June 17, 2015 by Rachel Sally

All of It

“That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination,
every mistake, every word, all of it.”

—Goodbye to All That, Joan Didion

Oh, friends.
(Spoken with a heavy sigh threaded through each looping letter.)

There’s nothing harder and more painful than saying goodbye—or even “see you later”—is there?
Say no, please. Indulge me.

Exams ended a mere week ago, and I uprooted myself only four days ago and have gone and moved a thousand miles away from what I have now begun to consider my home.
1000 miles away from my other half—my partner in crime and most closely held confidante—my best friend.
Why in the world did I willingly do that?

Four days and I have started at an exciting, challenging new job in an exciting, challenging new city.

One thousand lonely miles and four lonesome days and my heart feels as if it has been rent in two.
Who knew you could drown in tears cried in your deepest, quietest dreams?

Is this too much for a blog where I only refer to my beloved by the first letter of his name, out of some unspoken fear that typing it in full will cause him to disappear, a smoke-and-screens magician chased away at the mention of himself?

I fear this is the type of weepy writing that we as Modern Humans like to hold at full arms’ lengths, prefer to keep, safely, in quickly-closed tabs, away from eyes and clicks and minds.
It is too much, simply.

And yet, I have to tell you: I have puddled to the floor like a scoop of cool, smooth ice cream in the wavering New York heat.
It took mere minutes removed from the comfort of the envelope of his arms and impossibly soft skin for my constitution to soften, and weeping and melting followed suit.

I scratch messy notes on scrabbled pages of a journal, and live for the dreams where he lays next to me.
I count the days feverishly, feeling like a madwoman.
I cry to my daddy, because I’m hundreds of miles from my steadiest rock, and he, poor thing, can do nothing to console his daughter who has lost her mind in loneliness and love.

Too young, half of my readers will scold and shake their heads, and here is where I can only try to explain how my heart feels so tight when I lay my head on the pillow at night that I can’t breathe in fully without risking a few tears being squeezed out, and all because I cannot see and hear and feel him next to me.

Do I sound like a teenage melodrama?
Pish on that. I’m terribly lonely, and deservedly so—I feel like I am only a half in what has been a constant whole.

Okay, okay. I get it. Enough.
Since it’s summer, and not a single one of us can be bothered to spend extended periods in the kitchen tending to complicated things without running the risk of puddling to the floor (pining heart or no), I have a simple, elegant, summery cake today.

The batter comes together quickly, and a handful of strawberry slices take no more time to be thrown haphazardly on top.

Strawberries are ludicrously in season, little juicy ruby red jewels that burst on the tongue and coyly reveal sweet-tartness.
When baked on top of a soft, gently vanilla-scented whole-wheat butter cake, they soften and melt and meld with the cake, edges crisping ever so slightly while getting syrupy in their centers.

Baking it is easy—just stick it in the oven and wander out of the kitchen to a room with a fan, or better yet, aircon, for a little less than an hour.
The scent of strawberry-vanilla will draw you back in at just the right moment.

A few lashings of good quality dark melted chocolate, and you have a weeknight-approved cake that is glamorous with its bejeweled, striped top, and yet is deceptively unfussy and simple in the best way possible on the inside.

Definitely serve with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
That is not optional, people.
(P.S. Is it true that ice cream helps to soothe desolate long-distance relationship participants who miss their partner?
P.P.S. Scratch that. N is dairy free. Sorbet it is.)

Whole-Wheat Strawberry Loaf Cake

makes 1 9×5 inch loaf cake
adapted from Smitten Kitchen

ingredients:
130 grams (9 tablespoons) butter, soft
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
300 grams (1 1/2 cups) sugar
2 eggs
180 mL (3/4 cup) milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
280 (2 1/4 cups) white whole wheat flour
2 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
6 large strawberries, hulled and sliced
pinch of sugar, for topping
1 ounce melted dark chocolate, for topping

directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and butter a loaf pan well.
Place butter in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat on high for 3 minutes.
Add in the sugar and salt and beat on high for another 3 minutes.
Scrape the bowl and add in the eggs; beat on high for another 3 minutes.
Scrape the bowl and add in the milk and vanilla; stir gently just to begin to combine.
Add the flour and baking powder on top, and slowly stir until the batter starts to come together; increase speed and beat on high for 30 seconds to 1 minute, until fully homogenized.
Scrape the batter into the prepared pan, layer strawberry slices until the top is covered, and top with a sprinkle of sugar.
Bake for 50 minutes to 1 hour, until a tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out with only a few crumbs.
Allow to cool completely, then drizzle melted chocolate all over.
Serve with a giant scoop of vanilla ice cream.

June 9, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Magical

You know what a loser is? A real loser is somebody that’s so afraid of not winning, they don’t even try.

—Little Miss Sunshine

I recently tried something new and a little big magical.
It wasn’t quite perfect, but it wasn’t half-bad, either.
I learned a lot and I know now that I’m going to try it again—maybe even until I get those near-perfect results.
Maybe not. Depends on my patience.

Either way, it was supercool and blew my mind.

