The Old Fashioned Way: Nicole Rees's Simple Cream Scones

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Living in a 450 square-foot apartment is tricky if you love to cook and bake. Wall shelves help, as does a freestanding counter island. Baking pans are stacked in unnatural positions and wedged in tiny cabinets, and we have a bread board hanging on a nail on the wall. Luckily, we did manage to find an apartment with a dishwasher—though it's insalled directly under the sink, rendering it impossible to rinse dishes and put them into the dishwasher with any sort of grace. Needless to say, we don't have lots of big kitchen appliances.

Every time I read a cooking magazine or pick up a new cookbook, I am reminded of my longing for a food processor and (sigh) a Kitchenaid mixer. So many recipes call for these tools without explaining any alternatives. That's why I was so excited to receive a copy of Baking Unplugged from the kind folks at Wiley publishing.

In Baking Unplugged, Nicole Rees provides recipes for old-fashioned treats that don't call for any fancy equipment. With a whisk and a spoon (and a few other low-tech tools you probably already own), she makes breakfast treats and old-fashioned desserts to satisfy a sweet tooth. The yeasted cinnamon rolls sound amazing, as do the lemon squares with grated hazelnuts in the dough. (That one is very high on my to-make list.) Her directions are simple and clear, though I do wish there were pictures of the finished dishes. A long introduction explains baking down to the simplest techniques and ingredients: she wants to impart all the knowledge of old-fashioned baking the way your great-grandmother might have done.


Many of Rees's techniques and tricks for baking by hand make perfect sense, and I wish more cookbook and magazine writers would follow her lead and at least mention how a dish might be made without a mixer. Besides, it is kind of satisfying to put a dough together the old fashioned way. However, I'm unlikely to follow her all the way down this road. Whipping cream with a cold whisk may be possible, but I'm not that eager to try when a small electric hand mixer can do the job in a fraction of the time. (And without the arm cramp.)

I had never made scones before attempting the recipe in Baking Unplugged, and I was amazed at how quickly they came together. You could easily bake these in the morning before friends came over for tea or brunch. (Though they can also be frozen and rewarmed with decent results.) Straight out of the oven, they are trancendental. They're simple, tender, and flaky, with none of the off, stale flavors you find in coffeeshop scones (plus, a fraction of the cost!)

I used local cream from the farmer's market for this recipe, which I highly recommend. Because the scones have more cream than butter, and no other flavorings to distract you, the taste is one of farm-fresh dairy. They're not greasy at all. They were a touch too sugary for my liking—perhaps this is what the author means by "retro" baking. I'll scale down the sugar a tiny bit when I make them again (and watch the sugar in other recipes in the book.) I just may not have quite the same intense sweet tooth as Nicole Rees. But I'm glad her sweet tooth guided her toward writing this book.

Cream Scones
From Baking Unplugged by Nicole Rees; Wiley 2009

Makes 8 scones

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar (I would consider a little bit less)
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream plus 2 T for brushing
1/3 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" pieces
sugar for sprinkling (crunchy turbinado sugar would be good)

Preheat the oven to 375°. Stack two baking sheets together and line the top one with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Stir the vanilla extract into the heavy cream. With a pastry blender, cut the butter into the flour until a few pea-sized lumps remain. With a fork, gradually stir in enough of the 3/4 cup heavy cream until the mixture just starts to come together. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and very gently pat into an 8" round about 1 1/2" high. Using a chef's knife or bench scraper, cut the dough round into 8 wedges. Transfer the wedges to the baking sheet, spacing the scones at least 1" apart. Brush the tops with the remaining heavy cream and sprinkle liberally with sugar. Bake in the top third of the oven for 15 to 18 minutes or until the tops are golden. Transfer the scones to a wire rack to cool slightly, 3 to 4 minutes. Serve warm with jam.


PS: I've added the book to our Amazon sidebar over there --------> so you can pick yourself up a copy.

You Salty Tart: Fresh Plum Tart with Goat Cheese and Walnut-Thyme Streusel

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Salty desserts are all the rage. It seems we're not satisfied anymore with simple sweets, we need them with smokey bacon! and Maldon salt! (And infused with the cereal-milk of our childhood dreams, but I haven't tried that yet.)

This tart isn't a brand-new invention, though—it's from a 2003 Bon Appetit recipe. Anticipating the trend, I guess.

It's a fun, light-feeling dessert, with a nutty crust and fresh, uncooked goat cheese and ricotta filling. If you wait for plums to be in season, you'll get even tastier results. It's quite impressive-looking, and doesn't even require that you make pie crust!


The thing about salt in desserts, though, is that you have to be careful. One minute, you're fun and edgy, but a few pinches of Maldon later, you're serving pretzels with post-dinner coffee. So I've adjusted the salt a little in the recipe below. The sprinkle of Maldon or fleur de sel on top of the streusel is great, but the ricotta filling really didn't need it.


Plum Tart with Goat Cheese and Walnut-Thyme Streusel
Adapted from Bon Appetit

For the crust
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1/2 cup walnuts (about 2 ounces)
1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
7 tablespoons chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 egg yolk

For the streusel
1 cup all purpose flour
2/3 cup walnuts (about 3 ounces)
1/3 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

Filling and Topping
8 ounces soft fresh goat cheese
8 ounces (1 cup) whole-milk ricotta cheese
3 tablespoons honey
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper

4 large plums (about 1 pound), halved, pitted, cut into 1/4-inch-thick wedges
1/4 teaspoon fleur de sel (I used Maldon sea salt) for garnish

For crust:
Blend first 4 ingredients in processor until nuts are finely ground. If you don't have a food processor, chop nuts finely and add first 4 ingredients to a large bowl, blending with a pastry blender. Add butter; blend until coarse meal forms. Add egg yolk; blend until moist clumps form. Press dough onto bottom and up sides of 9-inch-diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Cover; chill 1 hour.

