Daring Baker's Challenge: Abbey's Inspiring Cheesecake

The April 2009 challenge is hosted by Jenny from Jenny Bakes. She has chosen Abbey's Infamous Cheesecake as the challenge.

Ahhh, cheesecake. And not just any cheesecake, but any cheesecake. Yes, Jenny from Jenny Bakes brought us her friend Abbey's cheesecake recipe, and allowed us to play with it. (Thanks Abbey! Thanks Jenny!) And if there's anything you've learned about me, it's that I love to play with my food.

One of my all-time favorite desserts hails from Thailand: mango with sticky rice. I first met up with this idea while working at a Thai restaurant, quite a few years back, and have been obsessed ever since. It is, on its own, in and of itself, quite perfect.

I am fortunate to live not far from a favorite Thai restaurant offering the most sublime adaptation I've tasted yet. Soft, sweet, sticky rice, steaming hot and topped with just a dab of salty coconut sauce, sesame seeds and chilled slices of the most faultlessly ripe mango. It really is something else. Knowing I could never recreate this dish with such exacting detail (I'm really bad at choosing mangoes, for one), I have always dreamed up ways to bring these flavors together in a different expression.

And here we are, Coconut Mango Cheesecake. I chose a neutral crumb (Nilla Wafers) so as not to compete with the addition of sesame seeds. I also chose to use mangoes at a time when they're not yet at their best. (The favorite Thai restaurant won't even serve the favorite Thai dessert when the mangoes aren't just right.) I originally intended to somehow incorporate sticky rice into this cheesecake, though I never quite figured out how. I didn't give up, see, I just put a reign on the wild ideas this time around. That happens, every once in a while.

Sometimes I'm just so impatient for the right season to roll around. So, if you do what I did (and don't be coy, I know it happens from time to time), seek out The Perfect Purée of Napa Valley, they produce some of the finest fruit purees you can find. Obviously, in season fruit is best, but in a pinch or on the outskirts of that season, these purees are a great substitute. Just so you know, if I could have a do-over, I would've tried a little harder to get my hands on some.

Coconut Mango Cheesecake

Crust:
1¾ cups Nilla Wafer crumbs
¼ cup sugar
2 tablespoons sesame seeds
4 oz (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

Cheesecake:
3 – 8 oz packages cream cheese
½ cup sugar
1½ cups coconut cream (Coco Lopez or the like)
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon salt

Mango swirl:
1¼ cup mango puree (approx. 2 mangoes)
1 egg yolk
½ cup sugar

Preheat oven to 350°

Mix together the crust ingredients until uniformly moist. Press into an even layer across the bottom and roughly halfway up the sides of a 10” springform pan. Set crust aside (in the freezer if you can).

Combine cream cheese, sugar, and coconut cream and beat together at low speed until smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, fully incorporating each one before adding the next. Be sure to scrape down the sides of the bowl in between each addition, this helps prevent lumps within the mixture. Set cheesecake filling aside.

Peel mangoes, and cut flesh away from the pit; puree in a food processor until smooth. Measure (roughly) 1¼ cups of the puree into a small bowl and add to it 1 egg yolk and ½ cup sugar; whisk together until fully incorporated.

Pour cheesecake batter into prepared crust. Dollop large spoonfuls of the mango puree over the surface of the cheesecake. To swirl: carefully dip the bowl of the spoon in and out of the cheesecake, pushing the mango puree slightly into the batter. Next, place the spoon, tip first, down into the batter, and swirl back and forth in circles. All the while, take care not to scrape the crust up into the cheesecake.

Bake for 55-65 minutes. It should still be rather wobbly, but not evidently liquid in the center, and it should not be firm at this point. Turn the oven heat off and allow the cheesecake to rest in the oven for another hour. After removing from the oven, allow the cheesecake to cool completely before refrigerating. Serve chilled.

Daring Bakers' Challenge: Lasagne of Emilia Romagna

Here I am, with yet another Daring Bakers' challenge, overdue. Not out of idleness or neglect, no, this time it was the oven. (I swear.) And while I managed to bake a cake without one, this challenge was one project I couldn't tackle in its absence.

The March 2009 challenge was hosted by Mary of Beans and Caviar, Melinda of Melbourne Larder and Enza of Io Da Grande. They have chosen Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper as the challenge.

Fresh pasta is something that I love, but don't make...ever. I don't have a pasta machine, and while I am inclined to change that, I must admit there are quite a few other limited-use gadgets that I would prefer to find within the spatial limitations of my own kitchen. In other words, I was very happy to take on the challenge of making fresh pasta, completely by hand.

