Category: strawberry

by Rachel Sally

Swiss Myths

Nothing bad can come of a foodstuff with the word “butter” directly incorporated into its name.
Let’s talk meringue buttercream, people.
Meringue buttercreams are used by professional bakers and cake makers because of their stability, fluffiness, shine, and taste.
When you first taste a meringue buttercream, you will be amazed by the lightness of it.
They are, by far, my favorite way to finish cakes.
American buttercreams, which are a simple combination of butter, powdered sugar, and a liquid, become crusty as the butter dries out and are always too sweet and cloying for my taste.
(I have a common opinion with Rosie of Sweetapolita, however; I agree that cupcakes can be very delightful with a good American buttercream.)
 
Cooked frostings, often called heritage or boiled frostings, made by cooking flour and milk to sub for part of the butter, lack the richness that I think an icing should have and can turn out grainy.
Bloggers extol the virtues of SMB- Swiss meringue buttercream.
I wholly agree; however, SMB can be a real pain in the ass.
First of all, it involves making a Swiss meringue, for which I have no patience.
You have to stand, over a stove, whisking egg whites and sugar in a double boiler as they gently come to temperature and the sugar dissolves.
There’s little hands-off time during this period.  You don’t want the eggs to scramble.
(I hate double boilers!)
 
Whenever I make SMB, I notice a nasty, albeit minuscule  strip of cooked egg whites and sugar right at the top of the mass; these are tiny little flecks that I didn’t sweep up in time, and because the sides of the bowl become very hot from the steam, those tiny flecks cook quickly and become crusty. 
(They’re not omelette-y or eggy or anything, because they’re mainly sugar.  Just crusty.)
I don’t like that.  At all.
 
I don’t want to have to deal with that every time I make a buttercream.
In fact, I don’t ever want to have to deal with a crusty ring of anything.
Thankyouverymuch.
So all this talk about SMB being the best?  I’m here to debunk it.
I prefer the easier, fluffier, and glossier alternative:
SMB’s cousin, or sister, or whoever, Italian meringue buttercream.
Here’s why.
First off, for all the reasons why any egg-based buttercream is great.
1. They are not as sweet as an American buttercream.    
Without all the sugar coating your tongue, flavors are intensified and cleaner.
 
2. They store beautifully.
Whether it’s in the fridge or the freezer, they are wonderful to store and use later, so never think twice if you cannot downsize a recipe and you end up with extra.
There are always uses for buttercream, and there’s nothing more wonderful than pre-made delicious buttercream when you need to frost a couple cupcakes but can’t be bothered to make another batch.
3.  They’re simple.
See that photo right above?  Do any of those four ingredients scare you?
No?  Really? Eggs, butter, sugar, and lemon juice don’t scare you?
Hmm.  Then I guess European-style buttercreams shouldn’t either.
 
4.  They’re not made with Crisco.  Ever.
Buttercream is buttercream for a reason.
Ahem.  
Then, the reasons why I choose IMB over any other European buttercream.

1.  It’s not as rich (or wasteful) as French buttercream.
French buttercream is made with egg yolks in the same manner as Italian meringue- whipping eggs while pouring sugar syrup over them.
All those yolks make for a very, very rich buttercream: almost too rich for me.
Yolks are used in custards, curds, puddings, and ice cream, and as a result, I rarely, if ever, have extra yolks.
Yolks also do not keep well and I always have egg whites on hand from said used yolks.
Egg whites keep well in an airtight container in the fridge for ages.
If I were to make French buttercream as often as I do IMB, I’d be drowning in egg whites.
Absolutely over my head.  
And furthermore, the best use for these egg whites would be an IMB.  It’s the circle of life.
 
2.  It’s quicker and has far less downtime than German buttercream.
German buttercream is based on a thick custard which is allowed to cool and congeal completely, then has butter whipped in.
German buttercream is awesome- don’t get me wrong.  
It tastes like ice cream, because it basically is ice cream, just not frozen and with a whole lot of butter whipped in.
Like ice cream, but better.
More butter= more better.
 
Here’s the thing: in order for the butter to emulsify with the custard, which is already a feat, when you think about it, because custards are already pretty high fat and you’re just shoving a brick of butter into that and expecting to get frosting to come out, you need the custard to be cool.
Like, completely cool.  Like, stick it in your fridge and wait a few hours.
I ain’t got time for dat.
Seriously… once you get your IMB down pat, you can even start to cut time on the relatively short prep time because you’ll be able to add colder butter to a warmer meringue and still have it all work out perfectly.
German buttercream?  Not so much.  You must wait.
I am bad at waiting.
Thus, IMB wins this battle.  Sorry, Germany.
 
3.  Finally, in my humble opinion, Italian meringue trumps Swiss meringue.  On a lot of accounts, enough to convince me that IMB>SMB. 
Italian meringue is quicker.
SMB requires patience to prevent scrambled eggs.  
You have to cook the eggs, then whip the meringue.
With IMB, you cook the eggs while making the meringue.  The whole process of making the buttercream takes only a slight bit longer than making a meringue.

IMB is wonderful because you can incorporate a wealth of flavors right in, by infusing the sugar syrup with another ingredient.
For example, when making a lemon IMB, you can use lemon juice to make the syrup, thus giving the final product a lovely and prominent lemon tang, whereas with an SMB, you must use lemon extract, or whip in a lemon curd (yet another time-costly step) as there’s no direct way to incorporate substantial amounts of liquids.
 
