With a title like that there is really nothing else that needs to be said.

In fact I feel sort of badly for writing anything at all knowing that the time you take to read these words is time you are not setting to the task of making this cake. But perhaps there are a few of you who are not already gathering the cocoa, butter and sugar just by the mere mention of “fudge”, “pudding” and “cake”.

It’s for those people that I speak of the union of cake, brownie and hot fudge that this single recipe manages to accomplish so well. For those who have yet to pre-heat the oven I will tell you its black as night appearance that informs you of its richness before a single bite is taken. The agressive scent of cocoa flees the oven just as the cake is done baking and the faint hint of coffee only helps to accentuate the intense chocolate.

What I find most endearing about this recipe is that it manages to cover most bases as far as cravings go. Of course it has chocolate well taken care of but for me even a simple chocolate craving is made complicated by my follow up question of texture. With this recipe you get a bit of crisp bite if you are quick enough to grab a corner piece, a thin layer of soft cake is tucked underneath which then gives way to a warm fudge sauce. All of that served over ice cream makes for one stunner of a sundae.

It’s hard for me to imagine that there is any need for further convincing. So I’ll leave it at that.

Hot Fudge Pudding Cake
adapted from Grandma and Cook’s Country

This recipe comes from my grandma’s archives. I love passing along recipes from her to my own family. With each dump of an ingredient and stir of the batter I’m reminded that grandma raised six wonderful children and lived to tell about it so surely I’ll survive raising three. Perhaps she, like me, used this cake on those desperate days to help pull through. 

1 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
½ cup cocoa
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup brown sugar
½ cup milk
4 Tablespoons butter, melted
1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 Tablespoon instant espresso powder
1 cup hot water
½ cup chocolate chips
Pre-heat your oven to 350*
In a large bowl combine the flour, baking powder, ¼ cup cocoa, salt and ½ cup sugar. Whisk to combine. Stir in the milk, vanilla extract, egg yolk and melted butter. Spread into a buttered 9” square cake pan.

In a small bowl combine the remaining ½ cup brown sugar and ¼ cup cocoa. Whisk to break up clumps. Sprinkle the chocolate chips over the cake batter then sprinkle the cocoa powder and sugar mixture on top of that.

Combine the espresso powder with the hot water and pour all over the top but do not stir. Bake 35-40 minutes or until the edges of the cake feel baked but the middle still has a gentle jiggle as the sauce poured on top has now settled to the bottom to create a rich pudding. Brilliant, really.

Let cool in the pan for about 15-20 minutes before serving. Serve alongside whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

*Quick note:

I’m hosting a great giveaway and you have until next Monday, 4/30 to enter.

Okay, I’m done now. As always, thanks for being here.

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I had always thought that at some point in life you get it. That there comes a time when life just sort of magically clicks and you make sense, the world makes sense, people make sense. I don’t know exactly when I thought this would happen but I do know that by the time I was 30 I thought I would have it all figured out.

Well here I am, 30 and often more confused then ever. But the difference between a confused 30 year and a confused, say, 20 year old is that now I simply don’t care. I don’t care that I don’t have it all figured out. In fact I’m thrilled that I don’t.

At this time in my life I feel more free to ask questions, to humbly acknowledge my misunderstandings and earnestly seek to find the answers, knowing full well that most likely they will just open up the flood gates to more questions.

It is an incredibly freeing time in my life where I sense the burden of self-consciousness slowly lifting and life’s subtleties filling me with an intoxicating joy. I’m okay with making a bit of a fool of myself for the sake of seeking answers, understanding something a little better, and for protecting my family and myself.

The mocking voices in my head are retreating to a dull whisper instead of a deafening roar. The space in which they used to inhabit fills with thoughts of thankfulness, abounding blessings and purpose.

I’m seeking adventure, owning up to what I feel called to in life, living and perusing life with an unashamed passion.

I eagerly await the coming years and the wisdom and memories they will produce.

Although there may be a few more fine lines on my face then there were before, this is the best time of my life. Goodbye 20’s. Hello 30.

Mascarpone Ice Cream

Makes 3 cups

Although cake is what’s typically enjoyed on occassions such as birthdays, when given the choice I will always choose ice cream. And if said ice cream happens to be topped with a dark and bitter shot of espresso then what you have is one of my favorite desserts.

1 cup mascarpone

1 ½ cups milk

1/2 cup brown rice syurp

squeeze fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

pinch salt

Whisk all the ingredients together. Churn in your favorite ice cream maker according to the directions.

Freeze until firm.

For an affogato simply pour a shot of freshly brewed espresso (or very strong coffee) over a scoop of the ice cream.

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*that is not my kitchen in the video. I wish it was, however.

Before saying hi to the cows casually grazing in the field, or giving the ponies much attention, before gathering a few garden scraps for the sake of making the chickens happy or giving much of a hello to my parents, I headed straight towards the walnut trees at the mini farm that is my parent’s house.

I had never before watched the process of walnuts turning from a lime-like pod to become a buttery, slightly bitter nut that I know and love. The shadow that the large leaves provided was a perfect canopy to escape the warm summer sun. In the spring we watched a flourishing insect community take roost among the branches – some bad, most good. I examined every change and anticipated when they would finally be ready, all the while gathering recipes in my mind.

