Spice and spice and everything nice

Somewhere along the way I convinced myself I don't like sweets. Except chocolate chip cookies, which I'll eat no matter how good, or bad they might be. And by the way, dear Austin bakeries, please make good chocolate chip cookies. Please put a little heart into it. Right now I only buy them at Primizie which A) is not a bakery, and B) I suspect that's the New York Times recipe and it's good, but I'd love to have a cookie that tastes just a little mysterious.

I suppose I could make them myself... because I know what I would do. I know what would make them the best cookies in the world (pecan meal), but I don't like sweets, remember? It's honestly that I can't have sweets near me. They don't exist if they're not in my house. If they are in my house I am an unstoppable glutton who moans and groans incessantly about how much I dislike sweets as I shovel armfuls of the stuff into my mouth, my stomach suddenly a cavernous pit of insatiable-ness. So you see why I claim I don't like sweets? Life is easier that way.



Unfortunately though, I had a little shindig a few weeks ago. It was a little pastry soiree for a few of my nearest and dearest. It was my chance to make some treats for my friends and exercise some of my new found patiserrie skills. I made about 16 different things, cakes and cookies and mousses and breads... and there were a few leftovers. Just a few. It was enough though. I now have had cake every night before bed. And lately I've been having cookies before and after lunch. What's worse, some of these leftovers are in the form of unbaked dough. There's enough for about ten miniature gateau basques and three miniature salted caramel and chocolate tarts. I might have over-extended myself the teeniest bit.

What's worse, I am no match for the gluttonous beast within, I've let it into my fridge and I have to eat until I've eaten the beast out of my house. What a pain.



The problem was recently compounded by the challenge I received from my friend Susann. Actually, it was a nice request to bake a birthday cake for a friend. However, in true Aries spirit I have taken this off-handed request as a personal challenge to make the richest, most seductively decadent, ooiest gooiest creation ever to grace a ping pong tournament themed birthday party. I realize I might have little competition on this front, but forge ahead with competitive drive I will. Now, not to disappoint, but I'll most likely, if all goes as planned, report on this cake in a later post, so hold your horses ooey gooey rich and decadent cake lovers. No treats for you yet.

I'll give you a wee hint though. This cake for the weekend party includes bananas. Very fresh bananas, not the over-ripe version one would normally use for baking. And for some reason I bought those bananas on Monday and am making the cake filling on Saturday. I'm sure you can imagine the state those babies would be in by then. What can I say, I got a bit over-eager.

Seeing that my stash of frozen bananas for smoothies runneth over due to the fact that I never make smoothies, I had to come up with a different use for these bananas and pronto.



Last night I baked. I broke down and added to the sweets stash that is my freezer. I was hoping to make a simple breakast bread that I could slip out of the freezer and toast on the days I need a break from yogurt and granola. I messed up though. Big time. Somehow I managed to make a rich and enchanting spicy cake that I dare not break out until I've done my duty and eaten my veggies.

I've been taken with the idea of making a banana upside-down cake for some time. The thing is, cooked bananas can be so very make-your-jaw-ache sweet. I love the flavor, but it needs a little balance. Normally I pair my cooked bananas with salsa, eggs and beans. See what I mean? In terms of baking though, I wanted my bananas on top of something a little salty, a little spicy, but not at all savory. I played around with a recipe I found online and, well, the sweets stash has been replenished and I anticipate replenishing it many times over with this cake.

Caramelized Banana and Ginger Upside-Down Cake
Adapted from Leslie Mackie’s Macrina Bakery & Café Cookbook by way of Seattlest

For the topping

1 1/2 Tbsp butter*
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 tsp ras el hanout
1-2 bananas

For the cake

1/2 cup butter*
1/4 cup light brown sugar
1 1/2 Tbsp fresh grated ginger
2 small eggs
1/3 cup blackstrap molasses
1 1/2 cup all purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 + 1/8 tsp salt
3/4 cup buttermilk

Set oven to 325 degrees. Grease either a loaf pan or a 4-5" round cake pan. Cut parchment paper to sit in the bottom of the pan.

For the topping combine the sugar, butter and ras el hanout in a saucepan over low heat to melt the butter and fully combine ingredients. Immediately pour this into your prepared baking dish. Slice banans into 1/2" - 3/4" coins and lay over top of topping. Pack the tightly, coin side down, to completely cover baking dish.

For the batter, sift dry ingredients together and set aside. Cream butter and sugar together for about 3-5 mins. You don't want it fluffy, but you want it very smooth and creamy. Add the grated ginger and cream for about 1 min more. Add eggs one at a time to emulsify. Scrape down bowl between additions. Slowly add molasses. It will look a little break-y at this point. That's okay.

Add a third of the sifted dry ingredients to combine. Add half of the buttermilk. Scrape down between additions. Continue with the additions so dry is the last thing you add and it's fully combined.

Pour into prepared baking dish and smooth out the top. Bake for 1 hour and 30 mins. Check for done-ness before removing it from the oven.