As some of you might be aware of, this past spring, a nasty outbreak of avian influenza has decimated populations of chickens and poultry, particularly hens kept in unsanitary and inhumane factory farms.
(Just being frank, friends.)
Michigan recently cancelled its poultry fair, as the first cases of bird flu spread to their state.

There’s no vaccine—so sick and healthy birds alike must be killed to try to stop the flu. Some 40 million of them, in fact.
This boils down to eggs being in shorter supply and the US agricultural economy taking a huge blow.

Think this is enough to get us all to stop and think about our farming practices and how animals and animal products are raised and made?

And how can we responsibly move forward as consumers and customers?

You all know my favorite desserts contain meringue (read: pavlova, daquoise, macaron, IMBC…).
And we all know that meringue can’t be made without eggs, right?

WRONG!

Sorry for shouting. BUT YOU GUYS some genius food scientist figured out how to make vegan meringue out of aqua faba, or bean water. Yes, the stuff that you drain off the top of a freshly opened can of beans.

Egg whites, in reality, are just water with suspended proteins; when they are whipped, the proteins form a net and the water is suspended, creating a foam (meringue!).

Using another type of protein solution, as it turns out, can work nearly as well.

So these eton messes are vegan.
And the meringue is made of chickpeas.
And I saved a couple eggs in the process.

It’s so, so simple.
Just use the drained water from a can of beans, and whip the living daylights out of it until it forms a foamy, fluffy meringue.
Stabilize with a little powdered sugar and starch, and you’ve got fluffy, pipeable meringue.

This was my first attempt, and my lovely fluffy meringues got all deflated in the oven, so that although they were crispy and light, they weren’t as tall as I wanted.
I’m going to try again, with different methods of stabilization and perhaps different beans.

The rest of the vegan eton mess was a bit of cold and creamy coconut whip, some sweet sliced bananas and crunchy toasted coconut, and a few golden star sprinkles for an extra magical touch!

Since my first vegan meringue didn’t come out quite perfectly for me, I’m still working on my own adaptations to the recipe I used so that the meringues stay super fluffy and tall, even after baking. They were delicious as is, though, so I want to direct you to the original recipe should you want to try.
Check it out here, at Wallflower Girl!
For coconut whip, check out Minimalist Baker (duh).

May 30, 2015August 27, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Troisième

“I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life.
He taught me that if you are interested in something, no matter what it is, go at it at full speed ahead.
Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and, above all, become passionate about it.
Lukewarm is no good. Hot is no good either.
White hot and passionate is the only thing to be.”

—Roald Dahl

One more trip around the sun has served to ripen cette petite pêche, giving it a deeper, sweeter significance with each passing month and each published post.

One more trip around the sun has seen me splashing liters of digital ink across this page with endless photos and words that are too often few and far between.
Has seen me splashing tears and buttermilk on counters and in posts alike.

Another year has made me ever so much more grateful for everyone who populates this web page.
Has reminded me, with every post and every pin, how proud and devoted I am to LPF.

A blink is all it took for three years to pass me by.

I was in high school just yesterday—I swear—concentrating all my effort into thinking of a name that was just right for the wildly successful blog (*eye roll*, high schoolers) that I meant to start just as soon as, well… I thought of a name.
And yet somehow this year, old high school friends scattered across the ~~country~~ world will graduate from university.

And it was just yesterday that I made my first successful meringue buttercream, and my first (and only) batch of perfect macarons, and tasted the heaven that is pavlova.

Amazing how quickly time passes.
Every event that reminds me of a year passing—an anniversary, a blogiversary, a birthday, a tearful memory—pushes me back into perspective, squarely on my bottom.
And so here I sit, in wondrous rapture, as the pages of the calendar flip by comically quickly, as if blown by the breath of Father Time himself.
Awesome and deeply unsettling, isn’t it?

“I have stumbled and stubbed toes, sliced fingers and scrubbed dishes; I have burned wrists and knuckles and cookies countless, have made nine thousand messes and used an entire herd of cows’ butter; I have dropped cakes and dropped things on cakes, have cried and sworn and studied and laughed on the kitchen floor.

I have planned meticulously and tasted liberally and danced in sheer delight; I have spat out failures and hoarded successes.

I have moved and survived, have mourned and celebrated, have resisted and adapted, have failed and succeeded.
I have given in and given up.
I have poured my heart and soul and dozens of cups of cream into La Pêche Fraîche.

I have closed my eyes and stuck the pan in the oven and then, terrified, let go.”

—Deuxième, May 29 2014

I thought I’d share a few of my favorite gems from this past year.

This matcha cake, with early (too early) berries.
This lemon, black pepper, and strawberry tårta.
The ultimate chocolate-chocolate cake.
This crumbly, buttery vanilla bean and pine nut shortbread.
My daddy’s birthday cake: modern black forest (+macs!).
Speaking of macs, chocolate+summer fruit macarons.
Starred and striped red velvet roll-out cookies for the fourth.
Whole wheat peppermint mocha brownies. For my Starbucks lovers out there.
Dark chocolate and honey spice “gingerbread” men!
Fat, fluffy Lofthouse clone cookies.
Elegant, chocolate dipped vanilla bean shortbread.

