May 20, 2014May 22, 2014 by Rachel Sally

Mellow As the Month

Mellow as May might be, the end of this month holds much serious significance in my life.

“Many things have changed, some for the better, some the worse.

People have moved in and out of my life;

things I always took for granted as constants fell away: cliffs sheared off, leaving me teetering on the edge;

new experiences, new relationships, have nested snugly, precariously, on the crags and crannies left behind;

triumphs have been trumpeted, flags left proudly waving on distant planets;

losses have been suffered, sending me cowering in a corner, covered with tears and blood;

I survived even those which I thought I could not.”

–from Merry Happy, last year’s blogiversary post

It is my brother’s birthday (last year’s cake); it’s this blog’s birthday; it’s the anniversary of Chris’ death.

I cannot believe that in two days it will have been a year.
It will have been a whole year since that dark, blinding night.

Chris, you are dearly beloved and missed.
The people whose lives you touched are all the better for it, will never forget it, will always be grateful.

It is quiet around this blog lately. I am busy. I am trying to balance.
This, you know. I’ve made that abundantly clear with all my whining and whinging.

Still, exams be damned, count on a big, delicious cake for my second (?!!?) blogiversary, marking the third year of La Pêche Fraîche.
Also on the docket: pie and two types of cupcakes and more cake. Always, cake.

These are dark chocolate coffee pots de crème.

The recipe is so so easy and quick– no bake, gluten-free, and perfect when hit with a little extra salt and powdered sugar over top.

The recipe is from the Pioneer Woman (oh, dear, wonderful, hilarious Ree), and I’ll leave you with a link if you’d like to check it out.

Here. I skipped the orange and topped mine with unsweetened whipped cream and Maldon sea salt.

It comes with high recommendation from me and praise from my taste testers!

P.S. Like the beautiful stationary that I used in the background of this post?
Check out Mockingbird Paperie. They’re fab!

May 11, 2014September 11, 2014 by Rachel Sally

Swimmingly

Promise me
you will not spend so much time treading water and
trying to keep your head above the waves that you forget,
truly forget, how much
you have always loved to swim.

–Tyler Knott Gregson

I’ve had a shit week.

A shit fucking week. Actually, the last two weeks have been pretty fucking terrible.
I think. I find it difficult to pinpoint exactly what I want to complain about.

Clearly, something is wrong, because this is unheard of.
I can make whine out of, well, nothing.

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Busy. Running running running can’t stop. Balance. One toe, two toes, one fine wire.
Teeter, totter, fall on my ass. Climb back up and repeat with markedly diminishing grace.
It never ends, this race to the finish. I’m sick and I’m fucking tired and I don’t want to run anymore.
I don’t want to bother with the balance and the business and the busyness.

Doors are slamming shut left and right; doors slam shut right in my face. Fine. Fuck you, too.
I didn’t want to come in anyways; happy to stand in the soaking spring rain.
Happy to keep myself company in my confused, delighted misery.

The words don’t come, don’t flow, don’t exist.
The sentences have dissipated, dissolved, disappeared.
My brain is a microcosm of unproductive stagnant energy; it refuses to spit out even the shortest string of words, preferring instead to brood in dark, dank spaces that exist far below the surface.

I miss this stupid, time-consuming blog so very dearly.
Posts await, impatiently, glaringly unwritten but filled with photos and sugar and longing.
Why can’t I write? Where are the words that so easily filled pages just months ago?

I miss my family.
Even the words meant for them, short snippets of text messages, have slowed.
Can’t find what to say. Utterly foreign for a needy, demanding, over-sharer.

I miss home, but that’s a given.

Stretched too thin.
The sum total is too great: two major art/food projects, four classes spanning two majors, one new and important person, three incredibly important friends with as much on their plates as mine, one blog, one body, one mind to hold it all in.