Let cool for 10 mins before turning the cake out onto a cooling rack.

* Use really nice butter for this. You can really taste it and it's so very wonderful!

(Almost) Never too hot for bread

So sue me. I'm running my oven and it's 113 degrees outside. Or I'm pretty sure it's 113... no one can seem to agree on the heat index. Let's just put it this way, it's probably too hot for baking. It's certainly the hottest June I've ever lived through. Don't feel sad for me though. A cold front is expected to blow through this evening, leaving it only in the mid-90's. I write this with no sarcasm whatsoever. I can't wait, I live for 95 degrees. 113? Not so much.



Growing up I didn't have air conditioning. That was right here in central Texas. So let me clarify, growing up, from the age of three to the day I moved out at 18 there was no central air conditioning in my parents' central Texas home, making me quite the anomaly out here. That achieved the exact effect you'd expect (or perhaps quite the opposite?)... I love the heat. Anything below 85 is a little uncomfortable for me. Below 70 and I'm downright unhappy. This might explain why my first year away at college in Chicago was one of the more unpleasant years of my life. And yes, I hoofed it back to Austin where I could attend college in a pool of sweat, with a beer in my hand. But let us backtrack, shall we? Let us reminisce about those days gone by, long before I trekked off to college, long before the days when a beer in my hand to stave off the sweat was a legal (and dare I say god-given) right of mine.



Things I remember the most are wide open screen doors, the noise of the attic fan at night, lots and lots of swimming, making coffee (always coffee!) ice cream on the back porch... and escape. We were always looking for an excuse to escape to air conditioning. We put on brave faces, but we hated that heat sometimes as much as you can imagine, and then some. We went to the movies. We went to the mall. We went to the mall again. We diligently hid our purchases, as mom requested, so as not to upset our dad... but who were we kidding? If he knew what those shopping trips were costing us, surely he would have sprung for the air conditioning instead in a heartbeat. I think we all loved shopping far more than we hated the heat, so hide our purchases we did.

There was one summer I was house-sitting for my boyfriend's family while they were away on a several week vacation. My mom made the trip out to his house with me almost every day, picking up lunch on the way, so we could eat in his air conditioned house. I laugh now when I realize the air was probably set at 90 and we were still happy as all get out, being that it wasn't 100.



During my senior year my parents came to us with an announcement. It was an announcement we'd waited years for. Years and year and years. We were getting air conditioning! It was too good to be true. And by that I mean, it was literally too good to be true. Yes, we were indeed getting air conditioning... the fall after I was to move off to college. Visions of me dressing for my senior prom with a cool breeze on my curled and sprayed hair vanished. Instead I knew I could expect smeared mascara, cakey sweaty make-up and flat flat hair. I spent the day of prom grumbling about my misfortune, considering failing senior year... just to experience the bliss of cool air while I got ready for prom. Some girls imagine roses and dances and kisses and boozy nights. Not me. I didn't care a thing about all that stuff. I just wanted my make-up to stay put.

Well, my parents did have one little treat for me before I left that house for good. The summer after my senior year we finally bought a window unit. The August before I packed up to move was spent, in one room, with my entire family, all of us with books in hand, with the window unit cranked down to 85, not at all speaking to each other, but very comfortable indeed. I remember the wall of heat and humidity that hit me whenever I left the room for a snack and I remember that wall driving me straight back into the room. I stayed in there long enough to read that entire Anne Rice vampire trilogy. All of it. I was 18, don't laugh.



These days not only do my parents have air conditioning, they have a pool. And because they have a pool my mom always has queso on the stove and ready to eat. I'm not sure how eating hot spicy fake cheese and wearing a wet bikini go hand in hand, but much like shopping to "avoid the heat", I think my mom makes queso because it's "pool food". We don't eat it by the pool, we just all wanted an excuse to eat it and wearing a wet bikini seems like a good enough excuse to me. And to my mom.

So, much like those shopping trips, and that queso, I'm baking my blitz focaccia today. Why? Because making my regular focaccia takes too long. I realize I should probably forgo focaccia and eat the melon that's sitting in my fridge right now, but that would make far too much sense, wouldn't it?



Now, you should all know, to bake bread here at my house means turning my air, normally set at 85, down to a chilly 73 (yes, I do wear a hoodie while making the bread - I really do get that cold) so the bread proofs properly. When it's 113 degrees outside one should never set one's air so low. I know. But that's why I made the blitz focaccia... so it was only at 73 for an hour and a half or so. See how practical I am?

I honestly love this focaccia in a pinch. I probably would never serve it to guests... but it is the most fantastic thing for when you really really really feel like making bread and you really really really have neither the time nor the energy to do so. It's basically a plain base that you doctor up to make whatever way you'd like. I just go for cherry tomatoes and my favorite garlicky herb-y oil. Rosemary and grapes are quite yummy on it, blue cheese would rule. Just know, the secret to this bread for me is in the herby oil, so no cheating. No skimping. Do as I say, load up the bread with this yummiest ever of olive oils and have at it. Even if someone tries to tell you it's too hot for baking. They're not your mom. They can't tell you what to do. Unless it is your mom. Then you'd better listen.