My two absolute favorites:

This nutso “souche de Noël,” with eggnog layer cake, chocolate ganache, marzipan holly, and adorably realistic meringue mushrooms. An insane cake that took lots of dedication—but the end result was well worth it.

This red-fruited Victoria sponge, with drippy goat cheese and sour cream filling. Another version of this, with fluffier filling, is on my to-make list this summer. There are honestly few better ways to use a plethora of ripe, fresh fruit.

And of course, here’s the link to last year’s blogiversary cake.
(And the year before, I suppose.)

This adorable cake is worthy of a celebration in and of itself.
I knew this year had to include pink and sprinkles, in the same vein as last year.
I wanted candles, but couldn’t find any red “3” candles for a reasonable price (weird?) and I left my special tall candles (carefully saved from last year’s cake) back home in NY for God knows what reason.

And so, with a little planning and a lot of preparation, I made a cake with sprinkles, and a tinge of pink, and it was the happiest little thing I think has ever come out of my oven.

I knew I wanted to use the marzipan that I found beneath the coconut in my pantry (oops); I knew I wanted maraschino cherries, which compliment almond so well.
I knew that I didn’t want any almond extract, because even the slightest heavy hand makes that stuff unbearable.

The sprinkly 3 that I fashioned out of white chocolate and a scavenged lolly stick was too large for my dainty cake.
I stuck it on for kicks at the end of shooting, but I didn’t like how it looked—too clunky, in my humble opinion.
(That’s okay… after all, it was just white chocolate and sprinkles, and tasted juuuust fine in little nibbles.)

Vanilla Almond Cake | La Pêche Fraîche

What resulted was the fluffiest vanilla almond cake, flavored with a touch of almond milk and vanilla extract, kept soft and supple with a little cornstarch, with a baking time that, despite using only egg whites, kept the crumb moist.

I covered it in my favorite glossy, shiny Italian meringue buttercream, which is by far my favorite frosting.
It’s like a buttery cloud, ever so slightly sweet-and-salty, that compliments the fluffy cake perfectly.
Too heavy of a frosting would have weighed each bite down; I wanted a cake that would melt in your mouth and leave a whisper of sugar, vanilla, and almond behind.
I tinted a tiny amount of frosting with cherry juice and a drop of red gel coloring, leaving it a perfectly pale pink. I used this around the bottom of the cake for a teeny-tiny amount of ombré.

The layers of the cake were each fitted with a perfect circle of chewy, sweet marzipan, which added the exact amount of almond flavor that I was hoping for, and kept the texture of each bite interesting.

Finally, a few lashings of milk chocolate ganache, creamy and decadent and, importantly, not overwhelmingly chocolaty, crowned the edges of the cake.

A handful of sprinkles, and 8 perfect maraschino cherries finished off the cake.

I think it looks rather like an ice cream sundae—cheery and happy—how can this cake not make you smile?

It was delicious, and the people with whom I shared it loved it (phew).

This is exactly the cake I wanted to create for this special 3-year blogiversary.
I want this blog to make people smile; I want to share yummy, beautiful things.

Who knows how long this blog will continue?
I hope for many years to come, but I don’t know.
We can only take each day and make the most of it.
I, personally, will have my cake and eat it, too, for as long as I possibly can.

Thank you, friends, for supporting La Pêche Fraîche.
Every click, every visit—I appreciate you.
This blog would be nothing without you.
This blog is for you.

“I’m just someone who likes cooking and for whom sharing food is a form of expression.”

—Maya Angelou

Vanilla Almond Cake
makes 1 4 layer 6-inch cake

ingredients:
for the cake:
240 grams (2 cups) flour
30 grams (1/4 cup) cornstarch
350 grams (1 3/4 cups) sugar
1 heaping teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
175 grams (6 ounces) butter, soft and cut into pieces
240 mL (1 cup) almond milk
170 grams (6 ounces, 6 large) egg whites
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

for the frosting:
200 grams (7 ounces, 7 large) egg whites
200 grams (2 cups) sugar
75 mL (5 tablespoons) water
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
565 grams (20 ounces, 5 sticks) butter, cubed and softened

to assemble:
200 grams (7 ounces) marzipan
50 grams (1 3/4 ounces) milk chocolate, chopped finely
45 mL (3 tablespoons) heavy cream
drop of red food coloring, if desired
sprinkles, if desired
jar of maraschino cherries, if desired

