Biscotti for Joy

This time last year I was planning a birthday luncheon for my mother, Joy. The menu was simple, but some of the items required a lot of time and effort (like Thomas Keller's illustrious spinach quiche). There is no party this year, no shrimp to pickle or lemon buttercream to master — my mother is cavorting at the beach with a friend. Lucky woman.

I'll take Joy to dinner at Watt's Grocery, one of her favorite Triangle restaurants, when she comes to visit the weekend after her actual birthday. In the meantime, I thought I'd send a hold-over gift, a little something that recognizes her special day, a package that will be waiting for her when she returns from the coast. She's a chocolate fiend, but mailing a box of truffles in 90 degree heat is asking for trouble. After rummaging through several cookbooks, I decided to try Alice Medrich's Whole Wheat Biscotti.

I know, I know — whole wheat biscotti don't sound terribly festive. They sound almost punitive. But Medrich's recipe uses whole wheat pastry flour, which is really quite refined, and biscotti hold well, which is important in this situation. I skipped the suggested flax or sesame seeds (it is a birthday after all), and used chopped pecans in the dough simply because I had some tucked in the freezer. The result is a very crisp, light cookie that would pair well with coffee or tea, as intended.

Now I just have to stop nibbling biscotti, pack them safely away, and get to the UPS store.


Whole Wheat Biscotti
Adapted from Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy Melt-in-Your-Mouth Cookies
Makes about 25 biscotti

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
2/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/4 cup pecans, coarsely chopped


Preheat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit, placing a rack in the center. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or grease lightly.

Whisk the flour and baking powder together in a medium bowl.

Using an electric mixer, beat the brown sugar, oil, eggs, salt and vanilla together in a large bowl until thick and pale in color. This will take about 3 minutes. Add the flour mixture and pecans and stir until just combined. The dough will be thick and sticky. Scrape the dough onto a parchment-lined or greased baking sheet and spread it into a 5-by-15-inch rectangle (I used my fingers rather than an unwieldy spatula).

Bake for 30-35 minutes, rotating the pan from front to back halfway though to ensure even browning. Remove from the oven when puffed and firm, and cool on a rack for 20 minutes or more.

Turn the oven heat down to 300 degrees Fahrenheit.

Place the slightly cooled loaf on a work surface and slice into 1/2-inch thick cookies with a serrated knife. Remove the parchment paper or liner from the baking sheet and arrange the cookies about 1/2-inch apart (I actually needed 2 baking sheets to hold them all).  Bake for another 20-25 minutes, until golden brown, rotating the pan(s) again halfway through the process.

Allow to cool on wire racks. The biscotti will keep for 2 weeks in an airtight container.

Whole wheat naan

I find myself in sync with the food editors at The New York Times.

As I scrolled through photos of homemade naan last Wednesday night, searching for just the right shot to accompany this post on this traditional Indian bread, the newspaper was printing (and posting) a wonderful article on tandoor ovens.

While I won't be purchasing a $1299 tandoor anytime soon, I still found the piece interesting. Who knew that a ceramic artist now living in the Florida Keys made thousands of clay ovens for North America's Indian restaurants? Until a lot of extra money comes my way, my conventional oven will have to suffice. Happily, the results of my naan experiment were excellent, and pulling a baking sheet of puffed, zeppelin-like breads from the oven is pretty cool. If only I were as satisfied with the butter chicken I made that night.

I used a little whole wheat flour to assuage the refined-white-flour-guilt I sometimes suffer, but it's unnecessary (and not in keeping with a traditional recipe, from what I can tell). Feel free to use only white flour instead.


Whole Wheat Naan
Makes 12 breads

1 1/4 cups warm water
1 teaspoon active dry yeast
pinch sugar
1/4 cup ghee (clarified butter)
1/4 cup tablespoons plain yogurt
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 heaping teaspoon kosher salt
1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil (for greasing the bowl)

Dissolve the yeast and sugar in warm water. Let it stand for about 5 minutes, until foamy. Add the yogurt and ghee.

Whisk the all-purpose flour, whole wheat flour, and kosher salt together in a large mixing bowl. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir to combine. Knead the dough on a lightly floured work surface until smooth, about 7-10 minutes. Allow the dough to rise in a large greased bowl, covered with a dishtowel or plastic wrap, about 1 1/2 - 2 hours or until doubled in size.

Preheat the broiler.

Punch the dough down and turn it onto a lightly floured surface. Knead for about 5 minutes, then divide it into 12 pieces. Cover the pieces with a dishtowel or plastic wrap and allow to rest for 10 minutes. Roll each piece into a thin triangle about 7 inches wide.

Place the rolled doughs onto a baking sheet or broiler tray (you can probably fit 3-4 on one tray) and place them about 5-6 inches below the broiler. Don't get them too close — remember, the breads puff up, and you don't want to set them on fire. Cook for 1-2 minutes, then flip them over and cook the other side. The breads can be brushed with additional ghee if desired.

