Maillard

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Some real fuckin’ foodie nerd shit is about to go down, y’all.

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This is the shit my chemistry T.A. and I talk about during lab discussion.
These cookies are bringing science back.
I am harnessing one of the most delicious reactions known to man and using its great and terrible power to make some kick-ass cookies.

And I’m SO excited to share these cookies and this technique with you.  Like, I can’t even.
I’ve been working on these here thangs for a while, now.
I’ve decided they’re ready to be unleashed upon the world.
The question is, are you ready?

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Do you know how freaking awesome the Maillard reaction is, man?
This is what is responsible for the heaven that is the crust of a good bread, the browning of butter, the golden color of baked cookies, cakes, and biscuits, dulce de leche, the crust of a steak, caramelized roasted vegetables, french fries, the smell of roasted coffee, chocolate, soy sauce, maple syrup

The Maillard reaction creates essentially all good smells in the kitchen.  It is an aroma powerhouse.
Roasting, toasting, baking, frying and their accompanying intoxicating smells are all derived from this reaction.

Can I get an amen?!

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The Maillard reaction describes the reaction between a single amino acid and a sugar.
It’s a form of nonenzymatic browning.
(The other main form of nonenzymatic browning is caramelization, which is the partial breakdown of a sugar.  The two reactions pair quite nicely, as both produce similarly delicious aromas, flavors, and colors.)
It’s favored in an alkaline environment, and requires heat to occur.
Because there are so many different combinations possible between amino acids and sugars, and because compounds can break down and form new combinations, the variety of aromas and flavors caused by the Maillard reaction is enormous.

Have you ever wondered why pretzels (les bretzels) are dipped in sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) solution before being baked?
It’s because the weak base of (CO3)2- creates an alkaline (basic) environment, facilitating and speeding up the formation of that lovely brown crust on the surface.
(I need to get a pretzel recipe on this blog, stat.)

Obviously, this interaction between amino acids and sugars has been happening since people started cooking and baking, but Louis-Camille Maillard first scientifically described the reaction in 1912, though he didn’t fully know the scope or details of it.
Oh damn! Hold up! That’s a French-ass name, Louis-Camille.  Yeah, my lil croissant, lil cheese on my croissant.

So as if we didn’t already know that the French dominate in the land of carbohydrates, they also pinned down the reaction that literally makes life and bread delicious.

Merci mille fois; mille fois merci.

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Blah blah science blah no one cares.
Except when it comes to cookies.
If science is guaranteeing better cookies, all y’all are gonna hop on board.  I know it.  I know you.

Brown butter is a go-to.  Any recipe that calls for melted butter is a boon, because I automatically brown my butter for a boost of nutty, rich flavor.
Butter browns because the proteins and sugar in the milk solids of butter toast and go through a certain reaction. (Hmm, what was that called again?)
What happens if you toast just milk solids, then?

Magic.

Put some milk powder in a dry skillet, stir it around, and wait.  It will slowly turn brown and toasty, and begin to let off enticing smells.  Don’t stick your face too deep to inhale, though, because you’ll get a nose full of milk.
Put this toasted milk powder into already browned butter, and you’ve just amplified the amount of Maillardian flavors all up in that butter.  By a lot.
Browning a stick of butter gets you about a tablespoon of browned milk solids.
These cookies add 3 tablespoons of browned milk solids to that.
Meaning you get cookies with the flavor of a pound of browned butter.
AKA flavor punch bang pow mother truckers.

Super-charged brown butter, heaps of brown sugar, and a grand old dose of salt make up the base of these cookies, which will end up supremely soft and puffy, like little globes of deliciousness.
Stir in some chocolate chunks, portion out tiny little scoops, and prepare yourself for total cookie domination.
The alkaline batter (yep, we used sodium bicarb) goes into the oven, and even more Maillard reactions occur, both with the dough and with the chocolate.  Holy jeebus.  I’m drooling.

Eat them warm with a glass of cold, cold milk.
Cheers to Maillard.
Cheers to soft, salty, nutty, rich, profound cookies.
These ain’t no basic CCCs.
These are a chemist’s complex chocolate chip cookies.

It may be hard to mess chocolate chip cookies up, but it’s just as goddamn hard to make them freaking amazing.

