Anna Belle Babson's 4 Minute Brownie Pie

Chances are my grandmother got this recipe off a sugar packet, or off the back of a box of cocoa, or out of the Los Angeles Times (the 'ng' in Angeles pronounced as it would be in bang), but the origins are now lost and it has become Anna Belle Babson's 4 minute brownie pie. Or just a brownie. Or, to M. and F. in Oxford, a Babson (the related verb being to Babsonize). By any name it is the perfect last minute dessert, taking more than 4 but fewer than forty minutes from start to finish and delivering all the fudgy, chocolaty goodness you could want without the mess of melting chocolate.

While perfect plain (and perfecter still with ice cream), this recipe is infinitely adaptable. It does just as well with whole wheat flour as white; nuts are an obvious and welcome addition; my sister has had success adding a dollop of yoghurt to the batter; and if you're having one of those days, why not add a handful of chocolate chips.

Anna Belle Babson's 4 Minute Brownie Pie

• 1/2 cup butter
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• 1 pinch salt
• 1/2 cup flour
• 4 Tbs. cocoa powder

• Preheat oven to 325°F. Butter and flour an 8 or 9-inch pie plate and set aside.
• Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Andd eggs and vanilla and beat well. Add salt and flour and beat until well combined. Carefully mix in cocoa powder. Beat until batter is beautiful and smooth. Do not worry about over beating this batter. I don't think you can. Add any nuts or chocolate chips or yoghurt or or or at this point.
• Bake for about half an hour, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Do be sure that it has cooked all the way through or the center will fall. Allow to cool slightly before cutting.

Delicious served warm with ice cream.

Now go forth and Babsonize!

Truffle Cups

Some people put all the things that have been hanging around the pantry together and come up with hash. I put all the things that have been hanging around the pantry together and come up with chocolate-raspberry-hazelnut truffle cups. On the whole, I like my pantry better.

Truffle Cups

• For the pastry:
• 1/2 recipe pie crust
• less one Tbs. butter
• plus 1/4 cup roasted, ground hazelnuts
• blank
• For the truffle filling:
• 1/2 recipe basic ganache
• 1 Tbs. soft butter
• blank
• For the raspberry ganache:
• 1 1/2 oz. white chocolate
• 1/8 cup heavy cream
• 3 Tbs. raspberry jam, strained and seeds discarded

• Prepare pastry, wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate at least a half hour before rolling. Roll out dough, cut out circles using a 2 3/4-inch biscuit cutter, and line the cups of a mini muffin tin. Trim the edges so they are flush with the top of the tray. Preheat oven to 350-375°F. Fill each cup with beans. Bake cups 25-30 minutes, or until edges are golden and dough is cooked through. Remove to wire racks and allow to cool.
• Prepare ganache adding the butter once the ganache is smooth. Blend again for a few seconds to incorporate butter. Allow to cool slightly then pipe into cooled pastry cups.
• Prepare white chocolate ganache in the same manner as the basic ganache. Once the ganache is smooth transfer to a bowl and stir in the jam. Spoon enough raspberry mixture on top of the chocolate ganache to fill the cup without any spilling over the edge. Allow to set before transporting. Raspberry topping will not harden entirely so don't stack the cups.

Makes 12-15 cups.

I used what I had on hand, and you should feel just as free to experiment--with this, with anything. What's the worst that could happen? You can always chop up any rejects and add them to your next batch of ice cream.

Applesauce Quick Bread

I could easily have eaten all three cups of applesauce straight from the baking dish along with the entire pint of crème fraîche, but, fortunately, I didn't. I put it, instead, in jars in the fridge and turned to my cookbooks to decide what to do with it. The Joy of Cooking, that stalwart soul of a cookbook, came through with two recipes, both of which I modified to my particular circumstances. The next morning I baked an applesauce quick bread and an applesauce cake, the quick bread beating out the cake for its place in the spotlight.

This is a moist, substantial, not-too-sweet, and entirely satisfying bread. It uses butter instead of oil, which I like, and the mixture of flours gives it a slight heft without the bread becoming dense. The applesauce, cider, and buttermilk provide ample moisture, the walnuts the right amount of crunch.

Applesauce Quick Bread

adapted from the Joy

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 cups white whole wheat flour
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 tsp. baking soda
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 egg
• zest of one orange
• 3/4 cup applesauce
• 1/4 cup apple cider
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1 cup walnut pieces

• Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour a 9x5-inch loaf pan and set aside.
• Combine the flours, salt, and baking soda and set aside.
• In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the egg and beat until well combined. Add the orange zest, applesauce, and apple cider. Mix to combine. Your batter will appear curdled--don't let this bother you. Add the flour mixture and buttermilk alternately, starting and ending with flour. After the last addition of flour mixture, stir until just combined. Fold in the walnuts.
• Pour batter into prepared loaf pan and bake 1 hour 15 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Cool in the pan 10-15 minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack.

Enjoy in thick slices spread with butter.

There is not a bad time to eat this bread. It makes a delicious breakfast, a perfect mid-morning snack, a nice something sweet after lunch, just the thing for tea, and satisfies that craving after dinner. Had I not given the second half of the loaf away, I would be eating a slice right now.

