Something New

Hi old friends. 

I'd like to introduce you to the long awaited, long-time work in progress, Kaitie Rose Cakes.

www.kaitierosecakes.com

From small batch recipes in my kitchen to photo shoots in friends apartments, Kaitie Rose is officially in business!  Currently based in Brooklyn, Kaitie Rose is now serving New York City and surrounding areas (we will travel...call with inquiries!!)

What does this mean for A Curious Cupful?  Well the news is sweet.  Quite literally.  You may see a number of changes coming soon to this page, particularly that subject matter will generally focus on all things celebration cake-centric.  Not so many veggies, lots of fruit, fillings, frostings and decoration.  Visits to the Greenmarket in search of the best seasonal flavors.  And no shortage of stories and recipes!

Also, check out our soon to be expanding Facebook page, where you may find a recipe or two from time to time as well... (up next, Plum and Currant Jam!)

Speaking of which those plums are calling.  So that's the short and sweet of it folks!  I could wait to share the news.  As always thanks for swinging through here to catch up on what's cooking.  Looking forward to sharing the journey ahead with you all!

Homemade

There are times in life when I am demanding.  Specifically, they are Saturday and Sunday mornings when Russ sleeps in late and I am hungry and  we are in need of a trip to the grocery store and there is no milk left for cereal.  Generally I pout on the couch, trying to ignore the roaring rumble in my stomach until Russ wakes up and makes something genius out of the scraps left from the week's shopping.

I'm not proud of this.  So, recently I decided to do something for the betterment of both myself and Russ's state of weekend well-being: I made breakfast.  Biscuits to be exact.  I'd been eyeing a recipe in Alice Water's new cookbook, In the Green Kitchen, for true, southern style buttermilk biscuits.  The book, which highlights staple cooking techniques taught by well seasoned masters, boasted one photo of baking soda leavened biscuits too beautiful to ignore. 

So ignore it I did not.  I woke up early.  Tip toeing around the kitchen, defly pulling out mixing bowls and baking sheets, I had grand plans.  I'd time the biscuits to be browning in the oven just as Russ would start to wake up...the scent of the baking buns tickling his nose and making him fall in love with me all over again.  He'd wake up and ask, "are you baking something," and just at that moment the timer would ding and I'd pull out a tray of fluffy, buttery, breakfast.  It was my turn for genius.

I pulled out the flour.  I cut cold pieces of butter.  I pulled out the salt, the sugar and the...  Oh shoot.  No baking powder!!  Major roadblock! I panic.  I fret.  I feel a familiar Saturday morning grumble and pout spreading across my face.  But I am determined.  I flip madly through the pages of the cookbook and discover, a ha!  Of course!  Right there in fact on the very page I was reading...I can make my own baking powder!

Homemade recipe #1:  Baking powder
1 part baking soda
2 parts cream of tartar

Refreshed, renewed, I press on.  I rub the butter into the flour.  I pull out the...  Oh shoot shoot shoot.  No buttermilk!!  I remember that we are due for that weekend grocery store trip and I grumble a Charlie Brown grumble, envisioning and dark, angry curly cue swirling around over my head in frustration.  Back to the books.  Homemade buttermilk?  Impossible.  But...wait...Yes! Possible.

Homemade recipe #2: Buttermilk
1 cup whole milk
1 Tablespoon lemon juice

The mixture looked strange and curdled, but then that is exactly as it should be, and having made it through the recipe with everything else in stock, I can attest, it makes things taste as they should taste as well.

After lightly kneading, gently rolling and carefully cutting, I added one extra homemade touch I love to find an occasion for.  A light sprinkle of vanilla sugar, made simply from storing leftover scraped vanilla bean pods in an airtight jar of granulated sugar, gives simple sweets that little kick of...mmm, this is tasty indeed.

And well, they were.  No I did not prepare like a chef.  No, the biscuits didn't wake Russ from his sleep but they reheated well, and frankly, would be quite delicious at any temperature.  And I'm pretty sure he still loves me.  I mean, I made breakfast.  Homemade.  From scratch.

Homemade recipe #3

Buttermilk Biscuits

adapted from a recipe in Alice Water's beautiful new cookbook, "In the Green Kitchen"

 2 1/2 cups flour

2 1/4 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/4 cup plus 1 Tablespoon cold, unsalted butter, cut in small pieces

approximately 1 cup buttermilk

3 Tablespoons sugar

Cream to brush the tops

Vanilla sugar to sprinkle

1.  Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

2.  Whisk together flour, baking powder and salt.

3.  Rub half of the butter into the mixture until it's crumbly.  With the other half, press each piece into flat discs and toss in flour.

4.  Make a well and pour the buttermilk into the mixture.

5.  Stir just until the dry ingredients are fully incorporated with the milk.

6.  On a well floured surface, knead the dough gently, only a few times, until the dough comes together.

7.  Roll dough out to about a 1/2 inch thickness.  Pierce the dough through the the tip of a fork, across the rolled out area.

8.  Use a circle cutter, 2 1/2 to 3 inches wide, and press straight down, not turning, to cut biscuits.

9.  Sprinkle with sugar and bake for 8-12 minutes, or until tops are lightly golden brown.

10.  Hot out of the oven, brush tops lightly with cream and sprinkle again with sugar.

Yield:  approximately 12 biscuits, plus scraps for snacks!!  (re rolling scraps is not advised as kneading the dough again will make them tough and not nearly as delicious)

Cake and Ice Cream

It is such a feeling to accomplish something you've been wanting to do for so long. Such a wonderful feeling! Now don't get too excited, there's still a long way to go, but last weekend my little cake venture took a big leap forward. Packing up the car, I trucked eight cakes, frosting, chocolate, spices, and nearly every kitchen tool I own from Brooklyn to New Haven, Connecticut, home to my friend/photography genius Sam. So ensued a cake photo-shoot extravaganza in preparation for my website-to-be. And I thought you might like a behind the scenes peek. Want to see?

