dark chocolate milan cookies

Thankfully, July’s Daring Bakers’ challenge was forgiving and fairly easy.  From the website:

The July Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Nicole at Sweet Tooth. She chose Chocolate Covered Marshmallow Cookies and Milan Cookies from pastry chef Gale Gand of the Food Network.

As I was busy for most of the month tying up loose ends for my July 25 wedding (to the most incredible man ever!… oh, and “loose ends” being such trivial details as baking150 wedding cupcakes and 2 batches of Mexican wedding cookies, as well as creating 24 centerpieces, 9 bouquets, and 3 bouttoniers), I was only able to make the Milan cookies. (They served quite nicely as thank-yous for a surprise girls day out!)

finished product

They taste pretty good, but are a little too sweet – I should have added some extra lemon zest to the cookie batter to make up for the lack of orange in the chocolate (my tummy can’t tolerate the combo, so I tweaked that part of the recipe).

Since I’m not the best at following directions, I also ended up with a million tiny little cookie dollops that I decided would be better suited with some rockstar nonpareils:

way more fun to make than stuffy milanos

And to satisfy Erik’s monster sweet tooth, I used some of the largest misshapen cookies to make fake-me-out black and whites (guess which chocolate I didn’t have in my freezer?):

the dc humidity turned these soggy after a day, but darn were they tasty!

Ugly, but oh so yummy!

a tale of two cake(ies)

I bought Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours about a month ago, but hadn’t had the opportunity (read: need) to use it until this week, when it pulled double duty for two work functions.

Project #1: Birthday cake. Ryanne turned 30 on Sunday, no small event… so what better to make than one of Dorie’s famous “Celebration Cakes”? Wooed by the beautiful cover art, I tried my hand at her gorgeously-crafted Devil’s Food White-Out Cake. This particular dessert is to be baked in two 8″ cake pans, then split – three get stacked; the fourth gets crumbled and used as a topping. Since I only have 9″ pans, I knew my cakes would be slightly thinner than expected… but when they were done baking, it became devastatingly clear that three tiers would simply not suffice. Luckily, there was plenty of swiss meringue to spare, and I used crumbled Oreo’s around the edges of the cake for some much-needed texture. Overall, the cake fit the event: understated and a bit slapdash, but fun just the same.

not a complete failure

Devil’s Food White-Out Cake: full recipe here
(from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking)

Obviously, my cake was a far cry from hers. I didn’t even bother taking any pictures of slices, because they were a hot mess of frosting and Oreo crumbles. Meh. Onwards!

Project #2: Goodbye cake. Shirley, a co-worker and friend, is leaving our company (traitor!) and deserved a semi-proper send-off. Hosting said event also gave me the opportunity to make Dorie’s Perfect Party Cake. Since, in grand Amy fashion, I did not start baking until a little after 9PM, the process was a bit more hurried (harried?) than it should have been, but I followed the instructions to a T and still…

...flat as a pancake.

Since this is supposed to be four layers, I then had to cut those impossibly thin rounds into even impossiblier thin slices. The cakes had barely cooled when I made my first attempt, with a carving knife.

No dice. The knife was merely sliding across the browned edge of the cake.

So I switched to my handy dandy serrated bread knife.

Still nothing. Be it my cake pans, the sugar, my oven… something had caused the edges to become almost candy-hard. But after a little coaxing, my Santuko was able to handle the job. Almost.

Yes, it is important to cool your cake. Completely.

After a little manuevering, I was able to arrange the broken pieces into some semblance of a complete layer. Then I ran into another problem: there’s no way to cleanly spread buttercream onto jam.

Ew.

[Note: My friend notes that had I taken the time to do a crumb coat, then freeze, then spread the jam, then freeze, then add the rest of the buttercream filling, this would have been a lot cleaner. But I'm hardly a patient person under the best of circumstances, so even if I'd known this I doubt I would have done so. (It was 11PM, folks!)]

Unfortunately, there’s no picture of the final cake – it got eaten too quickly! (Pretty? No. Yummy? Hell hes.) But here are a few sliced shots for you:

Half of the imperfection.

Care for a fun little comparison? This photostream does a great job of making me feel like a total loser.

 

The final slice. (Erik's a lucky boy!)

Full recipe here (another Daring Baker!).

speed caking

When Erik and I first started talking about spending the rest of our lives together, I told him that the only reason I could think of to get married was for a brand-spankin’ new KitchenAid stand mixer.

It wasn’t until months later, after he’d proposed and we scanned the big green apple of my eye into our registry, that I realized perhaps comparing the value of a lifetime partnership to a $300 kitchen gadget was perhaps a little callous; luckily Erik has a good sense of humor.

Luckier still, my family gives great gifts:

Oh no, you’re not seeing double. Those are twocount’emtwo KitchenAid stand mixers in my living room!

