Spiking Dessert: Eggless Tiramisu with Marsala and Kahlua

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Everyone is writing about Twitter these days, perhaps because it's really happening, or perhaps because everyone wants to figure out what the heck it's good for. Quick answer: it's great for wasting time. But I've also found that Twitter is a pretty interesting way to connect with people I may not have gotten to chat with otherwise, as well as a chance see a behind-the-scenes look at bloggers I admire. And it's a useful forum for asking for advice on recipes and restaurants.

I was daydreaming about dessert when I asked my twitter-people (tweeps? Are we really calling them that?) whether they had any tips on tiramisu ingredients or technique. The kind person who contributes to Twitter for Everyday Food magazine responded, volunteering an easy recipe for me to try. How cool! But to me, their recipe just isn't the real thing. These days, mascarpone is easy enough to find (especially in New York) so there was no way I was substituting a bar of reduced-fat-cream cheese. I wanted to grate some nice dark chocolate into it, too, not just use cocoa powder. Instant espresso isn't really my game (it just tastes off to me, even in baked goods) and the recipe didn't call for any alcohol!


We here at Pithy and Cleaver don't mind baking with booze. Shiv did invent a Mint Julep Pie, after all. I was further encouraged when I stopped at the farmer's market for a bottle of fresh cream. The woman from Milk Thistle Farm who sold me a bottle of lovely heavy cream offered her advice: for that true sophisticated tiramisu taste, I should go to a nice liquor store and buy a decent bottle of marsala. It just wouldn't be the same without it. "One last thing," she warned. "Don't soak the ladyfingers too long. And don't overbeat the cream, it's so full of milk fat, it will turn into butter."

Trying not to think of the giant tub of near-butter I was about to serve my unsuspecting guests, I headed for the liquor store with a plan. For this grown-up tiramisu, there would be not one, but two kinds of booze. Good freshly whipped cream, good chocolate, real coffee (spiked with Kahlua!) and real mascarpone, with a touch of marsala. Decadent, for sure.

And really delicious. Like, eye-rolling, expletive-dropping delicious.


This is the perfect dessert for company, since it requires no oven and must be assembled a few hours ahead. It's dramatic looking—your guests will be so impressed, they cannot imagine what a breeze it was to put together. It's rich, but not cloying. Traditionally, tiramisu has raw egg yolks in it, but this eggless version is worry-free. And don't be scared of all the alcohol, the taste is just sophisticated, not too potent.


Eggless Tiramisu with Marsala and Kahlua
serves 9-12

2 cups very strong decaf coffee or espresso, cooled
1/3 cup plus 1 T sugar, divided
3 T Kahlua
2 cups mascarpone
3 T Marsala wine (unsalted-buy at a liquor store, not "cooking wine")
36 savoiardi (Italian ladyfingers)
1 1/2 cups very fresh heavy whipping cream
small bar good-quality dark chocolate for grating (I used four Valrhona 70% cocoa feves)

Prepare layering ingredients: chill a large bowl and the beaters of an electric mixer (a hand mixer is fine.) Prepare coffee and let cool in a wide-low dish (a loaf pan or baking dish works well.) Add 1 T sugar and the Kahlua, set aside.
Place mascarpone in a large bowl. Fold in reminiang 1/3 cup sugar and marsala. Using chilled bowl and beaters, whip cream until soft peaks form. Do not overwhip! Gently fold half of the cream into the mascarpone mixture, then add in the rest, folding carefully until just mixed.

To assemble tiramisu, have 8 1/2" trifle bowl (or other straight-sided serving bowl) next to coffee mixture. Dip savoiardi one at a time into coffee mixture briefly-count "One" as you dip one side, then turn and count "One" before removing. Place in bottom of bowl until a layer is formed (You may have to break a few ladyfingers before dipping to evenly fill bottom layer. When bottom of bowl is covered, carefully add about a quarter of the mascarpone and cream mixture, smoothing the top with a spatula. Grate chocolate on top, evenly covering the cream (you should still be able to see the cream through the chocolate.) Cover with another layer of soaked savoiardi, then another layer of cream, followed by chocolate shavings, repeating until you have four layers and all your cream has been used up. Wrap well with saran wrap and refridgerate at least two hours before serving. You can wait overnight, but the whipped cream condenses a little.