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tl;dr
**make these cookies**

Some thoughts if you do try them, which you ought to: if you don’t want your cookies to be as puffy, I bet another tablespoon of milk plus a teaspoon and a half of neutral oil would do it.  I’ll get back to you on that.
Mini chocolate chips distribute more evenly in mini cookies.  I personally like big chunks, so I stuck with ’em.  Just keep that in mind.
For late night cravings, keep a batch of these in the freezer.  All you have to do from frozen is bake ’em for an extra minute, and that way, you’ll have cookies on hand for every sort of problem and situation that might arise.  Wrap well in plastic and aluminum foil to prevent freezer burn!
Sandwiching these with vanilla ice cream is all I want to do with my life.
They would also make a perfect mix-in for ice cream, because they are so so soft.

Number one tip: consume while fresh and hot hot hot.

Shoutout to science and shit, baby.  Bang bang.

P.S. Did you notice the blog’s facelift?
I spent wayyyyy too long designing the new logo and updating fonts, etc.
Tell me what you think!

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Maillard Chocolate Chip Cookies
makes about 50 tiny cookies, or 12 large

ingredients:
3 tablespoons milk powder
3/4 cup unsalted butter, browned and then cooled until hardened
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/4 cup sugar
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon milk
2 cups all purpose flour
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup bittersweet chocolate chips or chunks

directions:
Brown the butter well ahead of time and set it in the fridge to cool back to a solid state.
Brown the milk powder: in a NONSTICK skillet over low heat, stir the milk powder gently until a deep tan color and very fragrant, about 10-15 minutes.
Be sure not to let it burn.
Scrape the solidified browned butter along with the browned milk powder into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and beat until soft, about 2 minutes.
Add the sugars and the salt and beat for 2 more minutes.
Add the egg and vanilla and beat until very light and fluffy, 5 more minutes (stop to scrape the bowl after 3 minutes).
Add in the milk and beat for 30 seconds, just until incorporated.
Add the flour, cornstarch, and baking soda to the bowl with the mixer off.
Slowly stir in the flour, with the mixer or by hand.
Once the dough is completely homogeneous, add in the chocolate chips and stir to combine.
Portion out in 2 teaspoon (smallest cookie scoop) measures for tiny cookies, or in 1/3 cup (standard ice cream/cookie scoop) portions for standard size cookies. (The larger portion size will yield approximately 12 cookies.)
You can now chill the dough balls overnight, or freeze, well wrapped, for much longer.
Bake at 350 degrees F for 6 minutes for tiny cookies, 8 minutes for larger cookies.
Cookies will seem very doughy and underdone; as they cool, they will remain super soft.
Eat warmed up with cold milk.

Janvier

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“There are many things we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.”

-Oscar Wilde

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January is a fragile month.
The new year is only just hatching, stretching its wings, ruffling its feathers, blinking awake.
The sun is slowly becoming stronger, the days longer.

It is the month of resolutions, ever so delicate, easily crushed in their nascence.

We are all only dipping our toes in the cold, cold new waters.
Not a one of us knows what the year will bring—a terrifying and invigorating prospect.

How has it come to pass that the end of this first month of 2014 is nigh?
January has flown by in a blur, spinning me around in a whirled frenzy of snow and wind.
I shiver to think of what this year holds—whether it is borne from excitement or dread, I cannot say.
It could also be the ungodly cold here in Chicago.  I don’t know.

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January is a month of citrus.
Though, I must admit, you cannot tell as much from my archives.

January 2013: puff pastry tutorial, coconut mochi, s’mores cake, conversation heart cookies, nutella-raspberry-brown butter crumb bars, maple-bacon and Vietnamese coffee doughnuts, gâteau des rois.  Only one had citrus…
January 2014: Peppermint-chocolate cookies, PB cupcakes, pear-cranberry-ginger crisps, earl grey cupcakes.  Ahem.  Still none.

This pavlova is my answer, my remedy, then, to the absent citrus in what I have just declared to be a month of citrus.
Specifically, lemon.
January is a lemon month.

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Lemon.  Perky, bright, sunny.
Lemon.  Tart, balancing, acidic.
Lemon lemon lemon, I’d choose over chocolate any day.  (Freak.)

The first time I met a meyer lemon was 2006.
I received the January issue of Martha Stewart Living.
As I tore through it, my 11 year old self soaking in every hit of inspiration, I fell upon this cake.
I wanted to cry.  I wanted to make this cake so incredibly badly, but knew it was out of my reach.

