Queen of Tarts

I saw this tart on the cover of April's Gourmet Magazine and knew I had to make it. I even finally bought a tart pan with a removeable bottom. I predict many quiches and elegant pies in my future. Additionally, I think I may have solved my previous pie crust issues. Thus in the epic battle of me-versus-tart, I am the victor. I am the Queen of Tarts.

Strawberry Tart: from Gourmet Crust:
1 1/4 cups flour 3 tablespoons granulated sugar 1/4 teaspoon salt 7 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 egg yolk 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons cold water Filling:
1 1/2 pound strawberries 1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon lemon juice 1/2 cup amaretto 1 pound mascarpone cheese 1/4 cup confectioners sugar 1 teaspoon lemon juice 1 teaspoon lemon zest 3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Pre-heat oven to 375. For crust, blend flour, 3 tablespoons of sugar, salt and butter in a large mixing bowl with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse meal. In a small bowl, whisk egg yolk, vanilla, lemon juice and water. Add wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and mix until a dough is formed. Turn out on a lightly floured surface and knead a couple times. Form a flat, 5-inch circle with your hands. Place circle of dough into 9-inch tart pan and press with your fingers until dough covers the bottom and sides of the tart pan. With fork, stab little holes into the bottom of the crust.

Cover crust with aluminum foil and fill with pie weights or uncooked rice (guess which I chose). Bake for 20 minutes and remove tart from oven and remove foil and rice. Replace in oven and bake for another 20 minutes until golden. Let cool for at least 30 minutes.

While tart crust is cooling, make the filling. Slice strawberries and place in bowl with 1/3 cup granulated sugar and 1 teaspoon or so of lemon juice. Let sit for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, to allow the juice from the strawberries to collect in the bottom of the bowl.

Meanwhile, mix together mascarpone, powdered sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest and vanilla in a medium bowl. Once tart crust has cooled, spread mascarpone evenly onto the crust.

Go back to the strawberries. Using a strainer, pour the strawberries and their juice over a medium frying pan. Once drained, arrange the strawberries on top of the tart. Going back to the skillet, add 1/2 cup of amaretto liqueur to the strawberry juice mixture. Bring to a boil and simmer for 15 minutes or until it has reduced by half or has thickened to a syrup. Remove from heat and pour over tart. Refrigerate before serving. This is best eaten the day of.

Chocolate Cake

The second of the Easter desserts is another of Molly's recipes from A Homemade Life. I had been plotting out three desserts for the holiday meal for maybe even weeks in advance. I was going to do two of yesterday's Orange Upside-down cake and tomorrow's strawberry tart. But Thursday night I came across Molly's Winning Hearts and Minds Cake at the end of her book and knew it was exactly what was needed. (If one can actually need dessert.)

I think I may have made a mistake. A cake that goes by the name "Winning Hearts and Minds" perhaps shouldn't be the accompaniment to a fancy, orange cake and an even fancier strawberry-mascarpone tart. It will be over-shadowed because, even though it is chocolate, it's just chocolate. There is no drizzled caramel syrup, no snicker's bars, no crushed oreos and no mocha flavoring. It's just a (nearly flourless) chocolate cake. One that, according to Molly, has magical powers of persuasion. We're all in need of a little help in winning hearts and minds, not least of all me. And if this cake helped Molly along in that direction, it can't hurt, even if all I'm doing is embodying the spirit of the chocolate cake.

Molly's Winning Hearts and Minds Cake: from Orangette 7 ounces unsweetened chocolate, broken into smaller pieces 7 ounces (1 3/4 cups) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar 5 eggs 1 tablespoon flour And I threw in some orange zest because I felt like it.

Molly suggests to either melt the chocolate in the microwave or on a double boiler. I haven't ever had success with melting chocolate in the microwave--it always burned. And double boiler's sound complicated and expensive--they're not. I use a medium skillet filled halfway up with water and then place a bowl on top of the skillet, as if the bowl were a lid put on upside down. I just so happen to have a bowl that fits perfectly inside my medium skillet. Be sure the water in the skillet doesn't touch the bottom of the glass bowl. And voila, double boiler.