Then one day when the days were gray and the ground was wet it happened. I got a text from my mom with an image of walnuts half out of their greenish-brown coverings, strewn all over the green carpeted floor under the tree, “they’re ready.”

Before long the five of us we’re making an hour long trek to the little farm with fresh walnuts as the mission. Well, it was my mission any way,  I’m sure the kids were more excited about pony and tractor rides. Either way we were all eager and excited to stretch our city legs on the farm.

Ivy and I fetched a deep wicker basket from my mom’s collection and quickly headed towards those trees. Her black boot covered feet found balance difficult as she had only recently discovered walking. Quickly realizing the mission she proudly plopped walnuts into the basket even if it meant taking one out only to plop it in again. She noticed the joy on my face and collected as many as she could understanding that something delicious was to become of these wet and wrinkled shells.

Ivy was right, something delicious did become of those walnuts. A caramel walnut tart. In my mom’s kitchen we made a vanilla scented butter crust. The sort of crust you dream about. One that doesn’t require cold butter and delicate hands and hours to chill. I’ve been known to force people to time me while making this crust – they oblige and it’s about 30 seconds. All the ingredients get dumped and stirred together, then the wet dough is patted into form. It bakes with no fear of shrinking and awards your minimal efforts with a lightly sweet, tender bite.

While the crust baked Ivy and I whisked together bittersweet chocolate, cream and creme fraiche anticipating the desire for a dark, bitter taste to balance the sweet caramel. We ate it, although not necessary. Both she and I are not ones to turn down chocolate.

Let’s talk for a moment about caramel. It can be intimidating, right? It is one of my favorite things to teach as so many are afraid to try but when they see how easy it can be it opens up a world of possibilities for them.

We start with a large, very clean sauce pan. If there is any fear of residue, wipe the interior with lemon juice or vinegar using a clean dish towel. All the utensils involved in making a caramel should be impeccably clean. In the restaurant this was the reason why we required a set of spatulas separate from the savory side – a speck of leftover anything can wreak havoc on a pot of perfectly golden caramel.

Next add your sugar, lemon juice and enough water to enable the sugar to reach the consistency of wet sand. If you add too much water don’t worry, it will just take a bit longer to caramelize. During the next few steps I like to use my hands so that I can really feel where the sugar is and what is happening in my pan – a spatula works fine if you are opposed to sugar fingers.

Stir the sugar, lemon juice and water until completely combined. Wipe down the sides of the pan with more water until you don’t feel or see any sugar granules clinging to the side. What we are fighting against is crystallization - it’s the enemy of a smooth caramel. It’s the enemy of most candy making actually. Crystallization happens when sugar caramelizes at different points. So if you have sugar that is nearly caramelized and a granule falls into the pan from off the side you may have a problem. Now, in saying all this I don’t mean to add to the intimidation of caramel making but simply to inform you of the problem and give you the proper ways to avoid it.

At this point crank up the heat and don’t touch the pan. Let the sugar dissolve then boil like crazy but don’t walk away. It happens quickly and there is no coming back from a pan of burnt sugar.

If around the sides of the pan you notice some color but the middle remains colorless, carefully swirl to mix.

The caramel is done when it has reached the color of a penny – a deep amber. You can go lighter but I like to take it to the edge, teetering the line of bitter and sweet.

Turn off the heat and add the butter, cream, and creme fraiche. You will see why we use a large pan at this point as the caramel bubbles up madly at the addition of the cold fats. Stand back until it has calmed down then carefully swirl the pan to combine. Then you are done. Perfect caramel.

Unless you are okay with warm caramel puddling all over your plate, the only down side to this recipe is needing to wait. We couldn’t and didn’t with no complaints of puddled caramel. Being a resourceful bunch we used the crust to help mop up the mess.

My recommendation is joining this rich tart with a lightly sweetened cream. If you like the mature tang of creme fraiche add a heap of that to the cream you are whipping, I find it settles the intensely sweet caramel nicely.

This tart made the long wait for ripe walnuts completely worth it. That and seeing my baby girl clenching those golden shells around her pudgy fingers. I’m already excited for next year’s harvest.

Tart shell

makes enough dough to for a 9” or 10” tart

¼ cup powdered sugar

½ cup butter (melted)

pinch salt

½ tsp vanilla

1 cup flour

In a medium bowl stir together all the ingredients. The dough will be quite wet but can easily be pressed into a tart pan or spring form pan.

Bake at 350*F for about 20-25 minutes or until lightly golden.

Let cool.

Chocolate Glaze

Not necessary to make this tart a memorable one but really what isn’t improved upon by the addition of chocolate?

½ cup heavy whipping cream

½ cup cream fraiche

7 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

Add the chocolate to a medium bowl.

In a small sauce pan, heat the cream and creme fraiche over medium heat. Watch carefully as cream tends to bubble up and boil over quickly. When bubbles appear all over the surface, remove from the heat and immediately pour over the chocolate. Let sit for 1 minute the whisk to combine.

Can use immediately or store in a covered container in the fridge for 2 weeks. Makes a great ice cream topping or hot chocolate base.

Caramel Filling

The recipe in the video had double the caramel but I found it to be a bit too much. As it is this recipe is quite rich but I like this ratio of crust, caramel, and cream much more pleasant.