For streusel:
Preheat oven to 350°F. Blend flour, walnuts, both sugars, coarse salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom in processor until nuts are finely ground. (or chop nuts and use pastry blender in a large bowl.) Add thyme and blend 5 seconds. Transfer mixture to medium bowl. Add butter. Using fingertips, rub in until small moist clumps form.

Spread streusel mixture on rimmed baking sheet. Bake 8 minutes. Stir, then continue baking until golden brown, about 7 minutes longer. Cool streusel completely (mixture will become crisp).

For filling and topping:
Combine both cheeses, 1 tablespoon honey, 1 tablespoon oil, sugar, nutmeg, and pepper in large bowl; stir to blend well. Refrigerate while baking crust.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Line crust with foil; fill with dried beans or pie weights. Bake crust until sides are set, about 15 minutes. Remove foil and beans. Continue to bake crust until golden brown, pressing with back of fork if crust bubbles, about 15 minutes longer. Cool crust completely.

Spread cheese filling in crust. Arrange plums in concentric circles atop filling, leaving 3/4-inch plain border. Sprinkle streusel lightly over tart. Refrigerate tart at least 1 hour and up to 4 hours.

Remove pan sides; place tart on platter. Drizzle with 2 tablespoons honey and 2 tablespoons oil; sprinkle with fleur de sel. Cut tart into wedges.

Too much is never enough: Black forest cookies.

Get six bakers in a room and you will get six different opinions on what makes The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie. For me, it's got to be chewy, and soft, and (of course) so chocolatey you could implode. I mastered a certain form of chewy while I was in high school--though, what I considered "chewy" was really just, you know. "Undercooked." Which is fine for me, because I am a huge fan of cookie dough; it is not, however, (necessarily) appropriate when one is going to be sharing the cookies with anyone but their fellow dough-hounds. So, a few years ago, I embarked on a great quest to figure out how to make cookies that...well...cook (without being crunchy).

My journey took me to many places: the land of extra baking powder, the thicket of shortening, the back alley of egg-whites-only. Some truly dark, dark places. In the end, the answer wound up being simpler than I could have imagined: refrigerate the dough, and keep it cold. Alarmingly obvious, right? Of course, it makes perfect sense: the cookies I tend to favor are at least 40% butter; if you put it in the oven when it's already started to melt (this applies also to hot cookie sheets--be sure to cool yours for a few minutes between batches!), you're kind of cruising for a bruising.

My journey ALSO took me to a wonderful land: the land of the black forest cookie. Much as I love the traditional chocolate chip cookie, there's only so many times I can make the exact same recipe (in the name of science, of course) before I feel a deep and abiding need to mess with it. In this case, I started thinking that there simply wasn't enough chocolate involved in the chocolate chip cookie, and that it was my moral obligation to sort that out--enter the cocoa powder and the two kinds of chips. Of course, such a decadent disaster was not for the untrained palate; all that chocolate could kill someone without the appropriate background. So, I opted to cut the sweetness a little by throwing in some nice, tart dried cherries. It was at that point that the stars aligned, the heavens opened, the angels sang, and I was fairly certain I was on to something.

And then Bench ate an entire batch in one sitting, and I knew it for sure.

The texture on these things is impossible to explain; they're chewy, sure, but also somehow velvety. They're cohesive, but have a delightful crumb. They're great in milk, and great shoved into your mouth fistfuls at a time.

Try these. Seriously.

Black forest cookies

2 sticks butter, softened
¾ c sugar
¾ c brown sugar
2 eggs
2tsp (or more) vanilla
2 ½ c flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
¼-1/2 c cocoa powder
12 oz chocolate chips (a mix of white, milk, and dark)
1/2 c dried cherries, chopped

1. Preheat oven to 375°F. cream together butter and sugar
   
2. Add eggs then vanilla.
   
3. Sift together dry ingredients; slowly mix in to butter mixture.
   
4. Chill batter for approximately one hour. Drop on to ungreased cookie sheets (about a dozen per sheet), chilling batter between batches.
   
5. Bake for ten minutes. Remove from pan to cool. Be sure to rinse the pan in cold water between batches--you need it to be cool when the batter hits it.
   

Family Heirloom: Secret-Ingredient Oatmeal Cookies

We have a new favorite person in our family. Meet my niece, Molly! She's pretty cute, right?


Four generations gathered in St. Louis to admire her last week. In between the feeding and playing and rocking to sleep, our talk turned to recipes.

I love how someone's neighbor's method for bread becomes a family tradition, how the recipe on the back of some box, or in some crumbling local compendium ends up getting passed down as a favorite.


We're lucky to have a family cookbook, compiled some time ago in honor of my great grandmother Malvene and great aunt Myrtle. From meatball stroganoff to "jury wafers" named after a recipe torn from a magazine in a jury-duty waiting room, the collection is both dated and wonderful. I have no idea when the recipe for tomato gelée was last used, let alone the one for eingemachs (a sort of beet marmalade that cooks for an entire day.) I confess, the only thing I've made recently is these oatmeal cookies.


So, Molly, here is my favorite family recipe. Some day, you can make a batch for your mom and dad, and they will tell you how we made them at your house when you were five weeks old. They're so good, we just couldn't stop eating them—chewy with a hint of caramel from the brown sugar and just the right amount of spice. Don't forget the secret ingredient—it's the unsweetened cocoa powder that makes them great.


Feel free to halve the recipe unless you plan on sharing.


Oatmeal Cookies
From the M and M Cookbook

1 cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
1 tsp salt (scant)
2 eggs, beaten
2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking soda
2 T unsweetened cocoa powder
3 cups oats (not instant)
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup nuts, chopped (optional)
1/2 cup raisins

Mix all ingredients in order in a bowl. Chill at least 1 hour, then make little balls. Bake at 325 for 10-12 minutes, let cool on cookie sheet for a minute before cooling on a rack.

Makes 10 dozen tiny cookies.