Blitz Focaccia
Adapted from Local Breads by Daniel Leader

300 g (1 1/4 cups) water, room temperature
6 grams (1 tsp) instant yeast
500 g (3 1/4 cups) all purpose flour
60 g (1/3 cup) olive oil
10 g (1 1/4 tsp) salt
sweet cherry tomatoes for garnish
chunky sea salt for garnish

For the herb oil

120 g (1 cup) olive oil
2-3 cloves of garlic, crushed to a paste
approx. 1/2 cup chopped fresh oregano, thyme, rosemary and basil
1-2 tsp spicy paprika
1/2 - 1 tsp ground cumin
salt and pepper to taste

First make the herb oil. Heat the oil to about 100 degrees. You want it warm - that's all! Once warmed take it off the burner and add the chopped herbs, garlic, paprika, cumin, salt and pepper, to taste. Let sit at room temp to infuse.

For the focaccia, mix flour, yeast, salt, olive oil and water together. Once combined knead with a dough hook on your mixer for about 11 mins. Your dough will never become that strong. Don't worry... it's blitz focaccia! It can't fail! Once the dough is kneaded, fold it into a tight ball into a greased container with a lid. Let sit at room temp for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until the dough has approximately doubled in size.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Divide the dough into six equal pieces and form each piece into a light boule and let rest on the counter for about 5-10 mins. Pat each dough into a round about 4 inches in diameter and lay them all out on a parchment lined baking sheet. Brush each focaccia generously with herb oil. Be sure to let chunks of herbs and garlic coat the focaccia. It may look like a lot, but it will all absorb during baking. Place cherry tomatoes on top of the focaccia and lightly press them in. Cover your baking sheet tightly in plastic and let proof at room temperature for about 30 mins. The rounds should poof slightly, up around the tomatoes.

Right before places them in the oven brush with more oil if it's all been absorbed. Sprinkle lightly with the chunky sea salt. Bake till golden, about 30 to 40 mins. Then... dig in!

Be sure to check out this post and other bread-related finds at Yeastspotting!

OMG, it's, like, totally been forever!

I've taken my sweet time getting back here. It's not for lack of interesting chit chat, that's for certain. I've just needed a break.

My last month at school was a bit overwhelming to be sure. Honestly, it had little to do with school, which I loved more and more every day. In fact, by the last week I just kept looking around incredulously, thinking that I wouldn't, and more to the point, couldn't come back the following week. I really really loved it there. So, as I was saying, that last month was overwhelming, due in large part to massive sleep-deprivation. Turns out sleeping in a musty unloved home, in a strange bed, away from kitties and husband and all of one's stuff and bff's... turns out that kind of stuff can wear on a person. It can eat away bit by bit at a person until sleep seems the stuff of dreams. So, no. I wasn't writing much. I was in no mood at all. In fact, I wasn't cooking at all either. Those last few months I subsisted (actually, quite happily) on rice, beans, avocados and jalapenos. See, I clearly would have been lousy reading anyway.



School though, school was great fun! I've tried to examine the entire experience in retrospect to help me hone in on what I learned, what I gained from the experience. I've come to a few conclusions.

1. I will never ever willingly move away from Mark and my home again. That was dumb.

2. I gained a much clearer and self-assured sense of self.

3. I've learned to take obsessive compulsive behavior to a whole other level of extreme all in the name of delicious food.

4. My favorite flavors in sweets are butter and salt.

All in all a pretty valuable experience.

I'm home now, and rather than dwelling on the past, let's look ahead, shall we?

Shocking myself and pretty much everyone else, I already got a job. Actually, I got two jobs and I'm over the mother-effing moon. One is a cooking job and one is not. It's the loveliest balance. Well... actually, how balanced it is remains to be seen as the cooking job is at 6:30AM on weekends. I'm feeling a bit misty-eyed about missing out on my weekend evenings; however, I'm planning frequent naps in an effort to allow myself to continue my nightowl ways while still waking up at the crack of dawn. Will it work? It will have to.



While waiting to re-enter the world of working stiffs I'm killing time by, well, let's face it, I'm just sweating. Technically speaking I'm converting my old sewing studio into an office for Mark and I. I'm also eating a great deal of cake. And shortly here I will be heading to the swimming pool, book in hand, to do what I do best. To those of you unfamiliar with my summer tradition of falling asleep at the swimming pool and burning to a brilliant shade of scarlet, well there you have it. That is what I do best. We can't all be as accomplished as myself.