1 cup sugar

1/4 cup water

1 tbl lemon juice

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, cut into pieces

¼ cup heavy cream

1 tablespoons crème fraîche

1 cup walnuts, toasted, roughly chopped

Place sugar, water, and lemon juice in a heavy, large saucepan. Stir to combine. Wash down the sides of the pan until no sugar remains. Set on high heat and boil without stirring until syrup is deep amber color, about 7-10 minutes depending on the power of your stove and the pan you use. If the sugar around the sides begin to caramelize more rapidly, gently swirl the pan to mix.

Remove from heat. Whisk in butter, cream and creme fraiche (mixture will bubble vigorously).  Stir in walnuts. Let cool until slightly thick before pouring into prepared crust. Let cool until caramel is set. If you are really eager you can pop it in the refrigerator for a bit.

Serve with lightly whipped cream.

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In the weeks leading up to my trip to Morocco it was the tagines and fragrant spices that I anticipated. Thoughts of fatty, braised chunks of lamb studded with apricots and warming harissa made the days before I left move at a pace that would make a snail appear as a sprinter.

As one can expect, the food did not disappoint. There was couscous so perfectly prepared that my satisfaction in the store bought version has been crushed. A sweet and savory b’stilla laced with chicken and showered with cinnamon and powdered sugar and a chicken tagine with french fries – that’s right, FRENCH FRIES!! – sealed my love for this vibrant country. But it was the Moroccan breakfasts that I most long to recreate now that I’m home.

Fresh squeezed orange juice greeted me nearly every morning and woke me up more effectively than three children jumping on my bed ever can. Beyond the juice there was an assortment of breads. Some resembling airy pancakes, others seemed to enjoy a leisurely bath in hot oil before settling into their position of my breakfast. With the breads there was always Amlou, honey, and assorted fruit preserves. Speaking of fruit; the hot Moroccan sun does wonders to intensify the sweetness. Bananas are nearly half the size and twice as sweet, grapes taste of candy, and the citrus requires no additional sugar to tame its pucker.

Proving that point was this salad. A simple salad made up of no more than four ingredients in stunning jewel tones and sweet, slivered dates. Its beauty drew me in but the taste left me pining for its presence during the days that followed.

Segmented grapefruit sat next to bright bites of lemon. The tartness took me by surprise as I had never simply eaten a bite of lemon, except maybe as a child to somehow impress other with my sustainability against the harsh sourness. With the addition of the dates, the entire bowl was perfectly sweet.

And then there’s mint. The herb that I had once relegated to tea and little else. Even refusing to allow it to be a final course garnish as it never made sense to me to add something for the color when the flavor was not wanted. Now there is rarely a day that goes buy when I don’t reach for the emerald leaves.

I’m home now and citrus season is in full swing along with the desire to enjoy a bit more fruits and vegetables ridding myself of nearly an entire month where sugar and butter made up the bulk of my diet. No regrets here, but it did leave me longing for the freshness of a salad such as this one.

The sweet milk granita is purely optional but turns this salad into a stunning, and healthful dessert. I love the ease of turning this sweet cream into a granita. After stirring the ingredients together I add it to a metal cake pan and pop the whole thing in the freezer. Every thirty minutes, or whenever I remember, I simply give the mix a quick stir with a fork to break up any large ice chunks, until the mixture is well-frozen. The resulting granita is flecked with vanilla beans, light ice crystals and a soft texture that melts into the crevices of the segmented citrus that it’s scooped over. You can also churn this mix in an ice cream maker if you want a smoother texture. The choice is yours.

When the presence of fry bread and fresh squeezed orange juice are missing from my mornings, this salad fills the void and reminds me of what Morocco tasted of.

Grapefruit Salad

Inspired by a salad enjoyed at Heure Bleue Hotel in Essaouira, Morocco

Makes 4 smallish servings.

While I loved the puckering tang of the lemon in this salad I do prefer the much gentler sourness that comes from a Meyer lemon, so I’ve used that here instead.

2 large grapefruits, segmented

1 meyer lemon, segmented

2 tablespoons chopped, fresh mint

1/4 cup thinly sliced dates

Combine the citrus segments and the mint. Add the dates just before serving.

Finish with a small scoop of Sweet Milk Granita if you desire.

Sweet Milk Granita

adapted from pastrychefonline.com

I love the simplicity of this granita and the fact that it doesn’t need an ice cream maker. The resulting texture is light, with flaky ice crystals that melt freely into the citrus. Usually I would oppose this texture when cream is involved but for this it works. If you prefer a perfectly creamy texture feel free to churn in an ice cream maker.

1 cup  (9 oz) sweetened condensed milk

1 1/4 cups (9 oz) hot water

1/2 vanilla bean, split

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

In a medium bowl combine all the ingredients and stir well. If you are using an ice cream maker, chill this mixture completely before churning.

If turning into a granita add mixture to a metal pan (I used a 9″ square cake pan – the bigger the pan the faster it will freeze). Let sit in the freezer for about an hour initially then break up mixture and any formed ice crystals with a fork every 30 minutes until completely frozen. This process will give the desired light texture with uniform ice crystals – the mark of a well-made granita.

Best served the day it’s made.

*If you happen to forget about the granita and it freezes solid you can either remelt and start again or you can process in the mix in a food processor to break up ice crystals.

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Our days are filled this time of year. So much extra activity and traditions to cross off the list I’m finding myself more than ever longing for days that extend to 36 hours rather than 24. I’m not complaining one bit. When the activities include; Eating, Christmas tree acquiring, cookie decorating, eating, hot chocolate drinking, Christmas light seeing, party go-ing, eating, marshmallow making, etc., there really is nothing to complain about.