I’m happy, I’m sad. I feel things deeply and profoundly.
Cry while listening to the Civil Wars–listen to them a lot, on repeat, even– and squeal while watching baby bunnies hop around–too few this spring, too few after a harsh winter.
Cry while thinking about my grandfather; cry and laugh, delighted, at his memorial.
Giddy while holding hands and smile while my hair is gently smoothed back from my face.
Sadness, anger, and regret all stab deeply into my stony heart, just as satisfaction, peace, and joy buoy me upwards, make me light as air and malleable as clay. Ballooned upward, only to be popped by a pin that feels more like a baseball bat.

But thank the gods that I do feel.
A very wise woman said sadness is raw skin, painful and present.
Depression is a down parka, muffling and silencing, blocking and numbing life.
Fuck those stupid fucking “Depression Hurts” commercials.
Depression dulls; sadness hurts– sadness feels.

And oh!– do I feel.

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Wake up–Friday–sheets already sticking sticking stuck to sweaty skin. Wake up, drool smeared up one cheek and into one ear; wake up feeling disgusting but alive, so alive. Sick of being refrigerated anyways. Grateful for the sweet breeze.

The heat and soupy humidity and smell of rain in the air set my soul to singing.
Spring reminds me to live. Reminds me not to let a single moment escape unnoticed, unappreciated.
Spring refuses to let me crawl back under my winter parka, refuses to let me burrow deep and hibernate.

Spring is life. Life in bloom.

Open eyes, breathe deep, smile, cry, whatever the fuck this feeling is at this moment, and embrace it. Own it.

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These photos are a little preview of an article I wrote for a fabulous food magazine here on campus, Nonpareil.

Stoked to work with them. I had a super fun interview over coffee with their lovely editor, Jenny.
Reading the article she wrote, I was a touch embarrassed but crazy flattered. It’s an exciting feeling, to be sure.

To my UChicago readers, I do hope you’ll pick up a copy when it’s published. (Translation: pick one up and read it cover to cover or else.)
To my other readers, sucks to suck. Just kidding. I’m sharing the recipe here so you can be included, too.

This cake takes the traditional American birthday cake– yellow, with chocolate buttercream, and elevates it ever so slightly.

Buttery yellow coconut cake, gently scented with coconut oil, with threads of coconut and egg yolks creating the tenderest and softest of crumbs.
Salted chocolate buttercream, whipped and fluffy, rich with deep, dark, fruity chocolate cocoa powder and enhanced with a pinch of espresso powder and three pinches of salt.
Blackberries, tart and juicy, pair gorgeously– they play a perfect foil for the heaps of butter and chocolate, and add a fresh, lively element to the cake.

You could substitute raspberries very easily, light coconut milk in the cake batter, and coconut cream in the frosting, as well.
You do, however, need the bittersweet chocolate. It’s the key to getting a truly chocolaty buttercream.

This has birthday cake written all over it.

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P.S. Happy mother’s day. My mama and my grandmas are true inspirations.
(HI GRANDMA shout out to you, I know you’re reading this. You’re the BEST and I miss you dearly. Hope you got my cards and letters– did I put enough stamps on?– Love you SO much. I will call you later today, but I expect an email about 5 minutes after you finish reading this…)

My mama inspires me to work hard; she teaches me to balance on the thin wire of life and not take shit from idiots.
She reminds me to let little things go and not let myself be bullied by the patriarchy.
She comforts me when I’m down– “fuck them”– and makes me laugh with pictures of my badly behaved cats– again, “fuck them”.
She begs me to not be like her, but I know I am my mother’s daughter.
And I am blessed for it.

I love you, mama. See you in a few weeks.

A Grown-Up Birthday Cake

ingredients:
for the yellow coconut cake:
200 grams (1 2/3 cups) flour
2 1/8 teaspoons baking powder
85 grams (6 tablespoons) butter
30 grams (2 tablespoons) coconut oil
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
200 grams (1 cup) sugar
4 egg yolks
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
180 grams (3/4 cup) reduced-fat milk
3/4 cup desiccated coconut, optional

for the salted chocolate buttercream:
50 grams (2 ounces) bittersweet chocolate, chopped
315 grams (2 3/4 sticks) butter
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon espresso powder, optional
110 to 140 grams (4 to 5 cups) powdered sugar, sifted
50 grams (1/2 cup) cocoa powder, sifted
30 to 60 grams (2 tablespoons to 1/4 cup) heavy cream