directions:
Make the cake: preheat oven to 350 degrees F and grease and flour 4 6-inch round pans.
Mix flour, cornstarch, sugar, salt, and baking powder together in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment.
Add in the softened, cubed butter one piece at a time at a low speed until the mixture looks like sand and the butter is fully incorporated.
Whisk the almond milk, egg whites, and vanilla extract together, then slowly pour into the batter with the mixer running.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and beat on high speed for 30 seconds to ensure homogeneity.
Portion batter into the prepared pans.
Bake for 20-22 minutes, or until the cakes are golden and the tops spring back to the touch.
Cool completely on a rack.
To make the frosting, place sugar and water and salt in a small pot over medium heat.
Simultaneously, place the egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment and begin whipping them on medium speed.
When the sugar syrup reaches 240 degrees F, the egg whites should be nearly at stiff peaks.
Carefully pour the sugar syrup into the whipping egg whites.
Continue whipping at high speed until the meringue has cooled to body temperature and is glossy and shiny.
Beat in the butter one tablespoon at a time, until it has all been incorporated into the buttercream.
Whip on high until the buttercream is fluffy, soft, and shiny, about 7 minutes.
To assemble the cake: roll out the marzipan to 1/8 of an inch thickness and cut 3 6-inch round circles out.
Layer a cake round, a 1/3 cup of buttercream, and 1 marzipan circle; repeat twice more, until you place the top layer on.
Crumb coat the cake and place in the fridge for at least 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, remove 2/3 cup of the buttercream and add a drop of red food coloring and 2 tablespoons of maraschino cherry juice; stir well to combine.
Remove the cake from the fridge and finish frosting the top and 3/4 of the sides with plain buttercream, leaving the bottom 1/4 with just a crumb coat (reserve the rest of the plain buttercream)
Place the cake in the fridge for at least 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, make the ganache: place chopped chocolate and cream in a small bowl and microwave on medium power for 30 seconds-1 minute until the chocolate is 2/3 melted.
Whisk vigorously until the ganache has come together and is shiny and smooth.
Set aside to cool slightly.
Take the cake out of the fridge and add the cherry buttercream to the bottom 1/4, spreading it up to create a slight ombre effect.
Apply sprinkles to the bottom of the cake, as desired.
Refrigerate for 5 more minutes.
Carefully pour a little of the chocolate ganache around the rim to create drips.
Refrigerate for 5 more minutes.
Fill a piping bag with the reserved plain buttercream and pipe small swirls on top of the cake; place a maraschino cherry on top of each swirl.

May 22, 2015May 14, 2015 by Rachel Sally

II

Chris

Lightning cleaves the sky
flashes orange against endless blue.
We drive too fast,
corners wrench our bodies.
Minds and hearts numb,
stomachs tight,
tied in knots,
we are not ready.
Will never be ready.
The air thick with moisture
chokes us,
forces us to swallow hot humidity
with each shallow breath.
It smells of rain
and fresh hay.
Souls dissolve in this mist.
A dive team went in at 2:30.
We steel ourselves;
we are metal hard shiny unbreakable.
Braced for impact,
we hurtle,
eyes squinted hearts breaking.
The moon is dull;
the dark falls like a curtain
black thick and blinding velvet.
Pollen floats as voices mingle,
organizing the external chaos,
while we grope in our mental darkness.
There are no stars.
The lake is eerily calm
and so flat pancake flat and
it is so very dark and
it smells of hay.

-5/22/2013 IMG_0508_01

We miss you.

May 11, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Raw

This life will hit you, hard.
In the face.
Wait for you to get back up
just so it can kick you in the stomach.
But getting the wind knocked out of you
is the only way to remind your lungs
how much they like the taste of air.

—If I should have a daughter, Sarah Kay

May is busy, busy for so many reasons.
It’s always an overwhelming month.
Lord knows, I have a lot to get done in May this year (even more so than past years).
Although, if I’m being honest, I can’t very well expect June or July to be any less busy.
Maybe September? When I turn 2-0 and am one year closer to adulthood and will therefore automatically have my shit together and ship sailing smooth with no cares or worries, just success and an easy life, right?
Maybe September will be less busy.

A girl can dream.

My father astutely pointed out the other day that I need a personal assistant. He’s probably right.

I need someone to take my dry cleaning in (it’s more than a month old, now) and take my recycling out and vacuum my rug and do my laundry and go grocery shopping for me.
To pick up some advil and an extra blanket and inserts for my heels. To buy flowers for my desk and water my tiny cacti.
To roast some sweet potatoes for dinner and figure out why the water filter tastes so… funny.
A real glamour job. Any takers?

Anyways, today I have an adorable little cake.
This post has been a long time coming, but I haven’t been able to find the time to sit down and write it.
(Although I could write out all the chemical mechanisms of cellular metabolism…)

Cookie dough ice cream was always my favorite as a kid—I loved the little chewy pieces, and it had just the right amount of chocolate.
I wanted to take some of those flavors—creamy vanilla, a touch of chocolate, and addictive cookie dough—and put them in a cake.

This cake is 3 layers of soft, fluffy yellow cake studded with mini chocolate chips. It’s filled with rich vanilla American buttercream with pockets of safe-to-eat salty-sweet cookie dough scattered throughout, filled with brown sugar and more mini chocolate chips.
The top is finished off with little cookie dough truffles, which are dangerously poppable.

This cake has just the right balance—not too much frosting, not too much cookie dough, a hint of salt to even out the sugar.
The cake base is incredibly moist and sturdy and will stay that way for a few days.
The buttercream crusts ever so slightly, giving it a very birthday-cakesque texture.
The cookie dough… well, it’s raw cookie dough, people. It’s addictive and totally amazing.
Ok, that’s all for now: I’ll leave you with the recipes!

P.S. The pop-up that I hosted last week made $340 for the ASPCA! Yay for puppies! Yay for cake!

Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Cake
makes 1 3×6 inch layer cake

ingredients:
for the cake:
113 grams (1 stick) butter, soft
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
200 grams (1 cup) sugar
2 eggs plus 2 egg yolks
150 grams (1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons) buttermilk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
180 grams (1 1/2 cups) flour
1 3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup mini chocolate chips

for the cookie dough:
113 grams (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
105 grams (1/2 cup) light brown sugar, packed
45 grams (1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon) all-purpose flour
30 grams (1/4 cup) powdered sugar
30 grams (2 tablespoons) cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3- 1/2 cup mini semisweet chocolate chips

for the frosting:
220 grams (1 cup) butter, soft
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
360 grams (3 cups) powdered sugar
60 grams (1/4 cup) half and half
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

directions:
Make the cake: grease and flour 3 6-inch round baking pans and preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Beat butter on high speed for 3 minutes, until completely fluffy and no lumps remain.
Add the salt and sugar and beat for 5 full minutes; the mixture should be very light and fluffy.
Add the eggs and the egg yolks and beat for another 3 minutes.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and add in the buttermilk and vanilla extract; gently stir with a spoon until about half is incorporated.
Add in the flour and baking powder and stir until incorporated; beat for 30 seconds on high to ensure homogeneity.
Spread the batter into the prepared pans and scatter the mini chocolate chips all over.
Bake for 18-20 minutes, until a tester comes out with a few moist crumbs.
Allow to cool completely.
Make the cookie dough: beat butter with salt on high for 3 minutes to ensure no lumps.
Add in the brown sugar and beat for 5 full minutes until very fluffy and light colored.
Scrape the bowl and add in the flour and powdered sugar; as you stir, add the vanilla and cream.
Once the mixture comes together, beat for 30 seconds to ensure homogeneity.
Stir in the chocolate chips.
Set aside half of the dough for the inside of the cake, then make the rest into little round balls.
To make the frosting, beat the butter on high speed with the salt for 4 minutes.
Add in the powdered sugar and slowly stir while adding in the half and half and vanilla.
Beat on high speed until very fluffy and light, about 5 minutes.
To assemble the cake, spread a thin layer of frosting over each layer of cake, and crumble the reserved cookie dough all over (make sure to be generous!).
Smooth the top of the cake and frost as desired, then top with the little cookie dough truffles.
Serve in generous wedges with milk!

April 29, 2015August 27, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Holy Grail

“Decide to be one of those people who pull it off.
Do what you say you’re going to do.
Don’t let us down.
Decide to rise…
Devote to Done.”

—”The Grand Peptalk,” Danielle LaPorte

It’s about this time of year,
when They roll out the thick grass carpets,
perfectly—exactingly—covering up last year’s dead brown sod,
that I long for the entropy of fields left to seed,
of forest floors covered in disordered brush.
When They plant the tulip bulbs, exactly 9 inches apart,
I miss the mess that is our garden,
or the crowded daffodils that line our block,
or the tiny blue flowers that pop up in our uncut lawn.
It’s not quite spring, back home, but the melt has happened,
the waterfalls are bursting and the creeks are coursing through the gorges.
I miss the water, and the hills, my God,
and I miss the redbuds that bloom so bright,
and the oak pollen that makes Mama sneeze.

—4/27/2015

…It’s been a while.
And I didn’t mean for it to be, but here we are and we shall have to make do.
I’ve been a busy little bee trying to keep up with the glories of biochem, which is going to be a recurring theme in these next six weeks, I’m sure.
I’ve had my head down, methodically crossing things off my to-do lists, only to look up and realize I have 4 more assignments to add on. So it goes, as a second-year here at UChi.
So it goes.

My FOTA project goes live next week!
Which is exciting and stressful and surprising, since I have an eerie feeling that I only just applied yesterday (yesterday being, of course, 8 weeks ago).

I’m hosting a pop-up bakery, and all of the proceeds are going to the ASPCA. Pretty pumped, people.

Another chocolate cake?
There are quite a few on this site, I know:
Modern Black Forest (mocha-mayo cake)
Coca-cola Caramel (coca-cola cake)
Mint Chocolate (vegan chocolate cake)
Mocha Nutella (mocha cake)
Goat Cheese/Strawberries (simple chocolate cake)

And now, another one. And I’m not sorry at all.
This could be the best one yet.
The chocolate cake to end chocolate cakes.

I’ve taken the best parts of some of my favorite chocolate cakes and combined them into this recipe.
Extra-dark cocoa powder because chocolate, people. It’s bloomed in boiling water to bring out the most flavor possible.
Plenty of coffee, to enhance the flavor of the cocoa.
The ease of a 1-bowl cake, with an added egg or two to keep a tight crumb and firm bite.
Buttermilk, to keep the cake damp and dark.
A tiny tiny touch more sugar than some of my other cakes, since some sweet teeth occasionally find dark chocolate cakes to not be sweet enough.

Here, I’ve paired this super moist, rich and chocolaty cake with a modified version of my beloved, addictive Nutella buttercream, with an extra few minutes of whipping and a touch more Nutella to make it even lighter and fluffier.
It’s like a soft, fluffy chocolate buttercream cloud, with enough salt to make itself known and lots of melted dark chocolate to ensure plenty of cocoa flavor.
No wimpy buttercreams over here. No sir.

