French Chocolate Cake

Let me begin by saying that I have NO IDEA what makes this cake “French.”  All I know is that, when I got the recipe years and years ago, that’s what it was called, so I’m running with it.

Start by prepping a springform pan by buttering it well and lining the bottom with a round of parchment paper.  Since I find that nearly all springforms leak, I also wrap the bottom of mine in tin foil, too.  Next, set the springform in a baking pan big enough to hold it, put the kettle on, and preheat your oven to 350°.

In the pan of a double-boiler, start melting 9 ounces of good quality chocolate with 2 sticks of butter (I know, I know, but trust me…).  Once you’ve got it mostly melted, stir in a scant half cup of white sugar and stir until it’s all smooth.

While that’s happening, beat together 5 eggs with a tablespoon of flour (yes, that’s all; just one tablespoon).  When the chocolate, butter, sugar mess is all nice and smooth, stir in a tablespoon or so of vanilla, then mix it all together with the eggs.  Scrape it all into the prepared springform, pour hot water into the baking dish, and park it in the center of your oven for about 20-25 minutes, or until set but still soft.  Let it cool completely on a wire rack (I usually pull the springform ring off it if, just in case any water got through my tin foil defenses).

Whether you choose to fridge it or not before serving it in little slivers (be careful; it’s rich) is entirely up to you.  This needs nothing in the way of extra, but I usually sieve a little powdered sugar over the top before I serve it.

You’re welcome.

Creme Brulee

I have a love-hate relationship with custard.

As a high school student enamored of kitchen art, I took every home ec. class I could cram into my schedule.  I was a whiz at recipes, and I always did exceedingly well in the classes.

That is, until we got to custard.

I failed custard, miserably and repeatedly.  I would follow the recipes to the letter, but invariably I’d be left with weeping, split, inedible messes.  What’s more is that I didn’t give up after my first couple of disasters.  No; I was damned and determined that I wasn’t going to let this process get the better of me, so I marched doggedly back into the high school kitchen lab to try again.

And again.  And again.

Eventually, my teacher put her hand on my shoulder and told me that I should let this fight rest and move on to other skills (I think she was starting to fret the number of eggs disappearing from the lab’s fridge).

I never really gave up on custard, but it was a very long time before I was willing to confront the process again.  I don’t know whether there was something in my teenage energy that was disrupting the natural order of custard or what, but I found that, now that I’m older, custard doesn’t present the same problems for me that it used to (and don’t discount the energetic theory, either; I used to stop watches, too).

So, here’s my go-to recipe, boosted with love and gratitude from Alton Brown.  Start by putting 4 cups of heavy cream, into which you should drop a split and scraped vanilla bean (and, if you have it, a little dash of Trader Joe’s vanilla bean paste), into a heavy bottomed sauce pan.  Set that to gently reach a boil over medium heat, then fish out the vanilla pods and set the pan aside to cool for about 15 minutes and put the kettle on.

While the cream is cooling and the kettle is heating, preheat your oven to 325° and get out the Kitchen Aid fitted with the whisk attachment.  Into the bowl goes a half a cup of sugar (I don’t level the measure) and six egg yolks, which get whisked together until the mixture starts to take on a light, lemony color.

While the mixer is running, pour the cooled cream in to the egg and sugar, whisking until it’s all nicely combined.  Pour the resulting liquid into 6 ramekins which you’ve put into a baking pan, pour the kettle into the pan so hot water comes to about halfway up the dessert cups, and park the baking pan in the middle of your oven for about 40 minutes.  The custards should be set, but still jiggly in the middle.  Remove the cups to the fridge to cool for at least two hours, but they can sit for a couple of days (cover them in plastic if they’re going to wait a while before serving).

The “brulee” part of creme brulee is just singed sugar.  If you’ve thought ahead and popped a vanilla bean in some sugar, use that; if not, plain sugar will work just fine.  Take the cups out of the fridge and let them sit at room temperature for a half hour or so before you sprinkle the tops with sugar.  Then, using a torch if you have one or the broiler if you don’t, heat the sugar until it just starts to caramelize (if you’re doing this under the broiler, DON’T LOOK AWAY!  Sugar goes from nicely browned to irretrievably burnt in the blink of an eye).  Give the cups a few minutes to cool again, then serve them to everyone’s delight.  The juxtaposition of the velvety custard and the crunchy sugar is sublime.

I’ve popped brulee’d cups back in the fridge and enjoyed them days later, but there’s a good chance you won’t have occasion to do that; these are too delicious to leave leftovers.

Oh, Fudge!

I’ve always been a fan of fudge.  Real, honest fudge, not that stuff that calls itself fudge but is really just condensed milk and marshmallow fluff.