Cookie conundrum, part 2: Dark chocolate and ginger crinkles.

First of all: Happy new year! We just woke up.

I was going to write about these cookies yesterday, but time got away from me (glitter waits for no blog!) and before I knew it, people showed up and then it was 2009 and there were fireworks and champagne. Years come and go so quickly here!

So! Cookies. I found these in an issue of Everyday with Rachael Ray that I read as we flew out to visit Bench's parents (I may not like her shows, but I will grudgingly admit that her magazine ain't half bad). I didn't stand a chance: Dark chocolate AND crystallized ginger, in cookie form? Sign me up! I could barely wait to get back from the windy city to give them a try.

This is the first cookie recipe I've used that requires baking chocolate; it does not, however, require a double boiler, so the fiddly quotient remains pretty low. In addition to the baking chocolate, it requires a half cup of good cocoa powder--enough to render the dough the driest I've seen. Fortunately, it stands up to a good manhandling (I ended up kneading the dough, more than stirring it), and comes together really well once you start rolling it into little balls. So, don't fret if your dough doesn't quite seem dough-like in the bowl. It meant to do that, really.



They're called crinkles because of the cracks and patterns that form as they bake; I think it's also an apt description of the cookies themselves, which manage to be both crispy and chewy at once. Also delicious. Never forget the delicious.

Dark chocolate and ginger crinkles
Adapted from Everyday with Rachael Ray, January 2009

1 stick (4oz) butter
4 oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped (about 1/2 c)
1 3/4 c granulated sugar
1 1/2 c flour
1/2c unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 large eggs, beaten
3/4 c crystallized ginger, finely chopped
1/2c mini chocolate chips
1c confectioners' sugar (for rolling)

1. In a medium saucepan, melt the butter and unsweetened chocolate over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally until smooth.
2. Meanwhile! Preheat the oven to 350F. Whisk together all the dry ingredients (except the ginger and chocolate chips) until well combined.
   
3. Whisk the eggs into the butter/chocolate mixture--be VERY CERTAIN that it's nice and cool (i.e., room temperature), otherwise you will end up with scrambled eggs. Then, add the wet mixture to the dry until incorporated. Like I said, it gets a bit dry, so don't be afraid to get in there with your hands and really mash things around.
4. Add the ginger and chocolate chips.
5. Place the confectioners' sugar into a wide, shallow bowl. Form the dough into 1-inch balls and then coat with confectioners' sugar. Bake on cookie sheets that have been lined with parchment for about 15 minutes, rotating the pans after ten minutes or so.
6. When they're done, let them rest on the cookie sheet for a few minutes before transferring to racks to cool all the way.
   

Cookie conundrum, part 1: Amaretti

I almost didn't make these. I thought they were going to be ridiculously, ridonkulously difficult--I mean, they sell tins of these things at Balducci's for, like, $10 a pop! That must mean they're ridiculously scary and difficult! Despite my reservations, however, I was determined to avoid making a plain sugar cookie to represent half of the black and white ball; I was going to tackle these crazy confections if it killed me!

It, um, didn't. Clearly. In reality, I'm not sure these could actually have been easier.

Three ingredients. These things have only three ingredients. They also require only one bowl--the one on your food processor. The most complicated thing about them is the fact that you have to pipe them on to the baking sheet, and that's not so much complicated as just requiring a certain amount of precision (these cookies puff up exponentially in the oven, so you really want to make sure your batter drops are no more than 3/4 of an inch, or else you will find yourself with an amaretti sheet cake).



As an aside, these are the only cookies I've ever made that turned out to look exactly the way I'd anticipated (i.e., exactly like any store-bought variety, except better because it's homemade), if that gives you any sense of how easy this recipe is, and how formidable an achievement it will seem to your audience.

And thus, I declaim these cookies an excellent party food--they're elegant, delicious, store for days in an airtight container, and won't drive you crazy. You don't need to admit anything to your partygoers; let them think you slaved.

Chewy amaretti cookies
Adapted from Gourmet magazine, January 2009

1 (7oz) tube pure almond paste (not marzipan!)--roughly 3/4 c
1 cup sugar
2 large egg whites, at room temperature for 30 minutes

1. Preheat your oven to 300 degrees F. Line rimmed cookie sheets with parchment
2. Pulse the almond paste and sugar in a food processor until about the consistency of sand.
3. Add the egg whites and pulse again until smooth.
4. Transfer to a pastry bag and pipe on to prepared sheets in 3/4" rounds (1/3" high)
5. Bake until golden and puffed, about 15-18 minutes, rotating the pan about halfway through.
6. Cool cookies in pans on racks until COMPLETELY cool.
   

The jackpot question in advance: New Year's Eve.

So, I never actually got around to baking anything for the holidays. The spirit, as they say, did not move me (something about airports and snowstorms pulled the thunder from my kitchenaid). I'm hoping to turn the tides this week, having questionably decided to throw a New Year's Eve party!

The party itself is to be styled as a Black and White ball, so my initial plan was to make two cakes (one for each color). I then determined that that was more or less guaranteed to drive me utterly mad, given that the day job required at least some of my attention over the first few days of the week. So, instead I compromised on cookies--one dark (dark chocolate and crystallized ginger crinkles) and one light (amaretti). I have made neither in my lifetime--it's a whole new world of cookie!

I will keep you posted!

Something Nice: Spicy Molasses Gingerbread Cake

When we got back to New York, our apartment smelled a little stale. What better way to warm it up and celebrate being home again? Seriously, I would bake this one just for the scent. You probably already have the ingredients around, even if you've been out of town awhile. And a slice of spicy gingerbread cake just might make unpacking easier.

This improved overnight in the fridge, so I recommend making it the day before and refrigerating (tightly wrapped in saran + foil) for a day before serving. The ginger mellows and permeates the entire cake with a little rest.


