesis of a no-brainer dessert: they require thought and preparation, are fiddly in the extreme and half of them don't come out anyway. Every recipe makes vast quantities of batter. You need to use Silpats for them. They don't keep. They are decoration. Bleh.

Still, my nephew wanted me to make this, and so I did. It was his idea - he wanted a dessert which combined "cookies like Milanos, only without the chocolate," fresh fruit and lightly sweetened Greek yogurt. This is the result - a beautiful composed dessert. He loved it. But I wouldn't wish making it on anyone. Life is much too short, and this is why I don't work in restaurant kitchens anymore.

Tuile recipes can usually be found in French pastry cookbooks, which immediately tells you something [bad] about their fundamental nature. Actual no-brainer recipe (not tuiles) to come shortly.

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich
All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Latino Dessert 2: Electric Boogaloo (Pastel de Tres Leches).

Milky white.

Hey, I said I had a problem with Mexican desserts. The origin of this thing is up for grabs.

As is their wont (Latino intermural fighting always being norm), at least three Hispanic countries (Mexico, Cuba, Nicargua) claim pastel de tres leches as their creation. I say: who cares? It exists, and when done right it is delicious - a sort of miraculous cross between a cake and a pudding, but at the same time totally unlike either.

One of my rigidly-held opinions about this dessert is that it's best when the cake base is made without butter. Butter only gums up the works, and really, isn't anything that has three milks poured over it already fatty enough? The other thing I insist upon is that it be iced with stiffly whipped cream, not the also-hotly-debated Italian or Swiss meringue (known to Americans as "7-minute" or "white mountain" frosting). For one thing, few people can do meringue well and also it's really more trouble than it's worth. Also, Porto's Cuban Bakery in Glendale does it perfectly on their tres leches, and so the rest of us mere mortals had better leave it alone if we know what's good for us.

Although tres leches is special, it is also now run-of-the-mill due to thousands of online recipes and the fact that it's on nearly every menu in Los Angeles in one form or another (chocolate, goat's milk (BLEH), cajeta/dulce de leche, etc.) . I say phooey to all that. This version approximates the Most Unbelievable Coconut Dessert On The Planet, namely, the vegan coconut ice cream at the Wheel of Life Vegetarian Restaurant in Irvine, California, which is smooth, creamy, rich and apotheosis of coconut flavor. This is a pale imitation of that lofty Platonic ideal, but it's still good.

If it were up to me I'd serve this cake slathered in fresh passion fruit pulp or at the very least passion fruit curd, but as North Americans are highly divided about passion fruit (they either really love it or really hate it), I just serve it with a bunch of diced fresh mango or pineapple. Oh, and this looks like a daunting recipe, but it's actually simple (otherwise I wouldn't make it). As Nigella says, please don't confuse "somewhat time consuming" with "difficult."

The sun is shining! Break out the bossa nova songs and cakes drenched in lactose and nut milks! Ooof, I have to have a lie down.

Coconut Pastel de Tres Leches

Serves 12

For the cake:

5 eggs, separated (make sure the whites have no yolk in them and separate them into a clean, dry, grease-free bowl)

3/4 cup AND 1/4 cup sugar (superfine is best (also known as "baker's sugar" in those milk cartons) but regular will work too - everything will just take longer to beat)

1 cup all purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/3 cup milk

1/4 teaspoon coconut extract (don't sneer; buy the quality stuff at a good market)

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

For the milk syrup:

1 13 oz. can coconut milk

1 14 oz. can sweetened condensed milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 teaspoon coconut extract

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For the topping:

3-4 cups heavy cream

2 tablespoons powdered sugar

Thawed frozen grated coconut or shredded sweetened coconut to garnish, optional

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray the bottom of a 13" by 9" rectangular baking pan (don't use your Pyrex here). I lined the bottom with parchment paper so I could invert it into another 13"x9" pan, but you don't need to do this.In a medium bowl, stir together flour and baking powder and have a sieve ready. In a mixer bowl using a whisk attachment, beat yolks and 3/4 cup sugar on high speed until very light-colored and ribbon-y (a long ribbon of the mixture will fall from the beaters). Stir in 1/4 teaspoon coconut extract and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract. Transfer this mixture to another large bowl. Using a whisk, sift in flour mixture and pour in milk, folding in carefully until all the flour is incorporated. Set aside.

In a clean, dry, grease-free mixer bowl using a clean, dry, grease-free whisk attachment, beat whites and cream of tartar on medium speed until foamy. Increase speed to high and begin adding 1/4 cup sugar gradually, beating until whites are glossy and hold a stiff peak.

With a rubber or plastic spatula, quickly fold beaten whites 1/3 of a time into the yolk mixture, folding only until there is little or no trace of whites. Immediately pour into prepared pan and bake for 23 to 30 minutes, or until cake is risen, lightly browned and firm when touched in the middle (it will look a bit like an angel food cake). Remove pan from oven and with a short sharp knife sprayed with a bit of nonstick cooking spray, loosen the cake from the sides of the pan. It will deflate a bit -- this is OK.