 I left my shower on Saturday with three shopping carts (we live in an apartment and are thereby forced to measure quantities in this rudimentary fashion) full of incredible presents, including two delightfully heavy KitchenAids. Alas, my attempts to woo Erik with the charms of inviting a second counter-sized object into our already cramped living quarters (But you can use the white one to make your sausage! Sometimes I’ll need two when I’m making double batches!) were dreadfully unsuccessful. (As thus, through the magic of gift receipts, was the smaller of the two transformed into new work wardrobes, of which both of us are dreadfully in need.) Only she remains:

*Homer drooooool*

Since I’d also been gifted my weight in Calphalon bakeware, a cake was surely in order! But it was already 10:45PM…

Bone china? Blech. We registered for bakeware!

No, Erik definitely wanted cake. Upon his request, I made one straight from the KitchenAid cookbook (a little bitty job included with each mixer). Yes, I should have known better than to trust a one-bowl recipe that called for shortening.

Hmm. Not my best work, but surely it would taste delicious!(?)

And yes, I should have recognized that 2 ounces of bittersweet Ghirardelli would not be enough to effectively flavor the batter. But in the heat of the moment, I didn’t, and so I ended up with two flat, pale-brown rounds that resembled overcooked pancakes more than they did moist chocolate cake.

The true measure of a non-stick pan - if you look closely, you can read the Calphalon logo in the middle of the cake.

After tossing together a quick peanut butter buttercream (using the whisk attachment!), I began to assemble.

Not so bad for 30 minutes' work!

Eventually, though, all the rushing caught up with me…

Oops.

But it wasn’t anything 6 toothpicks and a handful of chocolate shavings couldn’t fix!

My first KitchenAid creation!

Since this was, by far, the worst chocolate cake I’ve ever made, I’m not going to share the recipe here.

The moral of the story is: Amy loves her KitchenAid. The end.

nectarine bakewell tart

Sick of making nothing but cupcakes and cookies, I took my co-worker’s advice and joined the Daring Bakers (www.thedaringkitchen.com) to force myself to expand my culinary repetoire. From the site:

June Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart… er… pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800’s in England.

I’m notoriously cheap, so I had to find a filling that fit my wallet – after spending thousands planning my wedding, I hardly have room in my budget for organic cherries or the like – so I picked up a few sale nectarines.

I also don’t have a kitchen scale, so I threw caution to the wind (what’s daring about following recipes to a tee, right?) and made my best guesses (noted below) about the various measurements. This, perhaps, could help explain the “incident”:

My bakewell had a bit of an accident. Yes, I ate the drippings.

Expecting a cobbler-type product, I peeled and thinly sliced two of the nectarines and laid them on the bottom of my par-baked crust, topping that with a quick jam made from the remaining nectarines, 2 tbsp sugar, and 1 tsp almond extract.

I also probably ate the equivalent of 2 nectarines while slicing.

Without further ado, the recipe:

Bakewell Tart
[adapted from The Daring Bakers]

Shortcrust Dough
16 tbsp flour
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
8 tbsp butter, frozen
2 egg yolks
1/2 tsp almond extract
2 tbsp ice cold water

Sift together flour, sugar, and salt.
Using a cheese grater, shred the frozen butter into flour mixture; mix well.
In small bowl, whisk together yolks and extract; incorporate into flour mixture.
Add water until al dry ingredients are moist.
Form into round patty and refrigerate for 30-60 minutes.
Roll out until 1/2 inch thick; line tart pan with dough, cover, and freeze for 30 minutes.
Bake at 350 for 10 minutes.

Frangipane
8 tbsp butter, softened
12 tbsp icing sugar
3 eggs
1/2 tsp almond extract
1 cup whole unsalted almonds
2 tbsp flour

While the crust is in the freezer, cream butter and sugar for 1-2 minutes, until fluffy.
Add eggs, one at a time, mixing between additions.
Add extract. 
In food processor, grind almonds with flour for 30-50 seconds, until powdery.
Slowly add dry ingredients, mixing well between additions.

Nectarine Jam
2 whole nectarines, peeled, pitted, and sliced
2 tbsp sugar
1 tsp almond extract

Place sliced nectarines and sugar in small pot on low heat
Bring to a soft boil and add almond extract, stirring often.
Once fruit is soft and congealed, remove from heat and let cool.

Place slices of nectarine on bottom of crust and top with thin layer of jam.
Spoon frangipane over fruit.
Bake tart at 400 for 40 minutes.
Optional: Spinkle sliced almonds on top of tart and bake 10 additional minutes.
Cool thoroughly and enjoy!