Italian meringues are much more stable than Swiss meringues.
They’re thicker, glossier, and less prone to weeping than Swiss meringues, because they have been fully cooked and stabilized by the hot sugar.
I have had instances where my SMB weeps (little droplets of water escaping from the emulsion and beading on the cake, causing the frosting to separate and slough off, as well as look incredibly unappetizing), but never, ever, has an IMB wept, in mine own experiences, of course.
Okay.  Have I got you sold on Italian meringue buttercream?
Great.
Now how the heck do we make it?
Realtalk:  you’re going to be a little put off when you read any recipe for IMB.
Recipe writers (myself included, sorrynotsorry), are all like…
 meanwhile, while this boiling hot sugar syrup is burbling and bubbling like a cauldron, whip up some egg whites real quick and they should be just perfectly soft but yet stable when you pour this boiling hot sugar over the whipping attachment and try not to hit the whisk because it will shoot syrup straight into your eye or the back of your knee or wherever is most painful and good luck see you on the other side don’t forget the sugar syrup is hot…
 
It’s a load of cra mumbo jumbo.  And the timing thing really throws people off.
Don’t let it throw you off!
I promise, it is not stressful to make a successful IMB, and when people bite into your cake and look up at you with starry eyes and a full mouth and smile, you will be drawn back to make more buttercream.  I just know it.
It’s irresistible for both the baker and the consumer.
Win-win!
So here’s how we do this.
(I’m going to do all of this in American volume measurements to make it more accessible. 
 Generally, however, I do stick to weight with IMB.  Whatever floats your boat, guys.)
 
First, get your mise en place, well, en place.
Gather everything you’re going to need.
Here’s a checklist for a lemon Italian meringue, which is what we’re making today for that cake way the hell up there past all those boring shots of my mixer:
 
1 lemon (2 lemon, red lemon, blue lemon…)
1 cup of sugar
a pinch of cream of tartar
4 egg whites
12 ounces (24 tablespoons, 3 sticks) butter, softened but cool and cut into pieces
measuring cup
thermometer
small-medium heavy bottomed pan
stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment
 
Squeeze dat lemon!  
Get 1/3 cup of juice in your measuring cup and place it straight into your saucepan, right in the middle.  
Now, take your sugar and pour that into the middle of the saucepan as well, right in the middle of your puddle of lemon juice.  
Avoid letting any dry sugar touch the sides of the pan.  This will prevent crystallization.
Place the egg whites and the pinch of cream of tartar into the bowl of your stand mixer.
Start your engines.  On low-medium speed (4-6 on a kitchenaid), begin to whip your egg whites.
Great.  Now ignore them for a little while.

Let’s turn our attention back to the pot; place it on your stove and turn the heat on to a medium-high setting.
Place your thermometer in the pot.
Now, wait.  The sugar will dissolve and the syrup will begin to bubble.
We’re waiting until it hits 245 degrees F.
 
Look back at your egg whites.  How fluffy are they?
When the syrup hits 200, they should be all foam- no thick, liquid egg whites left.
When it hits 240, they should be soft peaks- there should be definite peaks, but they shouldn’t look dry or stiff.
Here’s a secret.  I’ve accidentally added the sugar syrup to over-whipped egg whites, ones that are already at stiff peaks, and under-whipped egg whites, ones that are only beginning to hold peaks.
It works out.  I promise.
Even better?  If you’re nervous that one of the two horses is winning the race by too large a margin, rein it in.  You can turn down the heat on the syrup, or even take it off the heat for 30 seconds.  You can slow down the mixer or even stop it completely.
It works out.  I promise.
Now, your syrup has come to temp and your egg whites are at soft peaks.  Brilliant!
Carefully pour the syrup into the measuring cup.
With the mixer on medium speed (4-5 on a kitchenaid), drizzle the syrup over the meringue, about 1 1/2 inches from the side of the bowl.
That’s the sweet spot; however, if you don’t feel comfortable pouring the sugar with the mixer whipping, don’t.
Instead, turn the mixer off, lift the attachment, drizzle a couple teaspoons on top of the meringue, lower the attachment, and whip on high for 10 seconds.  
Continue to repeat this until all the syrup is gone.  
I think you will quickly find yourself pouring the syrup with the mixer whipping; it is much less tedious.
You’re almost there!
Whip the meringue on high until it has cooled to body temperature; you can feel the sides of the bowl as an indicator.
If your mixer is huffing and puffing and can’t possibly last, just turn it off after 5 or so minutes and let the meringue cool for 10, then whip on high again.
Once your meringue is at body temp, add in your butter a few pieces at a time.
 
You are now going to enter the 5 stages of making an egg-based buttercream.
Here’s the remedy.  Stop freaking out, and keep whipping.
Do.  Not.  Stop.  Whipping.
Don’t you dare touch that lever.
I’m watching you.
Keep whipping.
 
1. (Blissful) Ignorance
When you’re first throwing your butter into the bowl, you could care less.  
You’re not even really paying attention- Real Housewives of Miami is on!  
 
Hey, you throw that butter in there man, the commercial break is over.
Just let it whip.
 
2. Denial
Return to the bowl, la dee da… Oh.  Oh.  Wait.  It looks like my meringue has fallen.
No… the butter must just be on the top.  Right?
I worked too hard to get that meringue to be all fluffy and glossy to have it fall down on me now!
That’s not a fallen meringue, right?!?
Wait.  No.  Babe.  Wait.  Babe! Babe! No!  No! Babe! Wait!  Babe, wait!  Wait, babe!
 
Relax: your meringue is supposed to fall.  That’s the point of this step.  
A fallen meringue is normal and I promise all your baking friends’ meringues have fallen, too.
 
3. Panic (re: curdling)
Now what?  Well, your buttercream looks really curdled.  
There are all these nasty little butter pieces.  
It looks like you should trash the whole shebang.
Definitely trash it.  Oh my gosh.  What do I do?  Look at those curds- what are those?!
 
Do.  Not.  Stop.  Whipping. 
A curdled look just indicates that your butter was a touch too cold.
If you keep whipping, the temperatures will become more evenly distributed and the curdling will disappear.
Keep whipping.
 
4. Anger (re: liquidity)
Okay, the curds have gone away.  Now it looks like I have a glaze type deal going on in my mixing bowl.
Why is it so damn thin?  I thought this was supposed to be some fluffy s#*!.
I swear to GOD I am never going back on that dumb blog.  Tuh!
 