Preheat oven to 375. Bring the water in the skillet to a boil. In the bowl melt the chocolate pieces and the butter completely, stirring continuously. Stir in the sugar and orange zest (if you want). Remove chocolate from heat (carefully). Whisk in eggs one at a time. Stir in the flour. Transfer to a greased 9-inch round cake pan. Bake in oven for 20 to 25 minutes, checking periodically the last five minutes.

My cake puffed up really big in the oven, which (needlessly) made me nervous. I am constantly afraid of under-cooking baked goods. You'll know the cake is done when the top is cracked and the middle jiggles only a little when you shake it. Allow cake to cool and it will probably lose the puffiness. Turn out onto a plate and then turn again onto a serving platter. This cake is freezable.

Orange Upside-down Cake

I went all out for Easter this week. In fact, everyone went all out. I had a half-day of work on Friday and spent my afternoon baking. I can't think of a better way to spend a few free hours, well at least off the top of my head. Joanie and Doug spent all of Saturday smoking the beautiful salmon pictured below. It was so good, it led my mother to loudly declare "I could eat salmon all day," in response to Jason's pensive ponderings on why he loves studying philosophy. Jason said something like, "Philosophy is something I'm really passionate about." And my mom (basically) said (in no small voice), "I'm passionate about eating." Katy was laughing so hard she started crying. To be fair, the salmon was good. (The creme fraiche-ish recipe is also listed below). We had a fun afternoon cramming a dog underneath the table and 13 people around it, even though we were missing my sister Allison. After dessert and ridiculously strong coffee, a group of us rolled ourselves out of the house and down to the park to play croquet. We sort of look like a J. Crew catalog in our Easter best (aside from my house slippers). Even Shelby enjoyed croquet. She frolicked from person to person asking to be petted and didn't even try to steal any of the balls. Orange Upside-down Cake is dessert one of three that I made for the holiday meal. This one was probably the sweetest and the most like a regular cake. Sweet with a subtle note of orange (sounds like perfume). And look how pretty with the caramelized oranges on top. My little sister Emily would not eat them even though I swore they were edible. "It's like candy, Emily." Megan, champion convincer, even joined in. "Emily, it's good. Just try it. Try it." She did. But even Megan couldn't convince her to try the asparagus. Orange Upside-down Cake: inspired by Gourmet Magazine 1 orange 3/4 cup sugar 3/4 cup water orange zest 1 1/2 cups flour 1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 1 stick unsalted butter 2 large eggs 1 1/2 teaspoon orange zest 3/4 cup buttermilk To caramelize oranges, slice orange into 1/4-inch thick pieces. In a skillet, cover with cold water and bring to a boil. Drain and set aside. In the same skillet, add sugar, water and orange zest and bring to a simmer, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Put orange slices back into the water and simmer gently until water has reduced and is syrupy. Should take 30 to 40 minutes. Remove orange slices with a fork and place in the bottom of greased 9-inch round cake pan. Pour syrup over oranges. Preheat oven to 350. In a medium mixing bowl, blend together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a separate bowl, mix sugar and butter until smooth. Add eggs one at a time and mix until smooth. Add in orange zest and mix. (I bought the cutest citrus zester at Target for like $3 on Friday, best buy ever!) Alternately, add dry mixture and buttermilk to the wet mixture until fully incorporated. Pour batter into the cake pan that already has the orange slices and syrup in it. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes. Allow to cool and dump cake onto serving dish. Creme Fraiche for Smoked Salmon: sour cream chopped red onion capers parsley Mix all the ingredients together.

Buttermilk Coffee Cake

After I cut myself I still had to make something to bring to work the following day. We have this thing at the office called the Breakfast Club, for which one person from a group about 10 of us brings breakfast every Friday morning. So not as cool as this Breakfast Club, but not too shabby. I signed up to have an excuse to bake something and share it, except that whenever it's my turn I forget until the last minute and have to run to HyVee to pick up a bunch of muffins. Or like last week when you do something like cut my finger with a knife, take a half-day holiday at the last minute and don't feel like cooking anything because it the busiest week of your life. (Remember how I exaggerate.)