But in the back of my mind amid the chaos of the holiday planning I feel the mounting of a fresh start.

A friend recently said to me that her favorite holiday is New Years. I was shocked by this as I thought I wasn’t alone in the feelings of disdain for this holiday. My expectations of attending a fancy party and drinking champagne while ringing in the new year are often smashed with the reality of the near impossibility of finding a babysitter on December 31st, I’m no good at partying hard and late into the night, and I’m still tired from the previous week’s holidays to pay much attention to another party.

But what made this holiday a favorite for my friend wasn’t the fancy dresses, champagne and late night, it was the chance to start fresh. A time to reflect on all that had happened the previous year and to anticipate what is yet to come. It is a day to start clean with high hopes, new beginnings, and more insight from another year lived.

Last year my husband and I made some very lofty visions for our family at the start of the year. We made specific goals and wrote out the steps needed to happen in order for those goals to be reached. Each day of this past year had more focus and more drive because of the time we spent at the start of it. I felt closer to him as we were working together to accomplish something big. And now as we begin to reflect on the past year we can look back over those goals made nearly 365 days ago and see how far we’ve come and how incredibly blessed we are.

I don’t want to rush through this season. I’m savoring every peppermint scented minute of it but I really am looking forward to spending some time alone and with my husband to focus on what we hope for in the coming year.

What are you hoping for in 2012? Do you make resolutions or goals at the start of the new year?

Fresh Mint Hot Chocolate

I am on a mint kick these days. If it’s acceptable to add mint to it, I will. Even hot chocolate isn’t safe. What I love about this version is the mint is from fresh mint. It tastes clean and unlike the candy mint – which I also love – fresh mint gives a clean earthy punch that really suits the chocolate well.

If you have more will power than I, bottle up some of this mix and give it as a gift. It will be well received – I assure you.

1 cup cream

1/2 cup whole milk

5 sprigs fresh mint (more or less depending on desired mint flavor – this will give a pronounced flavor but not overpowering)

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups (about 9 oz) chopped dark chocolate

Bring the cream and milk to a simmer. Add the mint, turn off the heat then let sit for 30 minutes. With the back of a wooden spoon carefully bruise the mint in the cream mixture to release some of the essential oils.

Add the chocolate to a medium bowl.

Stir the salt into the cream then bring back up to a simmer over medium-low heat. Remove the mint.

Pour the hot cream over the chocolate and let sit for one minute. Whisk the cream and the chocolate together. If some chocolate remains unmelted, simply place the bowl over a bain marie or gently microwave at 15-30 second intervals. Stirring after each heating.

Add the ganache (chocolate and cream mixture) to a container and refrigerate until ready to use. Will keep in the fridge for at least 2 weeks.

When ready for a cup of hot chocolate add a couple of spoonfuls of ganache to a cup of heated milk. The amount is really based on taste. I like mine nice and rich so I add roughly 2 tablespoons to 6 oz of milk.

Serve with a homemade marshmallow if you so desire.

(Recipe for marshmallows)

*Here’s another great idea – By simply adding a bit more milk and cream and having marshmallows and sugar cookies on hand you have the makings of a fine fondue. Check out Artazza.com for the recipe.

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In so many ways I’m like a child. The very things that cause me to raise my voice or think less-than-pleasant thoughts toward them, I myself do. Sleeping in past 7:00 am, using a fork, sitting still for longer than thirty seconds, managing to keep a straight face while saying the word “underwear” – these things I can handle, but that’s how we differ. Throwing fits with legs pounding and arms flailing and having to re-learn the same lessons again and again? In these matters I’m pretty much a toddler.

Okay, so maybe my fits are a bit more mature but repeating the same mistakes and having to remind myself of previous lesson learned, in that there is no exaggeration. Currently I am re-learning the freedom in acceptance. In particular with accepting who I am and who I am not.

The longer I live the more I realize I have tendencies towards control and perfectionism. My perfectionist’s personality manifests itself in ways that are not at all closely related to keeping a perfectly manicured house (or fingernails for that matter). I tend to expect a lot of myself and seem to think that I can do it all. Apparently I am on the quest to earn my superhero cape. In my mind this caped woman does it all with grace and ease. She fights stains without creating pink socks, she cooks a well-planned meal and serves it on matching dishes, she serves all day then asks, “what’s next?” before she sits down, she doesn’t raise her voice to her children (as I JUST did) she is fulfilled and fulfills with joy. She doesn’t exist. Or maybe she does exist, but that’s not me.

There was a recent spell where I fought against who it was that I was created to be. I pushed through my days with some expectations put on myself, then was frustrated when the day ended and I was left feeling dissatisfied. It went on like this for weeks until arriving at a place of darkness and deep sadness.

After much thought and some changes I felt myself returning. It was then that I made the switch to choose acceptance. When a tinge of guilt enters into the thought process I simply redirect it and say, “this is who I am and this is who I am to be.” No longer is there a place to feel guilty for the things I am not, instead the reflection is on appreciating who it is that I am.

Now it is to be said that in any relationship be it friendship, marriage or parenting, there are sacrifices that must be made. That is, after all a real reflection of true love – one can not either be loved or love without the presence of sacrifice. But there comes a point when the sacrifice becomes too great and those relationships suffer as a result.