Surprise!  You know what the solution is going to be?
If you guessed “keep whipping,” you’re getting somewhere.
Liquid is normal.  The butter will soon emulsify.
You’ll hear a noise while the frosting is thin, a splashy sort of mixing noise.
When the butter starts to emulsify, the noise will thicken, and become a whap-whap-whap noise; this will indicate that your buttercream is getting some body and oomph!
Keep whipping until you hear that noise!
 
5. Satisfaction
You frost that cake, you sassy little minx!  Look at you and your fluffy, shiny, gorgeous IMB.
You rock.  You roll.
You should be the next Food Network Star looking all professional with that buttercream.
Mmmhmmm.
Moral of the story: making a meringue buttercream is not that bad.  And it’s totally worth it.

You can use it to frost a cake like the one I have here today, which was made to celebrate my dad and also my parents’ anniversary, which was a few days back.
(27 years!  You go, Glen Coco!)

It’s a strawberry cake sandwiched with the lightest white cake imaginable, and surrounded with a thick, luscious layer of lemon IMB.
It’s a striking cake.  It screams summer.
And it’s great practice for some Italian meringue buttercream frosting.

A few words, then I’ll shut up, because this post is long enough already-god who do I think I am trying to make you read this long post while you have all that work that’s sitting by the wayside crazy food temptress blogger lady.

Straight out of the mixing bowl, IMB is perfect for crumb coats and smooth finishes.
Refrigerate it for 15 or so minutes to firm it up a bit in order to pipe roses and the like.

Congratulations to my father, you are an inspiration.
And to the both of my two wonderful parents, I like you guys alright. 

Hoo!  Boy, I need a nap and a piece of cake stat.
 

Berries and Cream Cake
for the strawberry cake:
heavily adapted from A Dash of Sass
ingredients:
1 1/2 cups AP flour
2 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
scant 1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 scant cup frozen strawberries
1 cup sugar
3 ounces (6 tablespoons, 3/4 stick) butter
3 eggs
splash vanilla
splash strawberry extract, optional
rose colored food coloring, optional
directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and grease and flour two 6-inch pans.
Stir the flour, baking powder, and salt together.
Microwave the strawberries until they are falling apart and have released their juice, about 1 minute.
Puree the berries and measure out 3/4 cup.
Cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Add in the eggs one at a tim.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and add the strawberry and vanilla extracts and food coloring, if desired.
Add the strawberry puree and mix on high until well blended.
Add in the flour and mix until homogeneous.
Pour into prepared pans and bake for 20-25 minutes, until a tester comes out clean.
for the white cake:
adapted from i am baker
ingredients:
1 cup AP flour
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
6 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces
1/2 cup milk
3 egg whites
splash vanilla extract
directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and grease and flour two 6-inch pans.
Mix the flour, cornstarch, salt, baking powder, and sugar together.
Mix the milk, egg whites, and vanilla together in a measuring cup.
Add the butter and mix until most of the butter is broken up; add in half of the milk mixture and allow to beat on high until everything is incorporated (batter will still be very thick).
Add in the second half of the milk mixture and mix to combine.
Scrape the sides of the bowl and mix again.
Pour batter into prepared pans and bake for 20-25 minutes, until the tops are golden and a tester comes out clean.
for the lemon Italian meringue buttercream:
adapted from Sky High
ingredients:
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1 cup sugar
4 egg whites
pinch cream of tartar
12 ounces (3 sticks) butter, softened but cool and cut into pieces
directions:
Place the lemon juice in a heavy bottomed pan and add the sugar to the center of the pan.
Place the egg whites and cream of tartar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment.
Start to whip the egg whites.
Meanwhile, cook the sugar syrup: without stirring, allow the syrup to come up to 245 degrees F, about 5 minutes.
Keep an eye on the egg whites; when your syrup reaches 240 degrees F, your egg whites should be soft peaks.
Once your syrup comes up to temperature, remove it from the heat and pour it into a measuring cup.
With the mixer running on medium speed, slowly and carefully drizzle the hot syrup over the meringue.
Try to avoid hitting the whisk attachment directly, as this will cause splattering on the sides of the bowl.
Once all the syrup has been added, whip on high for 10 or so minutes, until the meringue is cooled to body temperature.
Once the meringue has cooled, add in the butter a few pieces at a time while whipping on high.
After adding all the butter, the frosting may be liquid-like; keep whipping until it thickens up and becomes fluffy.
(You will hear a sudden change in the sound of the mixer; this indicates that the frosting is thickening up.)
to assemble:
Place one of the cooled strawberry cakes on your cake plate or other serving dish.
Place 1/4 cup of frosting over the cake and spread out; add a few more tablespoons if you need to.
Place a cooled white cake over that layer and repeat.
Repeat with the next two cakes.
Thinly frost the cake to ensure that no crumbs will escape.
Add the rest of the frosting to the top of the cake and smooth it out, moving down the sides to create crisp edges.
Finish as desired; serve at a cool room temperature.

by Rachel Sally

Thyme Out

“Boom,” goes the cannon.
*Canon.
 
Yes!  I got a new camera!
My old Canon Rebel XS treated me very well; it’s a lovely little camera.
I just desperately needed an upgrade- the XS doesn’t have video capabilities and a whole mess of other features that I wish it did, because it’s a pretty intro-level SLR camera.
 
So, I upgraded!
I’m now shooting with a Canon Rebel T4i, which I love.
It has a touchscreen, HD video, and really clear photos.
The continuous shooting is rocking and the images are crystal clear.
I’m in love, guys!
There have been weeks and weeks of never ending rain
of weather warnings blaring through the television
of flash flooding and full waterfalls
mist spreading far and wide
perfuming the air.
 
Finally, it’s starting to heat up again.
Unfortunately, it’s very humid due to all the moisture.
My hair is in afro-mode.  
I just figure I’ll let it run wild.
So I’m welcoming in this heat with ice cream, the first true ice cream of the summer. 
(I made a lot of ice creams for WISE, but they were technically homework!)
 