Light and beautiful and sunny, we tore the apartment to pieces, finding just the right spot at just the right time of day to make the cakes look absolutely heaven sent (even if all the mess around them was anything but...).

Now, now, I said a peek. You'll get to see more as the project unfolds! I can't wait to share more.

And I won't leave you empty handed here today. In fact, I have another tidbit of news to share that is, for sweet teeth around the world, about as exciting as news can get... Last Monday, I came home to a brand new, beautiful, shiny, glorious and amazing ice cream maker! An absolute dream come true. I'm enthusiastic, you can tell. But why not be? Homemade ice cream is in itself like nothing else.

So of course I wasted no time in scrounging together anything we had in our kitchen to make the inaugural batch. A handful of cloves...a pinch of cinnamon...dark, thick maple syrup... The result, spiced maple ice cream that tasted like french toast and caramel and all things wintry and wonderful.

Ok, you caught me. I'm snacking on it right now. In fleece pj pants, using a take-out Chinese spoon because I'm avoiding the dirty dishes. But it's a cold and rainy Saturday night. Second to a hot summer day, the stuff that ice cream was made for!

In fact, I think I'm going to see about finishing up that cup right now.... Wishing you all a happy Saturday night, I'm signing off with love for accomplishments big and small, cake, and ice cream.

Spiced Maple Ice Cream

1 cup whole milk
1 pint heavy cream
12 whole cloves
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
2/3 cup grade B maple syrup
6 egg yolks

1. Bring the milk, cream, cloves and cinnamon to a simmer. Turn off heat, cover and let steep for 30 minutes.
2. In a separate pot, bring maple syrup to a boil. Let boil for about 5 minutes.
3. Turn heat off syrup, and slowly pour the cream mixture into the syrup (careful, the mixture will spatter!)
4. In a medium sized bowl, slowly whisk the maple and cream mixture into the egg yolks.
5. Return the tempered mixture to a pot on the stove. Over medium heat, stir constantly until mixture coats the back of a spoon.
6. Quickly pour mixture through a fine strainer into a clean bowl resting in an ice bath.
7. Refrigerate overnight and prepare next day according to your ice cream maker's instructions!

Yield: approx. 1 quart

It Doesn't Look Pretty

I hate umbrellas in New York. I think they are misused. Tools to poke and jab, weapons rather than shields, excuses to walk blindly around the streets without a care who you are pushing into a puddle. All manners run straight down into the gutter when those darn city umbrellas open.

Today was a rainy, rainy, windy and wet day. So, in the name of manners and what's right in the world, I decided to don my rain boots and rain jacket, honorably leaving the umbrella at home. I returned tonight dripping, my jeans stuck to my frozen legs, frustratingly cursing both umbrellas, lack of umbrellas, and ultimately cold winter rain itself.

It was indeed a situation only remedied by a big, steaming bowl of hot soup.

Now, as much as I hate umbrellas I'm starting to love...crock pots. If my grumbling hasn't painted a picture of a grumpy old woman in a flannel nightie, then my love for crock pots may have just pushed me over the edge into tapered khakis, bifocals and a walker. But the truth is, when you don't have time to slowly stew veggies in a stock pot, a crock pot is just the thing! As if the morning knew just what the day had in store for my chilly umbrella-less-jean-clad legs, by the drizzle of morning light Russ started a mixture of white beans, split peas, chicken and spices, leaving it to slowly warm, stew and heat up until it sprawled a spicy trail down the hallway, meeting me upon returning home tonight.

And oh, it was delicious. Slightly spiced with curry and cumin, it was thick, stick-to-your-ribs, too-thick-to-be-soup soup. The best kind in my opinion. Really, really delicious. But...well, not so pretty.

I warned you. Not elegant, brightly colored, or classy-looking in any way. But hearty, warm, comforting and just the pairing for an ugly, rainy and not so pretty kind of day.

By the bottom of the bowl, my legs had warmed, my belly was full and my distaste for umbrellas had changed to the taste of shallots and beans, thyme and ground pepper. And you know, as I've mentioned before, one of the best qualities of soup is that it's just soup. Flavorful and at times deceivingly simple, it comes without bells and whistles. Just a bowl and a spoon. And bite by bite it warms you up, whittling away wet worries from the day.

Chance of rain? Umbrella or not, no matter how old or grumpy, and appearances aside, this little soup is just the thing to turn an ugly day into something lovely and tasty and in it's own simple soup-like way, sort of beautiful.

Split Pea and White Bean Soup with Chicken

1 pound green split peas
1 pound dry cannellini beans
2 large shallots, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 pound chicken thighs, skinless, cut into pieces
1 teaspoon dried thyme
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon curry powder
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
30 turns of a pepper mill
3 teaspoons kosher salt
2 quarts of vegetable or chicken stock
Asiago cheese for garnish

1. Stir ingredients together in a crock pot.
2. Cook on low for 5 hrs, and on high for 2 hrs, stirring occasionally for even cooking.
3. Serve! If you prefer a thinner soup, stir in a light white wine to achieve desired consistency.

Yield: 8 warm-you-up servings

Delicious

The theme for my friend Josh's birthday party potluck was simple. "Delicious."