The thing is, though, that the milk-and-marshmallow stuff got popular because it almost always works.  You see, baking and candy-making  involve science; if the conditions aren’t met, the product doesn’t work.  That’s why cakes fall and custards split and fudge seizes; something in the process or in the ingredients wasn’t quite right, and the whole thing goes to hell.

Here, though, is a recipe that is pretty consistent, once you get the technique down.  I’ve made several batches of this with round success (if we except the first attempt, when I tried to usurp the process by speeding the cooling, which resulted in the aforementioned seizure, so let’s not mention that, shall we..?).

Start with a heavy saucepan.  To that, add 2 cups of white sugar, 2 tablespoons of butter, and 1 tablespoon of corn syrup (it doesn’t seem like much, but remember what I said about science; the stuff’s in there for a reason).  Then, dump in 3 tablespoons of cocoa powder (I don’t level the tablespoons; the cocoa’s in there for flavor, not science) and a half a cup of chocolate chips.  On top of all that, pour 2/3 of a cup of cream (I’ve used half and half consistently with great success).  Give it a stir and let everything melt together over medium heat.

Once everything’s melted and smooth, get a pastry brush wet and brush down the sides of the pan to get rid of whatever is clinging there (SCIENCE!  Doing this keeps the sugar from re-crystallizing, and re-crystallizing is something you don’t want).  Clip a candy thermometer to the side of the pan, making sure the bottom of the thermometer doesn’t touch the bottom of the pan, turn the heat up to medium-high and leave it alone.  Don’t stir it, don’t swirl the pan, just leave it to happily bubble along.

Eventually – and it’ll feel like it’s going to take FOREVER to get there, but believe me, it will get there, so keep an eye on it – it’ll reach about 234° on the candy thermometer.  Once it does, take the pan off the heat and set it on a cooling rack – don’t stir it, don’t swirl it, and leave the candy thermometer where it is; you’ll want to check in on it periodically as it cools because you’ve got work to do when it settles down to about 110°.

While you’re waiting for the cooling to happen, get an 8×8 inch glass pan and butter it well.

Once your candy gets to 110°, take the candy thermometer out, get yourself a sturdy wooden spoon, and start stirring the crap out of it.  This is going to be a lot harder than  you expect, but that’s okay – just think of it as working off the calories you’re about to consume.  After about 5 or 7 minutes of furious stirring, your fudge will start to thicken and lose its glossy sheen; THAT’S when to pour it into the prepared pan, smooth it out with a spatula, and let it cool the rest of the way down (at this point, you can fridge it, but don’t try to speed the first cooling process by putting the pan in the fridge or on the back porch… trust me on this).

This really is a lovely recipe, and I hope you are as successful with it as I have been!

Everything’s Better with Bacon

A couple of years ago, the girls had a bacon-wrapped appetizer for their annual Christmas party.  Because the girls don’t treat the help like the help, they encouraged us to have some and, MAN!, were they yummy.

I haven’t made them yet, but here’s what you do.  Preheat the oven to 350° and toast a couple dozen almonds (or however many you’re making) for about ten minutes, or until they’re just lightly golden and fragrant.  Take them out and let them cool.  Then, take an equal number of pitted dates and shove an almond in the middle of each of them, wrap each little package with a strip of bacon and, if you’re that fussy, secure each with a toothpick.  Pop them back in the oven for 25-30 minutes, or until the bacon is crisp and cooked through.  Park the lot on a paper towel to drain and serve ‘em warm.

YUM!

Apple Fritters

It’s fall in New England.  That means apples, and lots of them.

Last weekend, the Chili family trucked over to our local apple orchard to do some picking.  Mr. Chili and I have been going to this same farm since before we were married.  The girls took pre-school field trips here.  It’s safe to say that this little orchard is an integral part of our autumnal tradition.

We brought home two big bags filled with Macs and Cortlands (but no Granny Smiths; here’s why), and I got right to cooking.  I put together a yummy apple crisp and decided to try making apple fritters.

I’m not a big fan of frying.  It’s messy, it kinda stinks, I’m afraid of burning myself, and I never know what to do with the used oil.  This recipe intrigued me, though, so I figured I’d give it a shot.  I’m SO glad I did.

I found this recipe here, and I followed it pretty much to the letter.  Here’s what you do:

Get yourself a couple of good, crispy apples (I used a Granny I bought at the market and a big, fat Cortland from tha fahm).  Peel them, core them, then dice them into little bits onto a couple of layers of paper towel.  Set those aside, and sift together 2 cups of flour, half a cup of sugar, a tablespoon of baking powder, a teaspoon each of salt and cinnamon, and a quarter teaspoon of nutmeg (I didn’t measure this – I just shook in a couple of shakes and called it even).