Though it's lovely with whipped cream, you could also serve this for brunch with a dollop of greek yogurt and some sliced pears. It's quite spicy and not too sweet, surprisingly moist and rich tasting. The fresh ginger is easiest to mince if you store it in your freezer.


Spicy Molasses Gingerbread Cake
Adapted from David Lebovitz

just under 1/2 cup fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon powdered ginger
3/4 cup molasses (I used blackstrap, which is quite strong.)
just under 1/4 cup maple syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup vegetable oil (peanut is recommended, but I used canola)
1 cup water
2 tsp baking soda
2-1/2 cups flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 vanilla bean
2 eggs, beaten lightly

Position the oven rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a 9 by 3-inch round cake pan or a 9 1/2 inch springform pan with a circle of parchment paper, or butter the inside (I did this, and it didn't stick at all.) Place pan on a cookie sheet to prevent spills.

Peel, slice, and chop the ginger very fine with a knife (or use a grater or food processor). Mix together the molasses, maple syrup, sugar, and oil. In another bowl, sift together the flour, cinnamon, cloves, cocoa, and black pepper.

Bring the water to the boil in a saucepan, stir in the baking soda, and then mix the hot water into the molasses mixture. Stir in the ginger.

Gradually whisk the dry ingredients into the batter. Add the eggs, and continue mixing until everything is thoroughly combined. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake for about 1 hour, until the top of the cake springs back lightly when pressed or a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. If the top of the cake browns too quickly before the cake is done, drape a piece of foil over it and continue baking.

Cool the cake for at least 30 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the cake to loosen it from the pan. Remove sides from the pan to serve.

Say it's your birthday: Malted Milk Cake

Today is Bench's birthday! Saturday was the wonderful A's birthday! If I've ever had a better reason for baking a cake, I can't think of it! (Okay, so, maybe there was ALSO the tiniest bit of an ulterior motive--I got my hands on the Baked cookbook the second it came out, and have been dying--DYING--to take it for a test drive.) I floated the idea past Bench, with the proviso that he select the cake that I would attempt. Clever lad that he is, he accepted the challenge readily. After much deliberation, the decision was made, and the Malted Milk Cake gauntlet was thrown.

A few notes on the cake itself: the boys from Baked are very careful to tell you that white cakes are very delicate (something I did not actually know, having not ever made a white cake before. Yes, I know.), and that freezing the layers for a spell before frosting them might be a good idea. Seeing how enthusiastically the cake stuck itself to the parchment, the pans, the COOLING RACK (resulting in some rather nasty-looking divots in what became the middle layer--thank goodness frosting hides most ills), it seemed like an extremely sensible idea. I recommend it highly, as these cakes are fragile little buggers before they've had a bit of a chill. I personally decided to be an extremist and freeze them overnight, moving them to the refrigerator the next morning.



Another thing that the boys from Baked recommend is that you level off each layer of cake with a knife before assembling the cake; I'm going to come out and say that unless the workings of your inner ear could double as a level, you should probably skip that part. Seriously. I considered trying it and then remembered what happens when I try to split english muffins--let's just say that the problem would be considerably worse by the time I finished. I did take a serrated knife to the sides, just to even them out, but you can skip that part, too, unless it would bring you personal satisfaction. My feeling is: if you're baking a cake for someone and they call you out on aesthetics, they are clearly missing the point of your labor of love and you should probably just keep it for yourself. Or make them wear it as a hat. Whatever.

The frosting was quite fun, in that it was my first stab at buttercream in, oh, let's say, ten years. Thank goodness I'd had some recent exposure to Good Eats' episode on the stuff; thanks to the magic of Alton Brown, I knew more or less what to expect, and had in my back pocket the best advice you'll ever hear about buttercream: add the butter one piece at a time, waiting for it to incorporate completely before adding the next piece. It is time consuming, but totally worth it, as you walk out with a gorgeous, silky frosting (though, really, anything with a full pound of chocolate in it is going to be pretty splendid no matter how you slice it).

Despite the profusion of chocolate, I will admit: this was not my favorite frosting recipe (I have now confirmed what I have long suspected--I am a cream cheese frosting kind of girl). It worked tremendously well with the cake, however, as the robust, not-too-sweet density of the frosting was a perfect foil for the delicate dreaminess of the cake. As someone who typically regards cake as a vehicle for frosting, it was definitely a new experience to be more excited by the cake itself.

Frosting aside (and really, there was nothing wrong with it; it just wasn't my cup of tea), I still count the whole endeavor as a success: not only was it it was my first white cake (and my first triple-layer cake!), but it was a tremendous excuse to have a couple of my favorite people over, drink sauternes and anything else we could get our hands on, and determine that suspenders are better than xylophones. And at the end of the day, isn't that the whole point of baking? Win!

Malted milk cake
Excerpted from Baked, the cookbook. It is awesome and you should go buy it immediately, because this recipe is just the beginning of its amazingness. You should also try their chocolate babka if you ever make it to the bakery itself. Or a cinnamon chip scone. Trust me.

For the cake:
2 1/4 cups cake flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup malted-milk powder
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup solid vegetable shortening, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups ice water
4 large egg whites, at room temperature

For the frosting:
10 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
10 ounces milk chocolate, finely chopped
1 3/4 cups heavy cream
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
4 sticks (1 pound) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch chunks, softened

1. MAKE THE CAKE: Preheat the oven to 325°. Butter and flour three 8-inch cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flours with the malt powder, baking powder, baking soda, salt and nutmeg.
2. In the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with a paddle, beat the butter with the shortening until creamy. Add the sugar and vanilla and beat at medium speed until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Beat in the dry ingredients in 3 batches at low speed, alternating with the ice water, occasionally scraping down the side of the bowl.
3. In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites at medium-high speed until soft peaks form. Fold the egg whites into the batter. Divide the batter between the pans, spreading it evenly, and bake the cakes for 40 to 45 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the cakes cool in the pans for 20 minutes, then invert them onto a rack (note: it might be worth putting a piece of parchment paper on the rack first, otherwise you might lose a bit of the cake to the grid of the rack, as I did) and let cool completely. Peel off the parchment. (A tip: Wrap the individual layers in foil and freeze them for at least an hour before even attempting to frost them. You will not regret this.)
   