What Would Martha Do?

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Decorating camel-shaped sugar cookies sounds like fun, doesn't it? Make a few cookies, break out the royal icing, and spend a few hours playing with sanding sugars. It could, it should, be fun. But right now I'm suffering from some sort of sugar cookie paralysis.

Last month, Chapel Hill food blogger C. of SpiceLines decided to hold a cookie decorating contest. She provided the fabulous camel cookie cutters (the camel is the SpiceLines mascot) and inspiration (the lucky winner will receive a copy of Alice Medrich's Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy Melt-in-Your-Mouth Cookies). April 25, the deadline for entry photos, looms. Baked, naked camels sit on a cookie sheet in my kitchen, sanding sugars and bottles of food coloring gels at the ready. And I have no clue where to start. My initial impulse: camels-masquerading-as-other-animals. Zebra stripes, tiger spots. Purple sanding sugar doesn't really work with this theme, though.

I can't remember the last time I tried to decorate a cookie. So I'm up the proverbial creek, asking myself, "What would Martha do?" Suggestions welcome!

Christmas Eve + Banana Bread

It's 4 p.m. on Christmas Eve and I'm baking.

I'm at my own home this evening, but tomorrow I'll drive to my parents' house, a fresh loaf of whole wheat banana bread in tow. This is the quick bread I often bring as a hostess gift around the holidays, when everyone is inundated with plates of cookies and confections (very few of which are worth the calories). 

Last weekend's banana bread recipients were pleased — one friend consumed it at least twice a day and swore it was never-ending, like the loaves and fishes. A scoop of ice cream turns it into dessert, but I love it lightly toasted alongside a cup of coffee. The highlights of the recipe: sour cream for moisture, dark brown sugar for a more complex flavor, and whole wheat flour for a firmer texture.

I discovered this recipe in Molly O'Neill's New York Cookbook, a terrific compendium of stories and recipes for a truly astonishing array of dishes, from falafel to Southern-style greens to chopped liver (yes, chopped liver). This banana bread keeps for about 4 days at room temperature if well-wrapped. Best of all, it freezes beautifully.

My apologies for the far-from-ideal photo. It's getting dark — no natural light to be had. Merry Christmas!


Whole Wheat Banana Bread
Adapted from New York Cookbook
Makes 1 loaf

1 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
1 1/3 cups dark brown sugar
3 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon basking soda
1/4 cup sour cream
3/4 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed ripe bananas, about 2 medium

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease a 9x5x3 1/2 inch loaf pan with butter or Baker's Joy spray.

Cream the softened butter and brown sugar together. Add the eggs and vanilla and beat together. Combine the baking soda and sour cream, then beat this mixture into the batter.

Sift together the whole wheat flour, all-purpose flour and salt. Alternately add the flour mixture and the mashed bananas to the batter and mix until well combined.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, spreading it evenly into the corners. Bake until a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, about 1 hour. Allow it to cool on wire rack.

Snow! And Havremel Flatbrod

It snowed last night. In other parts of the country, this isn't unusual. But in central North Carolina, it doesn't necessarily snow every year, and wintry white flakes are uncommon in early December. I took a cue from Mother Nature and holed up at home. Chicken stock simmered slowly on the stove and I rummaged through the pantry for a crunchy snack. There were none to be found, so I took note of available ingredients, then browsed through Bernard Clayton's Complete Book of Small Breads for a recipe, settling on Havremel Flatbrod, or Norwegian Oatmeal Flatbread.

These crackers are slightly sweet, crispy, and addictive (the dog loves them). The dough is sticky and wet, and was a little difficult to work with. Clayton recommends using a pastry cloth and pastry sleeve-covered rolling pin, but I settled on smearing it across parchment paper with a flexible plastic dough scraper (and used my fingers). The result was a thicker cracker that took longer to cook than the recipe indicates — but I was still pleased.

Clayton writes that this flatbread is traditionally served with cheese, spreads, and soups, but I've been munching on them straight out of my handy Tupperware container. They should last for weeks stored this way, but I don't expect them to be around that long.

Havremel Flatbrod
Adapted from The Complete Book of Small Breads
Makes 1 pound

2 tablespoons sugar
3/4 cup melted unslated butter
1/2 heaping teaspoon Kosher salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
3 cups all-purpose flour or 2 cups all-purpose flour and 1 cup whole wheat flour
2 cups quick-cooking oats


Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Combine the sugar, melted butter and salt in a large bowl. In a separate container, combine the buttermilk and baking soda. Alternately add the flour and the buttermilk to the sugar-butter mixture, then stir in the oatmeal. If you're using a heavy duty mixer, use the paddle attachment and mix for 2 minutes, adding a bit of flour if needed. Knead for 4 minutes.