While cake bakes, make milk syrup: in a bowl or pitcher, whisk together the coconut milk, condensed milk, cream, coconut extract and vanilla extract. When cake is done, remove from oven, poke a few holes in it with a skewer and pour the milk syrup slowly over the hot cake, letting it soak in a bit. It will look awash in milk syrup - this is fine. Let cool for about 20 minutes and then refrigerate, covered, for at least 6 hours or overnight.

When the cake is thoroughly chilled, whip cream and powdered sugar in mixer with a whisk attachment until stiff (I use an immersion blender for this - it's the best kitchen tool for whipping cream). Spread whipped cream decoratively over the surface of the chilled cake. Top with thawed fresh frozen grated coconut or sweetened shredded coconut if desired. Chill any leftovers (ha!).

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Cue the Spanish guitars.

Watch out - I'm going to get ethnic!

As a general rule, I don't like Mexican desserts [castanets snap angrily in the background]. With the exception of my maternal grandmother's rice pudding (more on this in a later post) and flan made by certain people, Mexican sweet stuff is usually that: too sweet, too sugary, too doughy, too too. I hate Mexican chocolate. I'm very sorry, but the desserts and pastry of my cultural antecedents usually leave me cold [mournful Herb Alpert-ish trumpet solo wails overhead].

Take capirotada, for instance. This Mexican bread pudding is full of things I just don't like: piloncillo, the hard brown cone sugar that is, to put it mildly, a bitch to work with; canela, the flaky weird faux-cinnamon dear to the hearts of Mexican cooks everywhere; peanuts (although sometimes almonds are substituted, an even more irritating old world ingredient) and Colby cheese. In big horrible lumps! Gross. Sometimes apples are tossed in as well, but by then it's too late.

But I've been thinking -- what if I made a variation on all this, but using indigenous-y ingredients I actually like? Say, swapping the piloncillo for regular brown sugar, or using pecans (which are native to northern Mexico and Texas, lands of my forebears) instead of peanuts? What if I steal an idea from the late, lamented City Restaurant and use cream cheese instead of the Colby? It actually started to sound good [poignant guitar strumming].

So here it the result. Capirotada is actually more of a bread-based charlotte than an actual bread pudding made with an egg custard, which to my mind makes it all the more interesting. I love apple charlotte, and I can never eat it again (too much butter - this has too much butter too, but you can't have everything). Remember to bake it until it gets crusty. And the beauty part is, it has no eggs and so can be converted easily to a vegan dessert [mariachi band and salsa combo duke it out until fadeout] !

Capirotada, retooled (Mexican-ish bread pudding)

Makes about 8 servings.

2 1/2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar

1 cup water

1 1/2 sticks or 3/4 cup (6 oz.) unsalted butter (or stick soy margarine), cut into chunks

1/2 teaspoon sea salt (omit if using margarine)

3 (2 1/2" or 3") cinnamon sticks

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves (or one large pinch)

7 cups lightly packed cubed day-old, dryish French or Italian bread, not sourdough, hard crusts removed (3/4 of a huge Italian loaf was enough for this)

1 cup toasted pecan pieces

1/2 cup golden raisins (you can use dark raisins if you want)

6 oz. (2 x 3 oz. packages) cream cheese (or soy cream cheese)

2 tablespoons powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3 tablespoons sugar mixed with 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons butter (or soy margarine), chopped into bits

For the sugar syrup: combine brown sugar, water, butter, cinnamon sticks and cloves in a 2 quart saucepan. Bring to boil over medium heat and then boil for 2 minutes (don't let it go any longer than this or you'll end up with caramel). Remove from heat and let steep for at least 15 minutes (preferably 30 minutes).

In the meantime, preheat the oven to 350°F. Whisk together the softened cream cheese with powdered sugar and vanilla extract until smooth. Spray a 8" by 3-1/2" deep ceramic souffle dish (or another similar deep casserole) with nonstick cooking spray. Set aside.

Place bread cubes in a large bowl. Remove cinnamon sticks from the steeped syrup and pour about two thirds 0f it over the bread cubes, tossing lightly with a spoon to mix. Add pecans and raisins. Place about half this mixture into the prepared dish and dollop 3/4 of the cream cheese mixture over it. Cover with the remaining bread cubes, nuts and raisins. Dollop the remaining cream cheese mixure over the pudding and scatter the sugar/cinnamon mixture over the top. Dot with butter (or soy margarine) bits.

Bake the pudding for 25 minutes, then pull out from oven and pour the remaining syrup over the top and down the sides. Return to oven and bake again until browned and a bit crunchy on top, about 15 to 20 minutes more. Remove from heat and let cool for at least 15 minutes. Serve warm with barely sweetened whipped cream [final flourish of maracas].

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Restorative (sort of).

Blueberries CAN float.

Spring is here (all 88 degrees of it, yecch), our winter diseases are past (well, except for a lingering post nasal drip), and the time has come for health food. Well, not really health food, but healthier food. Healthy-ish food? Whatever.

This is based on a breakfast bread my husband ordered at Herbivore, a vegan restaurant in San Francisco. Don't sneer; although the service there is predictably spacey and glacial, the food is surprisingly thoughtful and good, and the branch we go to (there are others in the Mission and in Berkeley) is situated in one of the still-irredeemably funky neighborhoods of the city - on Divisidero, a couple of blocks from both the Panhandle and Alamo Square. It's nice to go there when you want to pretend you live in SF, something I've been doing since I was six.