This ice cream is rich.  
It’s a lovely shade of yellow thanks to the (9) egg yolks, and has a delightful but difficult-to-pinpoint tang from the buttermilk.
My favorite part is how the lemon thyme pairs with the buttermilk.
There’s a balance of acidity and tongue-coating richness that makes this ice cream very difficult to resist.
 
You don’t need to use so many egg yolks; I happened to have some on hand from a cake that I made earlier in the day.  
4 upwards would likely do the trick.
 
(On that note, there is the longest post ever coming at you in two days or so.  
Spoiler alert: it’s got to do with cake.  And buttercream.)
I found a gorgeous and huge bunch of lemon thyme at my farmer’s market, and I scooped it up without any real intentions.
Have you ever had lemon thyme?
It’s got a wonderfully floral and lemony scent, but also has some savory thyme flavor.
It’s delightful; I made some lemon-thyme sugar that I plan on using with stone fruits sometime in the near future.
 
I may be weird, but I just love how thyme is spelled.
I just love it. Thyme thyme thyme.
 
Have you ever seen the lovely blog My Darling Lemon Thyme?
First of all, the name is too cute to handle.
Like, I can’t handle it.
Secondly, the food is gorgeous and mouthwatering.
There’s no better combination!
Every time I think of lemon thyme, I think of her lovely, lovely blog.
I hope all of you Americans have a wonderful 4th of July!
Once again, happy birthday, America!

Buttermilk and Lemon Thyme Ice Cream
adapted from Claudia Fleming, via Smitten Kitchen
ingredients:
1 1/2 cups half and half
big bunch of lemon thyme or other herb, or use a vanilla pod, split and scraped
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
pinch of salt
9 egg yolks
1 cup buttermilk
directions:
Strip the lemon thyme by running pinched fingers along the main woody stem.
Place all the leaves in the half and half in a medium saucepan.
Bring to a simmer; turn off the heat.
Allow to steep for at least 30 minutes and up to 2 hours at room temperature.
Strain the thyme leaves out; discard.
Using an immersion blender, or switching to a regular blender, blend the sugar, salt, and egg yolks into the half and half.
Heat over medium heat until it comes to a boil, stirring/whisking constantly.
Blend very well with an immersion blender, or pour the mixture back into your blender canister and blend extremely well; you want any lumps or curds that formed to be smoothed back into the mixture, and this takes a good minute and a half with a hand blender.
Blend in the buttermilk and chill until very cold; press saran wrap onto the surface to prevent a skin from forming.
Churn in your ice cream maker!
(Shown in pictures with freshly whipped cream, strawberries, and blueberries.)

by Rachel Sally

‘Murka

 
 
Bottom line, I love America, I do.
With all these recent events, I am even gladder to live in this country.
We are on our way to a happier and more equal state, with more love and more satisfaction.
I’m glad to be part of the ride.
Happy birthday America.  Keep up the good work.
 
 
Let’s celebrate with barbecues (if this blasted rain will stop…), fireworks, and red-white-and-blue foods.
Let’s celebrate with these patriotic shortcakes.
Crunchy, sugar-spangled biscuits filled with blueberries and strawberries and pourable cream cheese.
They’re not too sweet, but devastatingly summery.
 
Catch y’all on the other side. 
 
 
Patriotic Shortcakes
for the biscuits:
adapted from Dot’s Diner, via Bon Appétit via Smitten Kitchen
ingredients:
2 1/4 cups flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 scant teaspoon kosher salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
9 tablespoons cold butter, cubed
3/4 cup buttermilk, cold
half and half or cream, for brushing
1/4 cup turbinado sugar, optional, for sprinkling
directions:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.
Stir the flour, sugar, salt, baking powder and baking soda together in a bowl.
Cut in the cubed butter, either with a pastry cutter or with two knives or with your fingers, which is how I do it.
Flatten each of the cubes and rub them so that they are flat and pea-sized.
Pour in the buttermilk and bring the whole batter together with a few kneading motions- your hands will be very dirty, but that’s good for you.
Turn the dough out onto a floured surface and pat into a rectangle 1/2 inch thick.  
Make a letter fold, by folding it into thirds, and pat the resulting rectangle out to 1/2 inch thickness as well.
Repeat the letter fold twice more.
Pat out the dough and cut circles out of it, being careful not to mangle the edges.
Place on a baking sheet and brush with half-and-half.
Sprinkle liberally with turbinado sugar.
Bake for 12-15 minutes.
Split and fill!
for the berries:
ingredients:
1 cup of sliced strawberries (slice, then measure)
2/3 cup blueberries
1+ tablespoon of sugar
directions:
Gently stir the strawberries and blueberries together with the sugar and set aside, preferably in a fridge, to macerate for at least 20 minutes.
Adjust the amount of sugar depending on the sweetness of your berries.
for the cream cheese filling:
4 ounces cream cheese
2 tablespoons heavy cream
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
directions:
In a food processor or with an immersion blender, mix until pourable. 
Add more cream if need be, but be sure to fully mix the sauce before adding more.
by Rachel Sally