Fall Pie Primer, Part Four: Pumpkin Pie

It seems fashionable now to have an aversion to pumpkin pie. All the magazines seem to be offering alternatives to it--take such-and-such or blah-and-dah to your Thanksgiving gathering, a refreshing change from pumpkin pie. Honestly, I don't understand. What could possibly be wrong with silky, spiced, pumpkin custard in a flaky butter crust? And don't give me the evaporated milk answer, because you don't have to use it.

I ran several pumpkin pie trials this week and discovered that there is no reason to use evaporated milk in your pumpkin pie filling. You don't even have to spend hours cooking down your own milk in an attempt to duplicate what comes out of the can. You can simply use a combination of milk and cream instead. You wouldn't think of using canned milk in any other custard, so why in this one? For one pie I took the time to heat the milk and temper the eggs and cook them in a double boiler until the mixture coated the back of the spoon et cetera and so forth, but it was really unnecessary. The one with milk and cream and none of the double boiler hoopla set up just as well. So there you go: no more Carnation! Take that, Libby.

Pumpkin Pie

one 9-inch pie

• 1/2 recipe pie crust
• blank
• 2 cups pumpkin purée from 1 medium-large pie pumpkin
• 3 eggs
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp. ginger
• 1/4 tsp. cloves
• 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
• 3/4 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup heavy cream

• Make up the dough, wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate while you make the filling.
• Cut pumpkin in half and remove seeds. Cut the halves in half and place in a steamer basket. Steam until tender, about 20 minutes. Scoop out the flesh and place in a blender. Blend until smooth. Drain purée in cheesecloth in a strainer for 10-15 minutes to remove some of the water.
• Preheat oven to 425°F.
• Measure out 2 cups of pumpkin purée and return to blender. Add the rest of the ingredients to blender and blend again until smooth.
• Roll out your dough between sheets of waxed paper into about a 12-inch round, or until you judge it will fit in your pie pan with about an inch of overhang. Press the dough into the pan starting with the bottom and working up the sides so there is no air trapped underneath it. Crimp the edges, folding the dough over on itself to get a nice thick edge.
• Blend filling for another second, then pour into pie shell. Do this on a piece of counter close to the oven so you don't have far to go with it.
• Bake at 425°F for 15 minutes, reduce heat to 350°F and bake an additional 45 minutes. The center of the pie should still be jiggly when you take it out of the oven. It will set as it cools. A cracked pie is an overcooked pie. Allow to cool completely before serving.

Serve at room temp with whipped cream.

If you're lucky, you'll have some leftover filling. If you do, I recommend pouring it into a small ramekin, placing the ramekin in a dish of hot water and baking it along side the pie. It might be done a bit sooner than the pie so keep an eye on it. Let it cool, whip up a bit of cream for the top, and call it a treat for the cook (or share it--I did).

I hope at least one pumpkin pie appears in your fall pie rotation. Sure, make such-and-such, bake blah-and-dah, but I'm willing to bet the pumpkin pie disappears first.

Fall Pie Primer, Part Two: Apple Pie

There are a thousand ways to use the thousands of apples that come off the trees every fall. Three are turnovers and tarts, cakes, sauces, baked apples, candied apples. There is also apple pie. Maybe it's because my mother makes the best apple pie in the world, but I've always found apple pie to be one of the most comforting things to eat. There is no reason this comfort should not be available to everyone, so now that you've overcome your fear of pie crust it's time for apple pie.

Apple Pie

one 9-inch pie

• 1 recipe pie crust
• blank
• 6 cups apple slices (about 6 medium-sized apples)
• juice of 1 lemon
• scant 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• 2 Tbs. butter

• Make up the dough, wrap tightly in plastic and refrigerate while you make the filling.
• Peel, core, and cut apples into pretty thin slices. I do this by first cutting the apple into quarters, cutting out the core, peeling each quarter, and then cutting the quarter into slices. You can do what you like.
• To the apples add the lemon juice, sugar, flour, and spices. Mix gently, but well so everything is evenly distributed.
• Preheat oven to 375°F.
• Take the dough from the fridge and cut it in two, making one piece slightly larger than the other. Put the smaller piece back in the fridge and roll out the larger piece between sheets of waxed paper into about a 12-inch round, or until you judge it will fit in your pie pan with about an inch of overhang. Press the dough into the pan starting with the bottom and working up the sides so there is no air trapped underneath it.
• Put the apple mixture into the pie shell. Cut the 2 Tbs. butter into small pieces and dot the apples with it. This step has been forgotten so many times in my family that it has become something of a running joke. "Don't forget to dot the butter!," we yell several times during the pie making process. It's a real pain trying to get it under the top crust through the vents, so don't forget to dot the butter!
• Roll out the remaining ball of dough and place it over the apples. Crimp the top and bottom crusts together. Trim off any excess dough around the edge, roll it out and make an apple or something else to decorate the top with. Cut several vent holes in the top. You can choose to brush the top with an egg or milk wash or not, as you like.
• Bake 40-50 minutes, or until juices are bubbling and the crust is golden. If the edges start to get too dark, cover with tin foil.

Serve warm with cream or ice cream.

A few things I would say about making apple pie: take the time to cut your apples quite thinly. If you don't you'll be left with bits that didn't cook all the way. I do like some tooth left in the apples, but not that much. Try not to overwork the edges while you're crimping them or they'll become tough. And don't forget to dot the butter!