Anyway. They serve a toasted blueberry cornbread loaf there which defies all preconceptions about vegan food: it is luscious, full of fruit, sweet, crunchy when toasted -- in other words, it feels bad. But it is good! And not full of animal products or saturated fat! It does, however, contain gluten, but nothing is perfect. It is also ridiculously easy to make. Oh, and PS: this is my version of the cornbread, not Herbivore's. Theirs is a bit rougher in texture, probably due to the use of whole wheat flour.

Blueberry Corn Bread Loaf

Makes one gigantically hefty loaf, which will serve eight normal people or two gluttons.

2 cups all purpose flour

1 cup yellow corn meal

2/3 cup granulated evaporated cane juice (you can get this easily at Trader Joe's, Whole Foods, natural foods markets and some very complete supermarkets)

1 teaspoon sea salt

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups unsweetened plain soy milk

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons tasteless vegetable oil (like peanut, canola, safflower, etc.)

1/2 teaspoon cider vinegar

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest (optional; I don't use it because I love the pure taste of corn)

1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries (if you use frozen, keep them in the freezer until the batter is made and you're ready to add them in)

1 extra teaspoon all purpose flour

Preheat oven to 375°F. Spray a deep 5"x9" loaf pan with nonstick cooking spray. I usually line the bottom with parchment paper cut to fit, but if you use a nonstick pan this isn't necessary.

In a large bowl, stir all purpose flour, corn meal, evaporated cane juice, baking powder, baking soda and salt together with a wire whisk. In another bowl or large measuring cup, stir together the soy milk, oil, vinegar, vanilla and lemon peel (if used). Pour the soy milk mixture into the dry ingredients and stir only to combine. The batter will be a little lumpy - do not overmix.

Now comes the best part, a technique for using blueberries in baked goods that is so simple it's amazing no one thought of it before the folks at Cook's Illustrated, who in turn stole it themselves from a very old New England recipe for a coffee cake called "Boy Bait." This method will keep them from sinking to the bottom of the loaf AND prevent that horrible grey-green color which occurs when you mix the berries in the batter: In a small bowl, toss the blueberries with the 1 teaspoon of flour (if you're using frozen berries, work fast). Pour roughly half the batter into the prepared loaf pan, and then scatter half of the prepared blueberries over the batter. Pour the rest of the batter over them and then scatter the remaining blueberries on top. At this point I usually sprinkle a bit of sugar on top to make a crunchier crust, but this is entirely optional.

Bake the loaf for about 45 to 55 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean and the loaf is golden brown. Remove from oven and cool the loaf on a wire rack for about 15 to 20 minutes. Loosen the sides of the loaf with a small sharp knife and tip out, inverting onto a serving plate. Cool for a bit longer, but this is spectacular served warm, although it will be quite crumbly. When cool, it can be sliced and toasted in the toaster, which is almost as good. When well wrapped in plastic wrap, this loaf will stay fresh for two or three days, but it's never around that long at our house.

Really, this will change your mind totally about vegan food.

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission..

After a while, all you want is an apple (or a chocolate-covered tortilla chip).

No cameras allowed on the convention floor!!!

The NASFT Fancy Food Show takes place twice a year - in summer at the Jacob Javits Center in New York, and somewhere in California in the winter (usually at the Moscone Center in San Francisco; last week at the San Diego Convention Center, home to the Comic-Con). It is a giant marketplace for specialty food from all over the world and after a while takes on the quality and lightness of the Bataan Death March, only with a thousand types of jalapeno cheese straws. Mechanically extruded jalapeno cheese straws. Bleh.

Still, it is a place to see what's happening in food, and while it has totally lost its former indie cred (in the old days little cottage industry companies used to be able to rent booths and hawk their wares beside the big guns, but no more), it is above all a place to steal ideas. Let's be honest here.

These were the Best Concepts from the 2008 Fancy Food Show:

• Vosges's Chocolate Covered Tortilla Chips for the win! Really, I know this sounds awful, but they were fabulous, and when you think about it, entirely logical, given that chocolate was first prepared with ground corn in the ancient pre-Columbian world. Think of champurrado! Well, don't think of it because it's vile, but these triple-chocolate-dipped chips were wonderful - the chocolate was slightly spicy, the chip salty - in short, heaven. Their Bacon Crisp bar was also interesting, if only because it tasted like bacon bits enrobed in chocolate, which you have to admit is a ballsy concept.
  
• Better Bakes Sugar Cookies. I have no idea how they did this: it is a low sugar, low fat, healthy sugar cookie with all the crispness and flavor of my full-fat, horribly unhealthy homemade sugar cookies. They have to be lying about this, or using alien technology. These were way, way too delicious to be good for you.
• The Pistachio Berry Mix from Santa Barbara Pistachio Company. Not only did this company have the nicest people at their booth (kind to everyone, even if you were not wearing the Prom Queen-ish red band "RETAILER" badge), they had the best trail mix on the entire floor: a salty blend of roasted pistachios and dried cherries, dried cranberries and golden raisins. Snacky!
  