The salty-sweet buttercream is a fantastic foil for the dark chocolate cake, which isn’t too sweet.
Contrary to what you might think upon first glance, this isn’t too much chocolate.
The flavors are distinct enough that each bite of cake+frosting is in harmony, rather than one-note (which gets boring after the first few bites, let’s be honest).

This all boils down to the ultimate chocolate cake: of course there’s Nutella, and dark chocolate, only one dish to clean, not too much sugar, and sprinkles. Always sprinkles.

The Ultimate Chocolate Cake
makes a 3 layered 6 inch cake

ingredients:
for the cake:
330 grams (1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons) sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt
1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons cornstarch
180 grams (1 1/2 cups) AP flour
65 grams (1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon) extra dark cocoa powder
2 tablespoons instant coffee or espresso
120 grams (1/2 cup) boiling water
85 grams (1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons) vegetable/canola oil
2 eggs
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
160 grams (2/3 cup) buttermilk OR 145 grams (2/3 cup less 1 tablespoon) milk plus 15 grams (1 tablespoon) apple cider vinegar

for the buttercream:
285 grams (2.5 sticks, 10 ounces) butter, soft
generous 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
215 grams (3/4 cup) nutella
112 grams (4 ounces) chocolate, melted and cooled
625 grams (5 cups) powdered sugar, or as needed
3 tablespoons heavy cream, or as needed

directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Grease and flour 3 6×2 inch pans.
Place sugar in a large bowl, followed by salt, baking soda, baking powder, and cornstarch; whisk together briefly.
Add the flour on top of the mixture, then the cocoa powder, then the instant espresso on top of that.
Slowly stream the boiling water over the cocoa powder; once it’s all added, whisk vigorously while you add in the oil.
Add in both of the eggs and the vanilla extract, then stream in the buttermilk while whisking.
Scrape the bowl to ensure homogeneity, then portion evenly into the three pans.
Bake for 18-22 minutes, until a tester comes out with a few crumbs and the tops are springy.
Allow to cool completely before frosting.
To make the buttercream, whip the butter with the salt for 5 full minutes (set a timer!).
Add in the Nutella and whip for 2 more minutes.
Scrape the bowl and while whipping on high speed, stream in the melted but cool chocolate.
On low speed, begin adding in the powdered sugar a little at a time.
Once the powdered sugar has been added, whip on high for 3 minutes and add heavy cream a tablespoon at a time if the frosting is still a little thick (if it is too thin, add powdered sugar as needed).
Scrape the bowl to ensure homogeneity.
Decorate cake as desired!

April 14, 2015April 14, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Brandy Alexander

Though I’d like to be the girl for him
And cross the sea and land for him
On milky skin my tongue is sand until
The ever distant band begins to play

He’s my Brandy Alexander
Always gets me into trouble
But that’s another matter
Brandy Alexander…

—Feist, Brandy Alexander

Do you know this song?
If not, go listen now: here’s the weird 2000s video, complete with wacky, sharpie eyebrows and way too many cut shots.

I love Feist; she’s got such a cool, easy vibe going. Soft and breezy vocals with a touch of soul.
Brandy Alexander is one of my favorites.

Where in the dickens have I been?!
The last time you heard from me, I was dusting green powder on a beautiful little cake and shouting for Spring!
I’m back, more than a week later, with my tail between my legs and a more muted color palate, to say the least.

Spring quarter is shaping up to be a tough one, folks.
I’m still wobbly-kneed, trying to get my balance back as I adjust to my new (increased) workload.
I’m also working hard on a project for UChi’s Festival of the Arts (FOTA), the products of which you’ll see soon. They may or may not include a multitude of layer cakes and a video(!).

On top of the rigorous demands of biochem/other classes, I have to prep for my summer job (that means shopping for pencil skirts, right?) and God, I have realized, I have to go outside this quarter.
Because, despite the fact that I’ve been in the library 24/7 over the last week, it’s been gorgeous in Chicago.
Sunny, not too hot, not too cold. Magnificent spring weather.
My skin definitely needs the vitamin D this quarter.
(Hey, skin, remember what a revelation Mexico was, just, oh, 2 weeks ago? Where did you put all my tan?????)

Tiramisù is derived from the Italian phrase pick-me-up (literally, tira-mi-sù), and I would agree wholeheartedly with that translation.
Inspired by this one-bowl tiramisu, I set my heart on making mini tiramisus in tiny bowls.

I was inspired by the flavors of a Brandy Alexander, which is made of crème de cacao, cognac, and cream, and are quite similar to traditional tiramisu.

In order to do so, I made the tiniest, twee-est savoiardi, less than an inch long each.
A nip of espresso to dip your ladyfingers in gives a nice bracing ripple of coffee to the dessert.
Each lightly soaked ladyfinger was layered with ultra creamy, egg-yolk rich mascarpone cream spiked with cognac and coffee liqueur, not too sweet and with a touch of salt.
Each layer was dusted generously with cacao powder, giving a necessary whiff of chocolate to each bite.

Tiramisù, if you haven’t indulged recently, is one of the most magnificent desserts ever created. The ladyfingers soften under the espresso and become cake-like, the mascarpone cream is ridiculously rich and creamy; the alcohol and cacao cut through everything, giving each bite utmost clarity and leaving you drooling for more.