With that mission in mind, and in the spirit of birthdays as celebrations steeped richly in traditions of cake and ice cream and sweets in the name of you just being you, I decided to bring dessert. I immediately started to think of layers of cake holding up buttery frosting...but before I got carried away, I figured I should ask the birthday boy what he thought sounded, well, delicious.

"Josh," I said, "when you envision eating dessert at the end of a perfect birthday potluck, what are you eating?"

"Well," he pondered out loud, "I'm not a big fan of chocolate. And I like cheesecake, but I just had cheesecake last weekend, and I like apples, and fruit crisps, and things that are crunchy, and I always like caramel..."

So. Not cake and not exactly an exact answer. But birthday wishes should never go unfulfilled and dessert is not truly dessert if it is not indeed delicious, so I set my mind to thinking. A little cheesecake...apples...caramel...crunchy... Some mixing here and matching there, and before too long those ingredients spelled out a recipe for this:

Cheesecake cupcakes with oatmeal crisp crusts, sauteed cinnamon apples and apple cider caramel. Which, all together, spelled out this:

A mouthful of a name in description, we resorted to knighting the little creations, "Clayton Cups," after the honoree himself, though agreed the name didn't do the 3 bite-sized creations quite the justice they deserved (no offense Josh). But whatever the name, what these jumbly delights were was one big mouthful of tastiness! Creamy cheesecake was punched up with soft, spiced apples, the required element of crunch and the not to be forgotten, dark caramel fancied-up for the occasion with a hint of cider.

Bellies packed nearly full with the evenings perfectly delicious mish-mosh of captain crunch fried chicken, perogies, peach kugel and baked ziti, the apple crisp cheesecake-ettes were the perfect odd pairing to a good bottle of red wine and great company.

So not a seven layer cake, but a birthday done right all the same. I've always loved home cooking because, reminiscent of backyard mud pies and sandbox stews, no matter how strange or unexpected the ingredients you put together, it doesn't have to be about subtlety, complementing flavors, doing things right, or neatly or even that well. It's about having fun, making friends happy, stirring a bunch of things together in a pot and and sharing what you've stewed up. And sometimes, when life is good, and you're feeling pot-lucky on your birthday, everything comes out just, truly delicious.

Mini Apple Crisp Cheesecakes

1 recipe vanilla bean cheesecake

For the crust:
1/2 stick butter
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 cup oats
pinch of cinnamon
pinch of allspice

1. Combine sugar, oats, cinnamon and allspice. Cut in butter until mixture is crumbly.
2. Pat a thin layer of mixture into the bottom of cupcake liners. Bake at 350F for approx. 10 minutes, or until crisp.
3. Set aside.

For the apples:
2 Granny Smith apples
1 T butter
3 T brown sugar
3/4 t cinnamon

1. Peel apples and slice thinly. Cut each slice into thirds.
2. In a sautee pan, heat butter, sugar cinnamon and apples together until apples are soft, but still hold their shape.
3. Set aside.

For the caramel:
125 grams sugar
40 grams water
40 grams apple cider
1/2 can sweetened condensed milk
pinch of salt
1/4 t vanilla

1. Cook sugar and water over medium-high heat until golden brown.
2. Deglaze with cider.
3. Stir in condensed milk, salt and vanilla.
4. Let cool.

To assemble
Place three pieces of apple into each oatmeal crusted cupcake liner. Pour cheesecake mixture over apples, filling each liner 3/4 full. Using a piping bag, pipe* caramel ontop, in swirls, letters, dots or any shape that looks delicious. Bake at 250F, for approx 20 minutes, or until set.

*If you don't have piping bags on hand, fill a ziplock with caramel, twist it closed and cut a small hole in the corner of the bag. Voila; you are ready to pipe!!

Yield: 24 Clayton Cups

Where I've Been

Well hi there.

Remember me? I hope so. Either way, I remember you and it feels good to be back. If I know you like I think I do, you are tapping your finger right now with that look in your eye which says, "Sooo. Kaitlin. Where you been, huh?" Ok my friends. We'll start with that.

Where have I been all this time? When I left you last there was blueberry jam on the stove and I was on my way to Maine. Well I made it there, and man oh man oh lobster and sea spray... It was a glorious time. At a campsite by the ocean Russ and I feasted on beer and oysters, more blueberries and smores every night. I ate my first live lobster, carrying it home on my lap squeemishly as it wriggled in a brown paper bag. I also ate my second live lobster and a number of lobster rolls, dressed in butter and piled between toasted white bread.

Back in New York, fall crept in and I turned another year older, celebrating my birthday with the annual tradition of an oversized breakfast at Clinton Street Baking Company: huge biscuits, a pile of eggs, thick sliced country ham and hot chocolate barely contained in a bowl of a mug.

Fall leaves and chilly winds accompanied a unique weekend trip which took me from city to farm. As a participant in Flying Pigs Farm's new program Farm Camp for Food Professionals, I gathered eggs, stomped around with heritage pigs, went maple sugar crazy at a sugar shack with syrup piled high on windowsills, sipped farm fresh, creamy milk and slaughtered a chicken. Yes. That's right. I killed a chicken.

One farm fresh-roasted chicken, a first coating of snow on city streets, 20 pounds of turkey, an ambitious pot of mashed potatoes, pie, latkes, Christmas cookies, a spice rubbed roast and two glasses of New Year's champagne later, I find myself catching up with you now in 2010.