This cake prominently featuring these mysterious meyer lemons was all I wanted.  And I couldn’t have it.
I begged my parents to let me make it.
They said, “um… no. We don’t need a 3 foot high, 3 tier meyer lemon cake.  Stop reading Martha Stewart, you little weirdo.

Everything was so beautiful and yellow and happy and lemony.
It was torture.
And what the hell was a meyer lemon, anyway?

Can you tell what a strange, disturbed child I was?  A Martha Stewart addict from a young age.
It explains so much, don’t it?

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In a month where stagnation is banished, where the wheels are turning and the world is changing, lemon is ideal.
It’s fresh and lively, something which I appreciate when the fresh produce situation is somewhat abysmal.
Lemon never fails to awaken the palette.
It’s a clean flavor, and after all the heavy desserts of December, we can all use a flavor boost.

Pavlova.  Also perfectly suited for January, with its light airiness and minimal sweetness.
Good for resolution breaking, but not resolution destroying, ja feel?

It’s probably my favorite dessert.  Which is a big, big deal.
I wrote a sonnet inspired by rhubarb, which was featured in my first pavlova. (I have no words for the white balance in those photos.  Please accept my apologies.)
I had pavlova for my 18th birthday cake, a simple one-layer affair, covered in coconut/mascarpone fluff, passionfruit sauce, and tumbling raspberries.

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And now, here we are.
This pavlova focuses on tartness, allowing the meyer lemons to shine.

A supremely light meringue base, crispy and crackling on the exterior, pillowy marshmallow on the inside, is
layered with barely sweetened Greek yogurt,
thick and luscious meyer lemon curd,
fresh bites of strawberries and raspberries, and
finished with a sprinkle of earthy, grounding thyme and
tart, chewy candied meyer lemons.

My pavlova cracked, pretty badly.  I ain’t stressed about it.
See, I thought it would be genius to layer the yogurt and curd onto the layers before stacking them.
What anybody with a shred of common sense would quickly see is that the meringue was too delicate and fragile to stand up to the thick sauces and promptly crrrrrraacked.  *shit shit shit*
Oops.  It’s okay.  Pavlovas crack and crumble; it’s part of their personality, their patina.
Get over it.

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Once I was done photographing the cake, I realized how futile it would be to try to keep it on the cake pedestal.
It was already slip sliding around, as I didn’t secure it to the stand with a daub of lemon curd, as I should have.
Things were cracking, falling, toppling.
So, I plopped it into a bowl, shoved the leftover fruits on top, and called it a day.

The secret?  It tastes just as good smashed up, packed into a bowl, smashed to bits and spooned straight into your mouth as it does dressed up, stacked, and eaten from a proper plate.

And thank goodness for that.

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Meyer Lemon, Berry, Thyme, and Yogurt Pavlova
meringue base from Donna Hay
lemon curd adapted from Use Real Butter
ingredients:
for the meringue base:
4 egg whites
1 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons white vinegar

for the lemon curd:
1 1/2 cups water
3/4 cup sugar
6 tablespoons cornstarch
4 egg yolks, beaten
3 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup meyer lemon juice
zest of 2 meyer lemons

for the candied lemons:
2 meyer lemons, sliced very thinly
2 cups sugar
2 cups water

to assemble:
3/4 cup plain Greek yogurt
3 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar, sifted
1 pint strawberries, 1/2 hulled and sliced, 1/2 whole
1 cup raspberries
Fresh thyme

directions:
Make the meringue base:
Preheat oven to 250 degrees F and line a baking sheet with parchment.
Trace 2 6-inch circles (you could do 8- or 9-inch, but it won’t be as tall.) with pencil, then turn the paper over.
Begin to whip egg whites with a stand mixer.
When soft peaks are just starting to form, stream in the sugar very slowly, one tablespoon at a time, until the meringue has reached very stiff peaks.
Gently fold in the vinegar and cornstarch.
Spread the meringue out around the traced circles.
Bake for an hour and a half, then turn off the oven and allow the pavlova to cool completely inside the oven.

