Impulse baking.

Last Sunday, I felt the need to bake. I made my mom's fudge brownies, which came out pretty well. The texture was awesome (beating the egg and sugar until they are very pale and thick is the trick), but I used inferior chocolate, and it showed. Or tasted. You know what I mean.

Good chocolate: it is key.

Under construction.

This weekend, I'll be building a gingerbread house! I'll be joined by my friends Caroline and Ellie, and it's going to be a blast, no doubt. Caroline and I used to do these every Christmas, back when we were growing up a block apart in our picture-perfect (especially at the holidays) little Connecticut town.

I'm thinking about doing a pink-and-white house this year, since I have some lovely, sparkly sanding sugars in those very colors. A final decision will be made once I peruse the candy on offer at Duane Reade and Dean & Deluca, but I've already got a copy of my template ready to go! I still work off of the version Caroline's mom Charlotte made 25-ish years ago, and have finally scanned it in for posterity.

Which, of course, means that if you wish to join us, you can check out the template (plus recipes for the cookie and icing/glue) right over here! Just print the images (size large) out on 8.5 x 11 inch paper, and you'll be good to go.

Spicing it up.

I've always really wanted to love pumpkin bread. In theory, it should be an easy thing for me to do. I'm a big fan of the pound cake/quick bread genre, and I really love pumpkin-spiked baked goods, particularly scones and pie. It should be an easy sell. But, in my experience, most recipes for pumpkin bread result in overly-sweet, overly-oily, cloying messes of a loaf.

This year, I decided to take charge of the pumpkin loaf. No longer would I be a slave to such sub-par use of one of nature's most delicious ingredients. It was time for a revolution.

As a starting point, I used this recipe from Bon Appétit. I'd tried it before, and been pleased with the texture, but disappointed in the flavor. It was too sweet and not nearly spicy enough. After all, what is the point of baking with pumpkin if you're not going to exercise a moderately heavy hand with the ginger, cloves and cinnamon? What is autumn if not an excuse to clear out the spice cabinet?

And so I got to work. Out went one of the three cups of sugar, and, for good measure, I swapped one of the remaining two for half a cup each of dark and light brown sugar. After all, pumpkin and molasses (the "brown" in brown sugar) play pretty well together. In went extra cinnamon and cloves, freshly grated nutmeg stood in for the powdered stuff, and ginger was added to the mix.

The result is a pumpkin loaf that - I think - successfully bridges the gap between pumpkin bread and gingerbread. It's spicy and just a bit sweet, moist and fragrant. It made my apartment smell heavenly for days, and if you make it in these adorable little mini loaf pans, it just might be the best host or hostess gift the holiday season ever saw. Except for a bottle of bourbon.

Spiced Pumpkin Bread
Adapted from Bon Appétit

Butter for greasing the pans
3 cups all purpose flour, plus a bit for flouring the pans
2 tsp. ground cloves
3 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 cup canola oil
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1/2 cup dark brown sugar
3 large eggs
1 16-ounce can of pure, pureed pumpkin
1 tsp. vanilla

Pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter and flour two standard, 9x5x3 inch size (or four mini) loaf pans. If using mini loaf pans, place them on a cookie sheet.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, spices, baking soda and baking powder. Stir the salt in with a fork. In another large bowl, mix together the sugars and oils, then add the eggs, pumpkin and vanilla. If you have any lumps from the brown sugars, use a large whisk to help dissolve them into the mixture.

Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients in two additions, mixing well with a spatula or wooden spoon after each. Divide the batter evenly between the pans, then place in the oven and bake until a tester inserted into the cakes comes out clean - about an hour for mini loaves, and 70 minutes for the larger loaves. I'd also recommend rotating the loaves about halfway through baking - spinning them front to back and switching baking racks, if you're using two.

Cool in the pans for about 30 minutes, then run a butter knife around the edges of the loaves. Invert onto a cooling rack to cool completely. Eat immediately or wrap tightly in plastic wrap and store at room temperature for up to four days.

Makes two standard loaves or four mini loaves.

Gooey goodness.