4. MEANWHILE, MAKE THE FROSTING: Place the chocolate in a large bowl. In a small saucepan, bring the cream to a boil, then remove from heat. Add the corn syrup; immediately pour the mixture over the chocolate. Let stand for 2 to 3 minutes, until the chocolate has melted, then whisk until smooth. Let cool to room temperature.
5. Transfer the mixture to the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with a wire whisk. Gradually beat in the butter at medium speed, a few chunks at a time, and beat until thoroughly incorporated between additions. The frosting should be smooth and silky. Refrigerate the frosting just until it is thick enough to hold its shape, 10 to 15 minutes.
6. Place one cake layer on a serving platter and spread 1 1/4 cups of the frosting over the top in an even layer. Repeat to form 2 more layers. Spread a thin layer of frosting over the side of the cake and refrigerate briefly until firm. Frost the side with the remaining frosting. Garnish the cake with malted-milk balls and refrigerate briefly to firm up the frosting before serving.
7. Remember to share. You will be sorely tempted to keep it all for yourself.
   

The leavening: Bread, for newbies (such as myself)

I am a carboholic. Bread, booze, you name it--odds are I love it. A nutritionist would say that it has something to do with the soporific effects of the carbohydrate, that it instills in the eater a sense of well-being and calm. I'm not so sure about that; though I will say that nothing makes me sleepier and happier than a few glasses of bourbon, that is hardly the point. Dopamine rush or not, the ACTUAL point is that I am a sucker for a good starch, and nothing better typifies my adoration than a perfect loaf of bread.

I've been interested in making bread for many a year, but like others, I was intimidated. I mean...you have to let things FERMENT. you have to KNEAD. You have to FEED the YEAST. For that kind of trauma, I might as well have a puppy, right?

(What was that about missing the point?)

Of course, such ridiculousness was fueled by the fact that I was living in Park Slope, the kind of neighborhood where you can go to the corner bodega and pick up a loaf of fresh rosemary sourdough at 2am; my perspective changed somewhat once I moved to Bed Stuy, where the grocery stores close at 7 and the bodegas sell beer by the bottle. If I wanted rosemary bread, I was going to have to make it my OWNSELF. And so, I rolled up my sleeves and set to work.



Inevitably, my journey has been marred by many a loaf of truly subpar attempts (though Bench, to his credit, will fall upon whatever disaster loaf I've concocted as though he's not eaten in a week and pronounce it heavenly, thereby inspiring me to keep trying), but I think I've finally gotten the hang of a basic loaf. The turning point? Stumbling across this recipe. This guy? This guy knows how to write about baking a loaf of (really straightforward, non-fancy) bread. The loaves I've churned out according to this recipe have been highly edible. Delicious, even!

Better than tasty loaves, however, is the weird feeling of confidence I find myself with at the moment. Though I'm hardly about to go out and start my own bakery, I suddenly find myself understanding what dough is meant to feel like at different stages, what the appropriate water temperature for proofing yeast feels like, and the pure, visceral delight of ripping open a fresh loaf and smearing a slice in butter. Best of all, I've realized that bread is not this strange, mysterious, fussy thing: Bread is earthy; it's forgiving; it's adventurous; it will take a lot of abuse before it decides to stop being your friend. Measurements don't need to be exact--bread is all about feelings. Just throw together the basic ingredients until it starts to work.

Plus, it smells freaking awesome as it bakes. Just saying.

Easy! Delicious! Basic! Bread!
as written by S. John Ross; please see his site for more detailed instructions and good common sense.

1-1/3 cups very warm water (100-110 degrees F or so)
1 rounded tbsp. sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 tbsp. butter (vary as needed; see below)
3 rounded cups all purpose flour
1 rounded cup whole wheat flour
1 tsp. active dry yeast

1. In a mixing bowl, dissolve the sugar and salt in the water; sprinkle the yeast over the top. Stir to dissolve, then let sit for 10 minutes.
2. Add the softened butter, then about 2/3 of the flour to the bowl (1/2 c at a time), and mix until the dough pulls away from the side of the bowl. Turn the dough out on to a floured board and flour your hands. Knead gently, mixing in the remaining flour slowly until the dough becomes a smooth mass (you can also do this in your mixer, with a dough hook. As I have no counter space, I prefer this method, but I know you might not).
3. Put the dough into a mixing bowl that has been coated with oil or butter; turn once to coat and cover the bowl with cling film and a kitchen towl. Put it somewhere warm to rise for about 45 minutes (I like to preheat my oven to its lowest setting while I knead, shut it off and put the dough into the OFF oven to rise. As S. John says, the inside of the oven door should be hot to the touch, but not enough to burn).
4. After 45 minutes, take the dough out of its warm place, and punch its daylights out! Then, give it a quick knead, adding more flour if necessary, and shape into a loaf. Place on a cookie sheet or pizza stone that's been given a light dusting of cornmeal; put it back in its warm place for a second rising, keeping it nice and toasty under a blanket of paper towels (or, the cling film and kitchen towel from the first rising). 45 more minutes, undisturbed!
5. Remove the towel and clingfilm! Bake at 350 (don't bother preheating the oven if you're in a hurry) for 30-45 minutes, or until the loaf sounds hollow.

The recipe is very forgiving and likes additions (like a handful of chopped herbs)--I tossed in some rosemary and thyme at the end of the first knead. Most delicious indeed.

Still waiting for that holiday spirit: Sweets and treats on the brain

Okay. I think I've finally recovered enough from Thanksgiving to once again take quill in hand and start blogging again. It's good to be back!