Make the lemon curd:
Place water and sugar in a large pot.
Bring to a boil, then whisk in cornstarch.
Bring to a boil; mixture will be very thick and gloppy.
While whisking egg yolks, take a spoonful of the cornstarch mixture and quickly combine; continue to add, by the spoonful, until about 1/3 of the hot cornstarch mixture has been added.
Whisk the egg yolk mixture back into the corn starch mixture, and return to very low heat.
Whisk in the butter, then, off the heat, carefully whisk in the lemon juice and zest.
If any lumps are present, blitz the curd in a blender until smooth.

Make the candied lemons:
Bring a large pot of water to a boil and prepare an ice bath.
Place the very thinly sliced lemons in the boiling water and cook for 20 seconds.
Remove to the ice bath and allow to cool completely.
Meanwhile, add 2 cups sugar and 2 cups water to the pot and bring to a simmer, until the sugar is dissolved.
Add the lemon slices and allow to simmer for 45 minutes, until softened and no longer bitter.

Assemble the pavlova:
Whisk the yogurt and confectioner’s sugar together.
Spread a thin layer over the first pavlova layer, then spread half of the lemon curd onto the yogurt.
Top with the sliced strawberries and a sprinkling of thyme.
Add the second meringue disk, and top with the remaining yogurt and lemon curd.
Arrange the fruit on top of the lemon curd, and sprinkle more thyme leaves over.
Serve with a spoon, in bowls.

As Promised

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This post is a wee bit out-of-season.  You might not be able to find candy canes at the grocery store.
Check the clearance section.  If you still can’t find any, you’re S.O.L.

Just kidding.  I advocate the use of sprinkles, as you probably already know.

I’ve made lofthouse-style cookies once before, and dumped on the brand in a whiny post a lo o o o o ong time ago.

I am not providing a link to said post, and don’t you go nosing around for it either, primarily because the photos look like they were taken with a flip phone from 2007 (Razr, anyone?  I had the Pebl.  Gr8.) and I don’t want to be reminded of that.

Ok?  Ok.  Glad we talked about this.

These lofthouse cookies are the (late) peppermint post that I promised would infuriate you.

Be happy, because I came thisclose to not only posting a candy cane post after the holidays, but making it a repeat recipe from the-post-that-shall-not-be-named-searched.

THISCLOSE.  But.  I found another promising recipe, and ran with it.

This one uses cake flour and corn starch, as well as shortening (Don’t look at me like that. I know. Deal with it.) to keep the cookies super soft and fluffy, where the last recipe used sour cream.
These were more cakey than real lofthouse cookies, but nevertheless, delicious, and pretty damn close to the addictively gross originals.

I topped them with a salty espresso + chocolate buttercream and a smattering of crushed candy canes for crunch. (Hellooooo alliteration nicetomeetyou.)

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P.S. I realize that these photos are very similar looking.  No, this isn’t one of those spot-the-difference games.

I’m just lazy, which should further confirm your idea of me as a bad blogger.

Anyways!  Good luck finding candy canes.  Ha.

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Chocolate and Peppermint Lofthouse Cookies
makes about 15 cookies
cookie portion adapted from Cooking Classy
ingredients:
for the cookies:
300 grams (2 1/2 cups) cake flour
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
110 grams (1/2 cup, 8 tablespoons) butter
55 grams (1/4 cup, 4 tablespoons) vegetable shortening
200 grams (1 cup) granulated sugar
scant 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 egg plus 1 egg white
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

for the frosting:
60 grams (~2 ounces) dark chocolate, melted
110 grams (1/2 cup, 8 tablespoons) butter
1 tablespoon cocoa powder
2 teaspoons espresso powder
45 grams (1 1/2 cups) powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

to assemble:
2 candy canes, chopped finely or ground in a food processor

directions:
In the bowl of a stand mixer, add the butter and shortening and beat for 2 minutes.
Add in the sugar and salt and beat for 3 minutes.
Add the egg and egg white as well as the vanilla and beat for 4 full minutes.
Meanwhile, whisk the flour, cornstarch, and baking powder together.
Scrape the sides of the bowl after 4 minutes of beating, then add in the flour mixture and mix on low speed until combined.
Refrigerate the dough for at least 1 hour.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
To bake, remove the dough from the fridge and roll out to 1/2 inch thickness, or perhaps a little less, on a well-floured surface.
Cut out desired shapes and place on parchment lined baking sheets.
Bake for 8-10 minutes, until set.
To make the frosting, beat the butter and espresso powder on high until very soft.
Sift the powdered sugar and cocoa powder over the butter and mix on low; mixture will be dry.
Add the salt and, with the mixer running on medium speed, stream the melted but cooled chocolate into the frosting.
Beat until completely homogeneous.
To frost the cookies, place a generous tablespoon of frosting onto the cookie, and spread out with a butterknife or offset spatula.
Dust with candy cane pieces.