Working with 1/3 cup of dough at a time, roll it into a ball and then flatten it onto the pastry cloth. Roll it paper-thin with a rolling pin covered in a pastry sleeve. Roll it onto the rolling pin, then unroll it onto a baking sheet. If you don't have a pastry cloth and rolling pin sleeve, spread the dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet with a dough scraper, using your fingers as necessary.

Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 8-10 minutes, until lightly browned (my thick flatbread took close to 17 minutes). Slide the flatbread onto a metal rack to cool, and break into pieces.

Pumpkin madness

Pumpkin madness has begun.

Piled high on farmers' market tables, the orange-hued squashes remind shoppers that Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Their canned brethren — plain puree and the-too-be-avoided-at-all-costs pie filling — are prominently displayed in end-of-aisle pyramids at the grocery store. And for those not paying attention (or spending time) in food venues, pumpkin spiced drinks now receive top billing at coffee shops.

As much as I like the traditional spices associated with pumpkin pie — nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, sometimes a touch of molasses — I wanted to bake a little pumpkin something-something that veered in a slightly different direction. Regan Daley's recipe for Pumpkin and Orange Breakfast Cake fit the bill. Light and moist, this cake ushers in autumn with a bright citrus note.

I'm tempted to add cranberries in the future, but I stuck to the original recipe this time. Though I'm a coffee girl, I think this would be perfect with a cup of hot tea and the morning paper; a dollop of whipped cream on the side makes it an ideal dessert. And actually, it's delightful served plain, without any garnishes.

I took the lazy route and use canned pumpkin in this recipe, but roasting a pumpkin is easy. Cut a small pumpkin (about 3-4 pounds; use any type other than those sold for jack-o-lanterns) in half, remove the seeds with a spoon, and place in a large cassole dish or jelly roll pan with a few tablespoons of water. Roast at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 50-60 minutes. Scrape the flesh from the skin and pulse in a food processor until smooth. Most pumpkins are very fibrous, which can ruin the texture of baked goods, so don't skip this step.



Pumpkin and Orange Breakfast Cake with a Fresh Orange Syrup
Serves 10
Adapted from In the Sweet Kitchen

Cake:
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons finely grated orange zest
3 large eggs, two of them separated
1 cup pumpkin puree, homemade or canned solid-pack pumpkin
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cake flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

Syrup:
1 large orange, juiced
1/2 cup sugar

additional unsalted butter for greasing the pan

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter a 9-inch fluted tube pan (be sure to get into the nooks to avoid unhappiness later) and set aside.

Cream the butter, sugar, and orange zest until light and fluffy. Add the whole egg and 2 yolks - one at a time - to the butter mixture, scraping down the bowl after each addition. Beat in the pumpkin puree.

Sift the fours, baking powder and salt together in a medium bowl. Add to the batter in 3-4 stages, blending gently after each.

In a small bowl, whop the egg whites to soft peak. Fold them into the batter, then scrape it into the buttered pan and smooth with a spatula. Bake in the center of the oven for 50-60 minutes, until the sides begin to pull away from the pan and a skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely.

To make the syrup. combine the 0range juice and sugar in a small pan over low heat and stir to dissolve the sugar. Bring to a boil without stirring for 2 minutes, then use it immediately (pour a few spoonfuls on invidualy slices) or allow the syrup to cool and refrigerate for up the 3 days.

The cake holds for several days at room temperature if well-wrapped, or can be frozen for up to 2 months.

Smoke detectors and grape focaccia

My home's smoke detectors are very, very sensitive.

I never worry that I'll be asphyxiated in my sleep if the house begins to smolder, which is generally a big positive. But baking things at high temperatures on a stone — crusty, tasty things like pizza — sets off the smoke alarm. I'd forgotten (or blocked out) that tidbit before firing up the stove to make grape focaccia Saturday. The harsh, blaring noise forced me to throw open each and every window while flailing a kitchen towel around my head like a madwoman. It also drove my dog Gus into the backyard. He stayed as far from the house as possible, and had to be coaxed back inside.

It was worth the hassle. Tossed with freshly chopped rosemary and thinly sliced shallots, the grapes wrinkled and softened as they cooked. The natural sugars are intensified as they bake. It's a great textural experience, biting into oozing fruit, warm juices dribbling down your chin, then encountering a mellow bread with a crisp crust.

In the past, I've added a bit of turbinado sugar and crushed fennel seeds to the topping, when I'm going for a sweeter bread, or thrown in a couple of thinly sliced garlic cloves if I want a slightly more savory option. I think thinly sliced roasted fennel would make for an interesting combo — that goes onto the Things To Make in the Future List.

Grape Focaccia with Rosemary and Shallots

This recipe makes enough dough for 2 focacce, about 10 x 16 inches each. The topping quantity listed below is enough for one focaccia. Double the topping quantity if you plan to bake both, or freeze the leftover dough for future use.