My family isn’t asking for me to sacrifice as much as I ask it of myself. In fact, they’ve already given me my cape and love me regardless of the pink socks and mismatched dishes. They love me for who I am and now it’s my turn to do the same.

While other things were more pressing than for me to turn to the stove I did it anyway. It may have been this or perhaps it was that, either way my mind was on nutmeg and I could not shake that thought.

In the process of simmering cream with vanilla beans so plump it’s as if at any moment they were going to burst spraying fragrant seeds and nutmeg that reeks of fallen leaves and cold evenings, I thought to appreciate the uncommon joy I feel during such a simple action. When the yolk released the white and landed in the bowl revealing it’s nearly neon color I paused to admire its tone as if I had never seen such a thing before – I have, many times. When finally dipping the spoon into a cool cream so impossibly smooth it caused a pleased grin to cover my face I re-learned that the delight in this process is part of who I am. A part I really enjoy.

The clothes still need folding and the toys must get picked up (at some point) but the fight is against the guilt that plagues when the call of perfection rings. Setting that guilt aside makes room for more joy, more life, more love, and more pot de creme. In this there is no guilt just delight.

One thing I know for sure, I will have to re-learn this at some point, and most likely at another point beyond that. I hope that each time the lesson becomes more poignant and that it is in the presence of Nutmeg Pot de Creme.

Nutmeg Pot de Creme

This softly spiced custard is reminiscent of egg nog and is destined to become a new holiday tradition. It is lightly sweet, cool and creamy and can easily be transformed into Nutmeg Creme Brulee with the addition of a torched sugar crust.

2 cups heavy cream

1 vanilla bean (or 2 tsp vanilla extract)

1 ½ teaspoon nutmeg, freshly ground

6 yolks

½ cup dark brown sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

Pre-heat your oven to 320*F

In a medium sauce pan add the cream, vanilla seeds and bean, and the nutmeg. Bring to a simmer then turn off the heat and let sit for 15 minutes.

In a medium bowl add the yolks, salt, and sugar. Whisk until lightened and well combined.

Bring the cream back up to a simmer. Turn off the heat and slowly add hot cream to the yolk mixture, stirring while pouring.

Strain this mixture with a fine mesh sieve to remove vanilla bean and unwanted egg bits.

Pour this into four oven-safe ramekins. Place these in a larger baking dish (I use a cake pan). Place this into the pre-heated oven then pour water into the baking dish holding the ramekins.

If you don’t want a bit of a skin on top of the pot de creme then place a sheet of foil over the ramekins. I leave the foil off as I prefer the slight textural difference you get when you bake it without a cover.

Bake for 30-45 minutes until the center of the custards still jiggle slightly when gently shaken. Start checking at 30 minutes then check every 5 minutes or so, until done. The custards will continue to set once out of the oven.

Let cool slightly then place them in the fridge to set – about 2 hours.

Just before serving sprinkle with a bit more freshly ground nutmeg.

These can also benefit from a sprinkling of sugar and a broiler or torch turning them into Nutmeg Creme Brulee – perfect for the holidays.

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The first taste of apple when its season hits is almost as paramount as a first kiss. There is a longing that builds throughout the Spring and Summer months and, in my opinion, there is no better taste than that first one. It’s a ritual that merits the suspension of time.

This year it was a Gravenstein for me. With great fervor I peeled the chartruese skin away to reveal a flesh as flawless as a newborn. Removing a portion with my knife, I slipped it directly onto my eager tongue, still cool from the already crisp Fall air. The bright bite rang loudly through my head before releasing its tart juice. The gleeful look that already covered my face became more pronounced as I continued to peel and anticipate the first pie of the season.

Since that bite there has been many more pies. Three within a week span, to be perfectly honest. Following those pies we made our traditional trip to our favorite apple orchard, Bellewood Acres. The one in which golf carts are provided for our touring pleasure, and where horses and cows greet us on either side of the property.

We walked away from the orchard with several bags of both Gravensteins and Honeycrisps, caramel apples, cider, and peanut butter made right on the farm. Before we pulled out of the parking lot we broke into the peanut butter and used a camping knife to carve into the large, perfectly tart-sweet Honeycrisp.

There is little to be done to improve upon a well-grown apple. Our load didn’t last much longer than the car ride home and we’ve since made multiple trips to our local produce stand to replenish our cravings. The baker in me almost feels a sense of obligation to stir them into pies and cakes but lately we’ve let them be simply what they are – incredible apples.

Those that have existed beyond the mid-day snack have made there way through our juicer. Most recently they’ve been combined with a few of their closest friends – butter, vanilla, brown sugar, and cinnamon. This party then meets in a hot oven so as to preserve a slight bite while their crisp edges caramelize.

Roasted apples meet the nostalgic requirements of apple sauce while appearing somehow fancy. Maybe it’s the little vanilla bean specs coating each slice or the floral cinnamon scent that escapes the oven each time you open it in anticipation. Whatever it is it’s no matter just as long as you make them. And while warm, please do me a favor, eat them over vanilla ice cream.

Roasted Apples

Whatever doesn’t end up on ice cream makes a wonderful addition to oatmeal, yogurt or eaten on their own.