to assemble:
blackberries
powdered sugar, for dusting

directions:
Make the cake: preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Butter and flour 3 6-inch pans or 2 8-inch pans
Stir together flour and baking powder.
Cream butter and coconut oil with salt for 3 full minutes.
Add the sugar in a stream and cream for 4 more minutes (set a timer).
Scrape the sides of the bowl and add in the egg yolks and vanilla extract.
Beat for 3 more minutes.
Scrape the bowl; while mixing slowly, alternate adding in the flour mix and the milk, beginning and ending with the dry.
Stir in the coconut.
Scrape the batter into the prepared pans.
Bake for 22-25 minutes, until golden and springy to the touch.
A tester should come out nearly clean, with just a few crumbs sticking to it.
Allow to cool completely.

Make the frosting: melt the chocolate in a double boiler or very gently in a microwave; set aside to cool.
Beat butter, espresso powder, and salt on high for 5-7 minutes, until very fluffy and nearly white.
While whipping, slowly stream in the cooled chocolate; beat for another minute until homogeneous.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and sift the powdered sugar and cocoa over the butter.
Starting slowly to prevent sugar explosions, beat in the sugar and cocoa.
As the frosting begins to come together, stream in the cream, starting with 2 tablespoons and increasing if the frosting is still too stiff.

Assemble the cake: level your cake layers with a serrated knife if they are uneven; brush crumbs off gently.
Place the first cake layer on a serving plate; spread with 1/4 cup of frosting and top with the second layer.
Spread the second layer with 1/3 cup of frosting and press a few blackberries on.
Smooth more frosting over the blackberries so that the layer is even, then top with the third cake layer.
Use 1/2 cup-2/3 cup of the frosting to create an even, thin crumb coat.
Refrigerate crumb-coated cake for at least 30 minutes.
Once chilled, use the remaining frosting to cover the cake as desired.

March 30, 2014March 30, 2014 by Rachel Sally

All Hail

My good lords and ladies, would you care for a bloody poofy woolly biscuit?

What, that doesn’t sound appealing to you?!
Allegedly, that’s what Lord Lamington, after whom these little confections may or may not be named, was fond of calling them, and not exactly lovingly.

The history of the lamington is a bit convoluted, with different stories attributing its origin to various sources.
They’re quite widely popular, so there must be something behind them.

Lamingtons are enjoyed from Queensland to Toowoomba to South Africa to… Cleveland.

(In other Australia-related news… more weird ass marsupials discovered on the only freaky continent to boast marsupials!)

When I found some desiccated coconut in the famed and fabled land of Hyde Park Produce, I knew instantly I had to make lamingtons. (After, of course, I stirred heaps of it into this cake and this cake, too.)

The traditional form is a cube of vanilla sponge cake, sometimes split in two and filled with jam, dipped in chocolate glaze and covered with coconut.
I didn’t deviate too much, because I’ve never tried a real lamington!

Here, a moist, light vanilla sponge cake is filled with rich, thick coconut pastry cream, coated in a dark bittersweet chocolate glaze and dusted with plenty of chewy, nutty desiccated coconut.

Lord Lamington must have been crazy, because these treats are fabulous.
They’re really not sweet, with a myriad of textures: the sponge cake is fluffy, the coconut cream buttery, the glaze melty and the coconut shreds are chewy.
The flavors meld beautifully, with the coconut pastry cream giving an aroma of coconut to the interior as well as the exterior, the thin shell of chocolate not overpowering the delicate vanilla or coconut.

These were snapped up from my house table ridiculously quickly; people remarked how pretty and how delicious they were.
(Nary a “bloody poofy wolly biscuit” to be heard!)

A few notes about making these poofy little delights:

Trim the edges off your sponge cake! This keeps it moist and allows you to level any imperfections off.
Don’t worry too much if your cubes are kind of wonky, mine were like that too. They taste just as good.