Olive Yew

Olive trees’ lifespans, on average, are between 300 and 600 years; the oldest known tree is 2000 years old. (!!!)
But… and there’s always a but… I hate olives.  I’m sorry.  I do.  
I just can’t bring myself to like them… They’re sort of slimy, very squishy, and all together too salty.  
That being said, I love olive oil.  I’m not kidding.  The stuff runs through my veins.
Olive oil is liquid gold; the specialty stuff, even more so.
One of the most heavenly things on Earth is a fresh, hot baguette dipped in olive oil+Parmesan.  
There is nothing like it.
For those of you who live in Ithaca, you may have been to the little specialty olive oil and vinegar shop downtown, in the commons: F. Oliver’s.
Talk about wonderful olive oils.  I was in there the other day, recycling old bottles (If you have empty bottles from their store, don’t recycle them the regular way!  Take them down to the store and they will refill them for you or recycle and reuse them.), when I stumbled upon what may possibly be my favorite oil ever- even more so than coconut or toasted sesame- their fresh pressed blood orange olive oil.
Laaaaaawd is it good.  Mix it with some pomegranate molasses and you have the most deliciously tangy salad dressing ever.
I also got some Tuscan garden olive oil.  Gorgeous in a balsamic vinaigrette.
And no, unfortunately enough, I am not getting paid to say these things.
I wish.
Anyways, in addition to picking up some fancy schmancy new oils, I learned that F. Oliver’s is having a recipe contest.
Basically, you develop your best recipe using their oils or vinegars, send it in, and keep your fingers crossed.
The winner gets a free bottle of vinegar or oil every month for the rest of the year!
Obviously, I want to win.  Come on… Imagine all the avocado oil I could get. 
So I made a cake with blood orange olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar.
 
The cake itself is super soft, with a very fine, tight crumb.  The edges and top are ever so slightly crispy, which is a wonderful contrast to the tender interior.
It’s redolent with orange and almond, and it’s made with whole wheat flour.  
It’s a very virtuous cake, dairy-free, whole-wheat, with lots of healthy fats from the olive oil and almonds.  
I’ve paired it with fresh berries that have been roasted into a sticky, syrupy treat with a touch of sugar and a splash of balsamic vinegar that is older than I; they’re complex and balance out the sweetness of the cake wonderfully.
Taming the sweetness even further is a simple whipped mascarpone that I dolloped on top.  It’s plain and unsweetened, but gives richness and body to the dish.  
I ate could eat it by the spoonful.
 
This is a lovely, quick cake, perfect for a brunch (Mother’s day, anyone?) or quick weeknight dessert.  
It’s also classy enough for a light dinner party finisher, sure to leave everyone’s sweet tooth satisfied without weighing them down.
When I say quick, I mean that this is a 2 bowl dessert; the cake is made with one utensil and the batter comes together in 5 minutes if you know your kitchen well; the strawberries roast at the same temperature as the cake and give you just enough time to prep and throw them in and then take them out at the same time as the cake, preventing unnecessary energy waste from an idle oven.
You can serve the cake and compote warm from the oven, so you don’t have to bother with cooling times, and the mascarpone takes all of 30 seconds to whip.
Olive this cake.  Eye really dew.

Orange Almond Olive Oil Cake with Balsamic Roasted Strawberries and Whipped Mascarpone
(that’s a mouthful)
for the cake:
ingredients:
175 g white whole wheat flour (1 1/3 cups)
75 g almond meal (2/3 cup)
12 g baking powder (2 teaspoons)
8 g kosher salt (1 heaping teaspoon)
80 g granulated sugar (1/3 cup)
120 g brown sugar (very loosely packed 2/3 cup)
zest of one orange
135 g F. Oliver’s fresh pressed blood orange extra virgin olive oil (2/3 cup)
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
140 g freshly squeezed orange juice (2/3 cup), from about 1 1/2 oranges
directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Grease a 9-inch springform or regular cake pan with 2 inch sides.  (Alternatively, you could use an 8-inch with 3 inch sides or a 10-inch with 1 1/2 inch sides.)
Whisk the flour, almond meal, baking powder, and salt together in a bowl.
In another bowl, place the sugars, orange zest, olive oil, and eggs, and whisk vigorously to combine, about 2 minutes.  Mixture should lighten in color.
Whisk the vanilla extract and orange juice into the sugar mixture.
Whisking constantly, slowly add in the flour mixture.
Mix until batter is homogeneous.  
Pour into prepared pan and bake for 30-35 minutes, until cake is deeply golden and springy to the touch, and a tester comes out with only a couple crumbs.
Allow to cool for 5 minutes, then unmold from pan and allow to cool fully.
Dust with powdered sugar and serve with balsamic roasted strawberries and whipped mascarpone.

for the strawberries:
ingredients:
260 g chopped strawberries (2 cups)
15 g granulated sugar (1 tablespoon)
20 g F. Oliver’s 18-year old special reserve balsamic vinegar (1 tablespoon plus 1/2 teaspoon)
splash vanilla extract
directions:
Preheat oven to 350 (or make these simultaneously to the cake).
Toss strawberries with sugar, vinegar, and vanilla.
Spread out in an even layer over a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
Bake for 20-24 minutes, until softened and caramelized.  
Strawberries should be slightly sticky.
Stir around to fully coat each strawberry with the sauce, and serve slightly warm.

for the whipped mascarpone:
ingredients:
5 tablespoons mascarpone
3 tablespoons half and half
directions:
Using an immersion blender, food processor, or stand- or hand-mixer, beat mascarpone and half and half together until very fluffy and light.
Store in refrigerator until use; serve chilled.

by Rachel Sally

Kvetch

If you’ve been reading my blog for any amount of time, even a brief glance, you were not surprised, I’m sure, at the title of this post.
 
I kvetch quite a lot, especially on this soapbox in my little corner of the internet.
 
Fun, if not somewhat depressing, fact: 1 out of every 3 posts on this blog has been labeled with “whining.”
1 out of every 10, “Stupid.”
3 of every 20, “WISE.”
 
At least I have that ratio going for me… WISE>Stupid.
Phew.
 
I won’t lie and say that my project has been going especially super duper well, simply because it has been somewhat stagnant in the last two weeks, primarily due to the fact that I have 4 finals within the next two weeks and 4 APs the two weeks following.
 
Needless to say, that has been consuming a lot of my time, energy, and, frankly, willpower.
 
I wanted to make something yesterday with basil, as we have two basil plants which have outgrown their welcome flourished, Lord knows how or why, in our kitchen.
It’s difficult for me to push WISE to the forefront of my mind and my worries these days.
I itch to get in the kitchen, but I have to force myself to work on other homework, else I fall behind (speaking of which, I already am behind…).  
 