Dough

1 package active dry yeast (2 1/4 teaspoons)

1/4 cup warm water (for dissolving yeast)

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 heaping tablespoon Kosher salt

2 1/2 cups water

6 1/2 - 7 cups all-purpose flour

Topping

1 large shallot, thinly sliced

1 1/2 cups seedless grapes (red or green)

1 tablespoon rosemary, finely chopped

1 large pinch Kosher salt

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Combine the yeast and 1/4 cup of water in a mixing bowl and stir to dissolve. Let it stand for about 10 minutes to proof.

Add the olive oil, salt, 2 1/2 cups of water and flour to the mixing bowl. Stir with a heavy wooden spoon. When the mixture comes together, knead it by hand on a floured work surface until smooth, about 12-15 minutes (a little less if you're using a mixer). Place it in an oiled bowl to rise, covered with plastic wrap or a tea towel, until doubled in size. This will take about 1 1/2 hours.

Divide the dough into 2 pieces and press into the desired shape on lightly floured or parchment-lined baking pans (mine are most often misshapen rectangles). Press your fingertips into the dough, forming small dimples. Cover and allow the shaped dough to rise for about 2 hours.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Brush the dough with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Toss the grapes and sliced shallots with a pinch of Kosher salt and finely chopped rosemary. Spread evenly over the focaccia dough, then bake for 25-30 minutes, rotating once to ensure even browning. Cool on a baking rack for 5 minutes before serving.

The beauty of roti

Unleavened bread is a wonderful thing. I've known this for a while, but it fell off my radar screen for a couple of years. I got caught up in the hoopla that (justly) surrounded Jim Leahy's No-Knead Bread  and turned to the magic of an easy artisan-style loaf whenever it came time to bake. That changed this past weekend, when I went with an Indian dinner menu for an informal gathering (a.k.a. Game Night).

I'm no Indian food expert, but with the help of Julie Sahni's Classic Indian Cooking, I turned out a great meal featuring braised chicken with bay leaves, cardamom and cloves; lentils in garlic butter; a fresh mint relish; saffron rice; and Besan ki Roti, or Chickpea Flour Bread. Roti requires a bit of last-minute effort, but the recipe couldn't be simpler and the results are terrific. Griddle baked and finished over an open flame, the roti puff up, the soft aroma of chickpea flour wafting into the kitchen as the breads gently deflate and are brushed with ghee (clarified butter). The bread is lovely by itself, though it's the perfect vehicle for scooping up other foods. I'll be making roti for solo meals, rolling out small portions of dough on an as-needed basis, but it's fun party food, something guests can help with just before you sit down to eat.

Note: I plan on increasing the amount of red pepper a bit the next time I make roti. I couldn't taste it and didn't get any heat using the recommended 1/2 teaspoon in the original recipe that follows. Follow your taste buds.


Chickpea Flour Bread (Besan ki Roti)
Makes 24 six-inch roti, enough for 8-12 people
Adapted from Classic Indian Cooking

2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup chickpea flour
1/4 - 1/2 teaspoon red pepper (optional)
1/2 teaspoon Kosher salt
1 1/4 cups (or more) warm water
additional all-purpose flour for dusting

Put the whole wheat flour, one cup of all-purpose flour, chickpea flour, Kosher salt and red pepper (if you're using it) in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade. Pulse a few times to combine, then add then the water slowly through the feed tube with the machine running. The dough will come together in a shaggy mass.

Turn the dough onto a lightly floured work surface and knead for 10-15 minutes by hand. The dough will be soft and slightly sticky. Cover and allow to rest for at least 30 minutes, but up to 24 hours, before you plan to bake.

Place the dough on a work surface, dusting flour at the ready, and knead gently for about a minute. Divide it into 2 balls, then divide each of those into 12 equal portions. Roll the pieces into small balls and cover with plastic wrap as you work with them individually.

Place one ball on your work surface, dusting with flour to prevent sticking, and flatten with a rolling pin. Roll into a disc about 6-inches in diameter.

Bake on a hot griddle (I used a cast-iron skillet) until a few brown spots appear and the bottom is cooked, then flip over and cook the other side for about 30 seconds. Using a pair of tongs, hold the bread flat over another burner  — over the flame — with the gas set to high. Cook for 10-15 seconds, then turn and cook the other side for another 10-15 seconds.

Serve as is, or brush with ghee (clarified butter). Roti doesn't reheat well — it gets dried out and leathery — so enjoy fresh off the flame or at room temperature.

Joy's cornbread

My father claims that it took my mother, Joy, two years to perfect her cornbread. Many of her initial cooking efforts were, um,  unsuccessful. I've heard tales of burnt pot roast, fallen cakes, and undercooked vegetables, though those last dishes would be considered overcooked by many today — think green beans stewed for hours with bacon. To be fair, Joy had just turned 20 when they married, and she didn't have much cooking experience. She went from her parents' house to a dorm room to sharing a trailer with her new spouse in Jackson, Mississippi.

When I stop to think about it, my father was probably just looking for his mother's cornbread. Don't most men want food like Mom used to make? Maybe this post should be named after my paternal grandmother.