Lately, I've been occupied with a project I'm really excited to share. It has always been a dream of mine to start a business of specialty cakes and well gosh darn it, I'm giving it a try. With a few projects under my belt I'm putting my whisk to work. Here's a peek at my most recent project, a 60th anniversary cake for a lovely Brooklyn couple, recently having renewed their vows over lemon curd and sweet vanilla bean cream frosting:

When I say I'm putting my whisk to work, what I really mean is that I've turned our apartment into a veritable workshop covered in sugar petals, cake forms, sketches, website plans, paper flowers, piping bags, cake scraps, and lots of hope.

I have a feeling this year is going to be great. Full of cake, stories and heaps of other grand things. I have a lot in store for your neglected bellies too. Paging through Julia Child's autobiography I plan to journey through a "boeuf bourginon" while we are in the height of stew weather. I have an enormous new flame colored dutch oven which is crying for a leg of lamb, red wine, figs and a dinner party. I have an oversized crate of eggs from my dear friends farm and an upcoming birthday for a certain cheesecake hungry friend we fed last year around this time.

So, I'm back. Thanks for missing me and hold on, because I'm feeling like if we plan the recipe just right, this year is going to be one heck of a feast.

Something Old, Something Blue

I realize it may be premature for me to write about blueberries a week before I leave for a camping extravaganza in Maine, home of the best blueberries I've ever had to date (I'm remembering my first venture with pie crust in college, a wibbly-wobble-fantastic lattice top over a Maine blueberry filling)...but as I've had blue on the mind I think I'm going to go ahead and talk blueberries right now.

Historically it hasn't always been a love affair between me and blueberries. While I do remember picking sour little berries from a bush that grew wild in my childhood backyard, even then it was more the thrill of eating something off a branch than it was the flavor of the berry. A current fan, searching for an explanation as to why I've so long ignored blueberries, I think the answer is I just needed time. Strawberries are so sweet and beautiful, raspberries alluring and tartly distracting. I believe the truth is that each summer I've been inching towards blueberries but it hasn't been until just these past few months where I've finally been ready to sit down and have a one on one with the little blues.

A fresh, soft and bright pint of blueberries is a wonder I'm newly excited about. As you may remember I'm also newly excited this summer about jam. I look at fruit stands in the Greenmarkets around town and think, "Oo! Strawberry jam. Oh, raspberry jam. YES! blueberry jam!!" I know summer is an especially hot time of year to commit to standing in front of the stove top constantly stirring sugar and fruit as it cooks down. But it is also the ideal time to find ingredients for the best jams. So with a little sweat, and a big love for jam, I recently tied my hair back and set to the burners to whip up a batch with some market-fresh blueberries.

For something different I replaced a third of the sugar with light brown sugar. The result was a slightly warmer flavor but let's be real; it's really about the fruit and the fruit surely made itself known. Turning brilliant purple, and growing incredibly thick from the pectin in the berries, the finished product was truly mouthwatering; a proper challenge to strawberries and raspberries worldwide.

And just the thing to top off a dinner party cheesecake (a recipe you may remember from the winter, but summer-spiffed-up here with 1 tablespoon orange zest and about a teaspoon of cinnamon).

The result was a blue-finger lickin' good cake! The natural sweetness of the berries, brown-sugar enhanced over the slightly tart and warmly spiced cake is a combination I am excited to pass along to your own kitchens and dinner parties alike. And sure, you could use any berry you'd like and the recipe would work and be delicious. But with, well, I suppose a bit of a crush on blueberries at this point, I'm giddy to put them in the spotlight here.

So to long time blue fans, and young blueberry lovers, this jam is for you.

Brown Sugar Blueberry Jam

360 grams blueberries
100 grams brown sugar
150 grams granulated sugar

125 grams blueberries

125 grams blueberries

1. Over medium-high heat, let a medium sized sauce pan warm up, empty.
2. Once the pot is hot, add the first amount of blueberries and both sugars.
3. Cook, stirring constantly (with a heat-resistant spatula), until the blueberries cook down to a thick, jam like consistency. As it get thicker, the sugar will want to start caramelizing; if you see it turning brown on the bottom of the pot, take the pan off the heat, stir some more, and then throw it back on. Make sure you stir constantly! Use the spatula to scrape the bottom and the edges around the pan.
4. Once the blueberries are thick and you can almost smell them caramelizing, add the second amount of berries.
5. Stir until blueberries soften, and mixture returns to a boil.
6. Add the last measure, stirring for just a minute or two, until the mixture returns to a boil again.
7. Let cool in a heat resistant bowl...the jam will be really hot when it comes out of the pot!
8. Once cool, refrigerate (or eat).

Yield: a little over half a quart

*for the cheesecake recipe, go here. Do everything the same (though I'd use a regular graham crust rather than the pretzel version), and at the end add 1 tablespoon orange zest and 1 teaspoon cinnamon to combine.

CAKE.

Wedding cake that is. My first one!

An fanciful idea 6 months ago quickly, this past month, become a reality. For my high school friend Rose (ie-posie, mop head and a long list of other old time nick names), I very excitedly assumed the role of wedding cake maker extraordinaire...though the extraordinaire was a gamble as the whole of the experience was new and challenging at every turn. New and challenging and wonderful, I should add. I feel like the occasion calls for fewer words this time around, and more pictures. Care to take a peek?

After a lot of eggs, butter and sugar, flour misting the air, chocolate to make frosting, some fondant and a lot of gum paste (sugar!) flowers, after the pink wore off my hands from dying frosting, after one long drive from New York, NY to State College, PA, air conditioning blasting, me white knuckled in the front seat hoping the cakes were okay back there in the trunk, pulling off at every other rest stop to check...we arrived at the day of the wedding, in the reception hall, ready to put it all together.