Because I’m sharing a tiramisu recipe, I have to give a health hazard warning: (no, not the egg yolks… If you’re nervous, you can cook them lightly. More on that from the Pioneer Woman) please DO NOT breathe in while stuffing your face with this creamy delicacy. You will inhale cacao and cough for 10 minutes straight ~~while looking ashamed in front of your dinner guests~~. Best to hold your breath while you spoon the entire thing into your maw. Much more elegant.

Tiramisu
makes 6 large-ish portions, 8 reasonable

ingredients:
for the lady fingers:
2 eggs, divided
60 grams (1/3 cup) sugar, divided evenly
pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
40 grams (1/3 cup) flour
3 tablespoons confectioner’s sugar

for the mascarpone cream:
225 grams (8 ounces) mascarpone
240 mL (1 cup) cream
4 egg yolks
50 grams (1/4 cup) sugar
30mL (2 tablespoons) cognac
30 mL (2 tablespoons) Kahlua
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

to assemble:
120 mL (1/2 cup) espresso
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
cacao powder, for dusting (sub cocoa powder if need be)

directions:
Make the lady fingers: preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper and fit a piping bag with a small round tip.
Separate the eggs and beat the egg yolks with half of the sugar, the salt, and the vanilla for 3 minutes.
Add the flour to the yolk mixture and fold it in until it is half mixed in.
Whip the egg whites to stiff peaks with the other half of the sugar.
Once they reach stiff peaks, fold 1/3 of the whites into the yolk/flour mixture.
After the first 1/3 is fully incorporated, fold in the rest of the egg whites until the batter is homogeneous but still very fluffy (don’t mix too hard!).
Fill the piping bag and pipe tiny, 1 inch lines about 1/4 an inch from one another.
Dust completely with confectioner’s sugar
Bake for 7 minutes, until lightly golden, then remove from oven, peel off of parchment, and allow to cool.
To make the mascarpone cream, whip mascarpone and heavy cream until they reach stiff peaks.
Meanwhile, whisk the yolks, sugar, alcohols, vanilla, and salt together until fully homogeneous.
Pour into the whipped cream mixture slowly, and beat until it is all incorporated (the mixture will thin out).
To make the tiramisu, mix espresso and vanilla together and dip the bottom of the lady fingers into the mixture before placing them in serving dishes.
Layer 2 tablespoons of mascarpone cream over the lady fingers, then dust with cacao.
Repeat the layering 3 times for each tiramisu, smoothing the top and dusting generously.
Chill for at least 30 minutes and up to overnight before eating.

April 3, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Jewelled

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the
most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

—Roald Dahl

I’m writing this during the first thunderstorm of the season.
The kind of storm with big claps of thunder, early in the morning—great cymbals crashing in the sky—while a grey drizzle settles slowly down into dry winter bones.

The kind of storm after which, later in the day, the sun comes out and the heady scent of rain soaked earth fills the air.
The storm that reminds the trees why they’re budding, that urges grass to turn green.

One deep breath to fill your lungs with springtime.

Sixty degrees F ~~today~~yesterday, and marvelously humid from the rain. My skin and hair are in happy places.

Little purple crocuses have popped up, seemingly overnight, fanning their petals wide and showing off their bright yellow centers for the world to see.

Back home, spring is the sunny daffodils that grow tall and strong up and down our block; it’s the budding of all the oaks and the giant melt, as the land thaws out, that leaves the waterfalls fuller than any other time of year.
Spring is the chirpy birds that flit around, robins and tiny chickadees and oh!—those cardinals, with nests being built in trees just outside my bedroom window.
Gosh, guys, I do miss having trees that greet me first thing in the morning with a long-branched windy wave.
(I’m afraid home is still blanketed with snow, though. Oh, Upstate, you fickle lover, you.)

I suppose spring means something different to each person (how bad are your allergies?) and is unique in each place.
I wish my spring had more flowers, more time in the sun, and, importantly, more baby goats.
Can I move to Ireland and live on a dairy farm? Please?

Don’t know if I could ever live in an environment that doesn’t have all four seasons. I could do with a shorter winter, yes, and sure, a more temperate summer than Chicago boasts, but I can’t imagine not experiencing the changing of each season every year.

There’s something about the way our earth turns around the sun, slowly but surely, that makes you feel extra small
and extra alive, doesn’t it?

Also HAHAHA did you see this article from the New Yorker?
“…Meanwhile, sprinkle each couple’s speech with “we” statements, adding a subtle flavor of competition to the mélange…”
Literal tears were cried while laughing at this one, folks.

Or this prank? Reminds me of the similar Pepsi/Jeff Gordon one from a few years back…
Girl power!

Opinions on the new Amazon Dash Buttons?
While they seem useful, they strike me as a bit unnecessary and seem to make online shopping that much more intrusive.

