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.