• Last but certainly not least, the cheddars (plain, smoked, pepper) from the cheese shrine that is Fiscalini Cheese Company in Modesto, CA. No longer just that place that spawned James Marsters and Timothy Olyphant, Modesto can lay claim to a company making the best cheese in America. No, really -- this stuff is as good as anything produced by the small farms of Britain or France, and they have the medals to prove it. Their smoked cheddar is an event.

The Worst Ideas can be summed up thusly: for the love of God, there are enough fancy chocolatiers and barbecue sauces in the world, thank you very much. I can just imagine some other trust-fund frat-boy wingnut thinking, "Hey, you know what would be a great business? Homemade barbecue sauce! SWEET." Please - stop the madness. And outside of the Vosges people (who are genuinely thoughtful about their chocolate products), most "new wave" chocolatiers seemed to think chocolate and curry and chocolate and chipotle combinations are so cutting-edge. NO - just, no.

The current trends in specialty foods are natural, organic, gluten-free, naturally sweetened, naturally flavored and locally sourced everything: cookies, crackers, sauces, charcuterie, cheeses, cocktail mixes (the huge new trend) etc. Very commendable, but sort of boring after a while. I like eating clean food and being healthy, yadda yadda, but after a while you just hanker after a chocolate covered tortilla chip.

Mercifully, past food trends like gelati, biscotti and cupcakes (except for the sad plastic-looking ones at the Barefoot Contessa cake mix booth) were absent this year. The only perennial food item I was glad to see was Badia e Coltibuono olive oil, which is just as sumptuous as ever and reminded me of my first years in the food business, when I regularly consumed it in restaurant kitchens (as well as Beluga caviar, mesquite-grilled Maine lobster, white peaches and Ridge Montebello zinfandel - the late 80s were a carefree, profligate time).

Unlike past FFSs, where every aisle brought some new and arcane food to try, this show cemented the ascendancy of Whole Foods and Trader Joe's, if only because I'd already seen (if not tried) at least 50% of the products on display. The thrill of the specialty food is pretty much gone, and I blame Food Network and the internets.

Oh well. The only other notable thing about this year's FFS were the hordes of beautifully dressed, very grand and snooty Europeans, mostly Italians and Spaniards, who all seemed to look down their noses at us as if to say "You Americans and your pesky small dollar - we could all buy you out in un minuto." For this reason I have left out some of the more spectacular items in the show: a bunch of amazing sweet dessert vinegars in pomegranate, apple and litchi flavors. The indeterminate Europeans manning their booth were just too rude.

Next year in San Francisco!

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Learn to cook!

Cake and photograph by Zachary.

No recipe this time, just a simple request: learn how to cook! Teach your kids how to cook. It's so much fun you won't believe it.

If you don't know someone who can teach you how to cook and can't afford either the time or money for formal cooking classes, check out the links on the left for VideoJug online cooking classes or Leslie Bilderback's Culinary Masterclass, which provides simple clear instructions for a bunch of cooking techniques. Make the effort; in the end you will be part of one of humanity's greatest yet most basic endeavors (and if you don't believe that grandiose statement, talk to the Chinese or the French).

Making this cake with my nephew was one of the best times I've had within recent memory. Okay, so he's inordinately fascinated by Ace of Cakes, but he actually wanted to know how to construct a tiered cake, and so we did it one rainy afternoon. It was made with a cake mix, chocolate chips and leftover ganache, and yeah, maybe it is listing a little bit, but the end result was definitely more than the sum of its parts.

Try something like this yourself one day. You'll have so much fun.

Oh, and happy 2008, everyone.

© 2008 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Not a trifling matter.

Cheater, cheater, cheater!

Trifle is the most divisive of desserts. Well, that and tiramisu - everyone loves it, I hate it with a seething hatred. Tiramisu is the Rachael Ray of the dessert world.

Anyway. Ask anyone from the UK or Commonwealth countries about their favorite trifle, and each response will be completely, and sometimes horribly, different. Everyone is utterly convinced that their way is the "right" way, the way their mum or Nan or Aunt Matilda used to make it. As many of these "right" ways include such things as canned fruit cocktail, canned peaches, bananas, pineapple, candied cherries, ratafia biscuits (whatever the hell they are) and most often a layer of "jelly" (read: Jello), I feel I must reject them utterly.

You see, rampant Anglophile that I am, I'm a purist when it comes to trifle. By purist I mean: "I like to make it the way I imagine they did in Victorian times in England," which to me means a lowest-common-denominator trifle: cake, spirits, raspberry jam, custard, fresh berries, whipped cream. That's it. Not a speck of Jello in sight. Sometimes I flick a few sliced toasted almonds on the top, but nothing else. I also draw the line at candied violets or candied angelica (whatever that is - possibly a root) as decoration - I may be enamored of Masterpiece Theater, but I stop short of extreme re-enactments.

All of this is to say I've made dozens and dozens of trifles in my day, even aberrant ones like an all chocolate trifle (bleah!) and the Italian zuppa di Inglese. I've made from-scratch custard, creme anglaise, pastry cream and mousse for these trifles. I've made pan di spagna and genoise and butter cakes for them until my fingers bled (well, not really). But I'll let you in on a secret: the best trifle I ever made was a last-minute jerry-rigged one containing leftover pound cake, tricked-up Bird's custard and Knott's seedless raspberry jam. I mean it. It was the best, most unctous, most trifle-y thing I've ever tasted. I couldn't stop eating it, and wanted to prevent my guests from finishing it so I'd have some all to myself later (leftover trifle is a ghastly, wonderful mush).