If your pastry cream is a bit thick, just stir it around vigorously, or fold in stiffly whipped cream.
The pastry cream recipe unavoidably makes more than you’ll need, but you can use it to sandwich more cakes, or thin it with a bit of milk or cream for coconut pudding!
To pipe it into the cake, don’t be shy. Stick the tip of your pastry bag into the center of the cake and apply pressure.
As the crevices in the sponge cake fill up, the tip will be shoved out of the cake, and you’ll know that it’s full!

When covering the cakes with the glaze, less is more. Scrape off as much as you can, leaving only a thin lacquer of chocolate. Otherwise a lot of it will drip into your coconut, and the cakes won’t be as neat.

Desiccated coconut may be a little difficult for some to locate; look for it in ethnic sections or ethnic supermarkets (mine was an Arabic brand).
If you can’t find it, it seems that flaked or even shredded coconut does the job well enough.
Don’t let the coconut hold you back from trying lamingtons!

As always, serve with a good strong cup of milky English tea.
(Yes, Australians have teatime too, thank you O Great British Empire.)

P.S. I’m back in the States. Woohoo. So glad… I can feel my tan fading already. Great.

Coconut Cream Lamingtons
makes 16
cake portion adapted from Saveur
pastry cream adapted from the Kitchn

ingredients:
for the sponge cake:
3 eggs
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
8 tablespoons butter, melted
1 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder

for the pastry cream:
3/4 cup full fat coconut milk, well stirred
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons flour
big pinch kosher salt
2 egg yolks

for the ganache:
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped (approximately 1 cup)
scant cup powdered sugar
1/4 cup cocoa powder
3 tablespoons milk (feel free to use coconut milk)
pinch salt
1 1/2 tablespoons butter

to assemble:
1- 2 cups desiccated coconut

directions:
Make the cake: grease and flour an 8×8 pan.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Place eggs in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whip attachment.
Whip on high for 3 full minutes– set a timer.
With the mixer running, add the salt and slowly stream in the sugar.
Beat for another full 3 minutes– set a timer.
Whisk the vanilla extract into the melted butter, then pour it into the whipped eggs.
Dump the flour (gently) on top, then add the baking powder to the flour mound.
Gently, using folding motions, incorporate the butter and flour into the eggs.
The batter should be homogeneous– you will have to mix thoroughly yet gently– but not completely deflated.
Spread the batter into the pan.
Bake for 25-30 minutes, until a tester comes out clean and the cake is golden.
Allow to cool completely, then slice off the edges and top so that it’s all level.
Meanwhile, make the pastry cream: blend all ingredients except vanilla together, either with an immersion blender or in the canister of a regular blender.
Pour into a small saucepot and cook over medium heat, whisking constantly, until thickened to a pudding-like consistency.
Remove from heat, blend again if there are chunks, and allow to cool before filling lamingtons.
Make the ganache: melt the chocolate, gently, in a double boiler or in the microwave.
Add in the powdered sugar, cocoa powder, milk, salt, and butter, and blend with an immersion blender (or, again, in a regular blender or food processor) until shiny and smooth.
Ganache should be thin enough that it will not pull many crumbs off the cake, so add another tablespoon or two of milk if need be.
To assemble lamingtons, slice cake into 16 cubes.
Fill a pastry bag fitted with a plain tip with the coconut pastry cream; stick the tip into the center of a cube of cake and fill until the pressure forces the tip out of the cake.
Dip the cakes into the ganache, being sure that the chocolate coat is very thin, not thick and heavy.
Brush any excess ganache off, then roll the wet cube in coconut.
Set on a parchment-lined baking sheet to set for at least 2 hours.

March 15, 2014 by Rachel Sally

It Gets Better

“When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me.
A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much. A calendar that showed the wrong month.
I could have cried over it. I did.
Where the smoke from a chimney ended. How an overturned bottle rested at the edge of a table.
I spent my life learning to feel less. Every day I felt less. Is that growing old? Or is it something worse?
You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.”

— Jonathan Safran Foer | Everything is Illuminated

Eleven weeks has this year been.

