*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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That title just doesn’t even begin to do this recipe justice but if I were to list all the things it has going for it, you would be missing precious seconds that you weren’t preparing and eating this dessert.

You start with sweet strawberries that are ruby red through and through. Then you have hefty squares of brown sugar pound cake bright from lemon zest and a perfect balance between dense and moist (I hate that word but there are times when one just has to say it. Talking about cake is one of those times). Those items get stabbed with a rosemary skewer which not only looks rustic and pretty darn cool but permeates the strawberry and cake with a soft woodsy scent.

On top of that a generous slathering of brown butter before it hits a hot grill. The berry and cake lined skewers stay there until the slates of the grill leave their mark –  a trademark of Summer too often reserved for burgers and steak. In that brief, albeit very hot moment, the juice of the berries warm and concentrate so that when you bite through the exterior you are destined to have a red stained chin and a goofy grin of delight. The pound cake is amazing as is but there is very little that isn’t improve with a brown buttery crust. All of that is dipped and cooled with a lightly sweet Mascarpone or simple whipped cream.

Your fourth of July guests will have never had strawberry shortcake like this.

continue for the recipe …

Brown Sugar Pound Cake

Inspired by the latest issue of Sunset (LOVE that magazine) and Jamie Oliver, who loves to skewer most anything with rosemary.

1 ½ cups (3 sticks) butter, softened

3 ½ cups all purpose flour

¾ teaspoons kosher salt (1/2 teaspoon if you are using table salt)

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 cup sugar

1 ½ cups dark brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped or 2 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup yogurt

½ cup whole milk

1 teaspoon lemon zest

Pre-heat your oven to 350*. Butter and flour two loaf pans.

In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment add the butter and sugars. Cream until very light, about 3-5 minutes on medium. Scrape down the sides of the bowl to ensure everything is evenly mixed. With the machine on medium low add the eggs one at a time. Add the vanilla, either the bean or extract. Scrape down the bowl again and mix until everything is well combined.

While the machine is on low add ⅓ of the flour mixture then alternate with the yogurt and milk. Continue to mix until all the wet and dry ingredients have been added. Stop the machine while there still remains some flour streaks and finish mixing by hand so that you don’t overmix and end up with a tough cake.

Bake until a toothpick inserted comes out clean. About an hour. If the cakes start to get too dark on top turn down the oven to 300* and finish the baking.

Remove from the oven and let cool in the pan on a rack for about 10 minutes then remove from the loaf pan and cool completely on the rack.

When the cake has completely cooled use a serrated knife to cut it 1 inch cubes, set aside. (The other loaf can get wrap in plastic wrap then aluminum and frozen for one month, or can serve as a snack while you are skewering). Place one stick of butter in a medium sauce pan and set on medium heat. Let the butter melt than bubble. The milk solids will foam and bubbles will creep up the sides of the pan letting you know that you are almost done. As the milk solids resolve and settle down twirl the pot to see if you see golden bits on the bottom. If you do, turn off the heat and remove the pot from the stove. If not, continue to cook until you do see those golden bits on the bottom. Browned butter, a beauty that permeates a soft nuttiness into anything it touches. I adore the stuff – can you tell?

If you have access to an abundance of rosemary consider yourself lucky then whack off a few branches. Cut the branches into 6 inch skewers and leave about two inches of leaves on at the top, remove the rest. Using a very sharp paring knife create a point at the end as you would a marshmallow roasting stick. Slide onto the skewer a strawberry with its green frilly hat removed then a piece of cake and another berry. Continue the process until you have plenty, and then make a few more.

Heat up your grill (I used an indoor grill for this as it was a bit rainy – ha, Seattle, go figure). Brush skewers with brown butter then carefully place on your extremely hot grill, listen for that satisfying sizzle. Give that about one minute then carefully flip over and grill the other side. Return to the plate when finished.

Serve with Mascarpone that has a couple of tablespoons of brown sugar stirred into in or a very lightly sweetened whipped cream.

You don’t have to use rosemary, any skewer will work marvelously. Also, even with out the kiss of the grill these make a beautiful dessert and an alternative to classic strawberry short cake, the grilling just puts it over the top.

Happy 4th to you all!

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My mind is in a perpetual state of rapid spinning lately. Many projects to tend to, classes to teach, children getting older, dishes to be done, and as always, changes for the family. I guess that is life – the constant striving for balance and struggle to stay afloat in the midst of the continual ebb and flow, but it feels as if lately everything is dotted with an exclamation point.

It doesn’t help, and let me be real honest with you all, that I feel as if my I am an open wound, susceptible to the slightest nudging or faintest prick. I go through seasons of self-doubt – oh believe me, those doubts are always there but there are days when they sit on a cozy little couch in the front of my mind whispering, or more likely, screaming at me. “You can’t say that!” “What are you doing?!” “Do you really think people want to read that? eat that? see that?” Even now as I try to write the things this internal editor screams. She (I don’t know why but she feels like a she) warns me not to be so raw, not to allow the uglies to be seen – the side of me that is riled with insecurity and desperately longs for approval.

In this state I find myself staring at a blank screen wanting so badly for the passion that is burning inside of me and the surge of creativity that is coinciding with this season of doubt to somehow form itself onto the screen into a perfect narrative tied up nicely with a satin bow. But instead I spend what brief time I have flitting about in Internet-land while I wait for the inner voice to quiet enough for me to actually get something accomplished.