In the meantime I'll leave you with a recipe, one of my favorite recipes in fact. It covers a few very important aspects of central Texas living. It uses up the only things that will grow in most people's gardens this time of year here and it's food you barely cook and aren't too hot and sweaty to eat. It's also one of the finest damn pasta dishes I have ever had. Hands down. The flavors taste mysterious due to the intriguing combination of mint and basil, but it's simple as all get out and I bet you have all of the ingredients right now. As I type.

A note of caution... do not ever ever ever make this with out of season grocery store tomatoes. I would add to that, don't use grocery store tomatoes for this, no matter what the season... but perhaps your store actually sells tomatoes that taste like tomatoes? I've yet to encounter this mythical beast. Further, don't substitute dry herbs. It's not a year round dish, simple as that.



I look forward to blogging much much more regularly... hopefully twice weekly again! I've missed it and am so happy to be home, theresnoplacelikehome, and up to my old tricks again!

Spicy Summer Pasta
Adapted from Design Sponge

4 medium-small tomatoes from a real garden (blanch and peel them if the skins are tough from sun exposure)
1 Tbsp rinsed capers
1/2 Tbsp fresh cracked black pepper
1 tsp salt
1 Tbsp dried red pepper (put a little less if you want it less spicy)
2-3 garlic cloves
1/4 cup fresh mint
1/4 cup fresh basil
1/4 fresh parsley
1/4 olive oil
1/2 cup grated pecorino romano
8 oz. dried penne

Add all the ingredients except for the cheese to a blender or food processor. Slowly add olive oil and blend until smooth. Toss with cooked penne and add pecorino cheese.

Getting on with it

Wow. I really let things slide didn't I?

I honestly did you all a favor. I've been feeling a bit deflated. A bit uninspired on the writing front of late.



It's not that the food in my life has been uninspiring, or inspired for that matter, lately. It's been wonderful. I've spent the greater part of most days dreaming up various concoctions to try my newfound skills on. No, there's no lack of inspiration when food is on my mind. But it's Sunday, I'm on a one day hiatus. My mind is on other things today.

It's the writing that has me stuck. I'm on the precipice of my return home. Close enough that I can taste it, but just far enough that I can't quite touch it. It's all I can think about.



Maybe if you've read my old posts you gathered I'm a bit of a homebody, and if you drew that conclusion you'd be right on the money. I think I've spent most of my life running from that label, but it's mine and it's high timed I owned it.

I spent my formative years trying to get away from home. I spent summers in high school on a coast far from the southwest. I moved away for my first year of college. I spent a summer abroad. I made a brief move to Chapel Hill. Oh, and that's the short list. As I did these things I spent the greater part of those times missing home, forgetting to live in the moment. I know me. I know me well, but I keep insisting on adventure. Sheesh. Not that I regret a second of it, but sometimes I regret it a wee bit at the time. A wee bit.



I want to first allay your fears, I have been living deeply and religiously in the moment on this particular trip (you were scared, weren't you?). I've balanced homesickness with a hearty dose of go-getter-ness. I've honestly been too busy to think. I allow myself a few fleeting moments a week for wistfulness and then I'm off keeping myself immersed in baking and watching episodes of Love Boat. But you know what? I'm tired. I'm feeling sort of over it all. I just miss home. I see no reason to push through it anymore. Home is three weeks away, three weeks that I am really hoping will fly by. No amount of episodes of the Love Boat seem to speed things along though.



So with that, I apologize for my absence. I offer you only an excuse and an apology and the hope that I can pull it together to blog a few more times before I depart... because my days have been rather entertaining of late. And like I said, there's no shortness of inspiration here. Saturdays at school have been bustling with delicious activity. Shall I share?? A few weeks ago I decided a galette extravaganza was in order. Galettes and a handful of tiny palmiers to boot.



It was hard for me to pick the best of the bunch. There was apple rosemary which is a combination not to be missed. I made a tomato, gruyere and mustard galette... any complaints? I didn't think so. Then there was the whole pear tart filled with almond cream. Like I said, the competition was stiff. And of course, the teensy tiny palmiers made with leftover puff pastry from the galette shells. Such cute tiny babies!!

Like I said, I'm definitely not picking favorites here, but I think I'll share the pear recipe since the other two galettes were followed more or less straight from the recipes I found online. With the pear I took it in my own direction. It's really delicious and the only thing I might add is a drizzle of a lightly sweetened cream sauce or a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream, just balance out the intense fruitiness of the tart.

I should note, the recipe is an odd combination of volume measurements and weight measurements. I apologize for that. At my "home" here I have no scale, and at school I have no cups or teaspoons. I made the pear filling at home and the pastry at school... so you can see the conundrum. I do hope this doesn't stop you from trying this recipe because it really is... well, killer.

Pear Almond Tart
Adapted from Leitas Culinaria

2 cups white wine
2 cups water
1 cinnamon stick
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 vanilla bean
2 tsp Earl Grey tea
3 Bartlett pears, peeled, cored and halved (reserve the stems for decoration)

Bring the wine, water, cinnamon, sugar, vanilla bean, and tea leaves to a boil in a large saucepan. Boil for 5 to 7 minutes, strain, and return the liquid to pan.