Magically have the hours stretched into days, weeks, months.
In the moment, the minutes melted like molasses, yet here we are, looking back at the accumulation of time piled high like snow drifts.
The quarter gusted by, ruffling my hair, picking at the edges of my jacket, freezing my salty tears to icicles.

Time, that infallible, indefatigable soldier, marches on.
I pool myself at his knees, pull at his clothes, cry, implore him for more, more, more.
I beg a retreat, a repeat– just one– beg for second chances, for one minute, one hour longer.

But he is deaf, this cruel god. There is no rewinding, no turning back.
Done is done; done is done, calls his war drum.
Onward we march. Forward we go.

Eleven weeks has this year been.

One, two, three months. Two thousand fourteen. Twenty fourteen.

The year began as a frenzy of tears, of dually joyous and grieving reunions, of family and love and support and then fell into a deep well of loneliness and numbness, of steely walls and wintry blues, of homesickness and exhaustion.
Slowly, though, 2014 stabilized to an equilibrium.
Just as there was sadness, there was celebration.
Just as there was remembrance, there was readjustment and renewal (even some resolutions).

Healing is not easy.
But you cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.
One walks hand in hand with the other.
And so must we, as their waves beat down on our beaches, as they soften and change our malleable souls.
This submission is not comfortable; it is not easy.

We do not like to be changed.

Yet what can I say? It gets better.

Things get better. I don’t eat dinner alone in the stairwell anymore, cold and alone. I let warmth into my life.
I don’t cry when I’m falling asleep; I don’t cry when I wake up. I smile, and stretch, long and satisfying.
I don’t feel like my lungs are collapsing in on themselves when I think about you. I breathe deeper, and deeper still.
I don’t feel my heart break anew into a million pieces when I think about my father, his brothers, his mother. It aches, but I embrace it.
I don’t feel like I’ve been punched in the gut when I hear your name.
(Although I did feel like I was being punched, repeatedly, when I heard your voice. My body clenched and I started to sweat. I listened to it over and over and over.)
I am so proud and so grateful, and I close my eyes and remind myself of that instead.

There were times when I didn’t think it would get easier. When I felt hopeless, helpless, lost.
It did, though. I see it more and more as this quarter draws to a close.
Never forgetting. I miss you. I keep your picture in my wallet for good luck on my tests. I taped your picture to my wall– you’re a dreamcatcher for anything math-related because those kind of thoughts give me nightmares.
I’m sure you happily absorb them, and roll your eyes when they’re wrong.
No, never forgetting.
Just feeling my heart knit back together, feeling the rent be mended, one stitch of time by one.

Allowing it to get better.

If there was ever something that you would think couldn’t get better, it would be St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake.
The name alone is enough to give this impression. Gooey. Butter. Cake.

But oh, friends, oh. Does it ever get better. In a word, yes.
Let’s be clear and upfront about what gooey butter cake is.

There are two versions: one is the more classic, yeasted bottom, butter topped coffeecake-like confection, and one is Paula Deen’s dump-a-buncha-butter into a cake mix and slather it with cream cheese decadence. Christina Tosi makes a similar version.
That’s how you know it’s good.
1) the name
2) Paula Deen
3) Xtina Tosi

This is the decadent, preservative-filled type, but made better. Made way, way, way better.
No box mixes. Sans preservatives. Still just as easy.

First, the base. Normally a box of yellow cake mix with a stick o’ melted butter added.
Here, oats, brown sugar, plenty of salt, and brown butter are stirred together, turning into a thick, soft cookie base, with a hearty texture and assertive flavor.

Next, the topping. Cream cheese, more brown sugar, eggs, plenty of salt, and a heap of powdered sugar are beaten together to form the sticky, cheesecake-y layer.

After it bakes, the top is cracked and deeply golden, and the whole thing smells like brown butter-brown sugar heaven.
Shut your eyes to resist its seductive temptation, and stick it in the freezer. Overnight. This is the hardest part of this recipe.
When it comes out the next day, it’s dense and chewy, yet maintains its eponymous gooey-ness.
Dust it in more powdered sugar, slice, and dive right in.

One bite and there’s no going back.
It just got better, fam.