I compare all other cornbread to this one, the one my mother made daily when I was growing up. When I left home it was the one recipe of hers I had to have, the one thing I knew I'd want to recreate wherever I lived, so I set out to record the process exactly. But Joy doesn't measure ingredients when she makes this particular dish. The cups and scoops come out for just about everything else, but cornbread she creates by eye, by feel. We came to a consensus after a few tries, and I'm happy to report that the following recipe will very accurately reproduce Joy's version.

This isn't for everyone. I expect that anyone accustomed to what my father calls "Yankee cornbread" will be appalled by the crisp exterior, lack of sugar, and somewhat dry crumb, but these are things I like best about it. I love the crunch, the fact that this cornbread is perfect for scooping up the juices that surround slow-cooked Southern summer vegetables like pink-eyed peas and butter beans.

Compared to Miss Effie's cornbread, described by my friend Kitty in her guest post back in August, my mother's cornbread is loaded with "extras" like flour and baking soda. Joy used to cook this with bacon grease — she kept it in an old orange juice concentrate container in the fridge — but she's lightened up and uses vegetable oil now. An iron skillet is mandatory. Don't even think about baking this in another type of pan. Leftovers can be frozen — they're great for stuffing.

Joy's Cornbread

1-2 tablespoons of vegetable oil, lard or butter for the skillet
1/3 cup cornmeal (yellow or white)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon table salt
1 egg
1 cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Place a 10-inch cast iron skillet — the bottom coated with a tablespoon of bacon grease, vegetable oil, or butter —  in the oven as it heats. The hot oil creates that crispy exterior you're aiming for.

Combine the dry ingredients in a medium mixing bowl with a fork or whisk. In another bowl, whisk the egg into the buttermilk, then pour this mixture into the dry ingredients. Pour the batter (it will be pretty thick) into the preheated skillet, spreading it to the sides with a spatula. Bake for 20 minutes. Warm slices are best slathered with butter.

Cell phones and pecan shortbread

It was a quiet Saturday. Very quiet. I was busy with meetings and errands, household chores and dog walks, but I enjoyed an unusual amount of down time, time for reading and movies — pleasures I don't get enough of on weekends. It was fantastic. I was a little miffed that I hadn't heard from a few people, but happy with the silence, the tranquility. When I went to recharge my cell phone Saturday night I realized the ringer was turned off. Five messages on voice mail, seven missed calls. Lesson learned: put the phone on vibrate more often, though do it intentionally.

Baking was included in Saturday's roster, as I planned to meet friends for coffee and wanted to bring a snack. I think coffee meetings beg for snacks. These can come in a savory form, but most often a sweet, sugary something-something is the best accompaniment to hot beverages and scintillating conversation. Or even not-so-great conversation. Our meeting was lively and fun, but I do think the cookies added a bit of cheer.

This was my first time baking cookies from celebrated author Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours (my very first post featured her pound cake). If the pecan shortbread is any indication of how good her other cookie recipes are, I look forward to more time in the kitchen with this book.

Greenspan's technique for rolling out shortbread dough was a revelation to me. I've always patted the soft dough into a prepared pan, pricked it with a fork, and preceded with baking. In this recipe, the dough is placed in a plastic bag with a zipped closure and rolled out into a smooth rectangle using a rolling pin. The top of the bag is left open during the rolling to let out air and avoid a nasty explosion. When the correct size is reached, the bag is sealed and the dough is left to firm in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours before it's cut into squares and baked. The result: the neatest, cleanest looking shortbread cookies I've ever made. Tasty, too.

Brown Sugar-Pecan Shortbread Cookies
Makes 32 cookies
Adapted from Baking: From My Home to Yours

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
pinch of ground cloves
2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup finely ground pecans

Confectioners' sugar, for dusting (optional)

Sift the flour, cornstarch, salt and cloves together and set aside.

Beat the butter and brown sugar together until the mixture is very smooth (about 3 minutes in a heavy stand mixer using the paddle attachment). Reduce the speed to low and add the dry ingredients. Mix only to incorporate - don't overwork. Add the ground pecans and mix the dough just a few more times, evenly distributing the nuts.

Use a rubber spatula to transfer the dough to a gallon-size zipper-lock plastic bag. Leaving the top open, place the bag on a flat work surface, and roll the dough into a 9 x 10 1/2 inch rectangle that's about 1/4" thick (mine was little thicker). Turn and lift the bag as you roll to avoid creases. Seal the bag, pressing out air, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or for up to 2 days.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and position the racks to divide the oven into thirds. Line  baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.

Remove the dough from the refrigerator and slit the bag open. Turn it onto a cutting board (throw out the bag) and cut the dough into 1 1/2-inch squares. Place the squares on the baking sheets and prick each with a fork, gently pushing the tines through the cookies until they hit the sheet.

Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, rotating the sheets halfway through (back to front and top to bottom). The cookies will still be very pale when they're done. Cool on a rack. I skipped the confectioners' sugar, but, if you like, dust the cookies with it while they're still warm. Cool to room temperature before serving.

These will keep in an airtight container for about 4 days at room temperature. They can be frozen for up to 2 months.

Just because peanut butter cookies

Peanut butter cookies remind me of my Uncle James. More accurately, they remind me of my mother, Joy, who bakes them for her brother a few times each year. Christmas is a given, but she's been known to whip up a batch of cookies for his birthday, when he's not feeling well, or just because. I think just because is the best reason of all. Fresh flowers gracing Monday night's dinner table, a hand written note that doesn't mark a special life occasion — these are the things that make me smile.

Joy relies on an old, well-worn copy of The Joy of Cooking for many recipes, and peanut butter cookies are no exception. They're crumbly and rich — wonderful cookies that remind me of home. One big whiff of the very peanut buttery dough transports me to childhood. My elementary school age self, slightly dusted with flour, stands at the kitchen counter, pressing the tines of a fork oh-so-carefully into the tops of the raw dough, simultaneously flattening and marking the cookies with a cross-hatch.

As a forty-something, I've strayed from my mother's standard recipe, adding coarsely chopped peanuts to the dough and often opting for the extra-large variety, which I find extra-appealing. I made a batch Tuesday night (regular size) and mailed half to Uncle James; the remaining cookies made it to work the following day. It's no one's birthday, (happily) no one is ill; it's a batch of Just Because Peanut Butter Cookies.

Peanut Butter Cookies
Makes about 28 cookies

1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup peanut butter (smooth or chunky)
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of kosher salt
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup lightly salted peanuts, roughly chopped (optional)


Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone mats and set aside.

In a small bowl, combine the flour, salt and baking soda. Set aside.

In a mixing bowl, cream the butter, then add the peanut butter and sugar, beating until light. Add the egg and vanilla, mixing until combined. Add the dry ingredients, mixing until well blended. Add the chopped peanuts (if using).

Roll the dough 1 1/2- inch balls and space them 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Flatten them slightly with the tines of a fork (I like to mark them in 2 directions, the lines running perpendicular to each other in a crosshatch pattern — old habit). Bake for 10-11 minutes, until light golden brown. Remove to a rack to cool.

Most excellent cherry oatmeal cookies

A package of dried Bing cherries caught my eye at Trader Joe's over the weekend. Clipped neatly to a hanger that ran the length of the shelf, the ruby spheres looked, well, interesting. Desirable. Promising. Surely they'd add something special to a grain salad or batch of brownies (those marketing people know what they're doing). Into my cart they went.

I began leafing through Cindy Mushet's cookbook The Art & Soul of Baking when I got home. Buoyed by my recent success with her cream scone recipe, I was eager to try more of her creations. Is it merely coincidence that the book included a recipe for Cherry Oatmeal Cookies? Divine intervention? I don't know, but in less than an hour I had a batch of homemade goodness a coworker described as "the best cookie ever." I've already received a request to make them again for Halloween. Is there a Halloween party at work I don't know about?

The only change I made to the original recipe was to increase the amount of dried cherries and oatmeal in the dough — in my opinion, more cherries and more oatmeal make for a better cookie. If you want to follow the recipe as written, decrease the amounts listed below by 1/4 cup. According to the cookbook, this recipe makes about 50 cookies, but I ended up with 36. Okay, so I ate a few spoonfuls of raw dough (I couldn't help myself), but not 14 cookies worth. I swear.

Cherry Oatmeal Cookies

Adapted from The Art & Soul of Baking

Makes about 36 cookies

1 stick (4 ounces) unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup light brown sugar, firmly packed

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup rolled oats

1 cup dried cherries

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and place a rack in the middle of the oven. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat.

Beat the butter, brown sugar and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Be sure to scrape the sides of the bowl with a spatula to be certain the ingredients are evenly combined. Add the egg and vanilla extract and blend well.

In another bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. With the mixer at a low speed, combine the dry ingredients to the butter mixture.  Add the oatmeal and dried cherries and mix until evenly combined.

Use a small ice cream scoop or spoon to portion the dough, spacing the cookies 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Bake for 13 to 16 minutes, rotating the baking sheets once to ensure even cooking. The cookies should be cooled on a rack and may be stored in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Improving my morning scone

Scones are lovely when properly made, but many store bought versions are lackluster at best.  I knew better than to purchase one at Starbucks the other day — none of their food is worth spending my money on — but they looked so pretty, sprinkled with sugar and piled high under a glass dome next to the cash register. I couldn't help it. I caved.

Maybe it would be different this time, I thought. Maybe this particular scone would have real flavor and a tender crumb, maybe it would bring back memories of clotted cream and jam at high tea. No such luck. I choked down the dry, bland crumbs with my Venti half-caff and swore I'd never waste my hard earned money on a Starbucks pastry again. It was time to start baking scones at home.