Add the pear halves, and simmer the fruit over medium heat for 15 to 20 minutes or until tender. Remove to a plate to cool.

Almond Cream
Adapted from Advanced Bread and Pastry by Michel Suas

66g butter
66g sugar
30g eggs
66g almond meal
20g bread flour
15g almond paste
2g rum

Cream butter and sugar together until light. Add eggs gradually until incorporated. Add almond meal, then flour and almond paste to combine. Add rum to combine.

Blitz Puff Pastry
Adapted from Advanced Bread and Pastry by Michel Suas

218g bread flour
110g water
164g butter, very cold
5g salt
2g lemon juice

Sift flour and salt together. With a stand mixer cut in butter. You want to leave it in very large chunks, tablespoon sized. Mix very cold water and lemon juice together. Add gradually to the dough. The dough will come together, but leave it shaggy and be sure not to overmix. At this point press it out flat into a large rectangle, wrap it tightly and refrigerate overnight.

The next day roll pastry out to a rectangle about 4 inches by 8 inches. Fold it like a letter, bringing the right third over the middle third and folding the left on top of it. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for 20 minutes. This was the first turn and make sure to mark it somewhere so you don't lose track of how many folds you have done.

Repeat this procedure 4 more times for a total of 5 letter folds, always rolling the dough with the open edges to the left and right of you. Refrigerate the dough after each turn. Use flour when rolling but brush off any excess after each turn to avoid getting too much flour on the dough. Always be sure to keep the dough very cold so that the butter doesn't melt into the dough.

For Assembly

Cut the puff pastry into circles 5 inches in diameter. Place a dollop of almond cream in the center of the pastry, about 1 1/2 tsp worth. Place a pear half in the center. Fill the hollow in the pear with almond cream. Stick the other half of the pear in and sandwich tightly together. Gather the pastry in pleats up around the pear. You may even want to set it in a small tart dish to ensure that the sides don't slip down during baking.

Bake about 20 - 30 mins at 375 degrees. The pastry should be well baked and medium golden. Add the pear stem back in as decoration before serving.

Have puff pastry remaining? Roll it into tiny palmier shapes, douse in sugar and bake!

On why enough is never enough

It appears that nothing will draw attention to the perfectionists in a group of people like cake decorating. I'm not talking dollops of frosting and whimsical details whose beauty cannot be objectively described. No, we're talking the whole shebang here... slicing layers, filling and balancing said layers, masking the cake, frosting the cake so it appears to be no more than a hat box coated in buttercream... and oh, yeah. Writing on the cake.



I've suspected for years that I'm a perfectionist in denial. I believe that there was not one single year that my math teachers, during the annual parent night at school, didn't pull my parents aside and say it wasn't that my math skills were poor, quite the opposite in fact. I was lazy with my work habits. I was quite aware, even at the ripe young age of twelve, that failure was not something I planned to expose myself to. And the primary key to not exposing one's self to failure is to not try. There was always a handy excuse when I missed a few problems on the test. Well, I didn't care, so I didn't try and therefore, I didn't technically do anything wrong by messing up a few problems. On the contrary - I excelled on quite a few equations, without the benefit of trying. Wow. Genius, right? I'm not quite sure I succeeding on convincing many people that I was a future Einstein this way, but I sure convinced myself.

It wasn't until college when I had a roommate who was a perfectionist who tried very very hard (and succeeded, without fail, Becca I'm talking about you) that I realized what a great big huge faker I was. I was just like Becca, but I was terrified to take the risks that she took (ie, trying, risking failure). After college I made a conscious effort to change my ways and chase my true calling. It's hard though, I actually struggle with this quite regularly, slipping back down the treacherous slope of denial.

Fast forward to last Friday, 11:10 AM. This puts us squarely at 50 minutes before lunch, at the precise moment when the blood sugar levels of every person in my entire class plummet to its lowest of the day. We've just watched a a very precise demonstration on how to frost a cake so it resembles a hatbox more than food. I'm pumped. I can do this. And I really really want to do this.

Things are actually going along swimmingly for the first 20 minutes. My top is level, my sides are coming along and I am beginning my final planing of the edges. Sweet, score one for me, I totally sort of rule at cake decorating. Oh, take that back... there's a wee divot in the frosting on one side. I think one more pass with the bench scraper will straighten that out. But no, it won't straighten it out because apparently about 19% of the side of my cylinder appears to be sitting at an 89.2 degree angle instead of the 90 degree angle I'm aiming for. Okay, not a problem, add some frosting, scrape it smooth, re-plane the top... and oh bother, a centimeter wide air bubble just appeared on the top.... okay. Filling, re-plane.... Well, you see where we're going with this. I was becoming Sisyphus here with this stupid cake.