With the help of my expert assistant we cut dowels for support, placed cakes veeeery carefully, and attached flowers (at times strategically to cover those first-timer bumps and wiggles in the outer frosting). We chose to do this all in our fancy pants which means we are either natural born, hard core cakers, or a just a touch crazy.

White shirt and pink dress still white and light pink, we successfully put everything together just in time to scoot ourselves to the ceremony. It was beautiful and joyfully tear-filled, with a fine spritzing of good-luck rain hanging in the air around all the happy friends and family.

From rosie posie to Mrs. McLaughlin!

Back to the reception hall I paced around nervously in my sequined flats, waiting for the doors to open. Had the cakes survived the few hours past? Would they have collapsed into a pile of red velvet, chocolate frosted, top layer yellow cake mush?? Would they have melted and sagged into a sad sack of sweetness? I threw back a stiff, double gin and tonic while I waited for the verdict.

Finally, showtime. And folks, the show was great! Both cakes in tact, standing in the glow of little glass-cupped white candles...did I mention there was a grooms cake? A football field, by request of the bride for her forever PSU true fan, now hubbie.

I have to say, man oh man did I feel professional! But most of all, I was so proud and just so happy to be able to make my dear friend so pleased on her special day.

It was a great adventure from start to finish. Challenging at many points, though with a pay off priced so high I'd do it again in a second. Which I truly hope to do again soon (hear that Brooklyn brides? If you need cake, you let me know!)

I do...hope you enjoyed the show!

A Quiet Night with Cherry Cake

When you find yourself at the cool end of a warm day, finished with work and settling onto your couch with a good movie and great company nearby, it is most certainly an occasion that calls for cake.

This fact is only further supported when you have the first of summer's cherries in your fridge, pink, red, and ruby...just waiting for some sugar.

I can personally attest to the fact that on a typical night it often requires great feats of strength to put down the chinese food take-out menu and make yourself something for dinner. Cake? On a weeknight? Who has the time?

Clatfoutis is your answer. Sounds French and fancy, yes. And well, French it is. But fancy? Not this cake. A classic dessert francais, typically baked with cherries though almost any fruit can be substituted, Clafoutis is almost like a custard, but golden brown on top and in this case packed with sweet and tart, brilliant, shiny cherries.

Like couch potatoes Russ and I spent Monday night wielded chopsticks, pitting cherries on the sofa, squirting pink juice on our arms and faces, thankful that our coffee table is already stained and that our carpet is dark...

During the first year of my time spent studying pastry, I took a class with one particularly snappy chef who was known to bring a tear to more than one sweet pastry-chef-in-the-making. Broad shouldered and angry eyebrowed, she never failed to make me chuckle on the days when she would scream, thick with the accent of rural Pennsylvania, "Class! Today we are going to attempt to make clah-FOO-die!"

No matter how you want to pronounce it, who can be angry when you are baking with a bowlful of these?

So. Why now is this dessert the answer? Flour and sugar stirred together, eggs and milk whisked in to combine, in less than a full sentence you are almost ready to put the cake in the oven. You don't even need to cut the cherries. And, in this particular recipe, like many others, there isn't a pat of butter to be found...so if you feel so inclined, pretend its not even dessert.

For this recipe I used muffin tins rather than the traditional round cake pan or skillet, creating mini clafoutis perfect for seconds. Or thirds. Or fourths...

(I just ran to the fridge and ate another one.)

On top of work and bills and meetings and errands, sometimes all it takes is a little cake to bring some well deserved quiet.

I will admit that baking the cake in the smaller muffin rounds created a darker edge than I'd have liked; make sure you keep an eye on the little guys so the outside doesn't burn! With this recipe they will souffle in the oven and sink a bit once they come out. It's okay. Taste one, you'll see.

If you aren't a cherry fan use sliced strawberries, peaches, blueberries or plums. All you need is a few minutes in your kitchen, a calm evening and an appetite for cake. Pick out a good movie, preheat the oven, and treat yourself to a little piece and quiet.

Cherry Clafoutis
adapted from The King Arthur Flour Company's Baking Companion

3/4 C flour
2/3 C sugar
3 eggs
1 1/4 C whole milk
1 1/4 t vanilla
2-3 cups pitted cherries, whole

1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Grease two muffin trays and set aside.
2. In a bowl whisk together flour and sugar.
3. In a separate bowl, whisk eggs until light and foamy.
4. Add milk and vanilla to eggs and whisk to combine.
5. Add egg mixture to flour in three additions, whisking to make sure there are no lumps!
6. Place 4 cherries into the cups of the greased muffin tray.
7. Fill 1/2 of each muffin cup with batter.
8. Bake for 25-30 minutes. A tester should come out of the cakes clean and the tops should just be turning slightly golden.

*An alternative to the muffin tins, as suggested by the cookbook authors, this recipe can be baked in a 9" cake pan for 40-45 min.

Yield:
approx. 20 miniature clah-FOO-dies!

An Hour Away

Did we leave off somewhere with jam?

I almost can't remember, its been a set of those kind of weeks. Picking at leftovers in the fridge, ordering out...I hate to leave you for so long without a good snack. I really do. I had grand plans of coming back with a bang, a recipe for a gooey cake, or a magnificent new way to cook asparagus.

What I ended up with was a simple salad of spinach and tomatoes, and a decision that before ingenious chocolate cake needed to come a plain, simple get away. To clear the mind. And maybe to find a good eat somewhere out there too...