But being the genius that I am, I knew all this would happen ahead of time. Thus in anticipation of my Thursday-evening bloodbath, I called my friend (and baking goddess) Sarah to come hang out and help me. That's her in the above photo doing all the work while I watched and gave directions (one of my favorite things), oh and made a mess of the flour. The recipe comes from my Better Homes and Gardens baking cookbook. Sarah doubted its deliciousness, declaring she had a killer coffee cake recipe at home. But I think I converted her in the end.

Buttermilk Coffee Cake: from Better Homes and Gardens
2 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup butter
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 eggs
1 1/3 cup buttermilk

Preheat oven to 350. In a large mixing bowl, combine flour, sugar and salt. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Set aside 1/2 cup of the flour-sugar combo. Stir in baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and nutmeg. In a separate bowl, whisk together eggs and buttermilk.

For those who don't have buttermilk just lying around, a cup of regular milk combined with a teaspoon of vinegar or lemon juice will do the trick.

Combine wet and dry mixtures. Spoon batter into 13x9-inch baking tray. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.

I Channa You Masala

A few weeks ago after a rather long meeting at work, I took a break on the sunny spring day to go to the Bookworm. I found Wallace's Infinite Jest but just wasn't satisfied until I made the entire bookstore staff turn the culinary department upside down looking for Orangette Molly's A Homemade Life. Once we had scoured the entire store to find the book, I couldn't very well not get it, could I? I was initially unsure about the book. There was a ridiculous amount of hype about it in the foodie blogosphere. But the cover was just so pretty. I've fully dug in and completely abandoned reading The Satanic Verses and ever picking up any sort of post-modern writing again, I swear. (Unless it's by Jonathon Safran Foer.) I love the book. Love it. I was reading it at lunch one day and actually started crying. Tears running down my cheeks. I had to go over and get a paper towel to dry my eyes. But funny thing, I hadn't run into anything I needed to make rightthissecond. I had been folding over the ears of the pages at the end of every single chapter, but I always do that and I never follow through. Until I came across the channa masala recipe. What I need from recipes these days is one that won't take long and one that doesn't require a separate trip to the grocer. What sealed the deal were these ingredients: fresh cilantro and garam masala. I had cilantro just sitting around the fridge after the salsa, waiting to be used on something besides a salad. And I had a bag of garam masala collecting dust in the back of my spice cabinet. Who has garam masala just lying around? I mean, I don't even know what that is. And just like Molly, this meal comes with it's own story. Unfortunately for me, mine is not accompanied with a cute boy sauteeing onions in my kitchen. My story is a touch more tragic. I had just been talking to someone, nary 24 hours prior to making the channa masala, about my partiality for chopping saying something like "the repetitive motion is therapeutic, and if you have a bad day, you can take it out on a bunch of vegetables, but I'm such a clutz it's a miracle I haven't severly injured myself." You can see where this is going. Instead of finely chopping the cilantro, I finely chopped my left index finger. I wanted to cry, but instead I just cursed all the way to the bathroom, ripping through the cupboard looking for some freaking bandaids and going through tissue upon tissue of blood-soaked toilet paper. Of course I was home alone, and of course my nurse mother was unable to answer her phone. I finally found an old T-shirt and paced around the living room until I was convinced I didn't need to go to the hospital to get stitches. (Have I mentioned I'm dramatic?) I finished off the rest of the meal with the T-shirt wrapped tightly around my finger. And no, blood didn't get into the cilantro. Molly's Channa Masala:

1/4 cup olive oil 1/2 large onion, chopped 1 teaspoon cumin 1 teaspoon coriander 1/2 teaspoon ginger 1 teaspoon garam masala 1/2 teaspoon cardamom 2 garlic cloves, minced salt 2 14-ounce can diced tomatoes 1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro finger (just kidding) dash cayenne pepper 2 14-ounce can chickpeas On medium heat, saute onion until soft-ish, about 5 minutes. Toss on the spices then add the garlic and saute for another minute. Add 1/4 cup water, bring to boil and simmer until its just about evaporated. Add the tomato juice from the cans of diced tomatoes. Simmer for a couple minutes then add the tomatoes and cilantro. Boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Add the drained and rinsed chickpeas along with 1/4 cup of water. Boil and reduce to simmer for 10 to 15 minutes until chickpeas are tender but firm to the bite. Halfway through add another couple tablespoons of water. Serve garnished with cilantro. Molly recommends serving with plain yogurt or lime.