So My Ultimate Trifle Recipe isn't one really -- it's more of a general bunch of directions, because it will depend on how much of this stuff you have on hand. It can grow exponentially to feed however many people you want to feed, too.

You will need:

Pound cake - leftover homemade is best, but you may also use the kind you get from a bakery, or Trader Joe's or Whole Foods. Please for the love of God DO NOT use thawed Sara Lee - it is like a horrible sweet sponge. OK, I lied -- use it if you have to. Pfttt.

Brandy and/or sherry (optional, but I use both)

Raspberry jam (seedless or not, you make the choice)

Custard made from a Bird's Custard mix (which is available now in all good supermarkets), only use half-and-half (single cream) instead of milk and add a tablespoon of vanilla extract.

Fresh raspberries, or blackberries or blueberries or redcurrants , or all of them. Use what's cheapest, but don't use strawberries because they are vile in trifle. They weep.

1 or 2 pints heavy cream, stiffly whipped with a tablespoon of powdered sugar and vanilla if you want. Please do not use the stuff from a can. It won't hold up.

Optional garnishes: sliced toasted almonds, more berries, arcane candied flowers or roots, etc. Some people use colored jimmies/sprinkles/hundreds-and-thousands, but I think this is naff. Use them if you must, though.

Method (if you can call it that):

First, make the Bird's Custard according to the package directions, but use half-and-half instead of milk and add a tablespoon of vanilla extract. Make a lot. I never make less than one quart. Don't let the "on the hob" direction throw you -- this is just the quaint British way of saying "on the stove burner." Cover finished custard and set aside - you can use warm custard to make this trifle.

Then, find a large glass bowl. I use a footed straight-sided trifle bowl, but then again I have about 9 because, Crazed Anglophile. You can get them cheaply at Target or K-Mart (Martha Stewart?). Anyway, place a single layer of sliced pound cake in the bottom of the bowl. Sprinkle with as much brandy or sherry as you see fit (of course, you can leave this part out, or you could use orange juice as a substitute). Spread raspberry jam on cake in a thin layer. Pour on enough of the custard to cover the cake in a thinnish layer. Scatter on some berries. Repeat. I usually make at least three layers -- just make sure you end up with custard/berries on top. Another secret: even if you mess up the order it will still taste good. This is a true no-brainer recipe.

Cover bowl tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate until serving time.

When ready to serve, whip heavy cream and sugar in a Kitchenaid mixer or with a hand mixer or hand blender until stiff peaks form. Remove trifle from refrigerator, remove plastic wrap, and spoon whipped cream over top in decorative mounds. Sprinkle with garnish of choice. Serve immediately.

Really, trifle (and especially this one) is like a once-a-year dessert blanket, immersing you in creamy fruity boozy goodness. I'm sorry I turned into Nigella Lawson there for a second, but it's true.

Happy holidays.

© 2007 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

My very favorite truffle in the whole wide world.

And I don't like Spam...er...truffles! And I'm sorry this picture is blurry.

Anyone can tell you that chocolate truffles are the most brainless of all confections to make. You take a cold flavored ganache, roll it into balls and then in some sort of coating, or, if you're really a lunatic, enrobe it tempered chocolate. I say "lunatic" because tempering chocolate is one of those activities which will take years off your life. But I digress.

I've gladly made truffles voluntarily for the weddings of people I love a lot, and at virtual gunpoint for those chefs for whom I worked. While truffle making is relatively easy, making more than two or three dozen at a time is the most deadening work imaginable, and invariably some chef would come to me with a jolly order for truffles for a party of six hundred - oh, and five different flavors, please. Augggh. Those were the days, my friend.

Horrible flashbacks aside, truffles can be quite delicious, as long as they're simple and made with excellent chocolate. A long time ago my decidedly brilliant and not-crazy executive chef Claude Koeberle taught me one of the guiding tenets of life regarding chocolate desserts (such as ice cream and truffles) and that is: always use a 70-75 per cent quantity of semi- or bittersweet chocolate and a 30-25 per cent quantity of excellent milk chocolate when making a chocolate dessert. For some reason the smaller amount of milk chocolate smooths out and inexplicably deepens the flavor of the bitterer chocolate. This really works, and I hate milk chocolate, and would normally would never have it anywhere on my turf. But Claude comes from a family of expert chocolatiers from Lyon and I have never contradicted his sage advice, something which has always been to my benefit.

So. The following recipe is ridiculously easy, even if you do have to roast the almonds yourself. Just make sure they are very salty and chop them by hand (which is a bitch, I know, but it looks a lot better). This is the only truffle I will eat after making them. The rest - ptui, especially the white chocolate ones.

Chocolate Truffles with Brown Butter Salted Almonds

Makes about 3 dozen 1 1/4" truffles

For the almonds:*

2 cups unblanched raw almonds

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

1-2 teaspoons excellent sea salt (I always use Maldon)

In a large dry skillet, toast almonds over low heat until they start to puff up a little and start showing golden spots on the bits without skin. This will take anywhere from 5 to 10 minutes -- watch carefully and stir them constantly. They will also start to smell toasty when ready. At this point, add the butter -- it will foam up and start to brown immediately. Keep stirring, letting the almonds sizzle in the brown butter, but don't let the butter get too dark. When it is a deep nut brown (this will only take a minute or two), pour the almonds on a cookie sheet lined with paper towels to drain. Immediately sprinkle with salt. You want these to be on the salty side. Let cool completely, then chop fairly finely. Place in bowl, cover and set aside.