My point in exposing this part of me is not that you would throw shouts of approval my way – although, I appreciate it and you people have been so incredibly encouraging in many dark times – but, more so as a bit of therapy for myself in which I invite all of you to sit on the chaise along side of me and also, to open up the discussion as to how you deal with these seasons in your own lives.

Now I realize that this isn’t the normal 300 word sugary sweet intro one might expect when discussing cake – did I mention there will be cake? But in my world food, emotions, community, and life are completely interwoven and as they say – you can’t have one without the other.

As I’ve had to navigate these seasons in the past I’ve learned a few simple changes can almost immediately set me straight once again. One might think then that I’ve got it figured out and we could simply move on to the cake but the reality is while I often know what I should be doing I don’t do it. Call me a toddler.

I have learned that there are times when I need to pull away from Twitter and Facebook. Social media is a wonderful, yet strange creature. I am so grateful for friendships that have developed and opportunities that have been born out of a regular dialogue through these sites but they do, often, paint an unrealistic picture of life. It’s far too easy for me to watch my Twitter stream and dream of the citron grass on the other side with it’s lush softness and lack of weeds. I’m sure one may look at my Twitter page and sometimes think, “Man, that Ashley. All she ever does is eat ice cream and eat great food.” While the ice cream part is true there are definitely frozen burrito days and take-out nights.

Looking to others thinking thoughts of “why isn’t that me?” “How come they get have all the fun?!” It’s ugly, it’s gross and it’s not reality. Really, I wouldn’t change my life for one moment and I feel exactly where I am meant to be but the temptation to be envious and long for something that is not meant for me is a complete distraction from what I should be doing and makes me sound like the child whom I am trying to instruct to stop whining, be grateful for what you have and focus on what you CAN do and what you are meant to do.

This weekend, in an effort to halt this season and become productive once again, I stayed off Twitter (except to post the occasional photo of my children coated in chocolate gelato), didn’t check my Facebook feed and I let the blog sit quiet. I read a book (a very good one in fact), I ate cake made by a friend, we went for a walk. We sat in the grass, watched movies, and friends – I took. a. nap. I literally just sighed as I typed that.

I’m not healed, nor will I ever be. This sensitivity and proclivity to doubt is part of what makes me, me. The flip side of this ugly coin is a person who is keenly aware of the emotions of those around her, who tries to encourage those close in my life in a way that I hope they will never have to experience these painful thoughts and self-doubt.

I am, now, feeling much better and I’m ready for more cake.

While we enjoy our cake together I’d really love to hear your thoughts. Have you felt this way too? If so, what are your ways of pulling yourself out? It’s quite an exercise in strength to allow yourself to be vulnerable but the rewards are so great and I really do want to foster a community of honesty so that we can learn and grow from one another.

Poppy Seed Cake

created using Ruhlman’s Ratio

4 eggs + 1 yolk

1 cup sugar (8 ounces)

1 teaspoon kosher salt

2 teaspoons champagne vinegar

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 ¾ cup (8 ounces) all-purpose flour

¼ cup poppy seeds

2 sticks (8 ounces) butter, melted and cool

Pre-heat your oven to 350*. Spray and line with parchment paper three 8” rounds (or 2 9”).

In the bowl of a stand mixer add the eggs, sugar, salt, vanilla, and vinegar. Gentle warm over a large pot of simmering water whisking the eggs while resting the bowl over the pot. (If you are very brave and have a gas burner, do as I do and place the bowl right of the stove set to low. Continually move the bowl to avoid hot spots and whisk constantly. But please do be so careful). This step isn’t necessary but if you do skip it, at the very least use room temperature eggs as warm eggs invite more air in while whisking, creating a lighter cake in the end.

Whip the  warm eggs on medium high until tripled in volume, about 3 – 5 minutes. The final whipped eggs should be a faint yellow, like butter.

In a medium bowl combine the flour, poppy seeds, and baking powder. Whisk to combine.

With the mixer on low, carefully add the dry ingredients. While there are still little pockets of flour, start adding the melted and cooled butter. Turn off the mixer and use a rubber spatula to finish mixing by hand. Scrape down the sides of the bowl to ensure everything is incorporated. You are more likely to over-mix by using a machine which is why I prefer to finish off the cake by hand.

Divide the batter into your three prepared cake pans and bake until just golden around the edges and when you gently press the cake it will spring back. This will take about 20 minutes.

Remove from the oven and let cool in the pan for 5 minutes before inverting onto a cooling rack to let them cool completely.

Mascarpone Frosting

½ cup Mascarpone

½ cup (1 stick) butter, softened

¼ teaspoon kosher salt

2 cups powdered sugar

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream the Mascarpone and butter together until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Slowly add the salt and powdered sugar. Stir to combine. Add the lemon juice and vanilla.

1 pint strawberries

Wash the berries and reserve a few of the prettiest ones to sit atop the cake. With the rest of the berries remove the green and quarter them. If yours are like mine and need a little nudge of sweetness sprinkle with sugar – my preference is brown sugar.

Assembling the cake

On a cake stand place your first layer. On top of that add about ¼ of the frosting. It will be a very thin layer of frosting. Scatter half of the strawberries on top of that. Take your second cake layer and place the top onto the strawberries. Repeat the process of frosting and berries. Finish with the third layer, again with the top of the cake resting against the berries. Use the remaining frosting to cover the top and finish with the reserved small, pretty strawberries.

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