Daring Bakers' Challenge: Chocolate Valentino

Ahh, chocolate. If there was one month I would expect to do something with chocolate, it's February. And this month, we're having a go at flourless chocolate cake. The February 2009 challenge is hosted by Wendy of WMPE's blog and Dharm of Dad ~ Baker & Chef. They have chosen a Chocolate Valentino cake by Chef Wan; a Vanilla Ice Cream recipe from Dharm and a Vanilla Ice Cream recipe from Wendy as the challenge. (Though, truth be told, the ice cream flavor was less important to the challenge than the fact that it be homemade. Score!)

Now, I must say, this was quite a simple recipe, only three ingredients required. Does it sound like I'm complaining? Clearly, you misunderstand. I have confessed to a certain level of sluggishness before now, I believe. So yes, three ingredients, right up my alley. But here, as with any recipe lacking a laundry list of components, quality and technique are key. The chocolate has not a thing to hide behind, it is the recipe. And while chocolate may be the star, it wouldn't amount to much of anything without a stellar supporting cast. Butter and egg yolks provide moisture and richness in texture, as whipped egg whites provide the lift for this decadent chocolate creation.

For the ice cream, well, let's just say I'm going through a caramel (ahem, carmel) phase. Since the Caramel Cake of November's challenge, I have had this uncontrollable need to play with caramel. At times a loveless venture, occasionally afflicting a blind rage, I have become obsessed with caramel in general. (I haven't even told you about the Caramels from Alice Medrich that were an optional part of that November challenge. I've attempted them, twice, and while I haven't been successful, this is one challenge I plan to master. Someday.) And then there's the Salted Caramel ice cream at Bi-Rite Creamery in the Mission District of San Francisco. This frozen sweet makes silent all who hold it and jealous those who don't.

It's true the ice cream at Bi-Rite Creamery inspired the decision to go with this particular flavor. Unbeknownst to me, I was not alone in this love for salted caramel ice cream, and I'm late to catch on as well. I decided to go with a milk-only ice cream, rich with egg yolks. As if sparing the cream somehow made up for the highly indulgent flourless chocolate cake it would accompany. Ignorance is bliss.

Check out the blogs of our fearless hosts this month for the Chocolate Valentino recipe. As for the ice cream: if you don't have an ice cream maker (and simply don't live near Bi-Rite) you can still enjoy this frozen treat, and once again, for all things ice cream, David Lebovitz is your man.

It is important to use good salt in this recipe. Try fleur de sel or Maldon sea salt (or other mild-tasting sea salt); and even Kosher salt will do in a pinch, but ordinary fine table salt is far too harsh. If you don’t have salted butter, just use a little extra salt. Don’t forget, saltiness diminishes in foods as they get colder, so don’t be afraid that you’ve ruined anything if it tastes too salty before it’s frozen. That being said, don’t go crazy.

Salted Caramel Ice Cream

inspired by Bi-Rite Creamery and David Lebovitz

3 cups (750 ml) whole milk, divided evenly

1½ cups (300 gr) sugar

4 tablespoons (60 gr) salted butter

scant ½ teaspoon sea salt

5 large egg yolks

¾ teaspoon vanilla extract

Add sugar to a medium saucepan in an even layer. Heat the sugar over moderate heat until the edges begin to melt. Use a silicone spatula to gently stir the liquefied sugar from the bottom and edges towards the center, until all the sugar is dissolved. Continue to cook, stirring infrequently until the caramel starts smoking and begins to smell like it's just about to burn. Don’t worry about any undissolved lumps, what doesn’t dissolve will eventually or be strained out later.

Once caramelized, immediately remove from heat and stir in the butter and salt, until butter is melted, then gradually whisk in 1½ cups of milk (keep the other 1½ cups milk refrigerated until needed). The caramel may harden and seize, but return it to the heat and continue to stir over low heat until any hard caramel has melted.

Whisk the yolks in a small bowl and gradually pour some of the warm caramel mixture over the yolks, stirring constantly. Scrape the warmed yolks back into the saucepan and cook the custard using a silicone spatula, stirring constantly (scraping the bottom as you stir) until the mixture thickens. If using an instant-read thermometer, it should read 160°-170° F.