I tried a few different sources before declaring Cindy Mushet's cream scone from The Art & Soul of Baking the winner of my find-the-best-scone-recipe contest. Rich flavor + tender crumb + crisp crust = a good morning. I added orange zest and fresh rosemary to the dough for a different twist, though I baked three batches before I was really pleased with the results.

The first batch was tasty but the flavors were a little too faint. Batch two was a classic case of overcompensation — too much orange zest resulted in a slightly bitter scone (not what I want in my morning pastry). The third go round proved most satisfactory, a nice balance of sweet and savory, no trace of bitterness, but not cloying. As always, use the following recipe as a starting off point and make adjustments to suit your taste buds. A drizzle of orange glaze (1/2 cup powdered sugar and 1-2 tablespoons of fresh orange juice) would be a nice touch if you like a sweeter scone.

And now my mind focuses not on work to be done, but scone varieties:  classic currant, lemon-poppy seed, ginger, blueberry. As I write, Mushet's buttermilk raisin scone recipe beckons — additional scone postings are very likely to follow.


Orange Rosemary Scones
Makes 8 scones

Adapted from The Art & Soul of Baking

2 cups all purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
zest of 1 orange, finely grated
2 heaping tablespoons rosemary, chopped
1 stick (4 ounces) cold unsalted butter, cubed
1 cup chilled heavy cream
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon sugar and a touch of brown sugar for topping

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat.

Place the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in a food processor and process for several seconds to combine. Add the orange zest and rosemary and pulse again. Add the butter and pulse a few times, until cut into small pieces. Add the cream and pulse until the dough begins to clump together. I opted to finish pressing the dough together by hand on a work surface rather than risk over processing.

Pat the dough into a 1-inch thick circle, roughly 7 inches in diameter, then cut into 8 equal wedges. Place the wedges on the prepared baking sheet about 2 inches apart, then brush the tops with lightly beaten egg (there will be some left over) and sprinkle the tops with sugar.

Bake in the center of the oven for 14-16 minutes, until golden brown. Cool on a rack for 5 minutes before serving. The scones are best served the same day, but (despite Cindy Mushet's warnings) I found they were still acceptable 24 hours later if stored in an airtight container.

Late nights and food processor poundcake

Fistfuls of chocolate-covered almonds and late day caffeinated beverages conspired to keep me up way past bedtime Saturday night. I spent the evening with my good friends Rob and Kirstin, dining outdoors in their lovely backyard, dogs underfoot, followed by a (sloppy) game of darts. Rob won. When I returned home it was time to wind down, but I was far too jacked up by artificial stimulants to sleep. What to do close to midnight when sleeping is impossible? I broke out the food processor and started a baking project I'd put off for a over a week.

My friend CB emailed me in late August with a request. Attached was a link to Mark Bittman's New York Times piece "Sneaking a Poundcake Out of the Food Processor," which she wanted me to try. Is it really possible to make a decent cake batter in the food processor? I was curious, especially since I'd made a version of that very recipe (it was adapted from Flo Braker's The Simple Art of Perfect Baking, a wonderful book I've used for years) using a stand mixer. The primary difference between the newspaper version and the original (aside from technique): the Grandaisy Bakery poundcake is soaked in a citrus syrup after baking, intensifying flavor as well as the moisture level. This is a moist cake anyway, due to the almond paste in the mix. Using the food processor was quick, easy, the resulting cake wasn't tough, as I'd worried — try it yourself and see.


Citrus-Almond Poundcake
Serves 10-12
Adapted from The New York Times and Grandaisy Bakery

12 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, plus more for the pan
flour for pan
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup fresh orange juice
3 cups plus 2 tablespoons sugar
7 ounces almond paste
7 large eggs
2 teaspoons lemon zest
2 teaspoons orange zest
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups cake flour
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Thoroughly butter and flour an 8-cup Bundt pan, making sure to cover all nooks and crannies.

Put the lemon and orange juice in a small heavy saucepan with 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, until the sugar dissolves. Remove from heat and set aside.

Place the almond paste and 2 cups of sugar in the bowl of a food processor and process until completely combined. Add cold, cubed butter and process until light. Add the eggs individually with the machine running; add the zests and vanilla and process until smooth.

Stop the machine and add the flour, baking powder and salt. Pulse a few times, being careful not to over process, which will result in a tough cake. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake about 1 hour and 10 minutes, until golden. The cake is done when a cake tester or skewer inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow to cool in the pan, on a rack,  for about 15-20 minutes, then pour the citrus soak over it. Let it stand for 30 minutes, until the liquid is absorbed. Remove from the pan and slice.

Breakfast baking — blueberry cornbread

The baking bug got me this weekend — Saturday afternoon, to be exact. I wanted something with a crust, a bit of crumble, a piece of baked goodness that I could reheat and smear with butter for breakfast or a snack. After running errands all day I wasn't willing to make another trip to the grocery store, so a quick review of the pantry determined the menu.