There are few things in this world that I love more than s'mores. While my urban lifestyle means I typically only enjoy them when I roast marshmallows over my gas stove, I still can't get enough. I've always loved everything related to marshmallows, and that includes the slightly disgusting, sublimely wonderful processed food product known as Marshmallow Fluff.

Fluff is the sort of processed, pure junk food that never graced the shelves of my mother's house; I first experienced its wonders at a babysitter's home, where we were fed fluffernutter sandwiches. I recall these as being transcendent; I'm still trying to get my hands of Momofuku Milk Bar's croissant version.

When I recently ran across Crepes of Wrath's recipe for s'mores cookie bars, I knew I had to give them a go. S'mores? In transportable, cookie-esque form? Could such perfection actually exist? Yes, in fact, and mostly thanks to the miracle of Fluff. Fluff has less gelatin than fully-grown marshmallows, so it never hardens, even when cooked. That's how these bars retain their gooeyness all the way through the baking process. Genius!

The original recipe called for milk chocolate, but between the brown sugar in the cookie crust and the sweetness of the fluff, I decided semi-sweet chocolate would be a better bet for me and my fellow eaters. (My long-time testers Jeremy and Miriam, along with our friends Ken and Celeste.) I also upped the graham cracker content by 1/4 cup, to make sure the flavor of the crackers came shining through.

Whatever you do, make sure to enjoy these with a glass of milk and a couple of napkins at the ready.

S'mores Cookie Bars

Adapted from Crepes of Wrath

9 graham crackers

1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature

1/4 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 egg, room temperature
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt
8 oz. semi-sweet chocolate, roughly chopped
1 1/2 cups Marshmallow Fluff

Break the graham crackers into large pieces and place them in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment. Pulse several times until the crackers have become a relatively fine, even crumb.

Meanwhile, pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease an 8x8 baking dish and line with parchment paper.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar together until light, at least 3 to 5 minutes. Beat in the egg and the vanilla.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the graham cracker crumbs, flour, baking powder and salt. With the mixer on low, gradually add the dry flour mixture in, continuing until the dough is evenly mixed, but only just. Don't over-mix, or it will get tough.

Press half the dough into the bottom of the pan, covering the surface area evenly, all the way to the edges. Spread the fluff on top of that, then evenly spinkle the chocolate on top of the fluff. Cover with the remainder of the dough, spreading it as evenly as possible across the top. (Your hands may work better than a spatula here.)

Bake the bars for 25-35 minutes, until the top is a deep golden brown. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely before slicing and serving. The bars keep well for up to two days, so long as you cover the pan tightly and store at room temperature. (Slice them only just before serving.)

Makes 15 bars.

Gingerbread madness!

Over on You + ME* Holiday today, Elisabeth posted the cutest gingerbread house made by her two year old daughter, Claire. She also suggested an awesome gift idea: a homemade, DIY gingerbread kit, candy and all.

As someone who made a gingerbread house (with my dear friend Caroline) every Christmas of her youth, I heartily endorse this idea. In fact, Caroline and I were planning to gingerbread it up this year, too, but time - as it often does when you're old and have obligations and stuff - got away from us. (We did make them back in 2005, as evidenced by this oh-so-flattering photo of us both.)

Next year, Lina, I promise!

Photo of the gingerbread kit by Angela Gaspar, styled by You + ME*.

Gearing up.

It's November, which means the holidays and - more importantly - the baking of many, many pies are upon us. I can almost taste the buttery, flaky goodness right now.

I make at least two pies at Thanksgiving: one for my office's potluck lunch (which is today) and one for Thanksgiving dinner. This year, it's looking more like at least three pies, since we'll have a crowd at dinner. (Yay!) At times like these, I'm reminded of how nifty it is to have an easy pie crust recipe in my back pocket.

My recipe is super-simple, and can easily convert from a pâte sucrée (a sweet crust) to a pâte brisée (a savory crust) by simply removing the sugar from the mix. I use it for everything from galettes to quiches to tarts to old-fashioned deep dish apple pie. It takes about five minutes to blend together, but you must (must) allow time for it to rest in the fridge before rolling it out; this gives the gluten you've activated in the blending a chance to relax, and will ensure a flaky crust in place of a tough, chewy one.