As you've probably gathered from the calendar, the holidays are fast upon us. As you've probably gathered from this post's title, I am still trying to get into the spirit of things. At the moment, I'm trying to prime the pump (so to speak) by pondering what exactly it is I'm going to be making throughout the season. I have come to the rather stunning conclusion that most people are going to be getting gifts of food from me (sorry to ruin the surprise, people I love!); likely suspects include dulce de leche, lemon curd, and the surprisingly successful chocolate covered mintmallows. I am, however, looking for a few more items to round out the insanity; perhaps something that involves actual chewing.

Conveniently, all the food mags are conspiring at this VERY MOMENT to give me a push, inundating me with (food) pornographic photographs and suggestions for luscious creations that I could try. Unfortunately, none of the recipes are ringing my bell. And so, I turn to the internet. This looks mighty intriguing (now that I have big blue, anything involving meringue is sounding more and more attractive); these don't look bad, either.

Any suggestions? What do you make for the holidays?

Weekend Loafing: Meyer Lemon Poppyseed Yogurt Cake

I must confess, I have a weakness for Meyer lemons. The floral scent! The sweet juice! I nearly squealed when I spotted them at Whole Foods on Saturday.

I really try to buy only local produce, but I simply cannot resist these, even if they come from whatever faraway place (must be paradise.) I love them squeezed into salad dressing instead of vinegar, I love them mixed with fish or shrimp and avocados, I love them in a glass with seltzer, and pretty much any way they can be eaten/smelled/enjoyed. When it's winter (which it is becoming, fast) you just need a little citrus pick-me-up.

Since I spotted cheap poppyseeds in bulk at an Indian grocery this morning, I knew that the second half of my prized Meyer lemon would have to appear in dessert. (The first half did its duty in arugula salad.) This delicately lemony loaf cake would also be a treat with raspberries (or raspberry sauce) on top, if you happen to have any in your freezer. Don't skip the glaze, though, it gives an essential infusion of citrusy brightness. If you have extra lemons you could make the glaze all-lemon. I didn't, so the glaze was a three citrus mix.

If you are a tea-taker, or a cake-for-brunch eater, this loaf would work for that, too.


Meyer Lemon Poppyseed Loaf
Adapted from Ina Garten and Smitten Kitchen

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
one small container Fage Greek yogurt (I used nonfat)
3/4 cup + 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar, divided
3 extra-large eggs
2 teaspoons grated citrus zest (I used Meyer lemon and clementine)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 T poppyseeds
1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed citrus juice (I used a mix of Meyer lemon, clementine, and lime juice)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8 1/2 by 4 1/4 by 2 1/2-inch loaf pan.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 3/4 cup sugar, the eggs, oil, lemon zest, 1 T lemon juice, and vanilla. Slowly stir the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients, making sure it's all incorporated. Fold in the poppyseeds. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester placed in the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup citrus juice and remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture begins to thicken slightly. Set aside.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pour the glaze over the cake and allow it to soak in. (Deb suggests using a pastry brush works great for this, and making tiny holes with a toothpick to draw the syrup in better). Cool before serving.

Note: I'm sure you could use whole-milk yogurt to great success. But isn't nonfat Greek yogurt miraculous? Such density and richness.

Mrs. L's Pumpkin Bread (with Cranberries!): All the Flavors of Fall

I had a wonderful first grade teacher we called Mrs. L. She played guitar and taught us to sing "If I Had A Hammer." We memorized Shel Silverstein and Robert Frost poems and wrote "books" of our own, illustrating them and writing dedications and all (that was my favorite part.) We counted down one hundred days of school and celebrated the hundredth with a hundred-yard dash, one hundred pieces of popcorn, and any number of other countable things in hundred-unit quantities.

At some point during that year (probably exactly this time of year) we baked pumpkin bread in her classroom and brought home a slice with the recipe. My mother—though a bit wary of the snot and dirt that might be incorporated into first grade classroom cooking—saved the recipe, and it's the one I still follow every fall. I know Shiv already recommended a pumpkin bread recipe, but the more the merrier, right? And hey, it's Halloween!


Today I played around a bit, adding tart cranberries and orange zest and substituting a bit of whole-wheat flour, throwing in a sprinkle of cloves and quarter-teaspoon of molasses—I'm not sure the recipe would still be recognizable to Mrs. L. She'd probably still recognize me, though. I don't look that different from how I looked back then.



Pumpkin-Cranberry Bread
Adapted from Susan Lohrer

Sift together in large bowl:
1 1/2 cup flour (I used 1 cup all purpose and 1/2 cup whole wheat flour.)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 C sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda

Mix in small bowl:
1 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 C cooking oil
2 eggs (whisked)
1/4 teaspoon each cinnamon and nutmeg
zest of one small orange
sprinkle ginger, cloves
1/4 teaspoon molasses (optional)

1 cup fresh cranberries, picked through (frozen is probably fine, don't thaw, just throw them in.)

Combine pumpkin mixture with flour mixture. Do not mix too thoroughly. Stir in cranberries. Pour into a greased loaf dish (original recipe says "well-Pammed." Does anyone use that stuff anymore? Is it bad for the ozone layer?) Bake 50-60 minutes at 350. Loaf is done when a toothpick comes out clean. This recipe makes one loaf. Let cool before serving—the flavors mellow and this really is tastier about half an hour out of the oven.

Notes: If you make mini-loaves or muffins from this, the cooking time is shorter. The cranberries are optional and kind of tart. I like it that way, but this recipe is traditional and great without them.

Also, If you are left with some pumpkin puree and don't know what to do, I highly recommend this recipe for pumpkin orzo with sage.

The Scent of Fall: Pear and Ginger Crumble

Some Sundays are so perfect—nearly to the point of being painful. It was so warm in the morning that we claimed an outside table at a nearbye cafe, took our sweaters off and sat in tank tops and teeshirts, bare arms drinking in the sun—can it be late October?