Yes, I know, I say that as if such a thing is a wondrous accomplishment, as though I have discovered the newest source of renewable energy or solved one of those mathematical equations that stumped everyone but the young, disgruntled janitor in that movie that everyone seems to love. And while it might be the everyday for some, and surely was for many more in the past, it is quite a feat for someone (me) who has adapted quite well to these times of convenience. I'll say it again, I made fresh pasta completely by hand. Now I'm just bragging.

Have I even told you how much I love this lasagne, specifically? Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna is over-the-top rich meets down-to-earth comfort. Imagine sheets of fresh spinach pasta layered between bechamel (a creamy white sauce) and a hearty meat ragu, finished with a browned and bubbly crust of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. Try this once and you, too will understand.

This time around, I decided to put a twist on an old favorite. (Sure, this may have been the first time I've made this dish, but not the first time I've eaten it.) I went all vegetarian. I know, I know I talked all about meat sauce, and the meat sauce is part of what makes it in some ways, but this one turned out pretty darn alright if I may say. Still hearty, still decadent, and maybe even a little better for you. Believe you me, I'm no vegetarian, but taking a break from meat every now and again isn't such a bad thing.

But enough of that. Make this. Eat this. Love this. You will.

Thanks to Mary of Beans and Caviar, Melinda of Melbourne Larder and Enza of Io Da Grande, for testing the Daring Bakers' boundaries and getting me to make fresh pasta. (Please check out their blogs for the recipe for this challenge.)

Vegetable Ragu

1 yellow onion, finely diced
2 medium carrots, finely diced
1 bulb fennel, finely diced
2 celery ribs, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
4 cups vegetable broth, low sodium (or homemade)
29 oz can petit diced tomatoes
Flat leaf parsley, finely chopped
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Heat a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add olive oil, onions, carrots, fennel and sauté, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are caramelized and begin to soften. Add celery and garlic and continue to cook until aromatic.

Add broth and reduce heat to just above a simmer. Add tomatoes and keep just at a simmer. Stirring occasionally, cook until the sauce is very thick or has reached the desired consistency.

Season with salt and pepper to taste and stir in the chopped parsley. Serve over polenta or with tender, homemade pasta.

You Devil

While elbow deep amidst several components for a baking project I had planned last weekend, our oven decided to take a little vacation. I can't be too upset, the task could easily be put on hold, and the stove top works just fine, so this little interruption was simply nothing more. But then, the beets in my fridge started to call out for help; they were losing their muscle.

Now, I love beets. I haven't always, in fact, I think I hated them as a kid. More accurately, I avoided them. I'd like to think of myself as someone who will try anything, but I wasn't always that way (though I tell myself I was). So when I finally gave them a chance, I fell in love, with dirt (and that I did eat as a kid). I think beets taste more like the earth than anything else, and that is what I love, so much. A gift from the earth, and a sweet one at that. So kind of the earth to think of us, wouldn't you say? I love them most oven roasted in their skins, rubbed with oil and salt beforehand. Boiled beets just won't do.

Then what to do with a few sad, lonely beets and no oven? I was at a loss, so I turned to the website of the farm from whence I adopted these garnet jewels. And there it was, a recipe for chocolate beet cake. I had heard of this before, beets in cake. Carrots aren't unheard of, so what could be so wrong with beets?

Peel the beets, boil the beets, puree the beets. Mix together some eggs, sugar, oil, salt and vanilla, then add the beets. Now for the dry ingredients. Oh wait, I forgot to preheat the oven and prepare my pan.

Oh wait, I don't have an oven. This is what got me here in the first place.

Prepare the dry ingredients, don't combine just yet. Bring wet ingredients, dry ingredients, and cake pan to work tomorrow. Combine at work, pour into prepared pan, bake, cool, and enjoy.

While I don't suggest you follow the preceding method, I do suggest you give the following recipe a try. Simply delicious, decadently moist chocolate cake, with a dense crumb, yet light enough to enjoy more than one piece without pause. I may have found a new favorite way to have my beets.

Red Devil Cake
adapted “from a Mollie Katzen book”
via Mariquita Farms


3 medium red beets
3 eggs
1 teaspoon Kosher salt
1½ cups sugar
½ cup canola oil (or other neutral tasting oil)
1 teaspoon vanilla
1½ cups flour
¾ cups cocoa powder
1½ teaspoons baking soda

Preheat oven to 350°. Oil a 9 in square or round pan.

Peel and halve beets. Place in a small pot with and add cold water to cover; cook until fork tender (beets can be lifted, but easily fall, from a fork when pierced). Puree beets in a food processor, and set aside (you will need 2 cups of the puree).

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and Kosher salt. Add the sugar, oil, vanilla, and 2 cups of beet puree; whisk until thoroughly combined.

In a separate bowl, combine the flour, cocoa, and baking soda; stir well with a whisk or fork. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients a little at a time, whisking until smooth.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan.

While delicious on its own, it would equally benefit from copious amounts of softly whipped cream.

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.