Now fast forward to 15 minutes later, blood sugar... well, I have none left. Only two other fellow perfectionists in class are continuing their painstaking work along with me. Enter instructor number one with words of advice, quickly followed by instructor number two. Both spotting problems I hadn't even noticed. Sheesh, there was no lunch in sight for me. Now I'm frustrated. Actually, I'm about ready to drop my bench scraper into the cake and call it a day when a student from a different class decides now would be a fantastic time to strike up a conversation with who? With me. About what? About how frustrating cake decorating is, especially when you can never just decide that enough is enough. And then he proceeds to describe his own favorite method for icing a cake (do I care? no I do not. what I care about is throwing my cake out of a window. that's what I care about.) when, lo and behold, his massive professional grade electronic thermometer creeps out of his pocket and lands squarely in my cake. He has no idea, he's still joking around with me... I think. I have no idea what he was talking about. My eyes were fixed squarely on the thermometer wedged deep deep in my not quite perfect but I was coming to terms with it cake. I froze. My face contorted. I know because I felt it happen. I panicked. And I did what I normally do when I'm horribly horribly about to kill someone furious. I calmly said, "Your thermometer is in my cake." I then turned around so my back faced him and waited calmly until he walked away. This was a wise choice as I had two butcher's knives, four paring knives and numerous other implements that could be used as deadly weapons all within arm's reach. That's right people, on Friday I saved a man's life simply by turning my back on him.

The good news is at this moment he walked away, life and limbs fully intact. The bad news is, at that moment yet another instructor walked up to give yet another bit of unwanted advice. Poor guy. Everything I worked very hard not to say to the man who shall forever be known as the cake butcherer, I unleashed upon my instructor. Actually, what I said was, "You're the fourth person who has come up to me in as many minutes with advice and I'm unable to process it all. Further, the last guy gouged a huge hole in my cake. So if you wouldn't mind please could I have some alone time?" Hugely inappropriate, I know. But if there's any inappropriate thing I've become good at while in pastry school it's telling people exactly what I'm thinking. I wouldn't say I'm proud of it, but it's certainly come in handy a few times.

By the middle of lunch all of my classmates had heard about the thermometer in the cake (not from myself, but from the two witnesses to the disaster) and I was receiving words of encouragement from all sides. Aw shucks guys, thanks! It seriously was a sweet ending to a ridiculous morning.



And heavens did I ever need that sweet ending because bright and early the next morning, a Saturday, I dragged myself out of bed for another round of overly ambitious baking. I made Peter Reinhardt's mushroom ciabatta. If you have the book make that bread. Killer delicious. I revamped my school's bran muffin recipe to fantastic results, if I may toot my own horn a bit. And of course, I made four different types of scones. You can't truly test a scone recipe without testing a bunch at once. Right?? Or is that my perfectionist coming out again? I used figs, honey and goat cheese as the flavorings for the three sweet scones. The best sweet recipe was based on this recipe for scones. They truly are fantastic scone-y scones. The other best scones of the day were the savory scones I made. I reworked the flavorings a little to maximize the savory-ness. Fig and blue cheese anyone? Clearly I have a small fig and cheese combination obsession of late. Perhaps it's something about northern California? Perhaps it's because it's just too too tasty not to eat as much as possible. I heart these scones. A lot. I think you'll agree.

** Note: See the dark brown scone in the photos? Those were baked in the bread oven, just to see what would happen. This is one of the perks of my school. We get to experiment however we'd like. The top caramelized beautifully. The bottom? Well, they burnt a wee bit. In the future I suppose I'll stick to the regular oven.

Savory Fig and Blue Cheese Scones
Adapted from Advanced Bread and Pastry by Michel Suas

252 g bread flour
71 g semolina flour
96 g durum flour
18 g baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
99 g butter, chilled
155 g heavy cream
74 g honey
50 g eggs
71 g blue cheese, crumbled
75 g white onion, minced
120 g dried figs, chopped

Combine the cream, honey and eggs and set aside.

Sift the flours, baking powder and salt together. Chop butter into small even-sized pieces. Cut the butter into the flour until the butter is in pea-sized chunks. Add cream mixture and blend quickly until 75% incorporated. Add the figs, onion and blue cheese and combine till fully mixed. However, be very sure to mix as little as possible. You just want it all to come together. It should be a crumbly dough, but not sandy.

Press the dough into an 8 to 9 inch wide disk. Slice into "pie" slices. You should have eight scones. Brush with egg wash.

Bake at 400 degrees for 15-17 minutes. They are best served warm while the cheese is oozy.

The gateau, the myth, the legend

You'll have to forgive my absence. The past three weeks have been an anomalous concert of events. School seems to increasingly exhaust me. I've had more 9pm bedtimes lately than I care to admit. I traveled home for a weekend to visit Mark, my kitties, my friends and family, a few donkeys and one very overgrown yet fruitful garden. I spent another weekend celebrating my birthday. And this weekend? Well, this weekend Mark comes for a visit. At this very moment I have three long hours to kill before I get to go fetch him from the airport and I cannot wait. Lucky you, you get to read along while I twiddle my thumbs with increasing impatience.