Fall Pie Primer, Part One: Crust

A good crust is one of the best tricks you can have up your sleeve in the kitchen. I wrote about pie crust last year and my feelings on the subject haven't changed. I thought I'd bring it up again, though, because it is getting to be that time of year again and some poor souls might be eyeing the freezer aisle. Don't do it! You're going to be making your own pumpkin purée, peeling all those apples, making your own mincemeat, so why would you buy a pre-made pie crust. You wouldn't. I know.

Pie Crust

10-inch double crust

• 2 2/3 cups flour
• 1 tsp. salt
• 1 cup butter, cold
• 7-8 Tbs. water, very cold

• Combine flour and salt.
• Cut butter into pieces and drop into flour mixture. Using a pastry cutter or your fingers, work the butter into flour until butter is well incorporated, but there are still visible pieces of butter. (Recipes often say, 'until mixture resembles small peas,' but I like to leave slightly larger pieces.)
• Using a fork, stir in water one tablespoon at a time, being careful not to add too much. When dough begins to from clumps, enough water has been added.
• Form the dough into a ball. The dough might be somewhat crumbly, but as long as you can make it into a ball it will be alright. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least half an hour before rolling.

Use for pies, pasties, and tarts.

I had a bit of a mishap last week: I thought I had a 9-inch pan so made the recipe for an 8 to 9-inch double crust. Unfortunately it was a 10-inch pan. It is no fun trying to eke an extra inch out of too little dough and then having none leftover to decorate the top of the pie. So from now on I'm making enough for a 10-inch pan regardless of what size pie plate I actually have. Wasteful? Maybe, but in this instance I don't care. There is always something to be done with leftover pie dough, but don't make me cobble together another pie without enough.

Stuffed Apples Baked in Pastry

Another week of fall fruit share meant coming up with another way to use apples. A happy problem, if ever there was one. I turned, this time, to Elizabeth David for help and she didn't let me down. In her book, French Provincial Cooking, she offers a couple of paragraphs on Les Bourdaines, or apples baked in pastry. I like baked apples; I love pastry--bringing the two together could only make for something spectacular.

In her recipe the hollowed out apples are filled with plum or quince jam, but I remembered a picture in Farmhouse Cookery in which baked apples are stuffed with mincemeat, so I thought I'd do that instead. You could fill them with just about anything: dried apricots mixed with honey, dates chopped with walnuts and the juice of one lemon, brown sugar and spices, or something of your own device.

I had to try this twice this week, because the first time I forgot to peel the apples before wrapping them. During baking, the pastry simply slid off the apples, leaving them looking more than a little exposed. Peeling the apples gives the pastry something to hold onto and rolling them in the flour/sugar/spice mixture gives you some insurance (and extra tastiness). I didn't seal my seams well enough the second time around, so although the pastry stayed on the apples, the seams did split some, which could be avoided by using a drop of cold water and a bit more care.

This experiment was well worth the effort. The result is part baked apple, part apple pie, part mince pie, altogether delicious.

Stuffed Apples Baked in Pastry

inspired by Elizabeth David

• 1 recipe pie crust for every 4 apples
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1 Tbs. sugar
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
• a few grates of nutmeg
• as many apples as people you intend to serve
• a lemon
• 2 Tbs. filling (see note above) for each apple
• a small knob of butter for each apple
• a small egg and a splash of milk

• Make your pie dough, wrap tightly in plastic, and refrigerate while you do the rest.
• Butter a baking dish big enough to fit all your apples and set aside. At some point, preheat your oven to 350°F.
• In a wide, shallow dish combine flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and set aside
• Cut lemon into quarters. Peel your apples and rub them with lemon juice as you finish each one. That is, don't wait til they're all peeled before coating them with lemon juice. Using a melon baller, remove the core of each apple and scoop out some of the meat so there is room for the filling. Fill each apple with mincemeat, making sure to press it into all the nooks and crannies. Before the apple is entirely full, drop in a knob of butter then put in one more dollop of filling, pressing down firmly. When all the apples have been filled, roll each one in the flour mixture, making sure it is fully coated.
• Take your pastry from the fridge and remove a piece large enough for one apple (about 85g for a small-medium sized apple, slightly more for a large one). Put remaining dough back in the fridge while you wrap the apple. Roll out your dough into a circle wide enough to accommodate your apple. Place apple in the center of the circle and begin to gather the dough around it. Where the dough comes together, cut off the excess and with a little water glue the seam together. Be sure your seams are well stuck, or they will split during baking. If, once you have wrapped the whole apple, there is a hole at the top, use some of the extra dough to cover it. Save extra dough for making leaves. Place pastry-encased apple in the baking dish and transfer to refrigerator. Repeat with remaining apples.
• Once all the apples have been wrapped, take the extra dough you've been saving from the fridge, roll it out, and cut out a leaf for each apple. Remove apples from fridge, make a dimple in the tope of each, and adorn each with its leaf. Beat together the egg and the milk and brush each apple with the mixture. Bake for about an hour or until the crust is golden.

Serve warm with whipped cream.