Only an hour away. The air was salty with a hint of sunscreen. On a quiet, slightly chilly Sunday, Fire Island was almost barren except for a handful of brave little girls in pink bathing suits, pockets of sandy horseshoe crab skeletons, a few stray runners and yes, also a good number of naked beach goers fishing, sleeping, tossing a frisbee and whatever else their chilly little behinds desired.

Strolling by all kinds, we wandered into the beach bum town of Kismet, complete with a village of uniquely individual houses with clever names carved into wood signs, no cars, one sweet shop and a hoppin' fish shack overlooking the pier. Starving and ready to eat anything, I had my first run in with clams on the half shell.

It went well.

Paired with iced tea, like the best part of chowder the firm little bites of seafood exploded with the flavors of a gourmet's take on seawater. I could have eaten at least a dozen more.

From empty clam shells we moved to soft shell crab sandwiches, served on crispy white bread toast just as it ought to be on the deck of a seafood pub blasting tunes from a neon jukebox inside. We got carried away with seriously fried onion rings and a big plate of fries...before I got to taking a picture of my sandwich for you I had eaten all of it.

So I took a picture of a pretty lighthouse instead.

I know, I know. Where's the toast? A lighthouse is no soft shell crab. But in their own way, they both leave you with a smile and sometimes, like going from Brooklyn to beach, something different is nice.

Feeling full and happy we started on the road home. I quickly fell asleep, into a coma of seafood and sandy toes, relaxed, slightly rosy from the sun and with a head full of wind swept, suncreeny crazy hair I never intended to share a picture of with anyone. (You'd thank me if you'd seen it.)

And now I'm back. There are strawberries at the market that are like nothing else. Tomatoes are popping up and sugar snap peas right beside. I've washed the sand from my feet and can just remember the salty taste of those clams...the hour away was needed and nice.

But it is good to be home. Better when there are strawberries around. And maybe it's time for that ingenious cake...

Enigma On Toast

How is rhubarb like an avocado?

For just one tiny second, avert your thoughts from pies and strawberries and jam and cream, and think about this (just one second, I promise). We all know avocados are fruit, but generally not thought of as anything but a green veggie ideally paired with chips and a salted margarita. In the same way, rhubarb, technically a vegetable, is nestled in with pie pans and jam jars and all the sweet, fruity desserts of spring. A gardener's enigma: in a world of fruit parading as vegetables, is rhubarb the only vegetable playing dress up as fruit?

Just some fruit (or vegetable) for thought. And because disguise or not, it does seem that rhubarb belongs in sweet pie shells rather than salad bowls, lets get back to the sugar.

If you don't have time for cutting butter into pie dough, or you find your store shelves still waiting for summer strawberries...the answer is jam. Its quick, its sweet, and as you will see in a few short scrolls of your mouse, quite versatile in those moments requiring attention to sweet tooth needs (which can be very serious indeed).

From long, lanky stalks, rhubarb cut into little pieces turns to a confetti of pink and green, tart and tasty. Add a little sugar, a little heat, and one (heat resistant) spatula...

Jam baby!

Even if it weren't sweet and drool-inducingly delicious...not that I drooled..., this jam is soft and pink* and cheery. Vegetable? Good disguise indeed. I strongly believe that sometimes you need something lovely like this in your fridge, even just to look at while scanning the options. It is no coincidence then, I should note here too, that this simple recipe comes from a woman who I believe has mastered the art of using sweets to sweeten up more than the dessert hour, my favorite pastry chef Nancy Olson.

We've covered that this fruity vegetable is sneaky, pink, cheery and occasionally inducing of a lip smack or two... but is it all just for toast? Oh no. No my friends. Think ice cream. Stir it into your oatmeal. For a hot-like-summer spring day, just mix in a bit of the syrupy smooth part into a glass of tonic water for rhubarb soda.

And toast works too.

Fruit, vegetable... a little sugar and jam is the word. I suppose you could also call it a compote, but calling it jam makes its something you can eat for breakfast without flirting at dessert. And I think that's grand.

So go think biscuits, ice cream, ricotta, crisp sodas, toast, yogurt, cereal, shortcake...


*The color of your jam will depend on the color of the rhubarb you buy- if its a greener bunch, don't be discouraged if your jam turns out a little brownish. It will still taste great!!

Nancy Olson's Rhubarb Jam

360 grams rhubarb
250 grams sugar

125 grams rhubarb

125 grams rhubarb

1. Over medium-high heat, let a medium sized sauce pan warm up, empty.
2. Once the pot is hot, add the first amount of rhubarb and sugar.
3. Cook, stirring constantly, until the rhubarb cooks down to a thick, jam like consistency. As it get thicker, the sugar will want to start caramelizing; if you see it turning brown on the bottom of the pot, take the pan off the heat, stir some more, and then throw it back on. Make sure you stir constantly! Use the spatula to scrape the bottom and the edges around the pan.
4. Once the rhubarb is thick and you can almost smell it caramelizing, add the second amount of rhubarb.
5. Stir until rhubarb softens, and mixture returns to a boil.
6. Add the last measure, stirring for just a minute or two, until the mixture returns to a boil again.
7. Let cool in a heat resistant bowl...the jam will be really hot when it comes out of the pot!
8. Once cool, refrigerate (or eat).

Yield: a little over half a quart.

It's ALIVE!! A tale of soft shell crabs

I tell you, times as of late have been scary in my kitchen.