So what can I tell you as I sit here anxiously awaiting Mark's arrival? Should I tell you about pie? Should I tell you how all of the glorious puff pastry, all of the Marie-Antoinette style sweets, all of the lovingly laminated croissants didn't bring anything remotely equal to the joy my class collectively experienced on the day we made good ole' humble American pies? It's a funny thing, pies. Sure, we all get a little excited to taste what we make, but on pie day we dropped everything, pulled out some ice cream and dug in. I've never seen all of us so thrilled about a single food before. There is nothing like pie. I was really touched by that day. It was a reminder that humble, familiar and homey sweets will always have a place in our hearts and will always be home, no matter how worldly our taste becomes.

What else can I tell you? Should I tell you how my roommates dropped everything the day before my birthday to bake an extravagant meal with me so I wouldn't be sad spending my birthday so far from home? It was the day after the pie feast and I had four pies to share. I spent that Saturday in the pastry lab at school. I stumbled home in time to throw together a few calzones. Around me there was a whirlwind of action as sushi and salads were thrown together, wine was poured and old and new friends appeared for an impromptu little meal. It was divine.

Or should I tell you about the Gateau Basque baking binge I went on last week? Should I tell you how I obsessed over this simple dessert for so long that nothing would satisfy my curiosity about it short of baking three versions of it in a single morning? I don't know why, but I do know almost everyone at my school has a pastry or a bread they can't get enough of. Oh, and naturally, everyone's obsession seems to shift weekly. Me? I've gone from gibassier to fig bread to Gateau Basque to honey cream scones to bran blueberry muffins. This latest obsession I blame solely on my horror at my own ever-expanding butter consumption. I fully expect to switch obsessions to tempering chocolate in approximately one week. I received this book for my birthday and have looked at it at least once daily every since. I do indeed see a chocolate desserts day in my very near future.

I digress, where was I? Oh yes, Gateau Basque. I have no logical explanation for how this fruit and custard-filled torte or cake or, let's just say gateau, slipped into my everyday conversations. I read about it on the internet and was mildly curious, but let's face it, only because it was Basque. And even that's a pretty silly reason to be interested in something. Nonetheless, my curiosity was piqued. Then, last month, I slipped into Boulette's Larder in the Ferry Building. Gateau Basque was sitting right smack way dab off on the corner of the counter where my eye was immediately drawn to it. I ordered it, I ate it, I proclaimed it outstandingly fantastically delicious and at that moment an idea was hatched. I would research recipes, consolidate ideas and find the perfect Gateau Basque recipe.

It all seems so simple, such an iron-clad plan. And it was... or was it? I simply found three very different recipes and executed them, using identical custard and fruit fillings. The difference was in the "crust". It's more of a dense cookie than a crust, but that's just semantics. Over the course of two days I made these "crusts", assembled and filled the gateaus and baked them. I then anxiously awaited the results (the results being my classmates' reactions, these reactions which would surely help me answer my most pressing question, which is the perfect gateau basque recipe??).

Here's the catch, here's the place where the plan becomes less than iron-clad. I disagree with my classmates' assessment of the best gateau. It seems improbable that the one voice of dissent would be my own, until I explain why. As I said, I tried three recipes. One was painfully boring, so it doesn't merit mention. One was drop everything delicious. The "crust" was rich, heavily scented with orange, lemon and almond and short, as in butter-y. Also, it was authentic. It's comical, me saying that, me never having been anywhere remotely Basque, my only Gateau Basque being from a cafe disguised as a larder in San Francisco. I think my reasoning here, my sense, is based on the fact that this particular Gateau Basque recipe was not too sweet, not too complicated and resembled much more the other recipes I found in that it was a short crust that wasn't too heavily sweetened. This particular one, this one was just far far richer and more intensely flavored.



The third, well, I'll say it, the third was incredible. It was sweet, it was crispy, but soft in all the right places, it was almond-y and lemon-y, and did I mention? It was sweet. It just seemed too sweet. It also seemed too decadent. It lacked the rustic simple flavors of the other Gateau Basque. However, no lie, it was super super delicious.

So now that I've waxed poetic all up in this Gateau Basque, I invite you to take up the challenge. Help a sister out here and try these two recipes. You won't be sorry at all. Not even a little. Both of them are fantastic recipes. Just make me a promise... let me know what you think because I'm curious.

The "authentic" recipe, which probably really is authentic based on the blog post which accompanies it (read it, it's pretty funny) is from Chefs Gone Wild. The decadent sweeter version is from Food & Wine (by way of Daniel Boulud). I didn't deviate from either recipe, short of converting the Food & Wine version to weights instead of cups. I used a standard custard recipe. I recommend using the recipes accompanying each gateau recipe. They'll yield the same results. Oh - and I put fresh blackberries in my tarts instead of the preserves. So have at it!