In a separate bowl (I just used the measuring cup), wisk together 3/4 cup of apple cider, 2 large eggs, and two tablespoons of melted butter.  I don’t imagine a dram of vanilla would go amiss here, if that’s how you roll; when I make these again, I’m going to include some.

In a heavy, deep pan (I used a large saucepan), heat about an inch, inch-and-a-half of oil (I used vegetable oil) over medium high heat until it hits about 350°.  If you’ve got a thermometer, use it.  I don’t (at least, I don’t have one convenient to use in that application), but I’m pretty good with eyeballing temperature by how quickly (or not) the food is cooking, so I didn’t really need one.  Oh, and a good way to tell when your oil is ready without a thermometer is to put a single kernel of popcorn in the pan; when it pops, fish it out and lower your heat just a smidge; that ought to do it.

While your oil is heating, dump the apples into the flour/sugar, then stir in the whisked cider mixture and work until everything is combined.  Gently lower a scoop of batter into the hot oil, and do what you can to flatten it ever so slightly (I used a spring-action ice cream scoop to transport the batter from bowl to pan; the amount that fit into the scoop was just about perfect fritter-size.  I could fit about five blops of batter into the pan at a time, and that didn’t seem to overwhelm the temperature control, but your results may differ).  Cook the fritters for about 3 minutes on each side, being careful to regulate the oil temperature; keep it low enough that the insides cook before the outsides have a chance to burn.

Transfer your little golden nuggets of yummy onto paper towels to drain, and do your best to wait until they’ve cooled a bit before digging in; they are so enticing that you may be willing to risk burning yourself to have one right away.

While they are best warm (with or without a glaze of powdered sugar, apple cider, and a little vanilla), they are also perfectly acceptable at room temperature.  If they last that long, store them overnight in the fridge, then heat them up for about 20 seconds in the microwave; they are just as yummy the second day, and they make a delightful breakfast.

You’re welcome!

(I’m making these tomorrow; I’ll post some pictures then…)

Roasted Garlic Parmesan Cream Sauce

Oh, Dear Goddess!

About a year or so ago – maybe longer, I can’t remember – my family and I ate for the first time at a Cheesecake Factory.  The nearest one is a little less than an hour away, and we’d stopped in for lunch on our way home from a mini vacation.  After many agonizing minutes with the menu – everything in that damned book looks so good! – I settled on the farfalle with roasted garlic parmesan cream sauce.

I thought I’d found heaven.  Forget the cheesecakes; I wanted to figure out how to make this pasta dish.

I went looking on the internet and found a recipe that came pretty close here.  I tinkered with it significantly, though, and this is how *I* do it.

Start with a few slices of thick bacon.  You can either cook it as it is or, like me, you can dice it into bits before cooking it – either way, you want to end up with little nuggets of bacon for the finished dish, but it doesn’t matter at all whether you start that way or just cut the bacon after it’s cooked.  Drain off most of the grease, then drop in a pretty good-sized, thinly sliced onion and cook over medium heat until it caramelizes.  At this point, add a mess of sliced or chopped mushrooms (and no; I don’t have an exact measurementt for “a mess.”  I always put in way more than I think I need, both because I love mushrooms and because they’ll cook down to far fewer than they look when they start out).  Cook those together, adding more of the bacon fat if you need to, until the mushrooms are cooked through and tender.

Now, if you’re the type who needs to have fresh things, you can chop and seed a couple of tomatoes to add to the sauce.  I am not that type, so I drain a can of diced tomatoes (often the kind canned with onion and garlic already in them) and call it even.  The recipe also calls for roasted red pepper, which I don’t love so I leave that out, but you’re welcome to it.  Stir all of that around, then add a cup of milk and half a block of cream cheese and stir them around with the veggies until it makes a smooth sauce (I use both low fat milk and cream cheese, and I chop the cream cheese into cubes before I drop it in; it helps the cheese to incorporate more quickly).  Stir that all around over medium-low heat until it’s all hot and bubbly.

Here’s where the magic happens; stir in about half a head’s worth of roasted garlic paste (which works out to be about a quarter of a cup or so in my house but, then again, I think the roasted garlic is what makes this recipe).  I suppose here’s where I should have mentioned that you need to have roasted garlic paste handy – I always have some in my fridge.  In fact, I currently have three jars of the stuff in there; I got a little excited the last time I made it but, like I mentioned in the post about how to make roasted garlic paste, it never goes bad, so I don’t mind having more than meets my immediate needs.  Once that’s all nicely incorporated, drop in about half a cup of grated parmesan – you can grate this yourself or, like me, you can shake it out of the jar – and stir that around until it’s smoothly mixed.