To the Core

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“Our biggest disagreement was about chunks.
Ben came up with the flavors and I did the manufacturing, and he wanted bigger chunks and I wanted small ones with greater distribution.
He said people didn’t care if you got a chunk in every bite as long as you knew that fairly soon you’d get a chunk.”

Jerry Greenfield

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I think we can apply Ben Cohen’s theory about ice cream chunks to life happiness.

How important, and too often forgotten, is the idea that not every bite will or needs to contain a chunk?
We’re so trained for instant gratification that anything less feels like deprivation.
We forget that not every day needs to be perfect or leave you fulfilled.
You don’t need to be cheery and happy every minute to feel satisfied in the big picture.

We think about our lives in terms of monumental moments; we measure the passing of time with the passing of tragedies and victories.
What about all the days where nothing “of importance” happens?

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They are to our lives as bites without chunks are to Ben and Jerry’s, as junk DNA is to genes.
From the outset, they seem less important.  Undesirable, useless.  Wasted.
But more flies under our radar, which is tuned to big spikes in emotion, than we think.
Little things.  Daily things, both annoying and delightful.

The first bite of a crisp apple.
Losing your keys, phone, wallet, mind.
A smile from a passerby.
Stubbing a toe.  Twice.
The smell of cookies baking.
Being overworked and overtired at the end of a long day, a long week, a long year.
Snuggling into your own bed.

So much that we take for granted is beautiful in its own right.

I intend to practice more gratitude and appreciation for the plain, the mediocre, the underappreciated, the kind-of-crappy happenings in my life.
I intend to take each moment as it comes, to breathe it in and live in it,
to meet it with a smile and know it fully.

Each moment of each day in our fantastic, terrible world deserves meaning.

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It is a sophisticated hope, then, that sustains true, lasting happiness.
The hope—or rather, the knowledge—that you’ll get a “chunk” fairly soon.
And the deep and conscious enjoyment and appreciation of every moment, every plain bite of ice cream, every pretzel in the Chex mix.

Food for thought.  Thought for food.

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Speaking of food… Cupcakes?!  Again?!  Who am I?!
Just last week, I made these “teatime” cupcakes.  And I loved them!
Photographing cupcakes is more pleasant than cookies, and lord knows I’ve made enough of those in recent times.
So.  Many.  Cookies.
Thus, despite my semi-loathing of cupcakes, I made more.

Part of my newly affirmed affection for cupcakes is that I’ve been frosting them with a meringue buttercream.
Seriously, I used to think that thick, American-style buttercream was a decent choice for cupcakes.
But, truthfully, there is no comparison to a cloud of rich, glossy IMBC.
Especially not a brick of confectioner’s sugar/butter ABC.

I wax on about meringue buttercreams all the time (not sorry) but that’s because they’re amazing.
Light, easy to pipe, smooth, shiny, stable, flavorful.
(I’m an adjective junkie.)

They’re only minimally more work, are less likely to break/curdle/be gross and are therefore totally worth the extra 10 minutes of prep.
Give your favorite cupcakes a makeover with some IMBC and you won’t recognize them, or ever even look back.

Maybe you don’t like cupcakes, like me.
I swear to you, cupcakes frosted with IMBC may change you.

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These cupcakes were inspired by Ben and Jerry’s ice cream!

One of their “core” UK flavors is called Peanut Butter Me Up.
It’s half peanut butter and half vanilla ice cream, surrounding a core of raspberry jammy goodness.  The vanilla is studded with peanut butter cups.
Sounds like a perfect pint to me.  Heaven is peanut butter+vanilla+fruit.
Why don’t we have it in America?  I don’t know.  But it’s killing me.

These “Peanut Butter Me Up” cupcakes are a soft, buttery, salty PB cake, filled with tart raspberry jam, topped with a big fluff pile of vanilla Italian meringue buttercream, topped with a peanut butter cup.