Half-moon Cookies, aka Mezzalunas

Ahhhh, sigh of relief. I've just turned in a big story, one that I put a lot of pressure on myself to make good (lord, I hope no copyeditors read this blog or at least that sentence). I spent hours driving all over Omaha, interviewing people and pulling my hair out when the right words wouldn't come. And now I'm taking a break, for a moment, and writing the blog. Then it's back to work. Someday this week I'll finish that story that is already a week past deadline ... But right now, I want to think about rolling out dough on my kitchen counter and folding jelly-filled pastries into cute little pockets of sweetness. And don't forget, sprinkled with almonds. I'm relaxed already. Cue the Jose Gonzalez "Heartbeats."

I didn't break anything or injure myself in the process of making these pastries, which is saying a lot considering the past week. Though I did carelessly roll the dough too thin. I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, but the jelly melted in the oven and burned. The crust was still light and flaky, but the pastries with jelly still inside them were so much more delicious. This really was such a nice dessert to make, not too sweet. And rolling is so therapeutic. Time and again I come back to Italian recipes. They're always the best. Maybe it's my palate, but there's got to be a reason why we all love spaghetti.

To cut out the dough in circles, you're supposed to use a biscuit cutter. I don't own one of those, so I used the jar of jelly as a guide. Not to toot my own horn, but I am so good at improvising, not so great on the details. Someday I'll tell you the story of how I escaped from my stairwell later. This post is about mezzaluna cookies filled with strawberry jam.

Mezzaluna Cookies: adapted from Food and Wine

1 1/2 cup flour 2 tablespoons granulated sugar 12 tablespoons unsalted butter 2 1/2 tablespoons vanilla extract 1 egg white strawberry jam 1/2 cup blanched almonds, pulsed in food processor powdered sugar for dusting To blanch almonds, boil a cup or so of water on the stove. Drop in almonds for about 1 minute. Drain water and let almonds cool. The skins will sort of slip off if you squeeze the almonds. It's kind of fun, but be careful not to drop them on the floor.

Preheat oven to 350. For the dough, mix flour and sugar. Cut in butter and blend with a pastry blender. Add vanilla 1 tablespoon at a time. Food and Wine only recommended 1 tablespoon of vanilla. This was absolutley not enough for me, so I added more, kneading the dough until it all stuck together. Wrap dough in Saran and refrigerate for an hour. Cut off 1/4 of the dough and lie on flat, well-floured work surface. If you're nervous about the dough, follow the directions on this blog. Amazing. Roll until the dough is 1/8-inch thickness. Use biscuit cutter or large mug to cut out 4-inch circles from the dough. Repeat, recycling the dough until it's all cut out.

Arrange dough on baking sheet. Using a pastry brush (or barbecue brush, whatever), brush egg white on the circumfrance of the dough rounds. Spoon a teaspoon of jam onto the middle of the dough. Close and pinch shut with your fingers or with the edge of a fork. Arrange the pastries about two inches apart on the sheet. Once your finished spooning, brush the tops of the pastries with egg white, sprinkle with powdered sugar and almonds. Refrigerate the pastries for 10 minutes before baking. Bake until golden brown, about 40 minutes for 4-inch pastries.

Homemade Salsa

I did it. My first time using real, live jalapenos. And I didn't even burn myself, probably because I barely touched the pepper with my bare hands--I used a dish towel to grab it. But I did become more and more bold with the pepper, while making salsa last week for a Bible study I go to. The group meets Wednesday evenings for dinner, study and beer, starting at Aaron and Laura's and ending at the Upstream. I'd have to say, it's one of the greatest parts of my week. Aaron and Laura are the other "most hospitable people I know," in competition with Eric and Megan. But really, everyone there is great. If you happened to come in town to visit, I would introduce you to these people.