As for rolling this sucker out, I've recently become enamored of Food52's ingenious technique: place the dough between two floured sheets of plastic wrap and go to town. This method makes turning the crust for even rolling simple as can be, and also helps ensure a smooth transfer to the pie plate. Amazing, right? Right. You can see it in action in this video!



Queenie's Pie Crust (Pâte Sucrée or Pâte Brisée)

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. kosher salt
1 tbs. granulated sugar
1 cup unsalted butter, very cold and cut into 1/2 inch dice
5-8 tbs. ice water

Place the flour, salt and sugar (omit the sugar for a savory, pâte brisée crust) in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment. Add the butter and pulse several times, until the mixture turns mealy and the butter is mostly in pea-sized chunks.

With the processor running, add the water a tablespoon at a time, until the dough just begins to come together into a coherent mass. (There will still be a smattering of mealy crumbs. That's okay.)

Dump the dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap and shape into a ball. Wrap tightly in the plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, and up to 24 hours, before using. If you've left the dough in the fridge for more than an hour or two, you should bring it out and set it on the counter for 30 minutes or so before rolling it out.

Makes two nine-inch crusts.

A little lemon between friends.

It's been crisp and cool here in New York for the last few days, and you know what that means: it's time to bake. Not that I ever really give up baking; I'm totally the one who cranks up her AC to maximum and then preheats the oven for pie. But there's something about baking when the kitchen could actually use a little warming up that feels oh so right.

On Wednesday, when my internet was down and I was left entirely to my own devices (save the ability to actually leave the apartment, since I was waiting for a delivery), I decided it was time to bake. I'd been thinking about the lemon pound cake recipe my friend (and cookbook author extraordinaire) Lorna Yee asked me to test for her last year. Actually, "thinking" isn't the right word - craving is far more apt.

So, I'd been craving this pound cake, and suddenly had an open opportunity for baking. What could I do but put my craving to good use? Out came the cake flour, the sour cream, and lots and lots of lemons. Lots of lemons, plus a reamer and a zester. You'll need all those things (see tips here on how to make cake flour if you don't have any on hand) if you want to enjoy what the folks at my office enjoyed today.

See, this is no ordinary pound cake. I mean, it is, in that it's pretty easy to make, and bakes up golden and tender. But then Lorna has you poke holes all over the cake and soak it with a lemon syrup. And then, once that's been absorbed, you pour a lemon-sour cream glaze over the whole thing. And then, my friends, the angels start to sing.

Obviously, this isn't a recipe for those who don't love lemony goodness. (If you want non-lemony cake, check this out.) But for those who do? Oh. My. Gah. You will plotz.

By the way, you can find this and many, many other amazing recipes in Lorna's cookbook, The Newlywed Cookbook, which she co-wrote with Ali Basye (the gorgeous photos are by Kathryn Barnard). I highly recommend you snag a copy as soon as possible. The lemon cake will only tide you over for so long.

Lorna's Lemon Sour Cream Pound Cake

Lemon Cake
3 cups cake flour
½ tsp. baking soda
½ tsp. baking powder
¾ tsp. kosher salt
1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
6 eggs
¼ cup lemon juice
¾ cup sour cream
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. lemon extract
2 tbsp. lemon zest

Lemon syrup
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup sugar
3 tbsp water

Lemon sour cream glaze
1/4 cup sour cream
2 ½ cups icing sugar, sifted
3 tbsp. lemon juice
2 tbsp. grated lemon zest

For the cake:
Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Grease a 16-cup tube pan, or two loaf pans.

Sift the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together in a large mixing bowl.

Beat the butter with an electric mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about five minutes. Gradually add the sugar and beat for another five minutes. Add the eggs one by one, mixing well after each addition. Beat in the lemon juice, lemon zest, vanilla, and lemon extract. Turn off the mixer and scrape down the sides of the bowl. Using a rubber spatula, mix in half the dry ingredients, then the sour cream. Mix in the remaining half of the dry ingredients.

Transfer the batter to the pan.