4 large apples (2 lbs), peeled and cut in 1” chunks

1 3” cinnamon stick

½ vanilla bean

1-2 Tbl dark brown sugar

2 Tbl butter

Pre-heat your 450*.

Combine all the ingredients in a roasting pan. Dot the apples with small pieces of the butter. Roast 50-60 minutes, stirring every 15-20 minutes until apples are cooked through and golden around the edges.

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It had been on the calendar for over a week but in an instant this date night felt particularly important.

Last Sunday a dear blog friend lost her husband. One moment he was a husband and father to two sweet, young girls and then suddenly he was gone.

Hearing this news took my breath away. The pain I felt for Jennie and her family was deep and lacking in the words I wanted so badly to comfort her with.

There are no words. I continue to seek them but nothing can illustrate the sorrow, the pain, and the sympathy.

I quickly was struck with the reality of how much I take for granted and that this life hangs by a mere thread, a moment. In an instant your everything that has become such a part of your daily existence could be gone. What I anticipate and rely on to be with me on this day, this year, and this lifetime could just as easily vanish like a passing wind. It’s not the thought of my own mortality that scares me but the thought of being left on this earth without someone I love so deeply. That thought is too much to bare.

And that is Jennie’s reality. There have been many moments throughout the week where I have sat staring at my computer screen trying so desperately to think of something, anything, I could do.

Then she posted this. Peanut Butter Pie. It was his favorite.

It was something I could do. A way to honor this man, Jennie’s husband.

With each stir of the spoon and fold of the spatula I thought about Jennie and the man she lost. As I crumbled the cookies and stirred in melted butter I prayed for his girls. As the chocolate shavings rained down over the top of the pie I thought of my own husband and thanked God for this moment I have with him. I am not guaranteed another one but for now he’s here and we have this night and this pie.

Preparing each course of the meal felt poignant. I took my time as I carefully layered each potato into our potato cake. I felt the warmth of the sun on my back as I gathered the tarragon, thyme, mint, and coriander seeds from the garden. Setting the table with multiple layers of dishes, cloth napkins, and candles informed us that this time was to be taken slowly, enjoyed, and savored.

The meal was simple but the purpose was powerful.

We talked, laughed and enjoyed one another’s company. Then we ate pie. Two forks, one pie. We both felt the weight of the significance of the pie. There were moments of no words as we let the sweet, cool bite swallow any words we tried to muster. Breaking the silence we laughed about Gabe’s precise eating style as he carefully tried to make the pie appear as if it wasn’t being devoured by two forks rather than being cut into appropriate pieces. I, on the other hand, simply ravaged the pie, letting the mess be what it is as I enjoyed that moment.

I hope for more dates with my husband. If it were up to me there will be dozens of more pies eaten together, straight from the pan. But it’s not up to me and I’m okay with that because I trust the one who is in charge. I do know that I have now and I pray that the impact of this moment will be carried with me for a very long time and I will try so very hard to not take the things and people that exist in my everyday for granted.

Particularly my husband. I vow to give more loving glances, more heartfelt “I love you’s”, more gentle kisses, and more peanut butter pie.

Creamy Peanut Butter Pie

adapted, slightly, from Jennifer Perillo

Serves 10 to 12

8 ounces chocolate cookies (I used a recipe for Brave Tarts Fauxreo’s)

4 tablespoons butter, melted

2 ounces finely chopped bittersweet chocolate

1/4 cup chopped peanuts

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

5 oz mascarpone

3 oz sour cream

1 cup creamy-style peanut butter

1 cup confectioner’s sugar

1 – 14 ounce can sweetened condensed milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon salt

Pre-heat the oven to 350*

Add the cookies to the bowl of a food processor and pulse into fine crumbs.  Combine melted butter and cookie crumbs in a small bowl, and stir with a fork to mix well.  Press mixture into the bottom and pie pan. Bake the crust for about 15 minutes, until set and crisp. Add the chocolate to the warm crust and let the residual heat melt the chocolate. Spread the chocolate with a spatula and sprinkle the peanuts on top.

Place pan in the refrigerator while you prepare the filling.

Pour the heavy cream into a bowl and beat using a stand mixer or hand mixer until stiff peaks form.  Transfer to a small bowl and store in refrigerator until ready to use.  Place the mascarpone, sour cream and peanut butter in a deep bowl.  Beat on medium speed until light and fluffy.  Reduce speed to low and gradually beat in the confectioner’s sugar.  Add the sweetened condensed milk, vanilla extract and salt. Increase speed to medium and beat until all the ingredients are combined and filling is smooth.

Stir in 1/3 of the whipped cream into the filling mixture (helps lighten the batter, making it easier to fold in the remaining whipped cream).  Fold in another ⅓ of the whipped cream.  Reserve the remaining whipped cream to top the pie. Pour the filling into the prepared pie pan.  Using a microplane, grate chocolate on top of the pie, if desired, and refrigerate for three hours or overnight before serving. Serve with remaining whipped cream.

Green Coriander Dressing

This is for true cilantro lovers as the green coriander packs a floral punch.

1 tsp green coriander seeds

1 tablespoon champagne vinegar

1 teaspoon fine mustard (such as Maille)

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 tablespoon mascarpone or heavy cream

1 tablespoon minced shallot

salt and pepper

In a morter and pestle crush the green coriander. Add the remaining ingredients and stir to combine.