For dinner, everybody pitches in. My first effort with cooking for about 30 people ended (I think you could use this word) near disastrously. Let's just suffice it to say that something I cooked caused permanent damage to Aaron and Laura's stove. This time, things went better. I was pretty unsure about the salsa. Did I go too crazy with the onion and garlic? (If I did, friends, don't tell me, my ego can't take it.) Tim was absolutely raving about it though, apparently the best salsa he had ever had. I wouldn't go that far--at all. I did hear a couple people asking for gum or mints post-salsa. Some would say that's a good sign for salsa. My analysis: Store bought salsa costs like $3, but you don't get to pulse vegetables to a pulp in the food processor.

Homemade Salsa: 1 1/2 15-ounce can diced tomatoes 2 cloves garlic 1/2 red onion 1 jalapeno 1 tablespoon lime juice handful or two of fresh cilantro salt and pepper

Toss all the ingredients in the food processor and pulse it to a pulp.

With jalapenos, apparently the seeds and white-ish-hued ribs inside the pepper are the spicy parts. I started out with less of everything and tasted as I went along to adjust for heat, etc. Whatever you do, do not touch the pepper and then touch your eyes.

Spicy Meatball

My extended weekend in St. Louis wouldn't have been complete without a night in cooking together. Maria and I had been talking that we should do a cook off, a la Iron Chef America, but in the end we were all too tired from shopping and staying up later than I've stayed up in probably since college. So Maria, Maggie and I made turkey meatballs and spaghetti for everybody.

Of course we improvised it. Maria dug into the meat, egg, bread crumb mess.

Krista made vegetables.

Jenny took this artful photo. She can even make ground meat look good. Look at that flying oregano. Amy donated her apartment and cooking utensils.

Eight of us scrunched around this little coffee table in Amy's living room to laugh and eat. Life should always come with too many friends and too few chairs.

Turkey Meatballs for a Crowd:

3 pounds ground turkey meat

2 eggs

a bunch of unseasoned bread crumbs

a clove or two of garlic

parmesan cheese

salt

pepper

dried basil, oregano and parsley

olive oil

Mix all ingredients in a bowl. Use your hands, but make sure they're clean. The consistency should be goopy, thick enough to roll into a ball and not fall apart. Roll meat into golf-ball-sized balls. Turn a burner on to medium high and heat up some oil. Pan fry the meatballs until they are brown on the outside. Check one or two to make sure they're done. Serve with spaghetti and meat sauce.