Elizabeth, who apparently wasn't much of a fan of cooked apple dishes, offers this bit of advice: "First, choose hard, sweet apples whenever possible instead of the sour cooking variety which are used for English apple dishes. And secondly, if the apples are to be eaten hot, cook them in butter instead of in water. The scent of apples cooking in butter is alone more than worth the small extra expense."

Honey Cake

I'm sure I must've eaten honey cake before. One doesn't attend Jewish schools for four years, make yarmulkes for the boys every Friday, sing songs about apples dipped in honey, dress up as Queen Esther (a character from another buba meis) without, at least once, eating honey cake. But I don't remember so, although I thought this sweet, moist, spiced confection was something worth eating and making again, I had nothing to compare it to. Y., on the other hand, has eaten his fair share of honey cake, so I couldn't help but take his request for a second piece as a compliment.

And it is a good cake. It's moist without being oily; sweet without being saccharine; substantial without being dense; spiced without being cloying. The crushed toasted, sliced almonds give it a nice bit of texture and a good excuse to decorate it with more of the same.

Honey Cake

adapted from Carole Walter's Great Cakes

• 1 Tbs. instant coffee
• 2/3 cup boiling water
• 3/4 cup honey
• 2 Tbs. Grand Marnier or the like
• 1 Tbs. dark molasses
• 2 cups sifted pastry flour
• 1 1/4 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. baking soda
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1/2 cup cup sugar
• 3/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp. ground cloves
• 1/4 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
• 2 large egg yolks
• 2 Tbs. vegetable oil
• zest of one orange
• 2 large egg whites
• 1/4 tsp. cream of tartar
• 3/4 cup lightly toasted sliced almonds, plus a few more for decorating.

• Position rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 350°F. Generously butter an 8-inch ring pan or Bundt pan or a couple of loaf pans or cake tins, dust with flour and set aside.
• Dissolve coffee in the boiling water and set aside. In another bowl combine honey, Grand Marnier, and molasses. Add coffee to mixture, stir well, and set aside.
• In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, sugar, and spices. Give mixture a whisk or two to get everything evenly distributed. Make a well in the center and add the yolks, oil, zest, and honey mixture. Whisk until very smooth.
• By any means that work for you (e.g. in a stand mixer or in a bowl with a whisk or egg beater or electric beater), beat egg whites until frothy. Add cream of tartar and continue to beat until whites hold firm, moist peaks. Gently and briefly fold 1/4 of the whites into the batter. Sprinkle toasted, sliced almonds over the batter, crushing them with your hands as you do so. Add remaining egg whites and fold into batter (Carole suggests about 40 turns).
• Pour batter, which will be very runny and cause you to wonder if you read the quantities right and make you fret that it will never form something even vaguely resembling a cake, into prepared pan(s). Bake 45-55 minutes, or until cake begins to pull away from the sides of the pan and a tester comes out clean.
• Remove from oven and allow cake to cool in the pan for 10-15 minutes. Turn cake out onto a rack and allow to cool to room temperature. Transfer to serving dish and sprinkle with extra toasted, sliced almonds. Best if made the day before you plan to serve it.

Delicious with good, strong coffee.

I was surprised by how runny the batter was. I thought maybe I'd misread the recipe or done an exceptionally lousy job measuring out the flour and had little confidence that 50 minutes in the oven could possibly turn it into cake. But it did, and a tasty one at that, so let my panic be your panic and save yourself to fret about something else. Like whether or not the cake is going to stick in the ridges of your Bundt pan.

Oh, and happy new year.

Sansa Apples with Landaff Cheese

It was still summer when I picked up my first half-peck of fruit from Scott Farm. The bag was loaded with peaches and plums and the heady aroma of soft, ripe fruit. A week later fall had arrived and, while peaches from the farm were still available, my csa share was mostly apples. To be more precise, it was a half-peck of the most beautiful Sansa apples. I'm glad they wrote the variety on the bag or I might have made the mistake of cooking them.

I did a tiny bit of internet research and learned that the Sansa is the product of 20 years of Japanese-Australian co-operation beginning in 1969. It is an early maturing apple with a beautiful red-blush-over-yellow-green skin. It's flesh is firm yet tender, juicy, and very sweet with just the right amount of tartness. Sansas are not keepers and should be eaten soon after harvest.

I ate my first Sansa without accompaniment, taking one crisp, juicy, sweet bite after the other and practically devouring the core. I got to thinking about it, because these are the things I think about, and decided the crisp sweetness of the apple would be contrasted nicely by a buttery, kinda tangy, sorta salty, mostly mellow cheese--a Welsh style cheddar, for instance. The cheese I had in mind was Cobb Hill's Four Corners Caerphilly, but the Co-op was out of stock. I ended up with a nice piece of Landaff Cheese, a Welsh style semi-firm farmstead cheese made from raw milk in New Hampshire and aged at Jasper Hill Farm in Greensboro, Vermont. I was not disappointed. These are the things, some of them anyway, that make me feel very lucky to have landed in Vermont.

I can highly recommend both the apple and the cheese for any snack or platter or cheese plate or fruit plate or dessert. To make a meal of it, I could see adding some walnuts to the mix and a bit of cured meat and a hunk of good bread, a glass of beer or wine and, of course, at least one good friend.