*If this almond rigamarole is too much trouble, just buy the perfectly good roasted salted almonds at Trader Joe's or Whole Foods and chop 'em up. They are completely serviceable.

For the chocolate truffle ganache:

8 oz. bittersweet chocolate, roughly chopped**

3.5 oz. excellent quality milk chocolate, roughly chopped**

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

Place chopped chocolates in a medium stainless or glass bowl. In a small saucepan, heat cream until it just starts to boil -- watch carefully or it will rise up and overflow all over your burners.
Pour 1 cup hot cream over the chocolate and allow to rest for 30 seconds (yeah, this is Jacques Torres' method, and I'm sorry to say it works). Add remaining 1/2 cup hot cream and stir gently with whisk until all chocolate is melted. Now, if you want to make these relatively quickly, pour the ganache onto a clean jellyroll pan (a cookie sheet with a 1/2" rim), cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate until completely cold, about 2 or 3 hours.

Line a sheet pan with parchment paper, and have the prepared almonds handy in a nearby bowl. Using a 1/2 ounce ice cream scoop or just a teaspoon, scoop up rounded portions of the ganache, roll them briefly in the palms of your hands if you want very round truffles (you don't have to do this because yes, it is very messy -- rounding the mixture with a spoon is enough) and then roll quickly in the prepared almonds. Place coated truffles on the cookie sheet. If truffle mixture gets too soft while you're working with it, return it to the refrigerator to firm up. When all truffles are coated, place them in one layer in an airtight plastic container, cover and refrigerate. When you serve these, they will keep at room temperature for about an hour, but after that will start to wilt, especially if the room is warm. Act accordingly.

Again -- if you give these away (and they make a fabulous present), tell the recipient that they must be refrigerated.

** For the purposes of this recipe I used two four ounce bars of Ghirardelli 60% cacao bittersweet chocolate and one 3.5 ounce bar of Lindt Extra-Creamy milk chocolate, because they are easily available in most nationwide supermarkets. Not everyone has access to high end chocolate (or even Trader Joe's) so I thought I'd use these perfectly fine supermarket brands. They worked very well.

© 2007 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

A dearth of lime products.

Very nice indeed nonetheless.

I love lime marmalade, particularly Wilkins & Sons Ltd. Tiptree Lime Marmalade, and I can't find it anywhere. Woe.

I searched for it in vain in San Francisco last Thanksgiving weekend, but no go -- not even at that shrine to arcane food, the Saturday Ferry Market. Nowadays I only go there to buy Acme bread (the pumpernickel raisin rolls are the closest I've found to Orwasher's in NYC) and Bariani olive oil, because I'm one of those contrary persons who think it lost all its soul when it moved from that funky parking lot on Bay and Green (or wherever the hell it was) to the hotsy-totsy indoor Ferry Marketplace, so it was a big deal for me to go there amongst the bridge-and-ferry people and all the tourists. Feh.

Anyway, not even the fancy jam makers had anything approximating the lime marmalade of my dreams. June Taylor (which always makes me laugh, as I admit I'm old enough that I automatically append "Dancers!" to her name) had a Rangipur lime jelly, which was really a marmalade and while appropriately astringent, bitter and sweet (those little orange Rangipur limes are killers), it really wasn't right. Sigh.

So I came home and in keeping with the theme of this blog, made the mindless lime curd from the recipe I stole from Trumps many years ago. I used to make gallons of this stuff every week, and the beauty part about this recipe is that you don't need to nursemaid it, unlike some curd recipes people were always trying to foist off on me that required constant whisking or stirring. You put this over simmering water and give it a stir every now and again until it gets thick, then you strain it and chill it. BFD. Believe me, when you're making twelve other desserts plus cookies and bread and whatnot, you really appreciate a recipe which requires little or no attention.

This curd is great on toast, bagels, English muffins, scones or biscuits. It makes a dandy tart filling (just fill a prebaked crust and bake again at 325F for 10-20 minutes or until set; cool and chill). It makes the greatest no-brainer lime mousse: just fold equal parts curd and stiffly whipped unsweetened heavy cream together and dollop or pipe into serving glasses and chill. I first did this when I was making desserts at a tiny cafe/catering company in the Valley years ago, and one customer used to come in on a weekly basis to try to wrangle the recipe out of us. "I don't know how you do it!" she'd say, taking spoonful after spoonful. "It's so tart, but so buttery at the same time." No one ever told her the big "secret," because we were mean that way.

I will say that this recipe started out as a regular old lemon curd, but as that sage food writer Ann Hodgman once so astutely noted, anything made with lemons is automatically more interesting made with limes. Oh, and, unfortunately, this does not make a good cake filling. For that you'd have to shore it up with gelatin, which is disgusting.