The list

Pastry school has become quite the eye-opening experience. Not so much about bread and pastry; much more so about myself. Lately school has been one big butter slick, day after day, kilo upon kilo of butter. And guess who doesn't like butter. That is to say, I was under the mistaken impression that I loved butter up until about two weeks ago. However, 30 gazillion calories later I have to admit, the shine's worn off somewhat. There's nothing like being surrounded by the stuff day in and day out to make one realize the important foods in life. So, in no particular order, I present you with my post-butter avalanche enlightened list of the important foods in (my) life:

*Pickled jalapenos
*Breakfast tacos
*Tiny corn tortilla tacos filed with unidentifiable spicy things
*Avocado, sprout, mayo and whole wheat sandwiches
*Rice and beans with yogurt, avocados and pickled jalapenos
*My friend Kenny's nachos
*Chocolate chip cookies
*Fig, anise, pine nut and blue cheese sourdough

Now why, whyever did I make this list and post it here for the world to see? Well, not to besmirch my reputation as a foodie, but pastry school has brought me to the conclusion that a) the deep and abiding love I have for making bread and pastry does not translate into a deep and abiding love of eating the stuff (Except chocolate chip cookies. I love them.) and b) I am clearly a Texan.



I'm not alone in this. I've never seen a group of people tote around fruit, vegetables and tiny tacos (a class obsession) en masse in such massive proportions as my classmates and I. We're trying to master a delicate balancing act. We have to taste what we make in school. We have to know what we're making and how to improve upon it. But after a day like Friday where we made and subsequently tasted two different pannetones, pan d'oro, colomba de pasqua, sourdough croissants, and then a host of danishes, croissants and laminated brioche (oh yes, you read that right, laminated brioche) I think we all cried uncle. Or maybe we all just cried a little because the pastries were so unbelievably delicious, that was undeniable. My point is, we've become overwhelmed by the butter and now the profusion of healthy snacks (and tiny tacos) at school nearly rivals the butter content.



For my part, I'm not sure replacing butter with avocados is the right move to make, but it's the direction I seem to be heading in. Yesterday, a Saturday, I headed up to school to spend the morning playing around in the lab. I made fennel, almond taralli and fig, anise and blue cheese sourdough loaves. When I left school my clothes were inexplicably smeared with avocado, which I had been snacking on for the greater part of the morning. My clothes were not covered in flour, figs, cheese or any of the other ingredients I had been working with. Go figure.



After spending six hours at school I lugged home five loaves of bread and about 40 taralli. Clearly, I'm filling my Mexican food void with bread. I can't complain. It was some damn fine bread. Sadly, the taralli over-baked. We discovered they make better drumsticks than food when burnt to a crisp. The fig and anise bread, however, was a smashing success. It was so good that I'm tempted to make it every week until I leave school. It may not be Mexican food, but it clearly won itself a little spot of its own on the list above.



Semolina Sourdough with Figs, Anise, Pine Nuts and Blue Cheese
Adapted from Wild Yeast

660 g flour
660 g semolina
738 g water
8 g instant yeast
33 g salt
579 g ripe 100%-hydration sourdough starter
66 g olive oil
27 g anise seeds
340 g dried figs, sliced into bite-sized pieces
210 g toasted pine nuts
105 g crumbled blue cheese

Mix flour, semolina, water, salt, yeast, starter, and olive oil in the bowl of a stand mixer on low speed until just combined, about 4 – 5 minutes.



Mix on medium speed with a dough hook for about 7 -10 mins. The dough will be slightly tacky, but will clear the bowl of the mixer easily. You should be able to see a medium level of gluten formation at this point.

Add the anise, figs and pine nuts and mix in low speed until just combined.

Transfer the dough to a covered, lightly oiled container. Ferment at room temperature for 1.5 - 2 hours. It will expand slightly and hold fingerprints, while only coming back slightly when touched.

Turn the dough onto a lightly floured counter and divide it into 7 pieces of about 460 g each. Preshape each piece into a boule, sprinkle lightly with flour, cover and let them rest for 20 minutes.

Shape the dough into batards. As you press the pre-shaped boules out flat to begin to shape your batard sprinkle the center of the disk you make with 15 g of blue cheese. Continue on shaping the boule. Place them seam-side-up in a heavily floured couche.

Slip the couche into a large plastic bag and proof at room temperature until the diameter of the baguettes has increased by approximately 50%, about 1.5 - 2 hours. When touched the fingerprint will hardly spring back at all.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven, with baking stone, to 475F and prepare your preferred method of steaming.

Before baking, score each loaf with either one long slash or two short over-lapping slashes.

Once the loaves are in the oven, turn the temperature down to 450F. Bake with steam for 8 minutes, then another 17 minutes or so without steam. The loaves should be a deep golden brown. Leave the oven door cracked open a bit during the last 8 minutes of the baking time to help the loaves dry out.

Place the loaves on a wire rack to cool. Cool completely before tasting.

These breads and others can be seen at Yeastspotting.