I am relieved that my timeline for WISE is so much longer than my other classes; it may be only a few week difference between my APs and my WISE presentation, but I’ll be darned if it doesn’t feel wonderful not to have added pressure in yet another class.
I know there are still things I haven’t gotten to.
I know there are topics that are in dire need of attention.
I know because I read my project proposal once through, yet again (I found a typo! Send help!!!), and realized that while I have gone above and beyond certain expectations that I had had, I am also lacking in more than a couple.
About the dessert, ’cause that’s what we really care about around here:
 
I found this dessert by Michael Laiskonis (the plating makes me want to cry, it is so beautiful. And no, I am not joking.  I love that stinking cylindrical panna cotta so much.  How could you not?  It’s a little tube of beauty.) and ran with the inspiration.
 
First, I kept things small- the plate that you see is a tiny little tea saucer, though it looks rather large in the photos.  
Secondly, I loved the way he cut the strawberries- it’s unconventional and transforms them into a new, unfamiliar element which attracts the eye.   So yeah, I copied him there.  
Third, I had no idea that basil seeds, like flax and chia seeds, were mucilaginous.  Steeping them in basil syrup is so logical but so unexpected.  
It heightens the herbaceous and spicy notes of the seeds, while activating their mucilage-producing quality.
Yucky name, lovely texture- sort of “squeaky,” as Laiskonis describes it.
 
Stick with me for a few more weeks, guys.  
We’re in it for the long haul.
 
P.S. humblebrag… sorry not sorry… Look at that quenelle!!  Best one yet!  I’m figuring out more and more tricks:
boiling water
small spoon
NO drying off the spoon
a tall, plastic container with a rim for the ice cream.
Hallelujah, I might have quenelling down by the time I have to present.
Capri
strawberry curd
tomato spheres
balsamic reduction
steeped basil seeds
basil ice cream

Capri

for the strawberry curd:
ingredients:
1 1/2 cups sliced strawberries
2 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
pinch salt
1 egg
1 tablespoon butter
directions:
Bring the strawberries, sugar, salt, and lemon juice to a boil.  
Allow to simmer until the strawberries have broken down into a smooth mush consistency. 
Whisking vigorously, add the egg.
Cook over medium-low heat until the curd thickens.
Whisk in the butter.
Chill until use; press plastic wrap right onto the surface of the curd to store.

for the tomato spheres:
1/2 cup of tomato juice, freshly pressed out of a few tomatoes
2 tablespoons sugar
pinch salt
1 teaspoon agar
2 cups canola oil, chilled in the freezer for at least an hour
directions:
Stir the salt, sugar, juice, and agar together in a microwaveable, large container.  
Microwave on HIGH for 30 second bursts, until the mixture boils.
After the first burst that it boils, microwave it twice more, for a total of 1 minute 30 ish seconds of boiling in the microwave.
Remove the oil from the freezer (put it in a wide, large bowl).
Using a syringe, drop the liquid tomato gel into the oil.  It will congeal into little spheres.
Remove from the cold oil by straining the spheres out (the oil is reusable), then rinse in cool water and use.

for the basil seeds:
ingredients:
2 tablespoons water
2 tablespoons sugar
10 basil leaves, cut into a chiffonade
1 tablespoon basil seeds
directions:
Bring the water, sugar, and basil leaves to a simmer just to dissolve the sugar.
Strain out the leaves.
The syrup should be a loose consistency.  
If it is not, simply add more water 1/2 a teaspoon at a time.
Sprinkle the basil seeds over the syrup and mix gently.
Allow to sit and become mucilaginous.  
To use, strain the syrup with a sieve.

for the basil ice cream:
adapted from Jeni’s
ingredients:
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons half and half
1 heaping teaspoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon mascarpone
10-15 basil leaves, cut into a chiffonade
1 vanilla bean, scraped
3 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 tablespoon light corn syrup
pinch kosher salt
pinch gelatin (scant 1/8 teaspoon)
directions:
Bring the vanilla bean, the vanilla seeds, the half and half, the sugar, the salt, the corn syrup, and the basil leaves to a boil.
Reduce heat to a simmer and whisk cornstarch in very well.
Place mascarpone in a bowl; strain the hot ice cream base over the mascarpone; discard basil leaves and vanilla pod; whisk well to dissolve mascarpone.
Sprinkle gelatin over the top of the mixture and whisk to combine.
Allow to cool to room temperature, then spin in your ice cream maker until smooth and creamy.
Store in a plastic container in the freezer.

for the balsamic reduction:
ingredients:
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
directions:
Bring to a boil over medium heat in a small saucepan.  
Allow to boil for 15-20 seconds, then remove from heat.
The reduction should be only slightly looser than a syrup.

to assemble:
strawberries
micro basil leaves
1/2 cup heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks
directions:
Smear a tablespoon or so of strawberry curd in a curve around your plate.
Place a large mound of whipped cream on the base of your plate; create a small well in the center with the back of a spoon.
Slice the very tips of the strawberries very thinly; place a few around the plate.
Spoon 1/4 teaspoon piles of basil seeds around the plate.
Garnish with micro basil leaves.
Splatter balsamic reduction across the side of the plate.
Place 1-2 tablespoons of tomato spheres in the well of your whipped cream.
Quenelle a scoop of basil ice cream and balance it on top of the spheres.
Serve immediately.

by Rachel Sally

Sweet Heaven

Thou art the vegetable most unsung.
Scorned for the raw sourness you impart,
though your sapor glides, winged, o’er the tongue.
O! sweet rhubarb! Thine flesh, stringed and tart, 
melts into the ambrosia of the gods.
Thy ruby hue knows no earthly confines;
deepens when simmer’d with a vanilla pod.
Thine taste is heightened by nutmeg and wine.

Be not forlorn, for here ready I stand,
thy sweet delicacy must be made known
I stand proud, lemon and rhubarb in hand,
layers set thee on thy velvet throne.