Lime Curd

Makes about 4 or 5 cups

2 cups granulated sugar

5 extra large eggs

3 yolks

The zest of 4 limes

1 1/4 cups freshly squeezed lime juice

1 major pinch sea salt

12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into chunks

Have ready a medium bowl with a large sieve set over it. Also, fill a 3 quart or larger (preferably larger -- I use a small stockpot) pot halfway full of water and heat over high heat until simmering. Lower the heat at this point but make sure it's still simmering.

In a large-ish stainless steel bowl, whisk sugar, eggs and yolks together just to mix (don't overbeat and put a lot of air into it). Whisk in zest, lime juice and salt. Place bowl over simmering water and cook, stirring occasionally with whisk, until curd thickens and looks like, well, pudding. This will take anywhere from 15 to 25 minutes. When thick, strain through sieve into the waiting bowl. Using a metal or wooden spoon, stir in butter until incorporated.

Place a piece of plastic wrap directly on the surface of the curd to keep a skin from forming, and cover the bowl with more wrap. Chill thoroughly.

You can put this curd into jars which you've sterilized in the dishwasher and give them to people who will love it, just so long you tell them to store it in the refrigerator. They will think you are just like Martha Stewart. The curd will keep, well refrigerated, at least a week.

© 2007 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

Searching for Maida Heatter.

Very, very close.

Maida Heatter was the 1980s version of - well, I guess her closest approximation today would be David Lebovitz. She wrote what seemed to be a million dessert books, all with extremely detailed recipes she made up while she was working in her husband's restaurant in Boca or Palm Beach or some tony place in Florida. But for all her ubiquity at the time, I can't seem to find any of her books at my local libraries today (my own copies are probably buried in one of my myriad storage spaces). This is extremely frustrating, because I really wanted her Pumpkin Date Nut Bread recipe.

I remember first reading it in Maida's Best, Newest Dessert Recipes of All Time (not the title, but it was something like that) and being entranced by the circumstances under which she first found this pumpkin bread: she sampled it at a buffet in California which also featured fresh cracked crab and a string bean salad. Now I ask you, is that a West Coast menu or is that a West Coast menu? Seafood and string beans AND a sweet bread! Weirdly great, as if it were something out of some old '60s issue of Sunset Magazine, that bastion of pounded abalone, luaus and Guys' Galley (I just typed Goys' Galley, which isn't far off). Bleah, but also, yum.

Anyway, every other pumpkin bread recipe I've found recently turns out some awful pallid orangey loaf, and not the dark, spicy, damp thing Maida concocted. So -- I messed around with a couple of recipes I used to make in my catering days, and I came up with this. As with Maida's late lamented loaves, this recipe must be made the day or night before you plan to serve it. It sounds like a bit of work, but is really only measuring and dumping. You can measure, can't you?

Mess around with the amount or type of spices if you want, but please be sure your spices are fresh. And please PLEASE use your own cut up dates and not those horrible hard whitish date nubs they sell at the supermarket. It is very easy to cut up the dates with scissors for this recipe - for example, I did mine while watching my sweet blond Southern gardener boyfriend P. Allen Smith on my Tifaux. It was sort of soothing, actually.

PUMPKIN DATE BREAD
(as close to Maida Heatter’s recipe as I can get)

4 eggs

2 cups brown sugar, packed

½ cup granulated sugar

¼ cup molasses

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons tasteless vegetable oil (I use peanut, but use what you have – anything except olive, of course)

1/3 cup water

1 tablespoon vanilla

1 15 oz. can pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)

3-3/4 cups sifted all purpose flour

2 teaspoons soda

¼ teaspoon baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1 teaspoon ground allspice

½ teaspoon ground ginger

¼ teaspoon ground cloves

1-1/2 to 2 cups moist pitted dates (cut up a bunch with scissors, then measure)

1 cup walnuts, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped (optional, but I think it’s better with them)

Note: This must be made the day or night before you plan to serve it. Trust me. If you try to cut it the day you make it, it will crumble into unattractive (if still tasty) gobs. You will only be able to slice it the next day.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray two large loaf pans (at least 5-1/2" by 9-1/2" each) with nonstick cooking spray. I line the bottoms with parchment paper cut to fit (just place the pan on parchment paper, trace around the bottom with a pencil and cut out). Set aside.

In a medium sized bowl, toss together flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and spices. In a large bowl, beat eggs with whisk until just broken up. Whisk in brown sugar, granulated sugar, molasses, oil, water, vanilla and pumpkin, stirring just to mix. Add flour mixture all at once and stir just to combine thoroughly – don’t over-mix (batter will look slightly lumpy). Fold in cut-up dates and walnuts (if used).

Pour batter into prepared pans and level the tops with a spatula, offset or otherwise. Bake for 30 minutes, then using an oven mitt, turn pans back to front. Bake again for 15 minutes; at the end of this time check breads and if they are browning too fast, cover pans loosely with foil. Continue to bake for another 10 to 15 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the center of each loaf comes out mostly clean, with just a few moist crumbs sticking to it, and the top springs back when touched. This is the time my oven takes to bake one 12"x4-1/2" pan and one 5-1/2"x9-1/2" pan -- your baking time may vary, more or less.