Brown Sugar Oatmeal Gooey Butter Cake
makes an 8×8 pan
heavily adapted from Christina Tosi (originally via the now defunct Gilt Taste)

ingredients:
for the base:
3/4 cup rolled oats
1 teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 cup brown sugar
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup (8 tablespoons) butter
2 egg yolks
1 egg
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder

for the topping:
8 ounces cream cheese
hefty pinch salt
6 packed tablespoons (3 ounces) brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
3 1/2 cups (13 ounces) confectioner’s sugar

directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Line an 8×8 pan with parchment, then grease the parchment generously.
Place oats in the bottom of a bowl, then put sugars and salt mounded up to one side.
Place your butter in a heavy pan over medium heat.
After it melts, continue to cook it until it browns and becomes nutty and fragrant.
Pour browned butter over oats and allow to sit and marinate; after a few minutes, stir the sugars and salt together with the oats.
Beat in the egg and egg yolks.
Stir in the flour and baking powder.
Mixture will be crumbly but stick together when pressed.
Press into the bottom of your 8×8 pan; you will have some left over (leave 3/4 of an inch for the topping).
Prepare the topping:
Beat cream cheese and salt together until very light and fluffy, and no lumps remain.
Whip in the brown sugar until the mixture is no longer gritty, about 3 minutes.
Add in the eggs and vanilla and beat on high for another 3 minutes.
Sift the confectioner’s sugar over the top of the mixture and beat just until combined; scrape the sides of the bowl and make sure everything is homogeneous.
Spread the mixture over the crust, making sure it covers the entire thing.
Bake for 40-45 minutes, until puffed, golden, and crackly, with only a slight jiggle in the center.
Remove from oven and let cool; PLACE IN FREEZER for at least 4 hours, and up to one night.
To serve, remove from freezer and immediately slice; dust with plenty of powdered sugar.

February 22, 2014February 19, 2014 by Rachel Sally

Ingots

As if every cake weren’t worth its weight in gold.

The story about financiers goes something like this:

A French boulanger named Lasne noted that the businessmen who frequented his shop, which was located near the Bourse (financial district of Paris) were in need of a sweet snack that could be eaten on the go, sans fourchette.

The rich little cakes named for the rich financiers of the Bourse were baked in rectangular molds, so as to shape them like bars of gold.

Little ingots of cake. The only true currency in my world.

Financiers, classically, are a simple almond cake base, made with egg whites, almond flour, and heaps of beurre noisette.
The high proportion of browned butter gives these little guys crisp edges, while the almond flour keeps the interior soft and pillowy.
The absence of leavening creates pleasantly dense cakes, packing tons of flavor into each little bite, yet keeping the pastries from feeling heavy or weighty.
They’re actually quite light, and not sweet at all. Very French.

Other nuts can be used, and fruits or jam are often dolloped into the batter.
Here you can check out various pastry chefs’ takes on the financier.

It should be noted that financiers are essentially the same as friands from Australia, though they are shaped a little differently.

Here, the classic almond base is updated with brown sugar,
a tablespoon of crushed jasmine tea, fragrant and fruity, with delicate floral overtones,
a couple of tart blackberries, pressed deep into the batter where they become jammy and sweet,
and is baked in adorable little tart molds.

They can be baked in mini muffin tins, friand molds, cupcake liners, tart molds, etc.
I could even see the batter becoming a sort of torte, baked in a larger pan.

I can’t emphasize how transcendent these would be with a cup of good, strong, milky black tea and a dollop of clotted cream.
The cakes aren’t too sweet, and are equally appropriate for breakfast (ahem) as for tea, as for an evening nibble.