Tis past time for us to make way, posthaste!
‘Tis time to revel in thy piquant taste.

 

Ahem.  Yes, I wrote a sonnet.
… About rhubarb.
It happens, okay?!
I just love this weird ass vegetable.  
I like most weird vegetables.
I identify with them.  They’re like my tribe.
 
I, too, do not move and spend much of my life under a thick layer of dirt.
I, too, do not fit in with the rest of the produce aisle.
I, too, frighten many as they open up their CSA box to see me sitting inside.
Rhubarb is so yucky when uncooked- fibrous, extremely sour, and, hello! poisonous.
Yet there is a magical transformation that takes place when rhubarb is subjected to heat, sweetened just a touch, and spiked with plenty of nutmeg, vanilla, and salt.
Magical.  
It melts down and becomes velveteen and ever so silky.
The vegetal taste is lost, and transforms into a mysteriously addicting, but difficult to describe, earthy, fruity flavor.
Rhubarb and strawberries and lemon were meant to be together.
Rhubarb is thus the gateway drug vegetable between winter and summer produce.
Lemons abound (year round, really) in the winter, when citrus is essentially the only fruit to be found.
Strawberry season begins in spring and extends well into summer.
But rhubarb, wily and tricksy (tricksy little hobbitses) as it is, has a very brief season, right at the beginning of spring; after early spring, it becomes increasingly harder to find.
Marry these three (I suppose you could even add in some raspberries, you minx), and you have a divine combination, which hits your taste buds in all the right places.
Seriously.  I took one bite of this cake and promptly cut myself another slice.
I’m not kidding.  The cake was all but gone this morning, when I finished it off for breakfast.
It’s that good.
The crisp meringue softens slightly and becomes pillowesque and marshmallow-y, while the whipped cream plays gorgeously off of all the tartness coming from the rhubarb, strawberries, and lemon, providing just enough richness to please your palate.
Now, it’s true that I prefer fruit desserts (especially lemon curd) over chocolate ones (strange but true), but I am not exaggerating when I say this is one of my all time favorite cakes, perhaps even the numero uno big dog.
 
And it’s not even cake!
It’s a miracle.
P.S. Have you met my friend, Kohlrabi?
She looks like an alien space capsule and a squid mixed with a cabbage.
Just beautiful.
 
Sweet Heaven Cake
note: I tried to keep the sugar to a minimum here, because I prefer tart desserts.  
If you prefer things sweeter, feel free to bump up the sugar in the lemon curd to 5 or 6 tablespoons, and to increase the maple syrup in the compote (I free-poured somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 of a cup and that was plenty).  
You can also increase the sugar in the meringue to 3/4 cup, but I don’t think that is necessary.  
Oh, and also, you can sweeten the whipped cream with a tablespoon or so of powdered sugar.
for the meringue layers:
ingredients:
6 egg whites
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/2 cup sugar
pinch salt
splash vanilla extract
directions:
Preheat oven to 250 degrees F.  
Line two sheet pans with parchment and trace 2 six inch circles on each.
Whip the egg whites with the cream of tartar and salt until they begin to foam.
Slowly begin to add in the sugar, about 1 teaspoon at a time, until meringue is stiff and holds peaks.
Whip in the vanilla extract.
Transfer to a piping bag, or go freehand- pipe out meringue, about 3/4 inch thick, onto each of the pre-traced circles.
Bake for 2 or so hours, until the meringue is no longer sticky and is slightly golden.  
Turn off the oven and allow the meringue to cool completely in the oven; prop the door with a wooden spoon handle.
for the rhubarb compote:
1 pound rhubarb, chopped into 1/4 inch moons
1/2 cup maple syrup, to taste
pinch nutmeg
pinch salt
splash vanilla extract
directions:
Place all ingredients except vanilla in a large sauce pot; heat over medium high heat until the rhubarb breaks down and the whole compote has no chunks. 
Stir in the vanilla and let cool.
for the lemon curd:
adapted from Alice Medrich
1/3 cup lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
1 egg
scant quarter cup sugar
pinch salt
directions:
Whisk everything together and cook on medium low heat, stirring constantly, until mixture thickens and coats the back of a spoon, about 6 minutes.  
Remove from heat and allow to cool.
to assemble:
ingredients:
1/2 cup cold heavy cream, whipped softly with a pinch of agar (optional)
sliced and whole strawberries
directions:
Place your first meringue layer on a cake stand or plate.  
Spread lemon curd over it, then spoon rhubarb compote in the middle and spread over the curd.  
Place your second layer on top of the first, then spread whipped cream over it.  
Add rhubarb compote and spread over the cream,then layer sliced strawberries over the compote.
Place the third layer over the second, and repeat the steps for the first layer.
Place the fourth layer on top, and dollop/spread the rest of the whipped cream over it.
Decorate with more sliced and whole strawberries.
by Rachel Sally

Field of Dreams

Ruby strawberries
gleam with early morning dew
oh! how they sparkle!
 
Gosh, for some reason it feels like forever since I’ve blogged.  
(Separation anxiety! It’s been two whole days!)
This past week has been pretty hectic.  
Now that I think about it, I made this dessert an entire weekend ago.  
 
I found inspiration in the combination of celery and strawberry, which I first saw in one of Chef Michael Laiskonis’ desserts, whom I draw immense inspiration from. 
 
At first glance, it seems awkward belonging more to the class of salads than desserts, I know.
But the slight floral undertones of the celery are play nicely with the sweetness of the strawberry, and the tartness of that same purée works magically with the ganache upon which it is splattered.
 