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.

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.

Spiced Hot Cocoa Rice Pudding

Winter is tricky. It's freeze-your-face-off cold, and the days are short and dark. It's enough to make anyone crave comfort food. On the other hand, we're all trying to eat a little healthier.

This recipe may not be totally guilt free, but it's pretty impressive on that front. And so rich tasting you only need a few bites. As in risotto, the rice gives off velvety starch, thickening the pudding on its own, with the help of creamy nonfat yogurt. Considering it doesn't call for eggs or cream or even 2% milk, it came out shockingly rich and fudgy, like Mexican hot cocoa frozen in time. No one would ever guess how light it really is.

For me, though, if you're going to eat chocolate, it should really be darker. This pudding lacked the bitter edge of serious chocolate. If you're a milk chocolate fan, then this recipe is for you. But if you like your chocolate intense and deep, consider using really good (expensive) and truly dark chocolate—maybe with a 75% cocoa content. I bet it would be nice with a bit of brewed (decaf) espresso thrown in, too. Yum. For Valentine's day, perhaps?


Or go the other way. It's kind of sad to lose the lovely simplicity of rice pudding by throwing chocolate into the mix. Chocolate overshadows the custardy, nutmeggy flavor of classic rice pudding, to the point where the nubby texture of rice seems out of place. I can't guarantee that this pudding will be perfect without the chocolate, but it's an interesting method to start with. Try dialing back the ginger and increasing the nutmeg, adding raisins, orange zest, etc. Let me know how it goes!


Spiced Hot Cocoa Rice Pudding
Adapted from Martha Stewart
Serves 4

1 1/2 to 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
3 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of coarse salt
1 vanilla bean
3 1/2 cups skim milk
1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
1/2 cup Arborio rice
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 pinch nutmeg
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier
1 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped, or chips
1/4 cup plain nonfat yogurt, preferably Greek-style

1. Make the pudding: Whisk together cocoa powder, sugar, salt, and milk in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Split vanilla bean and scrape into saucepan, add bean too. Bring to a simmer; remove from heat.

2. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over low-medium heat. I love using enameled cast iron for this sort of thing. Add rice; toast, stirring constantly, until edges are translucent, 1 to 2 minutes. Add hot milk mixture; bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat; simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until rice is tender and has absorbed most of the liquid, about 20 minutes. Add ginger and cinnamon. Cook another 10 minutes or so. If rice is not tender and has already absorbed the liquid, you can add a little more milk or water (or brewed coffee!) and let it absorb the way you do with risotto. Keep in mind that pudding will thicken as it cools—leave it a little loose and liquidy.

3. Remove from heat and remove vanilla bean. Add liquor and chocolate; stir until chocolate has melted. Stir in yogurt. Pour into a serving bowl or individual dessert bowls. Cover and refrigerate until cold, about 2 hours. Top with light whipped cream or more greek yogurt. Don't tell anyone it's healthy.

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.

Do you think we have enough dessert? Tres leches bread pudding.

12:20: Pudding is out, and smothered in dulce de leche. Having trouble not eating it all RIGHT NOW.



10:50: Eggs! Whipping! Milk! Being measured! Custard is GO!

Remember my obsession with dulce de leche? Notice that custard seems to be happening all over the place? Remember what I said about Biscuit's cat?

Yeah, because 5 pies just aren't enough, we're adding another dessert to the roster: Tres leches bread pudding, featuring a large jar of my homemade brew, a lot of brioche, and (of course) looooooooooooooooooove.

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.

Whip it: Marshmallows!

I know what you're thinking. "Marshmallows? Made at home, by me? Really? No. I couldn't. I couldn't poss--"

Stop. YES YOU CAN. If you have arms, you can make marshmallows. Of course, it helps if you have a mixer or an eggbeater or something with similar torque, but the point remains the same: they are WAY LESS SCARY than they sound. I promise.

I'd been thinking about making marshmallows for a while now, deterred up to this point by my wimpy arms and lack of any sort of mixer (the trouble with marshmallows is that they do require about fifteen minutes of vigorous whipping). This particular problem was remedied when I brought home the newest addition to our family, Big Blue. 15 minutes of whipping? Pssssh! Bring it.