They keep supremely well, so you can dole them out as payment for favors.
That is, if they last long enough.
Mine didn’t…

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Jasmine and Blackberry Financiers
adapted from Kristen Kish via Food and Wine
makes around 18 small financiers

ingredients:
3.5 ounces (7 tablespoons) butter, browned
2 egg whites
1 tablespoon plus 1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
pinch of sea salt
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/2 cup almond flour
1 tablespoon finely crushed jasmine tea
30 or so blackberries

directions:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Grease and flour 18 small molds very well, or spray liberally with baking spray with flour.
Whisk egg whites with granulated sugar just until foamy; add in brown sugar and sea salt.
Dump dry ingredients over the egg white mixture; as you gently fold them in, add the brown butter all at once and fold until batter is homogeneous.
Spread the batter into the tins and press a few blackberries into each financier.
Bake for 15 minutes, until the edges are golden and the centers are risen but still slightly soft.
Remove from oven and let cool completely; dust liberally with powdered sugar and serve with extra blackberries and tea.

January 30, 2014February 1, 2014 by Rachel Sally

Maillard

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

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?

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?!

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.

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.

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!

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.

January 22, 2014September 5, 2020 by Rachel Sally

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.)

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.

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.

January 18, 2014 by Rachel Sally

To the Core

“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

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

December 24, 2013September 5, 2020 by Rachel Sally

Peppy Pip

“That morning Pippi was busy making pepparkakor–a kind of Swedish cookie. She had made an enormous amount of dough and rolled it out on the kitchen floor.
Because, said Pippi to her little monkey, what earthly use is a baking board when one plans to make at least five hundred cookies?”

-Astrid Lindgren

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I feel as if I’ve made five hundred cookies, y’all.
It’s more like 200 or so. (Good god.)

This beautifully written post describes how I feel. Hilarious and insightful.

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This is the fourth part of our updated cookie platter. Forget what the other parts were? I’ve got you covered.

Part I: nutmeg, maple, and rye sugar cookies
Part II: Linzer cookies
Part III: chocolate and peppermint macarons
Part IV: pepparkakor!

Pepparkakor are Swedish ginger cookies, kin to gingersnaps.
They’re traditional Christmas cookies, and are actually popular all over northern Europe.

They’re crispy, crunchy, and lightly spiced.
Made with sweet, sticky golden syrup, plenty of ginger and cloves, a touch of black pepper, and heaps of butter.

The ideal Christmas cookie!
Here, I’ve decorated them with lemony royal icing in a variety of patterns.
The traditional shapes for pepparkakor are pigs, hearts, and men and women (little gingerbread men!).
Unfortunately, of these I only had hearts. (And two donkeys?!? Didn’t think that was quite appropriate…)

These are perfect for fika.
A little treat to be served alongside tea or coffee.
Shared with friends and loved ones.
Lingered over.
Laughed over.
Enjoyed.

Leave some for Santa; you’re sure to get extra pressies.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

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Classic Pepparkakor
adapted from Cottage in the Oaks
ingredients:
3/4 cup (6 ounces) butter
3/4 cup sugar
1 teaspoon ground ginger
pinch ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
pinch ground coriander
1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg
pinch allspice
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup (6 ounces) golden syrup
2 cups bread flour
1 cup all-purpose flour

directions:
Cream butter for 2 minutes to soften.
Add in the spices and sugar and cream for 3 more minutes.
Scrape the bowl and add the egg and vanilla and cream for 2 more minutes.
Scrape the bowl and add the golden syrup.
Beat until well combined, about 1 minute.
Scrape the bowl and add the flours.
Mix on low speed until a dough forms.
Knead once or twice, then wrap well in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
Roll out dough to 1/4 inch thickness on a well-floured surface and cut shapes as desired.
Place on baking sheets and refrigerate for 15 more minutes.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Bake cookies for 7-10 minutes, depending on desired level of crispness.
Let cool, then ice with lemon royal icing, recipe below.

Lemon Royal Icing
adapted from Bridget of Bake at 350
ingredients:
3 tablespoons lemon juice
3 tablespoons cold water
4 tablespoons meringue powder
1 teaspoon corn syrup
12 ounces (3/4 pound) powdered sugar

directions:
Place lemon juice, water, and meringue powder in the bowl of a stand mixer; whip on high until stiff peaks form.
Add the corn syrup and beat until incorporated.
Sift the powdered sugar over the meringue and beat until a uniform frosting forms.
Add water a teaspoon at a time to thin to desired piping/flooding consistency.