I used raspberry preserves made only with pomegranate juice as the sweetener, so it was extra tart and tangy!
I only made 12 cupcakes, but there was definitely enough batter/buttercream to make 16 or 18 cupcakes, so I’ve adjusted the yield in the recipe to reflect that.

Since I can’t get the ice cream here, I’ll have to stick with cupcakes.
Somehow, I’m OK with that.

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Peanut Butter Me Up Cupcakes
makes 16-18 cupcakes
cake portion adapted from Serious Eats

ingredients:
for the peanut butter cake:
4 tablespoons butter
1 packed cup brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 cup creamy peanut butter
2 eggs
3/4 cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

for the vanilla Italian meringue buttercream:
3 egg whites
1 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
big pinch salt
6 ounces (3 sticks) butter, cut into small bits, soft but cool
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

to assemble:
raspberry jam, approximately 1/2 cup
mini peanut butter cups

directions:
Make the cupcakes: preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Line 18 muffin tins with papers.
Beat butter until softened, about 1 minute.
Stream in brown sugar and salt and beat for 3 full minutes.
Add in the peanut butter and beat for 3 more minutes.
Add in the eggs, one at a time, and beat for 2 full minutes.
Mix the milk and vanilla extract, and, very slowly and carefully, stream into the batter while slowly, slowly mixing to prevent splashing.
Dump the flour on top of the batter and add the baking powder over the flour mound.
Slowly stir batter until homogeneous (it will be thick).
Portion out with an ice cream scoop into your tins.
Bake for 22-26 minutes, until springy to the touch, very fragrant, and a tester comes out with only a couple crumbs.
Allow to cool completely.

Make the vanilla Italian meringue buttercream: combine sugar, salt, and water in a heavy bottomed pot.
Place egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer.
Begin to whip egg whites on medium speed while heating the sugar syrup over medium-high heat.
When the sugar syrup reaches 230 degrees F, your egg whites should be at very soft peaks.
By the time the syrup reaches temp at 245 degrees F, your egg whites should be at soft peaks.
Slowly and carefully pour the hot syrup into the whipping egg whites.
Whip the meringue until it reaches body temperature, then begin to whip in the butter, 1 tablespoon at a time.
Add the vanilla and continue to whip the buttercream at high speed until it becomes fluffy, glossy, and thick.

Assemble the cupcakes: place your raspberry jam in a piping bag fitted with a plain tip.
Plunge the tip into the cupcake and wiggle it around, applying gentle, even pressure to fill the cake, until the pressure forces the tip out of the cake.
Frost the cupcakes with the meringue buttercream as desired, then top with a peanut butter cup!

Slump, Grunt, Buckle

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Snorfle, sniffle, slurp.

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Can we take a moment to appreciate the ridiculous names bestowed upon cobblers, crisps, and the like?

Betty, buckle, cobbler, crisp, crumble, grunt, pandowdy, slump, zonker(????).

whaaaaaaaaa why why why why

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Despite their stupid names, these kind of desserts are delicious, and what’s more, crazy easy and fast.
Perfect when you need a quick fix of warm, cozy dessert. (Which, in my case, is 24/7.)

Chop up seasonal, fresh fruit (it can even be a little underripe.  We don’t judge here.) and toss it with some sugar, salt and flour/cornstarch.
No need to measure, just go with your heart by taste.
Top it off with buttery cookie crumbs (I wish my whole life were topped with buttery cookie crumbs) and bake it.
SO EASY GUYS WHY AREN’T WE ALL DOING IT?!

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This is the best crisp I have ever tasted. Ever.
I’ve made it a few times, in a few different forms.
The first time, about 3 years ago (is 2011 really 3 years ago?! Have mercy.), I baked it in a big heavy dish, and served it with vanilla ice cream.  I was blown away.
In fact, I was so impressed that I then made it into a crumble pie (think dutch apple pie).  The pie was good, but, can I be honest, people?  It was more work.  And the best part was the filling and topping anyways.  So I do not advocate the pie version.  It’s fussier and not worth it.  Keep it simple, stooopid.
And now, I’ve made it into tiny little individual crisps, so you don’t have to think twice about eating four.

For once in my life, I’m not exaggerating.  Seriously. Best crisp I have EVER. HAD.
Sweet and juicy from the pears, tart and punchy from the cranberries, and spicy and rich from the buttery gingersnaps.  
I’ll never look at plain pear crisps the same way.  There’s no going back once you try this combo.
Read: try this combination.  For your own sake.