I used this recipe, which comes from the awesome Thomas Keller himself; I have no additions to make, really--he's pretty spot-on (surprising, i know!). My only real comment is this: "12 large marshmallows," is slightly less accurate than "12 gargantuan marshmallows that could level downtown manhattan." I cut them down a little more and ended up with about three hundred million* medium-sized to large marshmallows.

I plan to experiment with this recipe some--there are some flavors I'd like to try (maple-mallows, anyone? Mint-mallows with dark chocolate? Smore-mallows?)...but really. As it stands it's simple, sweet, perfection. Truly awesome in hot chocolate.



*perhaps a slight exaggeration.

Marshmallows

3 envelopes of unflavored gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
2 cups granulated sugar
2/3 cups corn syrup
1/4 cup water
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
Confectioners' sugar for dredging

1. In the bowl of an electric mixer, sprinkle gelatin over 1/2 cup cold water. Soak for 10 minutes.
2. Combine sugar, corn syrup, and 1/4 cup water in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil and boil hard for 1 minute. Pour boiling syrup into gelatin and mix at high speed. Add the salt and beat for 12 minutes. Add vanilla and incorporate into mixture. Scrape into a 9 x 9-inch pan lined with oiled plastic wrap and spread evenly. (Note: Lightly oil hands and spatula or bowl scraper). After pouring marshmallow mixture into the pan, take another piece of plastic wrap and press mixture into the pan.
3. Let mixture sit for a few hours. Remove from pan, dredge the marshmallow slab with confectioners' sugar and cut into 12 equal pieces with scissors (the best tool for the job) or a chef's knife (oil it. seriously). Dredge each piece of marshmallow in confectioners' sugar.

Yield: 12 large marshmallows

Recipe Source: French Laundry Cookbook by Thomas Keller (Artisan)

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.

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.

Things you do when your gig gets postponed: Slightly Salted Dulce de Leche

This whole business started because we here in Gotham lost this weekend to rain.

Well...perhaps not rain, exactly. That's kind of a misnomer. A more accurate description would be "mizzle," the heavy mist that lacks quite the heft of rain, but wraps itself around your hair and your soul nonetheless. The mizzle extended beyond the city, beyond the counties, off into the outlying states.

Typically, the afflictions of our neighbors don't concern me much; this weekend, however, it meant the cancellation of my plans--it's hard to play a concert in air as thick as water. As such, I found myself suddenly with a free Saturday yawning out before me, something I'd not stared down in quite some time. After quickly filling the void with brunch, quality girl time, and a long-overdue trip to Sahadi's, I found myself at loose ends in the late afternoon.

What's a girl to do?

If you're me, you bust out your favorite lidless saucepan and set to cooking up a righteous pot of dulce de leche.



This would probably be a good time to point out that I do not, despite evidence to the contrary, have much of a sweet tooth. Give me a salt lick over a lollipop any day of the week. I am, however, moderately obsessed with caramel in all its smoky, sweet, dusky incarnations; salted caramel is therefore manna from heaven, and as such I consider it a moral obligation to master its most lascivious secrets.

After this little experiment, I think it's safe to say that I have a ways to go before I achieve that lofty goal. To start, I should have used a larger pot. While I like my meals to present a certain element of danger, the enthusiasm with which this mixture froths and hisses as it cooks is a little intimidating at times--specifically, when it is boiling over the sides of my beloved 3-qt saucepan and setting my stove asail in a sea of boiling milk and vanilla pods. It's easily controlled if you keep a weather eye on the mix, but I am a notorious slacker, and would rather not spend three hours hovering over my stove like a vulture. So, larger pan.

I also suspect that I will be making adjustments to the sugar profile, perhaps swapping out the turbinado sugar for plain old light brown sugar--i'm not sure how i feel about the whispers of molasses the turbinado breathed into the concoction; it was somehow more overt than what I was expecting. I am also toying with the idea of using three different sugars (white, brown, turbinado) in the next batch to see what that will do to the flavor.



One thing I know for sure, however: next time, I will be adding more salt, earlier in the process. The addition of the sea salt was an afterthought; I had two jars of the sweet stuff, and given that my tooth is more savory than sweet, I thought the addition of a bit of salt to the smaller jar would make the dulce de leche more to my liking. I was right, but my light and late hand meant that the salt never quite incorporated into the caramel. While this resulted in delightful little bursts of unexpected salty crunch, it also meant an interruption of the silky texture and a failure to achieve the perfect synthesis of salty and sweet.