Pour the custard through a fine mesh sieve set over a medium bowl (1 qt or larger). Stir in the reserved cold milk and the vanilla. Refrigerate at least 8 hours, stirring occasionally, or until thoroughly chilled.

Freeze the mixture in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Eat right away, or chill in the freezer until firm.

Daring Bakers' Challenge: Tuiles

Ahhh. A new year, a new challenge. This time around, we're talking the whisper thin lightness of tuiles. French for "tile," tuiles are traditionally thin, crisp cookies with a gently curved shape resembling that of, you guessed it (Didn't you?), a roofing tile.

This month's challenge is brought to us by Karen of Bake My Day and Zorra of 1x umruehren bitte aka Kochtopf. They have chosen Tuiles from The Chocolate Book by Angélique Schmeink and Nougatine and Chocolate Tuiles from Michel Roux. These lovely ladies were also kind enough to allow for a savory option with a recipe from Thomas Keller. And me being me, I resolved to go with a savory tuile, and beat my own drum while I was at it.

Years ago, a friend gave me a recipe for panelle, aka fabulously amazing chickpea fritter-like things. While very popular as Sicilian street fare, these were, for me, a new found food so delicious, I wondered what took me so long to find them. Then tuiles came to be the challenge du mois (of the month, people). The light bulb over my head burst and I decided on chickpea flour, the primary ingredient in panelle. And while I was unsure it would work, I couldn't stop myself from this possible brush with disaster.

So, imagine that (and my surprise). An actual experiment that did not go horribly South! Never mind that I yielded less than half of what I should have - I ate the "bad" ones (oops, that's broken, oops that's broken). Simple to make, delicious to eat, and so thin and light, you can hardly tell you're eating buttered chickpea flour. Now that's amazing.

Thank you Daring Bakers for another fabulous discovery in the world of baking! If you'd like to see the recipes, head on over to Bake My Day and take a look! If you'd like to know what I did, keep reading...

Savory Chickpea Tuiles
inspired by The French Laundry Cookbook

65 g/2.25 oz chickpea flour

1 Tbsp + 1 tsp sugar

1 tsp kosher salt

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened but still cool to the touch

2 large egg whites, cold

Preheat the oven to 400°

In a medium bowl, mix together the flour, sugar and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk the softened butter until it is completely smooth and mayonnaise-like in texture. Beat the egg whites into the dry ingredients with a whisk until completely incorporated and smooth. Whisk in the softened butter scraping the sides of the bowl as necessary and whisking until the batter is creamy and without any lumps. Transfer the batter to a smaller container, as it will be easier to work with.

Make 3, 2-inch hollow circular stencils spaced ½ inch apart (I used a thin plastic organizing folder). Place a Silpat (or similar) on a cool baking sheet. (If your baking sheet has raised edges, leave the Silpat on your counter and move it to the baking sheet just before baking.) Have a rounded surface such as a large-handled whisk or rolling pin clean and standing by.

Place the stencil in one corner of the sheet and, holding the stencil flat against the Silpat, scoop some of the batter onto the back of an offset spatula and spread it in an even layer over the stencil. Run the spatula across the surface of the stencil to remove any excess batter. Be sure not to leave any voids in the batter.

Lift the stencil and repeat the process, filling the Silpat while leaving about ½ inch in between the rounds.

Bake for approximately 3-4 minutes (watch the first couple of batches carefully to get the timing right), or until the batter is set and you see it rippling from the heat. There should be very light browning.

Remove the pan from the oven and, using a thin knife, transfer the tuiles to rest on the rounded surface. As the tuiles cool, they will lose their ability to bend, so work quickly.

Wipe the Silpat clean and allow it and the pan to cool before continuing with the next batch. Cooled tuiles may be stored in an airtight container for up to 2 days.

Promises, Promises

I feel like we've been here before. I went away. Disappeared. No note, no phone call, nada. Then, I come back, tossing apologies, promises for a new, different, more attentive person, and hoping that you'll stick around to see it.

Now, I won't blame you if you decide that it's just time for us to say goodbye, because, really, that would be, well, let's just say I'd understand. And I'm not going to say "But this time..." because I can't promise there won't be a next time.