The refrigerator contained a near empty quart of buttermilk, a half eaten container of my favorite Greek yogurt, a carton of eggs, and a pint of blueberries. Pantry staples flour, cornmeal, baking soda and salt were a given; combining all of the aforementioned ingredients resulted in Beth Hensperger's Yogurt Cornbread (with blueberries).

Without the berries, this would still be a nice cornbread. More cake-like than the cornbread I grew up with (or that described by my friend Kitty in her guest post), this bread is lightened with a cup of all-purpose flour, given rise with baking soda, moistened with egg, buttermilk and yogurt. The addition of blueberries transforms it from a lunch or dinner accompaniment to a breakfast-worthy treat. On Sunday morning, I toasted a slice in a cast-iron skillet and dabbed it with honey butter, which added the touch of sweetness I thought it needed to pass as breakfast food. With hot coffee and The New York Times, it was a wonderful way to start my day.


Blueberry Cornbread
Adapted from The Bread Bible
Makes one 8-inch cornbread

1 cup fine yellow cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
grated zest of 1 orange
2 large eggs
1/4 cup buttermilk
1 1/4 cups plain yogurt
1/4 cup corn oil (I used canola oil)
1 pint blueberries, rinsed

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Thoroughly butter an 8-inch springform or deep cake pan and set aside.

Combine the cornmeal, flour, salt, baking soda, sugar and zest in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk and yogurt. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and whisk together. Add the oil and blend to combine. Fold in the blueberries taking care not to over mix, then spoon the batter into the prepared pan.

Bake in the center of the oven for 25 minutes, or until a toothpick or cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Let stand for at least 15 minutes on a cooling rack before serving.

Waffledom

My weekend escape to Washington, DC may have been the best ever. That's saying something, as I've been to the nation's capital many times — and I used to live there.

After 4 1/2 hours driving on interstate highways, I relaxed on a small patch of green outside the sculpture garden Friday evening. I enjoyed live jazz, drinks, and a few tasty snacks with friends old and new. We had outstanding sushi that night followed by fantastic crepes the next morning at Eastern Market, a food and flea market on Capitol Hill (I also walked away with a cool t-shirt and a new piece of art for the house). Saturday afternoon involved window shopping and catching up with a dear friend in Old Town Alexandria, followed by another great meal. Sunday brunch with former co-workers wrapped up the weekend.

Quick trips to a city I called home for years are always lovely, but this particular weekend was stellar. Especially remarkable: gluten-free chocolate waffles at Sunday brunch. My friend Kathleen is allergic to gluten, and this dessert was perfect for her. Rich and dark, the waffles were topped with whipped cream, vanilla ice cream, and drizzled with hot chocolate and caramel sauces. Gluten-tolerant members of the party (myself included) missed nothing.

Back home in Chapel Hill, I started thinking about waffles. A lot. I thought about how much I like the crisp exterior that adds an interesting bit of crunch to any meal. I recalled how waffles make breakfast feel special, smeared with soft butter and drizzled with honey or maple syrup. I remembered how terrific they can be when served as dessert.

Lots of sugar in my diet is a bad thing — time to cut back on calories and crank up the exercise — so the idea of savory waffles took hold. Chicken and waffles are big in the South, and I love waffles topped with creamed mushrooms, but I needed something light. I found my favorite buttermilk waffle recipe and made a few changes, cutting back on sugar and adding shallots and fresh herbs. They were a great substitute for salad croutons at dinner, and I enjoyed one reheated for breakfast this morning.

Just a little bit of waffle to brighten my day, and to remind me to plan another trip to Washington. Soon.

Normally I would use 2 cups of buttermilk in this recipe, but I didn't have enough on hand after making cucumber soup last week. I added yogurt and whole milk to make up the difference. If you don't have buttermilk, you can make a quick substitute by adding 1 tablespoon of lemon juice or white vinegar to 1 cup of room temperature whole milk and letting it sit for 10 minutes.

I had a lot of parsley out back, but use your favorite fresh herbs. I love the slight heat of jalapeno — leave it out for a mellower waffle.


Fresh Herb Buttermilk Waffles
Serves 4-6

1 cup buttermilk
1/3 cup plain yogurt
2/3 cup whole milk
2 eggs
4 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled

1 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup stone-ground cornmeal
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 cup shallot, minced
2 tablespoons parsley, finely chopped
2 tablespoons thyme, finely chopped
1 jalapeno pepper, minced


Whisk the wet ingredients in a medium bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk the dry ingredients together. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and whisk together. Add the shallot, parsley and jalapeno, and stir until thoroughly combined.

Ladle the batter into a greased, preheated waffle iron and cook for 7-8 minutes, until crisp and golden. If serving warm, place them in a 250 degrees Fahrenheit oven (on a rack) while you cook the remaining batter.

If you won't be consuming them all at once, cool the waffles completely on a rack at room temperature before wrapping. They will keep in the freezer for one month.