I like leaving the sauce on a low simmer while I cook the pasta – usually bowties – because the simmering gives the sauce time to thicken.  The original recipe calls for peas, which I usually leave out, but there’s no reason not to include whatever sauce-friendly vegetable for which you harbor affection.

If I’m serving this to a lot of people, I pour the cooked bowties into the sauce, mix it all around, then plate – at which point I sprinkle in the bacon bits – but I’m often the only one who eats this (though Punkin’ decided that she likes it the last time I made it).  When I’m going individually, I’ll spoon the sauce over the pasta.

Let any leftover sauce cool and store it in the fridge for up to a week – I can’t attest to how it freezes, but it fridges very well, and behaves nicely if treated gently in the microwave.

The next time I make it, I’ll snap a picture.

Quinoa Rice Pudding

I’ve lately been trying to make little changes that bring more healthy things into my diet.  I say “little changes” because I know myself, and I’m not likely to make the big changes stick, so I keep looking for ways to sneak substitutions and supplements into my routine that up my nutrition without making me feel deprived.

I’ve been hearing a lot about quinoa lately, so the other day I picked up a package in my local market.  It’s a little, tiny grain that one cooks much like rice.  My impression of the stuff is that it’s sort of like a cross between rice and couscous, with a little bit of oatmeal-y nuttiness to round the whole thing out.  It has a very mild flavor on its own and tends to take on the essence of whatever liquid it’s cooked in, and my first experiment with the stuff was to cook it in mushroom broth as a side for steak.  That went well, so I started thinking about whether or not it would work as a base for rice pudding.

It turns out that it CAN!  That is, of course, if you’re willing to overlook the fact that quinoa is a little more al dente than arborio rice and that, combined with the fact that quinoa doesn’t give off nearly as much starch as rice, means the whole texture of the dish is going to be entirely different.  I found the whole thing to be entirely satisfying, though, and I think this is a switch that is going to be very easy to make.

Start with a cup of quinoa.  Rinse this under cold water in a fine-mesh strainer and set aside while you get a cup and a quarter of milk (or any combination of milk/cream/half-and-half you desire) into a heavy bottomed saucepan.  To the milk, add a scant quarter cup of sugar (I always use a little less) and, if you’ve got one, a split and scraped vanilla bean (I didn’t have one, so I scooped in a little Trader Joe’s vanilla paste.  Nectar of the Gods, I’m telling you).  Put the pan over medium-high heat until it just starts to bubble (don’t let the milk scorch), add the quinoa, stir, pop a lid on and lower the heat to low.  Let the whole thing simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 15 minutes or so (that’s another benefit the quinoa has over the rice; it cooks much faster).

Like I said, this lacks the creamy luxury of rice pudding, but it packs a much greater nutritional punch, so I felt better eating it.  I think this was an entirely successful experiment!

My Secret

Yep; this is pretty much how I do it…

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I’m making myself a pan of macaroni and cheese for my birthday dinner.  A whole stick of butter AND a half a pound of extra-sharp cheddar cheese!  Mmmmmmm!

Dark Chocolate Cheesecake

Also known as the “Oh, my GODDESS!” cheesecake.

I haven’t actually made this yet, but I know for certain that I will.  Mr. Chili and I had the joy of sampling a bit of it while we were helping to cater the annual holiday party, and I left said party with the recipe and a significant portion of the leftovers.  Holy Mother of Godiva, but this stuff is gorgeous, and Mr. Chili has requested that it be a component of our Christmas dinner.  I live to make him happy, so here’s what I’ll do.

I’m going to blitz a package of chocolate wafer cookies into crumbs, mix them with a half a stick of melted butter, then press them into the bottom of a buttered, 9 inch springform pan and bake them for about five minutes in a 350° oven.  While that’s cooling, I’ll get on with the filling.

I’m going to get a little less than 10 ounces of the best bittersweet chocolate I can find (probably Scarfen Berger, and I know where I can find that) and chop it into melt-able bits, which I will then proceed to gently melt.  While that’s cooling a bit, I’ll mix four 8-ounce packages of soft cream cheese with 1 1/4 cups of sugar and 1/4 cup of good quality cocoa powder (also Scharfen Berger, if I can find some).  Then I’m going to add four eggs, one at a time, until each is incorporated.  Then I’ll mix in the lukewarm chocolate, pour it into the pan, and cook it for about an hour or until it’s done, then let it chill overnight.