Eric's Tikka Masala Mango Omelet

Here's why Megan and Eric are a great couple: Eric likes to cook and Megan likes to eat. I'll have backtrack and say that Megan does cook. But one of the best things about Megan is that she'll try anything and she almost always likes it. This is a great thing for me because I'll make something new that we all know isn't that good, but she always likes it. It's always great when someone declares your soup to be the best they've ever eaten in their entire life. Reason number two why Megan and Eric are great is that they are among the most hospitable people I know. They have always made me feel welcome, even when I'm the third wheel. I can remember the first meal Eric made that I ate. It was fish tacos with mango salsa a bunch of other good stuff that he threw together with the assistance of Megan. It was also my first introduction to Eric's roommates/med school friends. We sat at the table and discussed, in all seriousness, STDs. I found the conversation to be hilarious, but I think Eric's friends were embarassed later that the first time they met me they talked about the details of an ob/gyn rotation at the dinner table. If you can imagine our first conversation already going there, think of all subsequent conversations in Eric's living room sitting on his big, leather couch. If only the stories weren't too inappropriate to publish ... So I'll just tell one. Someone told me lately that they really appreciated Eric's quiet humor. I do too, though I think I'd describe his humor as unexpected. Back when we had our party in December, Eric showed up late after driving in from his rotation in western Nebraska somewhere. At some point in the evening, I used the word coif to describe a haircut. Eric didn't believe I was using the word correctly, so he got up and pulled my dictionary off my bookshelf to look it up. We subsequently got into a discussion about how, when I'm editing a story, people often use words that they think they know what they mean and how they should be used, but they really don't. Megan was in the room (and I can't remember exactly how this came about) but she got Eric to quiz her on random words from the dictionary. Eric would open a page and give Megan, Lindsey and me words to define from the dictionary AT OUR PARTY. I know what you're thinking, "what a lame party." But I thought it was hilarious. And I think you'd have to know how competitive Megan is to appreciate the situation. But who reads from a dictionary at a party? Yep, that's right, Eric. Eric sent me this photo yesterday and told me I could make up a blog. I may have just gotten a little carried away, and I didn't even talk about the omelet in the photo. I will say that Eric is an expert at throwing things together and having them turn out fantastic. Tikka Masala Mango Omelet: by Eric M. 3 eggs (2 yolks if you want your LDL to be 44 like Megan's) splash milk pinch salt two turns pepper quarter red pepper 1/2 clove garlic 3 tbsp onion minced avocado halved and sliced (only need a half) 4 cherry tomatos, halved 1/4 cup monterey jack, shredded 1 mango peeled and sliced and diced 1 loaf naan warmed 1/4 cup tikka masala sauce Saute diced pepper, onions and garlic in olive oil on high. Remove from heat, let pan cool. Turn heat to medium low. Mix eggs milk salt pepper but don't beat the eggs. Return pan to heat and cover sauted goodness with egg mixture. Add cheese, avocado, tomatos and 1/2 of tikka masala sauce to one half of omelet. Flip empty half of omelet over toppings when egg is cooked. Warm naan in the oven at 350 degrees. Plate half an omelet, garnish each with 1/2 of remaining masala. Serve with mango slices and 1/2 loaf naan. Open shades for sunlight. Brew strong coffee. Break bread. Enjoy. Serves 2.

Mom's Deli in St. Louis

I'm sure I'm not the only person to adopt the philosophy that when you're on a vacation from work you're also on a vacation from eating a balanced diet. Calories don't count when you're not sitting in front of a computer all day. Plus, how are you supposed to experience all there is to a destination without trying all its culinary options? Exactly. Now I've been to St. Louis, oh, about a million times. And still there are new tastes to savor. There's the Hill, this cute Italian neighborhood with bakeries, restaurants and independent grocers. Dogtown has a great St. Patty's day parade and (of course) Irish pubs. St. Louis is the birthplace of toasted ravioli. St. Louis-style pizza at Imo's is made with Provel cheese--a combo of swiss, cheddar and provelone that turns out nice and gooey sort of like an upscale Velvetta. And Ted Drew's boasts a thick ice frozen custard.

There's more than just toasted ravioli, pizza and ice cream to the Gateway City. Last week Jenny took me and Maria to Mom's Deli for some samiches, Krista and Amy met us there. The deli is smallish, small enough that they don't have indoor seating. There was a crowd that Friday, even though the only fish option in the Catholic-dominated town was tuna. But finally its nice enough to sit outside, so long as you're in the sun.

I ordered the Mom's Sub, which I can only assume to be the restaurant's signature dish (that was sarcasm). It came with like 10 kinds of meat (OK, just 3), tomato, lettuce, etc. and their homemade Thousand Island Dressing--a sauce that's made of mayonaise, ketchup, Tobasco and finely chopped and usually pickled vegetables. Thousand Island, a variation on Russian dressing, is another typical St. Louis thing. Wikipedia says that it was invented in Chicago (just like every other food), but the Missourians have adopted it. I'll confess I'm not a big fan of mayo or ketchup for their taste and for their nutritional value. My mother instilled these eating habits. But mixed together, yeah, it was good. I love a sandwich with lots of sauce--whether it's ranch or mustard--and Mom's delivered with plenty of 1000 Island.

Maria went for the parmesan chicken sandwich (because she only eats chicken) that I believe was actually topped with Provel cheese instead of parmesan. I made her let me taste it--good. And Jenny had to go with the tuna sub. She decided that since she's not going to church, she would at least adhere to the meatless Fridays during Lent. What a good Catholic. You know how at Subway you can order a six-inch and feel like you've restrained yourself? Well, Mom's only has foot-longs. It's OK, Maria, Jenny and I cleaned them up. Don't worry mom, we had played some tennis beforehand.