Do let the cheese stand at room temperature for half an hour or so before serving to bring out all the flavors and to be able to truly enjoy its buttery texture. Squeeze lemon juice over the apple wedges to preserve their beautiful white flesh.

Pine Nut Shortbread Basil Ice Cream Sandwiches

It's amazing how circles will find a way of closing themselves. After making basil sorbet and ice cream I had half a bunch of basil leftover. It was enough to make pesto so I bought pine nuts. After making pesto I was left with half a baggie of pine nuts. The idea of making ice cream sandwiches had been kicking around in my head for a few days and it eventually dawned on me to use the leftover pine nuts in the cookies that would sandwich the basil ice cream. I'm just glad I had used all the garlic.

I got out The Best of Fine Cooking's Cookies magazine from last Christmas, remembering that it included several shortbread recipes. The one that caught my eye was the Orange-Hazelnut Shortbread, but instead of using orange zest and hazelnuts I substituted lemon zest and pine nuts. The nuts, of course, had to be ground. Pine nuts, it turns out, don't grind very well. Because of the high oil content they go very quickly past the ground state to pine nut butter. Initially I was distressed, but decided to use the pine nut butter anyway. The only difference it seemed to make was that the cookies spread a little more than shortbread usually does. The texture was still good and flaky and the flavor was worth a bit of spreading.

Pine Nut Shortbread

adapted from The Best of Fine Cooking: Cookies

• 1/2 cup butter, cold
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 5 oz. flour
• 1/4 ground pine nuts (may resemble pine nut butter)
• 1 tsp. finely grated lemon zest

• Preheat oven to 300°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat and set aside.
• In a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, mix butter, sugar, and salt at low speed until combined but not completely smooth. Add flour, pine nuts, and zest and mix, again at low speed, until the dough begins to come together. Be careful not to overmix.
• Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and bring it together with your hands. Roll it out to about 1/4-inch thick and cut out cookies with either cutters or a knife. Place cookies on prepared baking sheet. Gather the scraps and reroll the dough for more cookies.
• [Alternately, form the dough into a cylinder, making sure it is well compacted and not hollow in the middle, and freeze for at least half an hour. Cut 1/4-inch thick cookies from the cylinder and arrange on prepared baking sheet.]
• To decorate, attractively arrange a few whole pine nuts on half of the cookies. These will be the tops of your ice cream sandwiches.
• Chill cookies in the refrigerator for at least 20 minutes. Bake until cookies are golden on the bottom and edges and pale to golden on top, anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. Remove to racks and allow to cool completely before assembling ice cream sandwiches.

Makes enough cookies for 6-8 ice cream sandwiches.

For the sandwiched material I used ice cream that had already been in the freezer for a few days. I made ice cream pucks by mushing it into a cookie cutter the same diameter as my cookies and then sandwiched the pucks between the cookies. It worked pretty well, although the edges melted very quickly and I kept having to catch drips and clean the edges and finally I just through the sandwich in the freezer, figuring it would work itself out there. And it did. I think a better system would be to have the cookies made and cooled before you churn the ice cream and then scoop the still soft, freshly churned ice cream onto the bottom cookie, put the other cookie on top, gently squeeze them together until the ice cream reaches the edges and then calmly put the sandwich in the freezer. As for the freezing, I think the sandwiches can harden up openly in the freezer and only once they are completely frozen need to be transferred to an airtight situation for storage.

Ice Cream Sandwiches

for 6-8 sandwiches

• 1 recipe pine nut shortbread
• 1 pint basil ice cream

• Method one (using ice cream already made and hardened): Clear a space in your freezer and place a baking sheet in the cleared space. Using a cookie cutter or other mold the same diameter as your cookies, a plate, and a spoon, form a scoop and a bit of ice cream into a puck. With an offset palette knife, or any other tool you have to hand, place the puck of ice cream on the bottom cookie. Place the other cookie on top of the ice cream and squeeze slightly. Quickly clean up the edges and place the sandwich on the baking sheet in the freezer. Repeat with remaining ice cream and cookies. Allow sandwiches to freeze completely and then place them in an airtight container or wrap them to store.
• Method two (using freshly churned ice cream): I haven't actually tried this, but I think it might be the superior method. Clear a space in your freezer and place a baking sheet in the cleared space. Put a scoop of freshly churned (and thus soft serve-y) ice cream in the center of the bottom cookie. Place the other cookie on top and gently squeeze until the ice cream reaches the edges. Place sandwich on baking sheet in freezer. Repeat until all cookies are made into sandwiches. Allow sandwiches to freeze completely and then place them in an airtight container or wrap them to store.

Just feel fortunate in the knowledge that you have homemade ice cream sandwiches in your freezer.

Cheesecake

Ninety-nine times out of a hundred my yoghurt turns out well. It is almost a relief, then, when it doesn't, because when it doesn't I don't feel like I am depriving myself of its silky perfection when I turn it into waffles or, in this case, cheese. After twelve hours hanging in cheesecloth from the paper towel dispenser I don't use, my yoghurt turned into a tangy, rich, somewhat rustic cream cheese. My first thought was to herb it and put it on bread. My next thought was to make cheesecake.