For a large pound cake, bake for 1 hour 30 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean.

For two loaf cakes, bake for 1 hour – 1 hour 15 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the middle of the cake comes out clean.

For the lemon syrup:
Combine all the ingredients together in a small pot and bring to a boil. Let cool.

For the lemon sour cream glaze:
Whisk all the ingredients together in a medium mixing bowl.

To assemble:
When the cakes are cool, run a knife along the edge of the cakes and invert onto a serving plate. With a wooden skewer or toothpick, poke holes all over the top of the cake (don’t worry—you won’t be able to see them.) Carefully spoon the soaking syrup over the cake, letting the syrup absorb before spooning more over the top.

When the cakes have absorbed the syrup, drizzle the glaze over the cakes.

This buckle goes fast.

This photo was snapped outside my office at approximately 11:00 AM on Thursday.

I think it's safe to say that - at least when it comes to baked goods - I have some damn lucky coworkers. My 12th Floor colleagues routinely enjoy the fruits of my baking experiments, and said experiments have increased exponentially with summer's onslaught of obscenely tempting fruits. I've flirted with peach-plum cake and taken blueberry buckle for a spin, but my heart (and that of the 12th Floor as a whole) belongs to peach browned butter buckle.

That's right. Peaches. And browned butter. That sound you hear? It's me, dying happy.

I first discovered the concept via the ever-awesome Deb of Smitten Kitchen. She made her buckle in a super-picturesque (but not at all commute-friendly) cast-iron skillet, and I was, indeed, smitten. The cake combines two of my favorite things: tangy buttermilk and nutty browned butter. The topping does the same, with its copious amounts of peaches (Deb used nectarines, which would also be delicious.) and - again - browned butter.

However. The first time I brought this in, we thought there was just too much cake. Don't get me wrong - the cake part is truly delicious. But the fruit and the topping? They are the stars. They need a modicum of cake - it imparts dignity and allays the notion that you are simply slurping up peaches, sugar and butter - but they don't need quite so much.

And so, on the second go-round, I halved the amount of cake. The result? A moist, delicious, slumpy buckle. And one that went in record time. A vote of confidence if ever there was one.

Peach Buckle with Browned Butter
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

For the cake:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, plus additional for greasing pan
3/4 cups flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
Small pinch of allspice
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 egg
1/3 cup buttermilk
3/4 lb. peaches, pitted and cut into wedges (about 5 peaches)
1 tablespoon lemon juice

For the topping:
Reserved butter from cake (above)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup flour
1/4 tsp. cinnamon
Pinch of salt

Brown the butter:
Place the butter in a small saucepan or skillet set over medium-low heat. The butter will melt, then get foamy. Eventually, the butter will turn a golden color and then begin to brown. Stir the butter frequently as this happens, scraping up any bits that settle to the bottom. Once the butter is a warm brown color and smells nutty, remove from the heat. Pour into a heat-proof dish and place in the freezer to cool down. (This is a good time to slice your peaches!)

Make the cake:
Once the butter is close to room temperature, remove it from the freezer.

Place a rack in the middle of the oven and pre-heat the oven to 350 degreees Fahrenheit. Butter a 9-inch cake cake, then line the bottom with parchment paper. Butter the paper and set the pan aside.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt and allspice. In a large bowl, whisk together half of the browned butter and the sugar. Add the egg and whisk to combine well. Using a spatula, stir in the buttermilk, then the dry ingredients. Mix until just combined.

Pour the batter into the prepare cake pan, and use the spatula to smooth it out and around, making sure you have any even layer over the bottom of the pan. Toss the peaches with the lemon juice and arrange the slices in concentric circles on top of the cake batter.

Top & bake the cake:
Stir together the remaining butter with the flour, sugar, cinnamon and salt until the mixture forms large and small crumbs. Sprinkle the topping evenly over the peaches.

Bake the cake for 30-40 minutes, until a tester inserted into the center comes out clean of cake batter (you'll still see some peach juice on the tester). Let the cake cool in the pan on a rack until just warm, or until completely cool. Serve warm or at room temperature. The cake keeps well overnight in its pan, sealed with plastic wrap.