First, it was the invasion. Coming out of that on the winning side with bread pudding leftovers for days, the coast seemed clear. At the Greenmarket beautiful piles of greens, towers of asparagus and the first bright pink stalks of rhubarb started to fill in around the ramp mounds. A curvy bunch of baby bok choy stole my heart and with the sun shining, my flip flops flopping the pavement, I headed home, unknowing all the way, to see what Russ had picked up from the fish market.

Part of me feels as though I should stop letting him go. If you recall the last thing he pulled from that brown paper fish bag... Well this time it was worse. Or better. Depending on if you asked me before or after I ate it.

We'd been planning on taking a stab at cooking soft shell crabs for a few weeks and gathering information on how to do it right along the way. Most reliable sources said, "Buy the ones that are still moving. If they don't move, don't bother." This advice was largely why I was responsible for picking up the produce. I'm an adventurous eater but much more so when the breading and batter and heat has been applied. I'm not sure how much movement I expected but when Russ pulled out the first crab, legs squirming violently in the air around his hand what I didn't expect to do was to scream like a girl.

Which I did. In response to my squimish squeeling he replied, "All you have to do is cut off their faces and rip out their gills." Unassumingly charming as he tickled their bellies, I silently wondered if there was an evil side to this man before me. Watching the poor little crabs tapping their frenzied little legs on the cutting board as the knife came down on their soft little shells... So violent.

But. So. Delicious. Once I successfully repressed the image of that one, still-twitching claw, covered in egg wash and cornmeal, not yet fried and not yet dead...I could let myself enjoy the explosively rich, velvety, salty and amazing flavor of the crabs. They were aboslutely as insanely delicious as the scene in my kitchen was perhaps insane during their preparation.

The steamed bok choy was light and good for the heart, but as the crabs sizzled in the pan all I really wanted was a plate piled high exclusively with soft shells. After I took this picture I added another one to my plate on the spot.

If you aren't so lucky to have a fresh fish market around the corner (or aren't so brave or don't have a crazy bearded butcher for a kitchen companion), you can make a delicious soft shell crab meal from fresh, non-moving crabs that have simply died in refrigeration; it happens quickly once the crabs are put on ice (you'll still have to clean them!). Just make sure you know where they came from and when they arrived in your store.

I know I've painted a gruesome picture here. But I promise I did it because I believe you can't make it through the season without having at least...6 crabs. They are highlight-of-your-week, worth-cutting-off-a-crabs-face scrumptious. And sometimes you need to see proof that you can make it through the other side to get there.

Well I'm on the other side. And I'm going back for more.

Cornmeal Battered Fried Soft Shell Crabs

5 Soft shell crabs
2 eggs
Cornmeal to coat
Sea salt to taste
Black pepper to taste
Fresh thyme, to taste

1. Using kitchen shears, snip off the eyes and mouth of the crab. (This will be about 1/8 of an inch behind the eyes, cutting straight across.)
2. Snip around the edge of the body, folding back the top of the shell. A fingerlike structure should be visible inside the body.
3. Either with scissors or with your fingers, remove this structure from both sides.
4. On the belly, pull back the flap, referred to as the apron, and snip it off as well.

For help with cleaning your crabs, check out this video.

5. The yellow gel-like substance you'll see in the crab can be clean out, or left to be eaten. Its edible, but it may make you feel better to clean it out.
6. Rinse crabs thoroughly under water. Pat dry.
7. Dip in egg wash.
8. Mix salt, pepper and thyme into cornmeal. Coat crabs with mixture.
9. Coat the bottom of a frying pan in a thin layer of olive oil. Heat.
10. Over medium heat, place crabs in pan. Cook on both sides until golden brown.

Yield:
5 crabs

Attack of the Ramps

It could be a tag line on an illuminated poster of a B movie, a la horror genre.

"They came out of the fields. They invaded New York. They're green, they're alive, they're..."

Ramps! Horror turns to happy endings. With winter officially behind us, ramps are the earth's way of assuring us its spring. Giving us a pat on the back, saying, "Congratulations! You made it through winter. Now have a snack."

Also known as wild leeks, ramps are a garlicky, oniony, curvy, leafy, beautiful and delicious spring vegetable. Overflowing from every other booth in farmers markets around the city, ramps are here and here in number. Making the city a little greener and significantly more tasty. One of the best things about these little sprigs of tangly-rooted vegetables (aside from their flirty looks and scrumptious flavor), is that you can cook them almost any way you want. Sauteed, grilled, baked...

While it's still cool enough to turn on the oven in our cozy kitchen, we decided to use the bunch of ramps whisked away from the greener side of Union Square Park to make a savory bread pudding. Over lemon sodas we sliced crusty bread, infused sage into whole milk, and sliced our ramps, separating the white stalk from the bright green leaf, but using all parts in the pudding because...well, you can. So why not.

A few eggs, salt, pepper and some Grana Padano, deliciously salty cheese, and the pudding was only an hour at 350 degrees away from our bellies.

Now if you are reading this thinking, bread pudding, ew no thank you, that sounds worse than an alien invasion...I can empathize. There was a period in my life when the thought of squishy, wet bread sounded wholly and completely gross. But when you think of it as a moist, rich, sophisticated cousin to stuffing, soft, comforting, and in this case salty, with pockets of bright ramps... Aren't you tempted to try a bite of this?

I hope so. Once golden and steaming and crispy around the edges, we'll just say I was truly happy (down to the bottom of my stomach) for spring. Plus bread pudding is ideal for warming you up just enough to ward of the spring night chills. Throw ramps in the mix and nearly the whole pan will disappear before you realize it. That is, if your experience is anything similar to mine...