I am in love with Christina Tosi’s celeriac ganache.  I tweaked it only a tiny a bit, to fit my own tastes and needs, and good Lord almighty, I did not expect to get what I got.
Silky, creamy, and dare I say unctuous.
Sweet, a tad spicy, and woody.
Milky, but with immense body.
I mean, goodness!  If it’s the one thing you make from this blog, do it.  
For you and for me and for Chef Christina.
Sandwich it between cookies or slather it on a cake or a pie or whatever.  A cracker would suit me nicely, but I’m not below sticking my finger in the bowl and getting every last bit with a swipe.
It’s that good.  It’s indescribably delicious.  And I hate celery and celeriac, people!  
But I l-u-r-v-e-d this.
Also, a quick update from this weekend’s work:  
I had big plans for a dessert, one featuring classic flavors in unexpected ways.
It didn’t exactly pan out.  
My blueberry caviar were, um, mealy- using a thick blueberry purée instead of a juice was not my best call- and because I was making caviar, I couldn’t freeze them for reverse spherification.  
I braved onward, setting up a CaCl2 bath and attempting to incorporate some sodium alginate into the purée, but, it really, really did not work.
There were too many bits left in my purée, even after two passes through a fine-meshed sieve.
So, what did I do?
I gave up.  
“Totally fine,” I assured myself, as I  bookmarked my notes and my recipes for another day, “I’ll get it.  Just not this weekend.”
 
(However, I did make an entirely new dessert today.  I’ll post it sooner rather than later.)
Field of Dreams:
celeriac ganache
strawberry purée
white chocolate panna cotta
strawberry film
lemon ice cream
candied celery leaves
burnt pine nut brittle

 

Field of Dreams:

For the lemon ice cream:
adapted from Jeni’s
ingredients:
122 g milk
1 tsp cornstarch
75 g cream
33 g sugar
1 1/2 tsp glucose
Pinch kosher salt
11 g mascarpone
1 1/2 tsp sugar
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Lemon zest, peeled with a vegetable peeler
Directions:
Mix the milk, cornstarch, cream, sugar, glucose, and salt together with an immersion blender until smooth.  
Cook over low heat until thickened, about 6 minutes; drop the lemon zest in and let steep/cook along with it.  
Meanwhile, cook the lemon juice and 1 1/2 tsp sugar in a small pan until a thin syrup forms, about 3 minutes.  Set aside to cool.
Once the base is thickened, remove from heat and chill for at least 3 hours, until cold and even thicker.  
Fish the lemon zest out and churn in an ice cream maker.  
Pour in the lemon syrup while it churns.  
Spread into a loaf pan and freeze.

For the white chocolate panna cotta:
adapted from Saveur
ingredients:
6 tbsp milk
1/4 cup cream
3 ounces white chocolate
Pinch sea salt
1/2 tsp gelatin
directions:
Bloom gelatin for 3 minutes in 2 tablespoons of the milk.  
Meanwhile, heat the remaining cream and milk to simmering.  Add in the bloomed gelatin and stir to dissolve gelatin.
Pour the hot milk/cream over the chopped white chocolate and salt in a bowl.
Allow to sit for 1 minute untouched, then whisk to combine and smooth.
Pour into molds and chill until firm, at least 4 hours.

For the celeriac ganache:
adapted from Christina Tosi’s celery root ganache
70 g celery root purée (from 1 small celeriac, peeled and chopped, roasted at 400 degrees F wrapped in an aluminum foil packet with a drizzle of grapeseed oil and a sprinkle of salt and pepper for 30 minutes, or until mushy-tender, puréed in a food processor until silky, then passed through a fine meshed sieve)
35 g white chocolate
10 g butter
12 g glucose
20 g heavy cream
directions:
Heat the white chocolate, butter, and glucose up together in a microwave, gently.  
Once mostly melted, mix with an immersion blender.  
Drizzle the cream in while blending.  The mixture should be very smooth.
Blend in the celery root; don’t overmix.  
Stop when the mixture is homogeneous and very, very silky.

For the strawberry film:
ingredients:
80 g fresh strawberry juice, mixed with 40 g cold water
1/2 tsp gelatin
1.5 g agar
directions:
Bloom the gelatin in 50 g of the juice mixture.  
Blend the agar into the rest of the juice with an immersion blender and simmer for 3 full minutes over medium heat.  
Stir in the bloomed gelatin until dissolved.  
Remove from heat and spread very thinly on a sheet pan lined with a silpat (has to be a silpat. Not parchment). 
Let cool and solidify for 5 minutes; you can then peel , slice, and use the sheet.
To cover the panna cottas, cut out squares of film about the size of your panna cotta, then lightly drape over top.  You can then cut the panna cottas into nice, even squares (Always cover the panna cotta with film before slicing.).

For the candied celery leaves and pine nut brittle:
Preheat oven to 175 degrees F.
Combine 2 tablespoons sugar with 1 tablespoon water in a small, heavy sauce pan.  
Heat until the sugar dissolves and the syrup thickens, about 3 minutes on low heat.  
Remove from heat and let cool to a warm temperature, cool enough that you will be able to dunk your fingers into it, about 8-10 minutes.  
Dip celery leaves into the syrup (you can make lots, I made about 6 as that’s all I needed), and squeeze most of the excess syrup off with your fingers.  It will be sticky; don’t scrape all the syrup off, though.  
Place on a parchment paper lined sheet tray and bake until crispy, 10-15 minutes; the sugar will crystallize.  I moved my leaves to a wire cooling rack on top of the sheet tray after about 8 minutes so that they would be crunchy all around.
With the remaining syrup, make pine nut brittle.  
Heat the syrup over medium heat until it turns amber colored.  
Working quickly, stir in a small handful of pine nuts and pour the whole mixture out onto a silpat lined sheet tray.  
Smooth it out as evenly as possible; DO NOT TOUCH the sugar because it is incredibly hot.  
Allow to cool to room temperature, then break up into small pieces.

To assemble:
Schmear a large portion of celeriac ganache onto the base of the plate.  
Splatter strawberry purée in a random and organic pattern on top.
Place two small cubes of panna cotta onto the plate, then add a quenelle of lemon ice cream.
Garnish with a few small pieces of pine nut brittle and candied celery leaves.