Although her recipes can be less than explicit, I always learn something from Paula Peck and her book, The Art of Fine Baking, has become one of my go-tos. When I saw that her crumb crust called for nuts I was sold all over again. She suggests either pecans or walnuts and I went with pecans, thinking they would match well with the ginger oat biscuits I decided to use for the crumbs.

I guess I have been in Vermont for a while now, because I didn't think twice before deciding to use granulated maple sugar instead of cane sugar as the sweetener. I don't know how much the maple flavor came through, but the cake was sweet (though not too) and the sugar came from just down the road, which is always a bonus.

Cheese Cake

adapted from Paula Peck

• 1 1/2 cups crumbs from snappy cookies or biscuits
• 1 cup pecans, ground or finely grated
• 1/3 cup butter, melted
• 1 cup (maple) sugar
• 20 oz. cream cheese
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1 1/2 tsp. vanilla
• 1 tsp. grated lemon rind
• 4 eggs, separated
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup sifted flour

• Preheat oven to 325°F. Lightly butter a 9-inch spring-form pan.
• For the crumb crust: Combine cookie crumbs, ground nuts, and 2 Tbs. of the sugar. Add melted butter and mix until blended. Spread crumb mixture on the bottom of prepared pan and tamp it down firmly. Chill in refrigerator while you make the filling.
• For the filling: Mix together cream cheese, half the remaining sugar, salt, vanilla, and lemon rind until well combined. Beat in the egg yolks.
• Whip the cream and set aside. Beat egg whites to soft peaks. Gradually add the remaining sugar, beating well after each addition. Once all the sugar has been added, beat the whites until they are very firm. Pour whipped cream over the stiffly beaten whites followed by the cream cheese mixture. Sprinkle the flour on top and fold all together gently.
• Pour filling into prepared pan and bake for one and a quarter hours, or until cake is a light golden brown. At this point turn the heat off, but leave the cake in the oven for 3-4 hours. Paula says, "Cake may crack slightly, but this is unimportant." Transfer cake to the refrigerator to chill before serving.

The ginger and pecan flavors were not obvious in the finished product, but I thought it would be pretty to decorate the cakes (I made two five-inch cakes from a half recipe, having only ten ounces of yoghurt cheese product) with pecan halves and crystalized ginger anyway. If you can find round, flat medallions of candied ginger, you can make nice ginger shapes with small cookie cutters.

Plum Sponge Pudding

I mentioned having made a peach plum sponge the other day and promised then to share the recipe with you. So here it is. You can make plum sponge with almost anything--peaches, berries, cherries, apples, any fruit will do--but I was reminded today that it really is best when made with plums. Their tartness stands up to the sugar, they cook down to the most enjoyable consistency, and they give the pudding a beautiful pink color. I guess they called it Plum Sponge Pudding for a reason.

Like most of the recipes from Farmhouse Cookery, Plum Sponge takes next to nothing to put together. This is one of those desserts you can make in a pinch, even when the pantry seems all but bare, and what emerges from the oven is definitely more than the sum of its parts.

Plum Sponge Pudding

adapted from Farmhouse Cookery

• 1 pound plums
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup butter
• 3/4 cup flour
• 3/4 tsp. baking powder
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 Tbs. water

• Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a 1-quart (or slightly smaller) ovenproof bowl and set aside.
• Wash and halve plums, removing the stones. Put the plums and brown sugar in the baking dish in alternate layers.
• Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Combine flour, baking powder and salt. Add flour mixture and egg alternately to butter mixture, beating well after each addition. Stir in the water.
• Cover fruit with the sponge mixture and bake about 50 minutes, or until top of the sponge is springy to the touch. Allow to cool at least 20 minutes before serving.

Serve warm with cream, ice cream, or custard.

Panna Cotta with Mulberries, Cassis, and Teeny Tiny Tuiles

I really like pudding. I am particularly fond of silky, smooth egg custards, but this slightly firmer cream and gelatin dessert is not half bad either. The nice thing about panna cotta is the complete absence of fretting. You just mix it up and bung it in the fridge and forget about it until after dinner. The most stressful part is the unmolding, and if you don't feel like it, you don't even have to do that. So thank you to David Lebovitz for sharing Judy Witts' recipe, which I have here cut in half to serve four.

Panna Cotta

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 vanilla bean
• 1 packet powdered gelatin
• 3 Tbs. cold water

• Heat the cream and sugar in a saucepan. Once the sugar is dissolved, remove from heat. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise, scrape the seeds into the cream, and drop the bean pod in too. Allow to infuse for half an hour.
• Remove the bean, then put the cream back over medium heat and while it is rewarming lightly oil four custard cups with a neutral-tasting oil.
• Sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water in a medium-sized bowl or large measuring pitcher and let stand for 5-10 minutes.
• Pour the very warm cream mixture of the gelatin and stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved.
• Divide the Panna Cotta mixture into the prepared cups, then chill them until firm, at least two hours, preferably more like four.
• Run a sharp knife around the edge of each PannaCotta and unmold each onto a serving plate, garnishing as desired.

Serve with berries or drizzled with honey.

For the syrup, I simply simmered 100g of berries in about 4 Tbs. of cassis until it had reduced considerably. I mashed the berries with the back of a wooden spoon and then passed the mixture through a sieve to get rid of the seeds, trying to get as much of the pulp through the sieve as possible.