As if that weren’t enough, I’m going to top it.  I’ll melt 3/4 cups whipping cream (no, really), 6 ounces of the wicked good chocolate, and 1 tablespoon of sugar in a medium saucepan until it’s smooth, cool it slightly, then pour it in the center of the cheesecake, making a gorgeous puddle of sublime yumminess.  That will chill for a bout an hour, then sit at room temperature for about an hour, and then it’s ready.

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I fully expect that this will rival the prime rib in terms of died-and-gone-to-heaven delight.  I’ll report back…

Spinach Artichoke Dip

Hooo, boy!

It seems that we get ourselves into grooves.  I’m not going to call them “ruts” because that implies something negative and this is so not negative.  I know that I, personally, go through phases where I can’t get enough of something, whether it’s a musician or a food or an author, and I’ll go and go and go until I lose whatever gravitational pull was keeping me stuck to that thing.  I’ve watched my family members do the same.  Lately?  It’s been all about the spinach and artichoke dip.

It started a few weeks ago when Mr. Chili and I went out to dinner with my boss and her guy.  We’re friends, the four of us, and enjoy very much spending time together, and this night was no exception.  We ended up at a little local place, and Mr. Chili and I, having arrived a little early, ordered a round of drinks and a helping of the spinach artichoke dip.  It was singularly fantastic, and we kind of had trouble finishing our entrees for having stuffed ourselves full of bread slathered in gooey, green-flecked yumminess.

Then, a few weeks ago, the Chili family ended up at one of the “local” chain restaurants – you know, the Applebee’s-Chili’s-Friday’s sort of places.  They’re all the same, really, and while I know a lot of readers who disdain the chain, I maintain that, sometimes, they’re exactly what a busy family of picky eaters needs; the menus are reliable, the food is consistent, and the prices are right.  I’m not going to defend our dining choice here, but I am going to concede that we could – and probably should – do better.

Anyway, we ended up at this place, and one of the deals that seemingly all these restaurants run is the 2 for $20 feature; you get an appetizer to share and two entrees for 20 bucks.  Mr. Chili and I did that, and we decided to be reckless and try the spinach artichoke dip.  Really, the fried cheese is our usual default for these sorts of things, but we remembered fondly our last dip experience, so we thought we’d give it a shot.

The stuff came, bubbling hot in a large, open crock, ringed by taco chips.  I’m not going to lie to you – yes, I know it’s a chain place and that the goo probably went from the freezer to the microwave to our table, but MAN!  It was delicious!  I thought it needed more salt (so I scooped some onto my plate and sprinkled), but the rest of the family thought it was fine the way it was.  It wasn’t as good as the local place’s offering, but that didn’t keep us from practically licking the glaze off the crock.

Seriously.

Then, last week, I came across another of the chain places’ offering of spinach dip in my grocer’s freezer.  I bought a tray and spun it in the microwave and it was good (aside from burning myself taking the wobbly plastic tray out of the microwave), but not as good as the in-restaurant stuff was.  Then it occurred to me that there’s no reason why I couldn’t recreate the dip at home, so I hit the internet to see if I could find a copycat recipe, and here’s what I found.

Start with a brick of frozen spinach.  If you’re thinking ahead, you can set it out to thaw.  (I didn’t think ahead, so I put the brick in a colander and ran it under hot water until it wasn’t frozen anymore, then I squeezed as much water out of it as I could manage.)  While that’s happening, drain a can of artichoke hearts and chop them up as much (or as little) as you like, then set them aside.  In an oven-proof bowl, mix together 10 ounces of jarred alfredo sauce (I had a little less on hand, but it was still enough, and it was of the roasted garlic variety, which made it even better) and a cup of grated shaky-cheese (mine’s a parmesan-romano mix).  Drop in a handful of shredded mozzarella cheese (the recipe called for a half a cup; I didn’t measure) and plop in half a brick of cream cheese (I use the low-fat variety) and mix the whole thing around until it’s good and blended.  To that, add some minced garlic (the recipe asked for a teaspoon; I didn’t measure that, either.  Then again, sometimes I think there’s not enough garlic in garlic, so you may not want to follow my lead on that), drop in your drained and chopped veggies, stir it all around, and pop it into a 350° oven for about 20 minutes.

Wowie.

The recipe made a lot – I mean, A LOT – so before I put it in the oven, I scooped half of it out and stashed it in the freezer.  I would imagine that one could just drop the frozen brick into a pan and add a few extra minutes to the cooking time with no ill effects; when I know this to be true, I’ll report back.

Mr. Chili, Punkin’ and I stood over the stove and scooped the rocket hot stuff up with taco chips.  I think we may skip dinner tonight…