Serves 8.

Going free-form.

When I was little, strawberries were one of my favorite foods. And, frankly, they still are. I greet the arrival of strawberries to the market with something akin to glee; something, admittedly, rather childish. I get giggly and squirmy and, let's face it, a bit competitive. I want those berries, and have them I will, Greenmarket crowds be damned.

This weekend's berry haul was particularly tasty - tart and sweet in that way that only berries really are, and absolutely beautiful to boot. I ate a full pint dipped in crème fraiche and topped with dark brown sugar one night, cooked another quart into a batch of strawberry-rhubarb compote, and decided to make some crostatas with what was left.

Crostatas are free-form cousins to pies and tarts, and they're ridiculously easy to make. Hate transferring your rolled-out pie crust to your pie plate or tart pan? Don't have a pie plate or tart pan? Crostatas are for you, my friend. A little food processor action, a bit of rolling, a spot of folding, and you have a finished dessert. The best part? They're beautiful and show off the jewel-like fruit in a way normally reserved for lattice-top pies, and they impress people in a rustic, Tuscan sort of way.

Go ahead. Show off.

Strawberry-Rhubarb Crostata

For the pastry:
1 1/4 cups flour
1/4 cup polenta
2 tsp. turbinado sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1 stick butter, very cold or frozen, cut into 1/2-inch bits
3 tbs. ice water

For the filling:
5 stalks rhubarb, trimmed and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 pint (1/2 quart) ripe strawberries, hulled and cut in half lengthwise
1/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/4 tsp. salt

1 tbs. butter, cut into small bits
1 egg, beaten
Softly whipped cream or crème fraiche, for serving

Place the flour, polenta, sugar salt and butter in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment. Pulse together until the mixture is mealy and most of the butter is about the size of small peas. With the processor running, stream the water in one teaspoon at a time until the mixture begins to come together in one or two big clumps. You may not need all the water, depending on the humidity in your ingredients and the air. (Alternately, you can make the pastry in a medium bowl, using a pastry blender. A food processor is super-fast, but a pastry blender works well, too. Make sure to chill the bowl ahead of time.)

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and mold into a large disc. Wrap in plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator. Let the dough rest for at least an hour; it can sit in the fridge for up to 36 hours before you use it.

When you're ready to make the filling and bake the crostata, take the dough out of the fridge and let it sit; this will help take the chill off a bit. In the meantime, pre-heat the oven to 400°F. Combine the strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, vanilla and salt in a medium bowl. Stir to coat the fruit in the sugar, and continue to stir until it begins to dissolve. Set aside while you roll out the pastry.

You can use the pastry to make one large tart or several (three or four) little ones. No matter what size you're after, the method is the same. Lightly flour a piece of parchment paper and place the dough in its center. Flour your pin and use it to whack the disk of pastry once or twice, then start rolling it out from the middle outward, spinning it if you need to, until you have a roughly circular shape about 1/4 inch thick. Transfer the crust (on the parchment paper) to a cookie sheet.

Spoon the filling into the middle of the tart, leaving about two inches of crust as a border. Starting anywhere you'd like, fold the pastry up over the filling. Continue to fold in triangles as you go around the tart (Refer to the photo above; it's easy to do once you take a look at a finished version, I think.) until all the edges are folded over the filling, leaving a nice circle of pretty fruit exposed. Using a pastry brush, paint the crust with the beaten egg; this will give it a nice sheen. Dot the exposed filling with the butter.

Place the tart in the oven and bake for 25-35 minutes, depending on your oven, rotating the tart halfway through baking. Bake until golden-brown and bubbly; the crust may leak some juices, but should hold up pretty well in any case, despite the liquid. Once the tart is done, remove it from the oven and transfer it, on its parchment paper, to a cooling rack. Cool at least slightly before slicing. Serve topped with crème fraiche or whipped cream.

Serves 6.

Lorna strikes again!

There are very few things I love more than browned butter. Cucumbers are up there, as are tomatoes, lamb and Vietnamese food. But browned butter is the top ten, for sure.