But this time, I see so much in our future together. In fact, I even have some things to tell you about that I just couldn't seem to get to at the time. I've been stuck, you see, and not the kind of stuck that happens when you throw yourself against a velcro wall while wearing a velcro suit, but...come to think of it, that might be fun, in the beginning, anyway. And who could argue with that?

"Where have you been?!"

"Stuck on a velcro wall."

"Oh."

So, please. Do as you will, and I'll do as I do, and maybe we'll meet again, somewhere in the middle.

Daring Bakers' Challenge: Caramel Cake

Talk about creating a monster. This month, the focus is sugar. Caramelized sugar, to be exact. Now, sugar is an amazing thing. Despite the fact that it has a certain power over many of us, albeit subconsciously, the true power lies in its ability to change. Cooking sugar causes numerous changes to its molecular structure, and the changes continue with rising temperatures. At 235°, sugar is just right for fudge. At 270°, you're ready to make pulled taffy. At 300°, it's all about brittle.

But that's just sugar. What happens when you start adding things? Butter? Milk? Cream? Well, that changes everything. And thankfully, we had a real expert guiding us through this one. Our hosts this month, Dolores of Chronicles in Culinary Curiosity, Alex (aka Brownie) of Blondie and Brownie, and Jenny of Foray into Food got ahold of Shuna Fish Lydon (of Eggbeater among many others) for this challenge. Not only is Shuna's recipe (Caramel Cake with Caramelized Butter Frosting) the challenge, she was gracious enough to hold our hands through this otherwise trepidant world of sugar. In fact, if you ever need to know something about baking, chances are, Shuna has talked about it on Eggbeater. Oh, and PS: Natalie of Gluten a Go Go provides the gluten free expertise for this challenge.

Thanks to Shuna, I followed directions this time around. Primarily because she said so. I don't know why this was different. A book says so, and I don't seem to listen, as if I seem to know better than that book. That tested book, that written by some culinary heavyweight book. I know better, sure. But when Shuna speaks, it's gospel, people. Yes, I'm being overly dramatic (but you wouldn't have it any other way).

Caramel (or, carmel - with some part of me still in denial that the proper is car-a-mel) is browned, cooked sugar often provided the addition of some sort of dairy. For this cake, and its cover, a caramel syrup was required. The syrup did not rely on the addition of dairy to stop the caramelization of the sugar, but water instead. So even if you decide that this cake is not for you, I implore you to make this syrup. It is essentially caramel simple syrup (though decidedly less simple than its antecedent) and would do well in anything from cocktails to fruit syrups to meat glazes.

But enough of that, back to the cake. It's only one layer. It doesn't need two. Okay, who doesn't need two, but the fact of the matter is, this cake, in two layers, may cause some sort of frenzied commotion amongst guests. So, for the sake of yourself and your loved ones, you may want to stick to just one. It is rich, buttery, and so, so moist. Strikingly moist. It almost didn't need the caramelized butter frosting.

What, what am I saying? Of course it needed the frosting. Browned butter sweetened with powdered sugar and more caramel syrup? What cake wouldn't love that? It was so good, I ate it by the spoonful, and there was still plenty for its intended use. Not to mention, it would be a great filling for sandwiched cookies or used just as butter on toast or pancakes. Or, as I said, it's just perfect on a spoon.

Please check out Shuna's post on Bay Area Bites, for the recipes used in this callenge.

Daring Baker's Challenge: Lavash Crackers

I have a few confessions to make here: a) this challenge actually took place in September, 2) this is the inaugural gluten-free/vegan challenge for the Daring Baker's, and lastly) I am so not good at following the directions. Not only am I late, but I'm also not prepared to talk gluten-free or vegan. This time around I have to work with what I've got.

And what I've got is wheat flour, yeast, salt, honey, and oil. The makings of a cracker, I'd say (or at least according to Peter Reinhart in The Bread Baker's Apprentice). In fact, these crackers are just plain simple. Easy to make, no question. Something I'd make again, and intend to, especially the gluten-free version.

In a mixer with a dough hook, you'll hardly break a sweat. But, if I may, 10 minutes (or so) of kneading the old fashioned way, let me just say, Zen! Meditation with the reward of food; exercise and relaxation, wrapped into the same ball of dough. And truly, time isn't your guide here, it's in the windowpane test. After about 8 minutes, when I felt I just couldn't knead any more, the windowpane test failed (I couldn't stretch the bread without it breaking), and I knew I had to go on. That's when I relaxed, lost myself in the process, and continued to knead. Clears the mind, really.