Tuiles

• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
• splash vanilla
• 2 egg whites, lightly beaten with a fork
• 1/2 cup flour, sifted

• Preheat oven to 350°F. Line baking sheets with parchment and set aside.
• Cream butter, sugar, and vanilla together on low spead. Beat in lightly egg whites a little at a time, beating very well after each addition. Fold in flour and mix until just combined.
• Chill the batter for half an hour.
• Place a circle stencil on parchment (or preferably silpat) lined baking sheet. Spread batter in stencil. Remove stencil and repeat, leaving some room between each one.
• Bake about 7 minutes, or until edges of cookies are golden brown. Centers should remain light. Remove cookies from baking sheet at once and drape over something that will give your tuiles the shape they're named for.
• Batter can be kept in the fridge up to a week.

A delicious accompaniment to just about any pudding.

The tuiles are very similar to last weeks langues du chat, though the proportions are slightly different and they take powdered instead of granulated sugar. I expected them to spread as the langues du chat did, but, probably because they use half the butter to the same amount of sugar, they didn't spread at all. So there you go--make your stencil the size you want your finished cookie to be.

A crisp cookie, a substantial, creamy pudding, and a berry whose acquaintance I am very happy to have made: a good end to any week.

Mulberries

I am so glad I went for a walk around the block this afternoon. I've been feeling a bit cooped up the past few days--a summer cold, knee surgery, and an entire month of rain will do that to even the most stalwart soul--so following on the success of yesterday's short venture outside, I decided to go for a stroll before cooking dinner. My block is not the most picturesque and I hesitated before turning the corner, but in the end I decided to take my chances. If only all my gambles ended so deliciously.

I past the saw mill on the left, S.'s house on the right, and just ahead saw a man obscured by foliage greedily gobbling whatever was growing on the tree. I started to walk by, but thought better of it and instead asked, "What do you have there?" "Berries." "Mmm. What kind?" "Mulberries." "I thought so," I said, "My mom and I were just talking about mulberries." And without an invitation I picked one for myself and popped it in my mouth. He assured me they were very poisonous. Not worth eating. Really, very bad for you. I paid him no heed and continued to pick and eat the small fruits because they were delish and just as much mine as his. I ate a few more and then picked myself a handful to take home for dessert. When the berries started rolling off the mound I held in my palm I started to feel like the greedy character in a Greek moral tale and decided I had enough.

Several possibilities ran through my head: mulberry cobbler for one; mulberry tartlets; mulberry crisp; mulberry crumble. In the end I just sprinkled them with a bit of sugar, let them macerate while I prepared and ate dinner, and yummed them up with some whipped cream and two of the langues du chat I made on Sunday.

I don't think you'll find them at market, somehow. They're not as luscious as a blackberry or spritely as a raspberry, but they're a fine berry in there own right. They're firmish, subtly sweet, and definitely tart--if you happen upon one that is perfectly ripe the sweetness does actually outweigh the tartness. Their seeds don't get stuck in your teeth--I didn't notice them at all--which is nice and although their little green stems don't seem to come off, I didn't notice them any more than I did the seeds. If you ever get the chance, definitely give these berries a try.

Having discovered this mulberry tree, I feel my block has become that much more attractive. I'll be walking that way more often, I think, and if there are any berries left--if the birds and that man haven't eaten them all--I'd like to pick enough to bake something.

Chocolate Pots de Crème with Langues du Chat

Eight dollars might seem like a lot to spend on two and a half ounces of chocolate one is only going to cook with. I probably should have savored each square over the course of a month with an after dinner liqueur or espresso. They do say, however, that one should never cook with wine one wouldn't drink and I don't see why the same shouldn't hold true with chocolate. And besides, I had raw Jersey cream in the fridge, 'cause I always do, and last week's eggs that needed using, and one can always find 1/4 cup of sugar in the pantry--so pots de crème it had to be.

Chocolate Pots de Crème

serves 6

• 5 oz. good dark chocolate, finely chopped
• 2 cups heavy cream, please not ultrapasteurized
• 4 egg yolks, room temperature
• 1/2 cup sugar
• pinch salt, cause it always helps

• Preheat oven to 300°F. Bring a quart or so of water to a simmer over medium heat. Arrange 6 ramekins (or tea cups, or small bowls) so they are not touching in a large baking dish and set aside.
• Have the chopped up chocolate ready in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan bring the cream just to a simmer over medium heat. Pour cream into chocolate and stir until completely melted. This might take a few minutes. If necessary, hold the bowl over the water you're bringing to a simmer for a few seconds to melt the last few stubborn bits. Be sure to stir constantly. Set aside.
• Whisk the yolks, sugar, and pinch salt together in a large bowl until they have thickened and become pale, about 2 minutes. Slowly whisk in about 1/3 of the chocolate mixture. Once combined add the rest while stirring constantly and trying not to incorporate any air.
• Strain the custard mixture into a large measuring cup or that perfect bowl which pours well. Once strained, divide the mixture among the ramekins. Rap each dish sharply on the counter a few times to eliminate any air bubbles.
• Carefully pour the water you have heated into the baking dish so it comes about half way up the sides of the ramekins. Cover baking dish with foil and poke several holes in it to allow steam to escape. Bake about 25 minutes or until the outer edge of the custard is set but it is still jiggly in the center. (In my opinion, it is better to take them out too early than too late. Nothing is more disappointing than rubbery, overcooked custard.)
• Remove ramekins to a rack and allow to cool to room temperature. Serve straight away or cover with plastic and refrigerate up to 4 days. Allow pots de crème to come back up to room temperature before serving.