It's no surprise, then, that I fell in love with Lorna's browned butter pound cake the second I added the cooled butter to the two sugars. The smell of butter and sugar being creamed into one fluffy mass is always delightful; when it's browned butter that's involved, the aroma is downright intoxicating.

This cake is as easy as can be to make; its prep time is even folded into the recipe, since you can gather and measure your ingredients while the browned butter cools in the freezer. It bakes up beautifully, the crumb a deep golden color specked with brown, and the crust a crunchy, dark brown shell. It's so dense and fine that you don't even need a serrated knife to cut it, and the smell of the whole thing will linger in the house for at least 24 hours.

This is a dense cake, one that takes well to ice cream or crème fraiche. Last night, Miriam and I ate our slices topped with her homemade ginger whiskey ice cream, a most perfect combination. Lorna herself recommends crème fraiche and toasted pistachios. It's also fabulous eaten standing up while slurping your morning coffee. It may not be dignified, but that hardly matters, does it?

Cookie monster.

I'm sure many of you are sick and tired of hearing me sing the praises of David Chang's Momofuku mini-empire. But know this: if you skip this post, you'll miss out on some damn good cookies.

My friend Lorna Yee (fabulous food writer and cookbook author) lives in Seattle, far from the warm reaches of Momofuku pastry chef Christina Tosi's deliciously retro Milk Bar creations (I think of them as comfort goodies for those born in the 70s and early 80s.). She attended a New Year's brunch where the host had ordered some Milk Bar cookies online, and couldn't get enough of the chocolate chip, cornflake and marshmallow ones. Lorna was "besotted by their butterscotch-sweet and salty flavor, and their crunchy, cornflake texture," and so she set to experimenting with a copycat version.

I officially declare them a success. I made a batch last Friday, to bring on the road trip to Rhode Island, and my cousin Abby - who's had the original - didn't even realize that I'd made them until I told her about Lorna's quest. They're just as Lorna described: rich with butter, sweet with caramel flavors from the dark brown sugar, and crunchy from the cornflakes (of which, I will admit, I added an extra handful or two).

Mine didn't turn out quite as pretty as Lorna's, but, then, she has the golden touch when it comes to pastry. I'm ok with that, especially since I'm fairly confident that mine were just as tasty.

Easy-peasy.

My friend Cristin came over for a cheese & chocolate-filled dinner on New Year's Eve. After the marathon of cooking that comprised the week of Christmas, I wasn't quite ready to do a full-scale four-course dinner, so I decided on something a bit simpler. I left out the meat course, and instead settled on a browned-butter butternut squash risotto (recipe to follow shortly), molten chocolate cakes, and an oozy, champagne-friendly Brillat-Savarin to finish.

I promise details on the risotto and the cheese, but first, the cakes. These cakes, based on Jean-Georges Vongerichten's iconic version (What dessert better defines the 1990s?), are pretty much the easiest dessert in the history of the world. You melt chocolate and add it to eggs beaten with sugar, then spike it with a bit of vanilla and espresso. Oh, and, there are two teaspoons of flour in there, too. Yes, just two teaspoons.

The cakes bake at a high temperature (450°F) for just a couple of minutes, and then they're ready to go. They're best when served with some lightly whipped cream, but they do pretty well on their own, too. And since they take about 15 minutes total to whip up, they work as a mid-week treat as well as a dinner party finale.

Molten Chocolate Cakes
Adapted from Jean-Georges Vongerichten & Mark Bittman

You can use any kind of custard cup, ramekin or mold for these cakes; my favorite cookware for these are the fluted brioche molds I picked up in Paris last year!

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, plus more for molds
2 teaspoons all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting molds
4 ounces very good bittersweet chocolate
2 large whole eggs
2 large egg yolks
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Butter and lightly flour four 4-ounce molds, ramekins, or custard cups. Tap out excess flour; butter and flour them again, and set aside. (Don't skimp on this - you definitely need to double-grease and flour these.