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Okay, time for an explanation about these mini crisps/crumbles/whatever you want to call them.

Other than being delicious, they are dead simple.

I didn’t use a recipe.  Here’s what I did:

peel, core, and dice a couple d’anjou pears
toss ’em with lemon juice, a couple tablespoons of sugar and flour, and some fresh cranberries
throw a bunch of gingersnaps into my food processor and grind them into crumbs
add a hefty pinch of pepper, ginger, brown sugar, and salt
melt some butter and pour it in until the crumbs get clumpy
dump the fruit into serving vessels, top with a shit ton of gingersnap crumb stuff
bake until bubbling and burbling
eat
eat
eat.

If you want more solidified measurements and directions, check out Deb’s (AWESOME) recipe.  Seriously thankyouthankyou Deb for leading me to this delicious flavor combination.  Heaven.

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Keep Calm

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“Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk of happy things.”

-Chaim Potok

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“Tea is drunk to forget the din of the world.”

-Tien Yiheng

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“Strange, how a teapot can represent at the same time the comforts of solitude and the pleasures of company.”

-Author Unknown

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“Take some more tea,” the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.
“I’ve had nothing yet,” Alice replied in an offended tone, “so I can’t take more.”
“You mean you can’t take less,” said the Hatter: “it’s very easy to take more than nothing.”

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

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There is always time for tea and room for cake.
Or, in this case, both.

Chocolate cakes infused with Earl Grey tea in two manners: dry tea leaves, and hot brewed tea.
The sweet, floral undertones, which have orange and verbena notes, as well as the astringent black tea leaves, contrast well with the deep and rich chocolate cake.
The Italian meringue buttercream is made with honey and golden syrup, resulting in a salty-sweet, silky delight that tastes like the top of a good piece of toast, minus the bread, which is the worst part anyway.

I might actually like cupcakes again.
This recipe only makes 6, which is perfect (I don’t need 24 cupcakes floating around my house, people…), and is a marriage of unexpected flavors which ended up working inexplicably well.

The best recipe for health and happiness:
good books, better tea, and, of course, delicious cupcakes.

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Teatime Cupcakes
makes 6
cake portion adapted from Sweetapolita
ingredients:
for the chocolate Earl Grey cakes:
48 grams (1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons) flour
75 grams (1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons) sugar
3/8 teaspoon baking soda
3/8 teaspoon baking powder
3/8 teaspoon cornstarch
big pinch kosher salt
15 grams (2 tablespoons) cocoa powder
1 tablespoon loose Earl Grey leaves
40 mL (2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons) buttermilk
1 medium egg (if using a large egg, beat it well before adding it, and remove 2 teaspoons of beaten egg)
30 mL (2 tablespoons) hot Earl Grey tea
25 mL (1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons) vegetable oil
splash vanilla extract

for the honey golden syrup IMBC:
111 grams (1/3 cup) honey
111 grams (1/3 cup) golden syrup
scant 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 egg whites
230 grams (1 cup) butter, cut into small pieces and soft but cool

directions:
For the cakes, line 6 muffin tins with cupcake papers.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Whisk the flour, sugar, baking soda and powder, cornstarch salt, tea leaves, and cocoa powder together.
Into the dry ingredients, add the buttermilk, egg, hot tea, oil, and vanilla.
Whisk very well to combine. (It will be a very thin batter.)
Fill each cupcake well with 1/4 cup of batter.
Bake for 15-18 minutes, until domed and springy to the touch, and a tester comes out clean.
Allow to cool completely before frosting.

For the honey golden syrup IMBC:
Place the egg whites, along with a pinch of cream of tartar, in the bowl of a stand mixer.
Place the honey, golden syrup, and salt in a small sauce pot over medium heat.
Begin to whisk the eggs.
When the syrup reaches 230 degrees, the eggs should almost be at soft peaks.
When the syrup reaches 240 degrees, the egg whites should have soft peaks that are almost stiff.
Pour the syrup carefully, down into the bowl while the mixer is running.
Beat the meringue until it has cooled to body temperature, then beat in the butter one tablespoon at a time.
Beat until the buttercream has become very fluffy and light.
Frost cupcakes as desired.

P.S.

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