I topped these lovely crackers with seeds of poppy, cumin, caraway, sesame, and nigella, even found some dukkah (not a bad word, doo-kah, but an Egyptian nut, seed and spice blend) hiding in my cupboard. All delicious, but the dukkah did win me over (there's a great recipe for this blend over at 101 Cookbooks).

So where's the vegan part of the challenge? In the accompaniments, of course. What would go better with a crisp flat bread than some hummus, baba ghanoush, or in this case, a little mock Boursin? Yes, in my non-vegan, casein-loving ways, I went cheese spread. Please forgive me, 'cause this stuff is damn good.

And so many thanks to this month's challenge makers Natalie of Gluten A Go Go (with the full gluten-free recipe) and Shelly of Musings from the Fishbowl (with the part gluten-free, part non-gluten-free recipe). Without them, I may never have discovered this simple and delicious recipe that helped me knead away my woes. And don't forget to check out all those other Daring Bakers...with their crackers and dips. Good stuff, I tell you.

And I soon as I can remember how I made it...I'll tell you all about the cheese.

When Life Gives You Sour Grapes

Welcome back. Or rather, sorry to keep you waiting. I won't mince words here: August was a tough month. And who am I kidding, where has September gone? In these past weeks, with many things to say, and no time to say it, came failed attempts at cooking up something worth talking about. There may have been a success (or two?), but we'll get into that another time.

As for the now, it's sour grapes. I have one rule when it comes to produce: if you've never before seen it, buy it. And that's how I came up with sour grapes. Clusters of firm, bright green jelly beans, they were. I snuck a taste; they snapped open between my teeth, quickly sending an acid-induced shock throughout my body. Good grief, what could I possibly do with these? Actually, I kinda liked it. Okay, I really liked it. They tasted like unsweetened sour candies in need of...sweetness.

After a brief investigation of these sour grapes, I found that they must have been none other than under ripe wine grapes, with which one could make verjus, a flavorful alternative to vinegar for use in savory sauces and the like. Still, sweeter is what I searched for, and I found not a shred of evidence that such a thing could be accomplished. And after these past months, I wasn't up for any more disappointments in my experimental efforts.

Jelly. I could do something with jelly. A cookie, a jelly-filled shortbread cookie, maybe a tart. Oh wait, I know, pâte de fruit. Sure, maybe it had taken a couple of days, and countless hours searching for the appropriate cookie recipe before it even dawned on me. But why not those jewel-like candies of firm fruit jelly dusted in sugar? Tart and sweet and not too firm by the end of it all (overly toothsome pâte de fruit I find unappealing, you should know). Perfect. Life's not so sour after all.

The sugar used for dusting is important. I used evaporated cane juice. Don't make the same mistake, it melts on the surface of the candies within minutes; use regular white cane sugar. And if you prefer, many pâte de fruit recipes out there call for pectin rather than gelatin (like this, and that).

Sour Grape Gelées
adapted from epicurious.com

½ pound sour grapes
4 (¼ ounce) envelopes unflavored gelatin
1 cup water
2 cups sugar plus additional for tossing

8-inch square nonstick baking pan, lightly oiled

Wash and stem grapes. Puree sour grapes in a food processor and transfer to a fine meshed strainer; press on solids to extract as much pulp as possible, leaving only skins behind. You should have ¾ cup of pulp in the end (add water or applesauce/apple puree to supplement if necessary).

Add the water to a 2-quart heavy saucepan; sprinkle the gleatin evenly over the surface of the water and let stand several minutes to soften. Heat gelatin over medium-low heat, stirring, until dissolved; add sugar and stir until dissolved.

Bring the mixture to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat again to medium-low and boil, uncovered, without stirring, 13 minutes (watch carefully so that mixture does not boil over). Remove from heat and allow the mixture to stand for 5 minutes, skimming and foam that may remain on the surface. Stir in sour grape puree (do not scrape up any bits that may have settled on the bottom of the pan), and pour into the prepared baking pan. Let stand at room temperature until set, at least 12 hours.