Potato Cake

adapted from Nigel Slater

5 (or so) potatoes (I used new potatoes)

1 red pepper

1 small onion

1 stick butter, melted

5 sprigs of thyme, leaves removed

salt and pepper

Pre-heat your oven to 400*

Slice all the vegetables very thin. A mandoline will make this job a breeze.

Butter a loaf pan and line with parchment so that the parchment hangs over the edge.

Start with a few layers of potatoes adding butter, a few thyme leaves, and a pinch of salt and pepper over each layer. When you deem necessary add a layer of red pepper, then onion.

Continue layering the vegetables, butter, thyme and salt and pepper.

Bake for about an hour or until the top is golden and the potatoes are tender when a knife is inserted through the middle.

Remove from the oven and let cool about 10 minutes before trying to transfer the cake to a plate.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

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More time has passed than I had planned when I made a passing promise to give you a lesson in homemade Mascarpone. We used it together when making this Asparagus Tart. And if you had been holding out on that tart until the publication of this post , I am so very sorry. Because now we must patiently wait through two seasons before we see the pointy heads of asparagus emerge through the still chilled earth.

For this dilemma I offer two solutions with the hope that you will take them as my apology.

1. The asparagus tart would be just as delicious, I imagine, with much of the produce that is currently at its peak. Tomatoes, zucchini, or peppers perhaps?

2. Broiled peaches.

After a gentle dip in a shallow bath of sugar, peach halves are placed directly under the broiler. During those brief moments under the flame the peach warms just to the point of coaxing all it’s floral sweetness to be at its prime while at the same time creating a thin, crackly layer of caramelized sugar. With a hefty dollop of your homemade mascarpone, left to warm and puddle ever so slightly with the remaining heat of the peaches, you have yourself a perfectly simple summer dessert. Or in the case of this morning, a breakfast of champions.

Now I realize that the thought of making your own cheese may seem daunting and yet it does sort of have this alluring, rustic sound to it.

“What did you do today?” “Oh, you know, not much. Except that I did make cheese.” “?!??!!”

Mascarpone is the perfect starting point into the world of home cheese making. One that I seem to step deeper and deeper into. Perhaps someday I’ll have a goat. She’ll be called Ginny and together we’ll make the most creamy Chevre and tangy blocks of goat cheddar. But for now I’ll start by simply adding a bit of lemon juice to cream and wait for time and gravity to create a creamy, soft cheese with a very faint tang. Mascarpone has since replaced my hefty scoop of ice cream or dollop of whipped cream next to my summer’s pie. It combines the best of both worlds – a non-taste bud numbing temperature with a an impossible richness that holds its own next to sweet, tart fruit or when used as a base for a savory tart or pizza.

Mascarpone

2 cups pasteurized (not ultra-pasteurized, if possible) cream

1 T fresh lemon juice

Heat to 190* on medium low. Continually stir, taking care not to scorch the bottom.

When the cream has reached 190* add the lemon juice. It will immediately get a touch thicker. Heat at 190* for another 5 minutes, stirring often.

Remove from the heat, cover the pan and refrigerate over night or until completely cool.

Once cream has cooled it will be nearly as thick as sour cream.

Place a strainer lined with four layers of cheesecloth over a medium bowl. Add the thickened cream to the cheesecloth. Gather the corners and carefully tie the ends to form a bundle. Hang this in the fridge and let drain into the bowl for another 12-24 hours, or overnight. There should be a couple tablespoons of whey left in the bowl after it’s finished draining.

After the cream has hung and drained your mascarpone is finished and ready to use.

Check out these resources for homemade mascarpone. They helped me along the way.

Baking Obsession: Homemade Mascarpone

Making Mascarpone at Home

Broiled Peaches

4 peach halves

1/2 cup sugar

Turn your broiler on to high. Place a sheet tray directly under the flame.

In a shallow bowl or on a plate, add the sugar. Dip the peach halves into the sugar several times to get a nice, thick crust of sugar.

Quickly move the peaches to the broiler and watch carefully.

Remove from the broiler once the sugar has melted and just caramelized and the peaches have warmed through and their juices start to bubble and spurt, about 5 minutes.

Top with a good amount of mascarpone and serve immediately.

*One last note on a completely unrelated, yet equally delicious topic. I have not forgotten about your enthusiasm for Random Acts of Cookies. I was blown away by your response and I say we continue on with our plans to start a movement. But I need your help. I will be thinking of ways in which we can share with one another our cookie acts but for now, I’d love for you to tell us about it, and/or post pictures to the NWS Facebook page. Let’s encourage one another in this and love on others one cookie at a time.

Thanks for your excitement!

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I asked her to teach me her secret to making pie. Grandma was after all the bringer of pie to all family functions so of course I thought to learn from her. I wasn’t a foreigner in the often intimidating land of pie making as my mother frequently gifted us children with pie. The process of incorporating cold butter into flour didn’t seem to frighten her so I too wasn’t scared. But Grandma’s pies were different. So tender not even a sharp knife could cleanly slice through it, instead victims of the pressure of the knife lay in the bottom of the pie plate in the form of sweet crumbs. I considered it my duty to claim those crumbs with my fingers as their liberator and my mouth their new home.