Speaking of shopping, at Whole Foods the other day (did I mention the mangoes!?! My goodness gracious, those were just the most perfect mangoes in the world.), I saw some pretty sprays of purple hyacinths perfuming the flower section.
I snatched them up, brought them home, and placed them in a jar on my desk so that my whole room smells sweet.
Their springy feel and sweet smell sowed little seeds of seasonal inspiration in my mind.
An entire stalk was sacrificed for this cake, because I wanted some flowers for decoration.
No, I am not completely sure whether hyacinths are edible. I picked them off directly after the photos.
#trueconfessions

I also picked up some berries (and asparagus), because I am overly eager for spring produce and I frankly don’t give a damn if they are in season at this exact moment, because they’re too juicy and tempting to resist!

While rooting around in my pantry for brown sugar to make muffins, a little tin of matcha powder fell from the heavens and bonked me on the head.

Matcha, bright green and perfect for a springy cake with its grassy undertones! The Gods were telling me something.
Thus was this cake born.

See matcha previously on this blog in this Chocolate Matcha Mochi cake (so chewy and moist!) or this Matcha Marzipan roll cake (so light and fluffy!).

This is a cake perfect for noshing—little slivers taken repeatedly over the course of a slow afternoon—and goes brilliantly with a hot cup of any sort of tea, green or otherwise.

It’s delightfully dense, like a tightly crumbed, firm poundcake, but avoids the usual pitfall of dryness with a touch of cream, which keeps it moist even on the second day.
The matcha in the cake is not overpowering at all. It adds a whisper of green tea, a little kick of grassy, springy brightness, but isn’t overwhelmingly bitter.
This is a perfect pound cake, buttery and not-too-sweet; little ruby berries and a dusting of matcha powdered sugar make the perfect accompaniment.

It can be on your table ready to be served in less than 45 minutes, and keeps brilliantly. The last slice was that much better on the second day, as the cake had lost none of the flavor but become more moist overnight.

I could also see this being served with lashings of chocolate ganache or good honey, with a dollop of whipped cream or vanilla bean ice cream.

For now, I kept it springy, simple, and light.

Matcha Butter Cake
makes 1 6×3 inch cake

ingredients:
for the cake:
170 grams (3/4 cup) butter, soft
200 grams (1 cup) sugar
1/4 teaspoons kosher salt
3 eggs
10 mL (2 teaspoons) vanilla extract
30 mL (2 tablespoons) heavy cream
1 tablespoon matcha powder
120 grams (1 cup) flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder

for decorating:
1/2 teaspoon matcha powder
1/4 cup powdered sugar
fruit and flowers, as desired

directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and grease and flour a 6×3 inch pan liberally.
Place butter in the bowl of a stand mixer with the sugar and salt and beat on high speed for 5 minutes.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and add in the eggs.
Beat on high for 5 more minutes.
Scrape the bowl and add the cream and vanilla extract; mix only until partially incorporated.
Add in the matcha, flour, and baking powder.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and mix to ensure homogeneity.
Scrape batter into prepared pan and smooth top.
Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the top is puffed and springy and a tester comes out clean.
Remove from oven and let cool for 10 minutes; invert onto a cooling rack and allow to cool completely.
To decorate, mix matcha and powdered sugar together very well.
Dust over the top of the cake and decorate with fresh fruit as desired.
Serve in repeated thin slices with hot tea!

March 31, 2015 by Rachel Sally

Waste Not

Or, the infamous “Trash Muffins” of 2015.

Let me explain:

The making of these muffins was prompted upon my discovery of 3 sad, brown bananas that had been discarded into our trash (in a ~new~ trash bag, friends. Worry not.).
I snatched them up, whispering sweet reassurances of grand destinies, and these (vegan! whole wheat! wholesome!) muffins were born.

I am so not ready for life to have begun again.
I wish I were back in spring break mode, chilled out and tanned and full of fresh fruit and contentment.
(Side note: I bought some ataulfo mangoes, which come from Mexico, on sale at Whole Foods the other day and they are the MOST delicious mangoes (ataulfo or otherwise) I have ever tasted. Talk about transporting me back.)

Now that I’m back at school, anxiety has begun to sink its sharp little claws into my brain.
It’s only the ~~third~~ second day of school, for crying out loud.
But I have constant fears that I’ve forgotten an assignment, or left something somewhere etc. etc.
(I’ve already been at the library for, like, 5 total hours and it’s only day 2!!!!!!!!)
Do I need some sort of intervention? Maybe…

Anyways, back to the banana muffins.
I used a recipe from the fantastic blog Minimalist Baker. They looked so crumbly and so delicious.
The catch is that I found them to be not sweet enough.
I only used 3 large bananas, and I felt like they were needing the recommended fourth, or another 1/3-1/2 cup sugar.
They were a bit too bland for my taste.
(This may be due to the fact that I’m used to in-your-face banana bread. These were very subtle.)

I recommend, if you make the recipe, to add 1/3 cup more sugar, plus all 4 bananas.

The crumb topping was divine—sweet and salty and buttery—and the texture of the muffins was great—firm bite, but not rubbery, crumbly but not fall-apart dry, and a slathering of Nutella not only remedied the sweetness issue, but also added Nutella into the mix, hellooooo duh always delicious.

With a few small tweaks, this may become a winner in my book.
Head over to Minimalist Baker (gosh, I love their site) to get the recipe!

Back soon with a very exciting cake! xx