Run a sharp knife around the edge of the gelatin and invert onto a cutting board. Cut into 1/2-inch-wide strips, then cut strips into 1-inch pieces. Just before serving, gently toss gelées in a bowl of sugar to coat, brushing off excess.

Gelées, without sugar coating, keep in an airtight container at cool room temperature 2 weeks.

Daring Bakers' Challenge: Chocolate Éclairs

Yes, it's that time again. Another Daring attempt at something I think I already know. I do not intend to imply that I'm an expert of sorts, but I do tend to approach these things with the old hat mentality - will I ever learn? But, I was thrilled to see this month's Daring Bakers' Challenge, selected by Meeta of What's for Lunch, Honey? (with a little help from Tony of Olive Juice): Chocolate Éclairs from Chocolate Desserts by Pierre Hermé.

Éclairs, mmmm...oh, and profiteroles, cream puffs and gougères. Whatever your pleasure, they all have a common thread: choux pastry, or pâte à choux. I love this stuff; it's a buttery, floury paste that bakes (and poaches, and fries) up into a big puffy vessel for myriad filling choices, and in this case, a rich chocolate pastry cream.

One side of me (I don't know which) is a traditionalist, and really felt that only a vanilla pastry cream would do. But the other side convinced me that just sticking with the provided recipe was the way to go on this particular occasion. And so I did...and it turned out the most decadent chocolate pastry cream, I think ever. Not only that, but this recipe provided little fuss, which is great because the real fuss came later.

But let's go back to the choux pastry. I have made it before. I don't remember when, or how, or why, but I also don't remember having problems with it. And I didn't at first, this time around, until they were done, or should I say, until I thought they were done. They puffed up beautifully, I was so proud. When I took them out of the oven to admire them (and let them cool), they sank rapidly; their domed tops caving into deep crevices. What did I do? Well, with hindsight, I'm certain I didn't cook them long enough; though I did cook them longer than the recipe called for, they were still slightly doughy inside. After consulting various other recipes for choux pastry, I found that the requisite times and temperatures vary greatly; apparently, I'm just supposed to know. And I thought I did, which once again, is my Achille's heel. Okay, okay, next time I'll know everything.

And then (always a then) the chocolate glaze; I won't bore you with the details, save a few. To start, the chocolate glaze that tops the éclairs called for a chocolate sauce in the recipe. Seriously? I have to make a chocolate sauce, just so I can use a tiny bit of it in the glaze? Now, now, I'm following the recipe, remember? So I did it; I made the chocolate sauce to go in the chocolate glaze. And then the glaze turned into this mucky, broken, buttery mess. I ended up using the chocolate sauce alone to glaze the éclairs. See? Good thing I followed the recipe, or I wouldn't have had anything to fall back on.

How did they turn out, you ask? Aside from having only a small handful of éclairs that actually turned out to be attractive specimens (the profiterole-style puffs turned out much better), they tasted just as they should. They make for messy eating (as I think all éclairs do, see below), and would give any chocolate fiend their fix. Though in my case, as someone who eats her mistakes, it's safe to say I've completely OD'd.

For the recipe, take a look at What's for Lunch, Honey? To see more Daring Bakers in action, check out the Daring Bakers' Blogroll. Until next time...!

How not to eat an éclair...

A coworker with whom I shared an affinity for pure, unadulterated evil (baked goods) once brought me an éclair from a local bakery she had been raving about. Now, I did not work a desk job, but I did have work at a desk from time to time. So after the rush of the day had passed, I retired to said desk, closed the door to my shared office, and sat down to enjoy this, some might say gargantuan, éclair.

I raised it to my lips and bit into just the very tip; at once the entire contents of the pastry shot out of the other end and onto the lapel of my suit. While another might take pause to clean the offending filling from their clothing, I did not. The damage had already been done, I thought. So I changed position, leaning further out of my chair to take a second bite. Still, more (How can there be more?) pastry cream shot out of the back end, falling through my outstretched fingers and onto my shoe. I will not be done in by an éclair, I thought. And with the third, showstopping bite, I had pastry cream on both hands, my face, suit, shoes, desk, and computer. Attempting to clean oneself and their surroundings when covered entirely in stickiness is quite a feat. Oh, I am so thankful I was working alone that day.