After the dog parade I couldn't resist the call of the little Sunday greenmarket, choosing a pile of burnished red Anjou pears and some battered looking yellow Bartletts. To my surprise, the scratched up Barletts peeled beautifully, and were ripe and perfumed, while the Anjous were a little crunchier, and less sweet.

Crumble/crisp was one of the first recipes I learned to improvise on, so usually I make these pretty much from memory. But I'd seen this recipe for Pear Crumble with Crystallized Ginger online, so I started from there, adding a few crushed gingersnaps to the topping and a little vanilla to the fruit. I substituted whole wheat flour for half of the topping flour, and made only a 9 x 9 square crisp (cutting the topping quantities in half.)


Sitting in the late afternoon light, reading the paper while the crisp baked, I was hit with a rush of scent. I am not exaggerating, this crisp might be the single best-smelling creation to have ever graced our kitchen. I had to make myself take it out of the oven—I wanted to bake it all evening, if only the scent could keep going. (Of course, then the handle fell off my oven, and then I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get it out...)

A warm scoop of this at the end of the day after a walk in the West Village and a few slices of John's pizza was pretty wonderful. Though a little dulce de leche on top wouldn't hurt. And I might try to add more of an acidic bite next time—replace half the pears with apples, or add cranberries to the mix. Once it cooled off, the pear-and-vanilla combo was a bit too much like the canned pears of childhood memory. But those didn't smell nearly as good.


Pear Crumble with Crystallized Ginger
Adapted from Bon Appetit (Oct 1998)

For topping
1/4 cup unbleached all purpose flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour (or all white if you prefer)
1/3 cup old-fashioned oats
1/3 cup (packed) muscovado sugar (or brown sugar)
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
pinch teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon minced crystallized ginger
5 gingersnaps, crushed
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces (I microwaved it a minute to soften it.)

For filling
About 3-4 pounds firm but ripe pears, peeled, cored, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon sugar (we don't like crisp too sweet)
1 tablespoons minced crystallized ginger
1-2 teaspoons unbleached all purpose flour

Preheat oven to 375°F. Butter 9 x 9 baking dish. Mix first 8 ingredients in medium bowl. Add butter and rub in with fingertips or a fork until moist clumps form.

Combine pear slices and lemon juice in baking pan. Add remaining ingredients and toss to blend.

Sprinkle topping over. Bake crumble until pears are tender and topping is golden brown and crisp, about 45 minutes. (Start checking at 30 minutes) Cool at least 10 minutes. Serve warm. (Microwave if it's cooled off—this was not as good at room temperature.)

Mario Batali's Lemon Goat Cheese Cheesecake

Q: Goat cheese cheesecake? That sounds weird. Does it taste goaty?
A: The goat flavor is indiscernable in the final cake. It's rich and creamy and complext, but not goaty. Trust Mario Batali, won't you?

Q:What are you, some kind of cheesecake expert?
A: Hardly. This was the first cheesecake I've made in my life.

Q: Isn't it pretty complicated?
A: Actually, no. I've always been intimidated, which is why it's taken me this long to try. Cheesecake: the final frontier. But it turns out it's pretty much mix, pour, bake. You just need a lot of goat cheese.

Q: But don't I need some kind of fancy stand mixer?
A: Uh, yes? Feel free to buy me one. (Actually, you don't need one for this, really. I did it with a cheapo electric hand mixer and a good ol' spatula. You need two big bowls. I'm not sure I'd attempt it without the hand mixer though, unless you're pretty buff.)


Q: What about the water bath? And that weird pan with the sides that come off? How do you keep the cake from falling out of that weird pan?
Springform pans are actually pretty neat. I bought a "no-leak" one with a little rim around the bottom which supposedly keeps the batter from leaking out and the water from leaking in. It worked beautifully. You place the filled pan into a larger baking pan (my roasting pan was the only thing big enough) and put some water in it. Then just place in the oven without tipping the water out...no worries! When the cake is done, it rests a bit and then the whole pan, sides and all, goes in the fridge. There, the cake actually shrinks away from the sides a little, so it's no big deal to remove them by loosening the little latch (/spring). Easy as...cake. The bottom won't fall out as long as the latch is tight, I promise.

Q: Would this work for a dinner party? I bet my guests would be pretty impressed.
A: Better than you can even imagine—this actually really benefits from resting overnight in the fridge. It condenses a bit, and the flavors mingle, and I think it may have actually gotten creamier the second day.


Lemon Goat Cheese Cake
Mario Batali (Babbo Cookbook)
Serves 8

1 1/4 cups sugar, plus more for the pan
6 eggs, separated
1 1/2 pounds fresh/soft goat cheese (Mario prefers Coach Farm. I think his wife's family owns that dairy. I used a giant log from East Village Cheese that was certainly not that fancy and cost $2.99/pound. This is a LOT of goat cheese. Seriously, more than you've ever seen in one place before.)
2 tablespoons light rum
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
Grated zest of 2 lemons
1 tablespoon plus 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (this actually took 3 small lemons for me, so buy accordingly.)
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
fresh raspberries for topping. (I skipped these but I'd bet they'd be delicious. And would make for better photographs.)

1. Preheat the oven to 325 F. Spray an 8-inch springform pan with nonstick cooking spray and sprinkle the bottom and sides with sugar, shaking out the excess. (Maggie's note: I used a smear of butter instead of spray, and a 9-inch springform, which worked totally fine.)

2. In the bowl of an electric mixer (or with a hand mixer) beat the egg yoks and 1 cup sugar until the yolks are very pale. Slowly beat in the goat cheese, one cup at a time. Add the rum, flour, lemon zest, 1 T of the lemon juice, vanilla, and salt and beat until creamy.

3. In another bowl, whisk the egg whites (I used the hand mixer) with a pinch of salt until foamy. Slowly add 2 tablespoons of the sugar and continue whisking until you have a soft-peaked meringue. Working in two batches, gently fold the whites into the cheese mixture. Do not overmix.

4. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Place the pan in a baking dish (or roasting pan) large enough to contain it comfortably. Pour enough hot water into the baking dish to reach approximately 1 inch up the sides of the pan. Cover the entire bakin dish with aluminum foil and carefully place it on the middle rack of the oven.

5. Bake for 35 or 40 minutes, or until the cake begins to rise slightly and is somewhat set. Remove the foil and bake an additional 10 minutes, or until the cake looks set. Remove the cake/baking dish from the oven and allow the cake to cool IN the bakign dish for several minutes.

6. Meanwhile, combine the remaining lemon juice and 1/4 cup sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Boil rapidly for one minute, or until the mixture has thickened slightly. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.

7. When the cake has cooled sligtly, remove the pan from the baking dish. Refrigerate the cake until completely chilled. Remove the sides of the springform pan, then spoon the lemon syrup over the cake to glaze. (We chilled the cake overnight with the glaze on it, allowing the lemony goodness to soak in. This REALLY is better served a day later.) Cut into wedges and serve with berries.

Sad Loaf: Mark Bittman's Fast No-Knead Whole Wheat Bread

How was it for you?
Did anybody try Mark Bittman's faster version of his No-Knead Bread?
And the whole wheat version?

I was excited—I've actually never made yeast bread before, and I heard the original no-knead recipe was pretty foolproof. Cynical Matt, of course, was quick to point out the abundance of bakeries in New York City that are perfectly capable of churning out freshly made bread. But I wanted our apartment to smell like yeast! I wanted to be in on the action! I wanted to pull a gorgeous loaf from the oven, and spread a perfect slice with butter, which my no-longer-cynical fiancé would devour and exclaim with glee! But no.


What came out of my oven was sour, yeasty, dense, and spongy. Was it too much liquid? Was it because I used whole wheat bread flour instead of regular whole wheat flour? Was it because I used active dry instead of instant yeast? (I proofed it first, and reduced that liquid from the total amount.) Was the beautiful stoneground rye flour from the farmer's market to blame?

I wonder if this recipe just isn't the best one...it might be worth reducing the yeast, and maybe the liquid, and letting it rise more, or (gasp!) actually involving oneself in some kneading. Maybe I'll try this one next. What's the rush?

Signs of fall: Pumpkin bread.

This recipe is a shout out to one of our lovely readers, who not long ago asked us for suggestions on how to best use her fabulous homemade pumpkin puree. As a certifiable pumpkin junkie, I have one or two suggestions to offer on this subject, but this delightful pumpkin bread seemed the best place to start: it's easy, it's luscious, it's delicious, AND it's low fat (I mean, if that sort of thing matters much to you). Great for gifts, potlucks, breakfast, afternoon snacks, and mopping up that pesky leftover dulce de leche from the other week.



Also, it has enough spice in it to blow a small country off the map; this is, i assure you, intentional.


pay no attention to the horrible state of my manicure. thanks. Photo courtesy of The Boy, my beloved Thelonious Bench

So without further adieu...

Spicy pumpkin bread

1 ½ c all-purpose flour
1 ¼ tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves (equal parts; i don't even measure these anymore, but if i had to guess i'd say at least 2 tsp of each)
15oz of pumpkin puree (if you've not got homemade, that equates to about one can of pumpkin from the store)
1c firmly packed light brown sugar
½ c buttermilk
1 large egg
1x1.5-in knob of ginger, grated with your trusty microplane
seeds of one vanilla pod (squirrel away the husk for future use; when I come up with a good use for it, I will post it. But until then, waste not, want not!)

a handful or two of white chocolate chips

1. Preheat oven to 350° F. spray a loaf tin with nonstick spray (or butter it. Whatever.)
2. Mix flour, baking soda, salt, and spices together in a small bowl.
3. In a large bowl, mix pumpkin, sugar, buttermilk, and egg together.
4. Add dry ingredients to wet, mixing just enough to moisten everything (overmixing will make the bread tough). Fold in chips.
5. Pour into prepared loaf tin; bake for one hour. Slather with topping (*cough*dulcedeleche*cough*), or just wolf it down as is.
   

Essentially, what you have here is autumn in loaf form. Use it liberally and wisely.

muffins for moving day

Two of our best friends are moving from Manhattan to Astoria this weekend. It's an overwhelming task, coming home from work late on a Thursday and trying to put an entire apartment into moving boxes, arriving Saturday to find out the couch doesn't fit in the new place, and somehow setting up a home before going back to the office Monday.

We're headed over there to help unpack, and I wanted to bring something comforting, so I turned to Smitten Kitchen. Deb's recipe for Jacked Up Banana Bread struck me as a particularly fall-like recipe with its cinnamon and nutmeg, cloves, and bourbon. These are warming flavors, perfect for a rainy morning breakfast as our friends try out their new morning commute. I increased the bourbon, added walnuts, and substituted cornmeal for some of the flour. They're not that corny—you could try shifting more toward the cornbread side. I would also cut the sugar a bit more, especially if your bananas are superripe.


Fall Banana Muffins
(adapted from Smitten Kitchen and Simply Recipes)

Makes 12 muffins

4 small ripe bananas, smashed
1/3 cup melted butter
1/2 to 3/4 cup muscovado sugar (light brown sugar would be fine)
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoon bourbon
1 teaspoon baking soda
Pinch of salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
Pinch of ground cloves
1 cup of flour
1/2 cup of cornmeal
1/2 cup walnut pieces plus more for sprinkling on top

Preheat the oven to 350°F. With a wooden spoon, mix butter into the mashed bananas in a large mixing bowl. Mix in the sugar, egg, vanilla and bourbon, then the spices, baking soda and salt. Add the flour and cornmeal last, mix gently but do not overmix. Add 1/2 cup walnut pieces and fold in gently. Spoon into a lined muffin tray. Sprinkle walnut pieces on top of each muffin. Bake for 20 minutes, allow to cool five minutes in tray before moving to a rack to cool.