Bake-dnotso-well Tart (without almond topping)

lemon (half)poundcake

A handful of gals from the office meet once a month for an Iron-Chef-style potluck lunch: the theme ingedient is announced a few weeks before, and each person must bring in a dish starring that element. (Pop quiz: The ratio of women:men at our office is a. 3:1, b. 4:1, c. 17:1, or d. nonexistent.) May’s ingredient was rosemary; this month we chose lemon.

Fearing a table full of meringues, tarts, pies, bars, and squares, I diligently searched through my cookbooks for a main dish that was easy to make, easy to serve, and required only ingredients I had on-hand. (Did I mention that this was at 10PM the night before?)

Lemon chicken? None of my meats were thawed. Mmm cucumber lemonade! But the cukes had spent three unused weeks in the produce bin and would win no awards as co-star. Lemon soup? Ugh. Clearly, I was at an impasse: I was going to have to make dessert, and stat. No time for curd or room temperature butter – I needed a miracle! Or, maybe just a recipe for poundcake that called for melted butter.

It may only have 1/2 the butter, but you sure can't call this "light."

Lemon Poundcake
(adapted from the trusty ATKFC)

1.5 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1.25 cups sugar
4 eggs, room temperature
2 sticks butter, melted and cooled
2 lemons (zest and juice)

Preheat oven to 350 and line the bottom of a greased 9×5 loaf pan with parchment paper.
Whisk flour, salt, and baking powder in small bowl.
In large bowl, mix melted butter, sugar, and eggs.
Combine dry and wet ingredients, removing large clumps but taking care not to overmix.
Bake at 350 for 50-55 minutes.

It took a while for the middle to set, but when it did it was perfect – moist and springy, with a slightly lighter texture than grocery-store loaves. Not into citrus? Sub 1 tsp vanilla, almond, or coconut extract for the lemon.

And for those of you who wondered, my fears were unfounded – the lunch ended up being perfectly balanced: salad, rice, pastas, protein, with my poundcake for dessert.

brownies, my way

My mother loves making brownies.

From a box.

When my brother and I were young, eager kitchen helpers, we split the brownie-baking duties: Brian dumps the powder from the musty-smelling cardboard box (even though I was obviously better at it – didn’t my mom see how he got it all over the counter? Ugh.). I measure and add the water, tiptoeing one cupful carefully from sink to bowl. He adds the eggs; I add the oil.

[A note: We never, as a rule, measured oil. One glug=One tbsp. Perhaps mom just didn't like cleaning canola out of the measuring spoon. I have carried this tenet to my kitchen, and it hasn't failed me yet. but I digress...]

Then the directions got very scientific, very precise – no room for glugs here. We had to stir the brownie mix fifty times. I watched Brian like a hawk during his turn, ticking off every spin of his thin wrist, eventually and invariably disagreeing on when it was time for me to take over. When I got to forty or so, I took the whole bowl in my arms and muscled out those last few, thick-battered beats.

Then grease, pour, [lick bowl] and bake. But mom didn’t stop there – oh no. She may have been using duncan hines, but she’d always put her own spin on them, dipping into cabinets for forgotten bags of Ghirardelli and dusty double-boilers. Caramel and pecans, marshmallow fluff and walnuts, dark deep swirls of melted chocolate. She flitted about until suddenly, definitively: she was done, having created an 13×9 work of edible art.

when I was too old and rebellious for baking with the family, I attemped them on my own. My boxed brownies would often end up missing eggs, or oil, or some other distinctly important ingredient. I routinely over-mixed, and there were never any toppings.

I’m semi-grown now, and have my own kitchen to move deftly about. While I have the time and the patience, before there are children to dance around my ankles and step on my toes, I bake purely from scratch. Though the jury is still out on whether or not these brownies would measure up to my mother’s semi-homemades, I’m happy with the results.

Dark chocolate brownie bites with cream cheese frosting

Dark Chocolate Brownie Bites
(adapted from America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook – makes ~40 minis)
12 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 stick butter
4 glugs oil
4 eggs
1 tbsp vanilla
1.5 cups sugar
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1.5 cups AP flour
1 tsp salt

Grease mini-cupcake tins and pre-heat oven to 350.
Microwave chocolate chips and butter in large glass bowl, stirring frequently to prevent burning, until smooth.
Add oil, eggs, and vanilla to bowl; stir until combined.
Gently incorporate sugar and cocoa powder.
Stir in flour and salt.
Fill cupcake tins 2/3 high and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.
Move tins to wire rack and cool for 30-40 minutes before removing/frosting.
 
Cream Cheese Frosting
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 stick unsalted butter, softened
3.5 cups icing sugar
2 tbsp heavy cream
1 cup chopped pecans (optional)

Thoroughly mix cream cheese and butter.
Add icing sugar, 1/2 cup at a time, until frosting is thick and slightly lumpy.
Add heavy cream and stir until smooth.
Frost cooled muffins and top with a sprinkle of pecans.