We ate the leftovers with eggs over-easy for lunch the next day. Eggs and ramps will not steer you wrong. I think some sausage added to the mix wouldn't hurt one bit either. Having fully succumbed to the ramp bite, we used a second bunch to saute and lay over pan fried salmon for dinner the next night.

If I sound ramp crazed, well, okay I might just be. But consider it may be an even crazier thing to let spring pass without giving into the ramp invasion. Remember, no matter what it may sound like, they aren't out to get you.

You should go out and get them.

Savory Ramp Bread Pudding

1 large loaf of crusty bread, cut into big pieces (enough to almost fill an 11 x 7 inch baking pan)
1 bunch of ramps
5 cups whole milk
15 leaves of sage
7 eggs
1 1/2 cups grated Grana Padano cheese (or anything hard and salty)
Salt
Pepper

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Grease an 11 x 7 inch baking pan.
2. Heat milk with sage, bringing it almost to a boil. Take it off the heat, cover with plastic wrap and let infuse for 5 min. Remove sage.
3. In a large bowl mix bread and milk. Let soak.
4. Cut roots off ramps. Slice the white part of the ramp into small pieces, cut the leaves into larger chunks. Reserve a few whole leaves for decorating the top of the pudding.
5. In a small bowl, whisk eggs together with white ramp pieces, salt and pepper.
6. Mix egg thoroughly into bread and milk.
7. Stir in 1 cup of grated cheese.
8. Spread pudding into pan.
9. Garnish the top with whole ramp leaves and the remaining 1/2 C cheese.
10. Bake for 1 hr and 10 minutes or until pudding is golden brown on top.

Yield:
approx 15 servings

Spats

The highlight of my eating last week started in a dispute over soup. Gumbo to be specific. I don't recall how soup became the topic of conversation...but then again, why wouldn't it be. Soup is delicious and wonderful and I could muse about it all day long. So maybe I got a little worked up when I was sure gumbo was cooked with rice, and Russ resolute that is was served over it.

Technically speaking, I lost the tussle. But I was decided that gumbo was on for Monday dinner so the loss was of little consequence.

Waiting tables in my college days, I donned a white apron serving up gumbo and crawfish etouffee at a small, spicy little cajun/creole restaurant in Central Pennsylvania. Spats Cafe. What great, funny, delicious memories I have of that restaurant. Filling ice tea pitchers and polishing silverware in the morning, I'd watch the cooks stir big pots of dark roux under the waves of heat spilling off the flatop in the kitchen. Roux, a rich, slowly cooked combination of fat and flour is what makes gumbo gumbo. Up until this past week I'd never actually made it myself. So it wasn't just soup we were talking about for dinner. It was soup and a roux.

And the perfect occasion to try the contents of the peanut butter jar of homemade lard; rendered from pork fat by my genius-in-the-kitchen friend, and farmer, Anna.

It was a what's-in-the-pantry inspired gumbo, so for serious soupers, not your traditional mix. No peppers or okra. But smoked duck breast, red beans and rice (cooked in), carrots, kale, sage and thyme. Ok, the duck breast was an impulse buy at the grocery store. But a delicious addition to be sure.

With the soup simmering on a burner, I stirred the roux. The nutty, rich smell of the flour and fat cooking sent me back to those days of hot sauce and cornbread at Spats. Committing to that roux, stirring for about 30 minutes until it grew a walnut, chocolate brown, the smell and feel of it all sent my thoughts towards what else I could possibly come up with to put roux in...

But once mixed into the stock pot, it was clear that roux was made for gumbo. Gumbo for a roux.

For me, the peppery burn of the brown broth was seasoned with the flavor of Spats lunch breaks, slurping soup at that back table sprinkled with silverware wrapped in mardi gras beads.

For everyone else, it was a flavor that cooked with rice, or served over it, no matter. As long as there was enough for seconds, no arguments to be found.


*Don't forget that the Virtual Great American Bake Sale is still in progress. While your soup's on the stove, check out the recipes and share a little something before chowing down!

Wild Rice and Beans Gumbo

1 cup red beans
1 cup wild rice
6 medium carrots
1 bunch celery
1 large red onion
1 10" andouille sausage
1/2 pound smoked duck breast
1 pound chicken breast
5 large leaves of kale
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1 rosemary sprig
1 T sage
1 T thyme
1 T sea salt
2 t cayenne pepper
lots of black pepper (50-60 turns of a peppermill)
3 qts chicken stock
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup fat (butter, lard, oil...)

1. Rehydrate beans according to directions on package.
2. Chop celery, carrots, garlic and onion.
3. Cube duck breast and cut andouille sausage into slices, then quarters.
4. Cube chicken. Season with salt, pepper and cayenne.
5. Cut kale into ribbons.
6. In the bottom of a large stockpot, over medium heat, add 1 T olive oil, duck breast, sausage, garlic and spices, and brown for a couple of minutes.
7. Add chicken, brown.
8. Add carrots, celery and onion. Sweat until onions are translucent.
9. Pour in stock.
10. Add rice and beans.
11. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally.
12. Reduce to a simmer, let cook for 1- 1 1/2 hrs. Taste occasionally for seasoning.
13. In a small saucepot over medium heat, mix together flour and fat. Stir constantly to avoid burning; cook until roux is a nice dark brown. Note- use a heat resistant spatula or wooden spoon...mixture is HOT! Let roux cool to room temperature.
14. Very carefully add roux to the stockpot. Stir to incorporate.

Yield
15-20 servings