So, I'll be working on that for the next round.

These are all details, however; I'm really just writing out my kitchen notes for you. Don't let the minor complaints fool you: for all my grousing I ended up with two luscious, silky jars of quality dulce de leche. The only problem I have now is that I have too damn much on hand for a household that eats sweets as slowly as this one does. Anybody want some?

And, more to the point, does anyone have any awesome variations they'd recommend (or thoughts on variations they'd like to share)?



Slightly Salty Dulce de Leche

1 quart whole milk
1c sugar
1/2 c turbinado sugar
1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise, seeds scraped
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tbsp sea salt

1. Combine the first 4 ingredients in a large saucepan over MEDIUM HEAT, stirring occasionally, until the sugar has dissolved.
2. Add the baking soda; stir to combine.
3. Once the baking soda has dissolved, reduce the heat to low and simmer uncovered for one hour. This mixture will develop ominous foam upon it--do not panic, and do not try to reincorporate it with the mixture--it will not cooperate, and there will be much sadness.
4. After one hour, remove the vanilla pod, but keep the liquid on the stove; let it keep cooking and reduce until it's about a cup of rich, caramel-colored goodness (1 1/2 to 2 hours).
5. Stir in the salt.
6. Once the salt has dissolved, remove the pot from the heat; strain the mixture through a fine sieve into jars. It will keep quite merrily in your refrigerator for a month or so, assuming it lasts that long.
   

famous new york times cookies, approximately

Coming on late September . . . This morning, we ate our breakfast outside on the balcony, but I had to pull out my old college sweatshirt, and I'm no longer craving ice in my coffee. Nice, though, to huddle with my favorite mug and the newspaper now that the air in the city is crisp and the overwhelming smell of august—sidewalk trash sitting out in the sun—has passed.

And nice to turn the oven on again, and fill the apartment with the scent of vanilla and warm butter. Especially since the dough was already made, and just the fun part was left.


They are not exactly those cookies. They're smaller, and made with only all-purpose flour. And muscovado sugar instead of light brown sugar, and a mix of several kinds of 60-70% chocolate. I cooked them about 9 minutes at 325º, then rested on the cookie sheet another 6 minutes. They shouldn't be overbaked. Otherwise, I followed the recipe. Flakes of Maldon sea salt (which my fiancé, Matt, likes to eat out of hand) on top, every time I remembered (4 out of 6 cookie sheets worth scored the salt.)

They smelled terrific. And tasted terrific just out of the oven, as all barely cooked, caramely, melted-chocolately, just-out-of-the-oven cookies do. Are they the Platonic ideal of warm chocolate chip cookies? Maybe. But they're still chocolate chip cookies, which should be a simple pleasure, I think. Just right for September.



Note: once they were cooled off, these were a bit salty. While the cookies were warm, the salt was just an accent that brought out the flavors of butter, chocolate, etc. Cool, they were just sort of salty. Like chocolate chip pretzels. So maybe next time I'd lay off the salt a little. Or be sure to microwave the cookies a bit before serving!

everyone else is doing it...

I am not very good at throwing parties. And what I mean by that is, I am not very good to myself when I throw parties. Early in the week, it seems brilliant to me to plan an assortment of five or ten different dips, from handmade anchoide to wasabi-lime-pea, assortments of farmer's market vegetables chopped in perfect bite sizes by hand, warm olives marinated with a mix of herbs and citrus, etc etc, leaving me dreading the event by Friday. As time goes by, though, I'm getting a little, tiny bit better at taking it easy. Cooking for groups (especially on weeknights) now needs to involve foods that multiply well and can be prepared in advance—chili! braised lamb shoulder! giant peach cobbler! The days of individual pizzas may be over.

At least I'm trying. We're having a party this weekend, and I'm keeping it simple. There will be plenty of beer. And there will be cookies.

But not just any cookies. Those cookies. I'm totally late on this one, I know, everyone's over it already. I just couldn't get them out of my mind after seeing them here, and here...

So I bought the féves (and some other very nice chocolate, Callebaut Bittersweet 70%) and some Muscovado sugar, which was recommended on egullet, and I'm raring to go. I'll keep you posted.