She gathered her ingredients; flour, salt, sugar, milk, and oil. OIL?! No butter, I repeat, no butter. A coffee cup was her measuring cup and it was sometimes filled to the top, other times not. Once all the ingredients were added she mixed it with her hands using her years of experience to determine if she needed “more of this or that”. She was reluctant to offer up a recipe as it was the “feel” of it that was a better judge than precise measurements. What emerged from the oven just over an hour later was a perfect pie just as Grandma always makes.

I find Grandma’s method of baking so comforting. Grandma doesn’t find herself in debates over how she measures flour, she just bakes. She has gifted people with pie, I imagine, no less than a thousand times. Her church, our family and her friends have all had the pleasure of enjoying her impossibly tender crust. It is Grandma’s experience that guides her baking.

While there is no arguing that baking is a science I find that often all the discussion of the preciseness necessary in baking can scare people away from actually attempting to form a dough. Experience is often the best teacher,  as is the case with baking. If you, like me, had a mother who enjoyed baking and did so often in the home, than most likely that fear is minimal. But if you didn’t I can understand that there is fear in the unknown. Let me also assure you that there will be failed attempts. Happens to me still. There are at any moment many factors at play working towards the success of your baked good. Sometimes things happen that you simply don’t have an answer for.

What I often tell my baking students is that the key to successfully baking is a basic understanding of your ingredients. Get to know them and how they interact with one another. This knowledge will allow you to be in control rather than having the recipe control you. When taking this approach baking becomes more closely related to cooking than you think. The freedom and creativity found in baking opens up when you are able to predict what would happen if you use oil in the dough instead of butter, or egg instead of water, for example.

The best book I can recommend for this idea is Rhulman’s Ratio. It boils down the basics of baking into simple ratios. Following the simple ratio you can alter and add to it with great comfort and ease.

Most important is to simply get in the kitchen and start building your experience. As in life, there are many lessons to be learned in our failures. Learn from it and move on. Each attempt will be less and less intimidating and before you know it you will be the bringer of pie as Grandma is.

Tequila Peach Galette

You may think I’m crazy making a match like Tequila and peaches but I assure you it’s a winner. I happened upon the pair when they were both sitting on my counter. I picked both of them up and smelled them together and the rest is history, or it’s pie at least.

Galette Dough

This isn’t Grandma’s dough but it is a sturdy one  that is more flaky than tender, making it the perfect choice for a free-form pie. It’s hardy crunch and buttery flakes are a welcomed contrast in texture and flavor to the almost jam-like peaches.

1 ½ cups (7 ounces, 200 grams) all-purpose flour

1 stick + 1 tablespoon (4 ½ ounces, 125 grams) butter, cold

1 tablespoon cornstarch

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

1 egg

1 teaspoon vinegar (such as champagne or cider)

1 tablespoon water, cold

Combine the flour, cornstarch and salt in a food processor. Pulse to combine. Cut the cold butter into rough ½” cubes. Scatter on top of the flour and pulse just a couple of times to evenly disperse the butter. In a small bowl, stir together the egg, vinegar and water. While streaming the liquids in pulse the machine. The dough will appear very crumbly. Once the liquid has been incorporated squeeze the mixture in your hands and if it holds together you are set. If not, sprinkle with a few more drops of water and pulse a couple more times.

Dump out the dough and form into a rough disc. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

Tequila Peaches

1 ½ tablespoons tequila (I used Hornitos)

1 tablespoon fresh lime juice

½ teaspoon lime zest

1 tablespoon cornstarch

2 large peaches, ripe and fragrant

2 tablespoons sugar

1 tablespoon heavy cream

Combine the tequila, lime juice and cornstarch in a small bowl. Slice the peaches about ¼” thin. In a medium bowl add the peaches and the juice/cornstarch mixture. Using your hands, toss to combine.

Pre-heat the oven to 385* You want to start with a nice hot oven to make sure your butter in the dough, quickly comes to a boil creating steam that puffs up the dough – this is the magic of flakes. Hot oven plus cold butter equals beautiful flakes.

Once the dough has chilled roll out to your desired size. Don’t worry about being neat, in my opinion pies are best when they are rustic and rough. Roll out the dough to ¼” thickness. Place the dough on a parchment lined sheet tray so you don’t have to awkwardly transfer the galette once assembled (can you tell I’m speaking from experience here?) Arrange the peaches or simply dump them in the center of your dough. Leave 1 ½ inches surrounding the peaches and fold this up on top of them pleating as you fold so that it securely encases the fruit. Brush the top of the crust with cream and sprinkle the sugar over the crust and the fruit. Scatter the zest on top of that. Chill the galette in the freezer for 15 minutes before baking.

Bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour. If the crust starts to color too quickly before the juices have begun to boil then simply turn the oven down to 350*. You will be able to tell your pie is done with the crust is a deep golden color and the juices have bubbled and look thicker than boiling water and more like bubbling jam.

Remove from the oven and let sit for at least two hours before enjoying.

This post is part of the #pieparty!! It started on Twitter and the rest is history. You may have noticed that food bloggers around the web are going pie crazy today. Check out some of these beauties.

Garrett makes a stunning Blueberry pie with Thyme and honey.

Helene’s stunning mixed berry pie with Lemon Verbena

Irvin made a blood orange lemon vanilla shaker pie

Hannah made a peach blueberry pie and it looks darn good

Justin made a Chocolate Bourbon pie and tells how I invited myself along to the pie party

Check out the pie party details at GlutenFreeGirl.com and see our Facebook page.

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