Pictured here with a langue du chat.

As for the langues du chat. The pots took 2 egg yolks and, as you might have noticed, I am not one to throw out left over whites. One instantly thinks of meringue when there are whites sitting on the counter, but I didn't want to make meringues. I had been wanting to try langues du chat for some time and thought a crisp, plain cookie would go well with my pots de crème. I found a recipe in Paula Peck's The Art of Fine Baking and was delighted to see that it called for egg whites. I do love it when a plan comes together.

Langues du Chat

Paula Peck

• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 3 egg whites
• 1 cup flour, sifted
• pinch salt
• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

• Preheat oven to 400°F. Line baking sheets with parchment and set aside.
• Cream butter and sugar together. Beat in unbeaten egg whites a little at a time, beating very well after each addition. Fold in flour, salt, and vanilla.
• Fit a pastry bag with a round 1cm tip and fill with batter. On prepared baking sheets, press out pencils of batter about 2 inches long. Leave 1 inch between cookies for spreading.
• Bake about 7 minutes, or until edges of cookies are golden brown. Centers should remain light. Remove cookies from baking sheet at once.
• Yield: approximately 50.

A delicious accompaniment to chocolate pots de crème.

The chocolate I used from the Mast Brothers of Brooklyn--72% cacao with sea salt--gave my pots de crème a very particular, even peculiar, yet not at all unpleasant flavor. Very chocolaty, but with something else besides. Not salty, really, but something...something obviously difficult to describe. The texture was heavenly, though. What else could one expect when using the best cream in the world and eggs from chickens I've met.

This was my first attempt at langues du chat and there are several things I wish I'd known before I started. When eaten soon after coming out of the oven they are perfect--crispy and buttery and melt on your tongue. If humidity is an issue where you live, as it is here, your cookies will soon become soft even if stored in an air tight container. Also, and next time I'll try this, many recipes call for powdered sugar instead of granulated. Apparently it maximizes cookie spread, minimizes aeration during mixing, and lends a finer texture to the finished cookie. One other tip: have a steady hand while piping out the cookies and try not to spread the dough with the tip as you pipe. Any irregularities will be magnified as the cookies spread. An entire sheet of mine came out wiggly due to uneven piping.

All the same, they were delicious and a lovely accompaniment to a rich chocolate pudding.

Leftover Yolk Custard

After making the macaroon nests in my previous post I was left with two forlorn looking yolks sitting in a bowl on the counter. I couldn't bear to see their golden goodness slip down the drain so I thought, "Aha! Custard."

Leftover Yolk Custard

Makes 3 individual custards

• 2 egg yolks, left over from another recipe
• 1 whole egg
• 1 1/2 cups milk
• 1/8 cup maple syrup
• pinch salt

• Beat together the yolks and the egg. Add milk, syrup, and salt and combine well. Strain into one large dish or a few individual dishes. Place custard dish(es) in another dish and fill with hot water so that water comes about half way up the custard dishes. Bake in a 300-degree oven for about half an hour or until a knife comes out clean. Custards should still be very jiggly in the middle--they will continue to firm up as they cool.

Serve at room temperature alone or with an accompaniment of your choice.

Chocolate Almond Cake

Andrew Whitely seems to understand that as much as Bread Matters, one cannot live on bread alone. When I came across his recipe for Luxury Chocolate Cake, I had to try it. And since it is the season of people making sweets for the sweet I thought it not inappropriate.

I made two six-inch cakes and stacked them with a layer of ganache in between. While this worked well and the layers sort of melded together in the night, I think next time I might try to make just one thick six inch cake instead. Since there is no flour or rising agent other than the eggs, this cake does not rise very much, so don't be surprised or disappointed when it doesn't.

Chocolate Almond Cake

Makes one large or two small cakes

• 100 g butter
• 100 g sugar
• 100 g ground almonds
• 2 eggs, separated
• 200 g dark chocolate
• 60 g whipping cream

• For the cake: Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in egg yolks. Melt 100 g chocolate in a double boiler or your version thereof and add to butter mixture. Whip egg whites to soft peaks and gently fold into batter, trying not to knock the air out of them. Butter and flour cake pans and line the bottom with parchment. (I had to make this cake twice because the first time it stuck to the bottom of the pan.) Bake at not quite 350°F (170°C) for 30-40 minutes. Cool on wire racks.
• For the ganache: Melt 100 g chocolate. Scald the cream (bring it to boiling point and remove immediately from heat) and add it directly to melted chocolate. Beat chocolate and cream with a wire whisk until shiny. Spread over cooled cake(s) with a palette knife.

A dense, moist, rich cake. Can serve as many or as few as you like.

My ganache, as you can see, never became shiny. I must have done something wrong along the way. It still tastes delicious, though, and doesn't look half bad. Which is to say, I am learning, ever so slowly, that things don't have to be perfect to be perfectly good.