Remove pans from oven and cool on a rack for 15 minutes. After 15 minutes, turn breads out carefully onto a wire rack, or, if you can’t be bothered with that, onto a cardboard cake board or other serving plate, turning right side up very carefully (cover with another plate or rack and invert). Cool thoroughly; wrap tightly in plastic wrap and allow to mellow at room temperature or in the refrigerator until the next day. Then and only then may you unwrap them and slice them with a serrated knife into perfect, clean slices. Eat plain, or with soft sweet butter or plain cream cheese.

© 2007 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

"Pure, mind-spinning indulgence."*

*Well, that's what Chuck Taggart of the Gumbo Pages once called it.

There comes a time in the life of every professional pastry chef (well, at least the non-obsessive ones) when, after the executive chef has approved the dessert menu and has stopped hocking you already about it being "a true reflection of his/her culinary vision" or some such thing, said pastry chef is left casting about for a viable dessert special - ANY damn special, as long as it tastes good, can be made with whatever is at hand and won't be too taxing for the dinner shift pantry guys to serve (they can get really pissy if they're taxed too much). Oh - and is ridiculously easy to produce by an extremely tired person.

The following recipe is exactly that, and something upon which I relied more than I care to say. It's dead easy, as the Brits say, it requires a minimum of embellishment, and even the crankiest of waiters loved it, would sell it and then fight each other over the scraps. In other words, it was the perfect dessert special: 86'd every damn time!

I came up with this pudding because when I was a child I loved a similar recipe in Mrs. Coverlet's Magicians, and because I loved the bread pudding from the late, lamented Chez Helene in New Orleans. This dessert is their strange love child.

Note: the heavy cream and whipped cream are almost essential as garnishes, although this pudding isn't bad with excellent vanilla ice cream either. If you're going to die from heart failure or a stroke, might as well go all the way. It's also amazing eaten cold straight from the refrigerator. I mean it. It's better than hot from the oven and that's saying a lot.


Chocolate Brandy Bread Pudding

6 cups cubed sweet (not sourdough!) French bread, lightly packed, hard crusts removed (may also use brioche or challah)

9 large eggs

1 to 1-1/2 cups sugar (depending upon how sweet you want it)

1/4 teaspoon sea salt

1 pint (2 cups) half and half , plus possibly up to 1/2 cup more (this is single cream in the UK and Commonwealth)

1 tablespoon excellent quality vanilla extract

1/2 cup good brandy or cognac (I play pretty fast and loose with this)

3 cups plus 3/4 cup chopped excellent quality (Valrhona, Callebaut, Scharffenberger, etc.) semisweet or bittersweet chocolate OR, in a pinch, good-quality chocolate chips

3 tablespoons crystal or sanding sugar (or regular granulated)

Method:

Butter (or spray with non-stick cooking spray) a deep 2-quart metal, ceramic or glass baking dish. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat eggs, sugar and salt until combined; add half and half, vanilla and brandy. Add bread cubes and mix thoroughly. Add 3 cups chocolate (or chips). The bread should sort of float in the custard; if it not, add a bit more half-and-half. Cover with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator to soak for at least 3 hours or preferably overnight.

One half hour before you're ready to bake the pudding, preheat oven to 325°F. Pour mixture into buttered baking dish and bake for 40 to 45 minutes, or until starting to puff around the edges and browning a bit. Remove from oven, scatter remaining 3/4 cup chopped chocolate over top and sprinkle with 3 tablespoons sanding or crystal sugar. Return to oven and bake another 15 to 20 minutes or until barely set in the middle and golden brown. Serve warm with heavy pouring cream and/or whipped cream.

This may also be baked in individual ramekins -- just place them on a sheet pan and shorten the baking time accordingly. The baking dish version serves 10 to 12; individual servings will depend on the size of your ramekins.

© 2007 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.

To set the tone of this thing...

Yes, this was still a bitch to make.

"Another argument I have with serious food people is that they're always talking about how creative cooking is...but [this] also misses the whole point of cooking, which that it is usually totally mindless. What I love about cooking is that after a hard day, there is something comforting about the fact that if you melt butter and add flour and then hot stock, it will get thick! It's a sure thing! It's a sure thing in a world where nothing else is sure; it has a mathematical certainty in a world where most of us who long for some kind of certainty are forced to settle for crossword puzzles."

-- Nora Ephron, Heartburn


When Nora's right, she's right.

I'm a professional pastry chef and food consultant, and I'm tired of food blogs which deify carrot salads and arcane cupcakes, and make you feel guilty if you're not ferreting out some bizarre unknown ingredient and torturing it into something rare and strange. After slogging away in restaurant kitchens for more years than I care to admit (15), I'm ready for the simple -- hell, I was ready then.

Sure - in the professional culinary world there are plenty of lunatics who will sear their hands pulling molten sugar and make desserts with twelve different elements on the plate, but they're really not normal. I'm kidding; artists are artists no matter the medium, and if someone wants to mix tobacco and rosemary and caramel on a dessert plate, who am I to criticize? It's just that this sort of culinary wanking no longer interests me, and, like Nora, these days I am much more in the mood for things that are simple and surefire and don't require a lot of thought.

That's it! Thoughtless food! I think I've just coined a phrase.

Recipes to come shortly.

© 2007 Sandy Soto Teich

All rights reserved. No part of this blog may be reproduced anywhere without the author's express permission.