Gently melt the butter and chocolate together in the top of a double boiler (You can fashion one yourself using a heatproof bowl and a pan of simmering water.). Heat until the chocolate has almost completely melted, then stir to combine evenly. Cool slightly.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or using a hand-held mixer and a medium bowl), beat together eggs, yolks, and sugar until light and thick. Add melted chocolate mixture, and beat to combine. Quickly beat in flour, espresso powder and vanilla until just combined. Divide batter evenly among the molds.

(At this point, you can refrigerate the cakes until an hour before you're ready to bake them off. Just cover with plastic wrap and store in the refrigerator for up to a day. Remove from the fridge about an hour before you're ready to bake them.)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Place filled molds on a rimmed baking sheet, and bake until the sides have set but the centers remain soft, 4 to 6 minutes.

Invert each mold onto a plate, and let rest 10 seconds. Unmold by lifting up one corner of the mold; the cake will fall out easily onto the plate. Serve immediately.

Serves four; easily divides to feed fewer or multiplies to feed more.

Finally!

For a long time now - years, really - I've been on the hunt for a great pumpkin bread recipe. Most of the ones I've tried have been insipid and sweet, too loaded down with oil to actually bake all the way through without burning to a crisp on top, or just plain boring. Finally, though, I think I've hit gold. Or orange. Or whatever.

Ironically, it's a recipe that's been sitting in my apartment for over a year now. It was featured as part of a review of Cindy Mushet's The Art and Soul of Baking back in the October 2008 issue (which also has a great article about the Wonka-esque effects of a meal at Alinea), and I'm completely in love with it. It, unlike so many other pumpkin bread recipes, features ginger, allspice and cloves - not just allspice and cinnamon. It has a nice balance of spicy and sweet and bakes to the perfect consistency. Like most quickbreads, it's a mix-and-dump affair, which only adds to the appeal. In short, it's awesome.

And I'm not the only one who thinks so. I test-drove it (minus the walnuts) at work (where its fragrance perfumed our entire pod within an hour) and at my book club meeting last week, when I sent everyone home with leftovers.

Now it's your turn - enjoy!

Pumpkin Walnut Bread
Adapted from The Art and Soul of Baking by Cindy Mushet

The one thing I changed is the amount of ginger - I think a little extra dash really gives the bread a nice zing.

2 cups flour
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. allspice
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. salt
2 large eggs, at room temperature
1/3 cup water
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup prepared pumpkin
1/2 cup canola oil
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup toasted walnuts, chopped

Preheat the oven to 350°F and position the oven rack in the center. Butter a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan and line it with parchment paper, ensuring the paper extends an inch over the rim on all sides.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, ginger and salt until well-combined. In another, medium bowl, whisk together the eggs and water. Add the sugar and blend well. Add the pumpkin, canola oil and vanilla extract and stir until combined.

Add the pumpkin mixture to the dry ingredients and whisk until the batter is blended and smooth. Add the walnuts and stir with a wooden spoon until the nuts are evenly distributed. Using a spatula, scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top.

Bake for 45-60 minutes, until the bread is firm to the touch and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to a rack and allow to cool completely before slicing. Leftovers should be wrapped in aluminum foil and left at room temperature (where they'll keep for two days) or in the fridge (where they'll keep for four days).

Queenie's Treasury

It's a dreary, gloomy Saturday here in New York - probably appropriate for Halloween, yes? - and I'm getting ready to head out to the Greenmarket. In the meantime, here are some fun links to see you through that sugar hangover.

Kate Spade has chosen Brooklyn-based artist Bella Foster to design the images for their 2010 monthly planner, and has posted the watercolors she created for the project on their Facebook page. I don't use a hard copy diary anymore (Thank you, Blackberry!), but I do love these. I may have to make some sort of desktop collage for my laptop...

Frau Haselmeyer, one of my favorite bloggers, posted these gorgeous cupcake and muffin cups from Bake It Pretty. These would turn any muffin into a festive gift, and have me thinking about all kinds of holiday presents - never mind what these awesome star-shaped mini-loaf pans could do for my pumpkin bread!

Finally, from Etsy, that pantheon of good ideas and gorgeous things, come Yeehaw's farmers' market prints. I love, love, love these. If I had any available wall space, I'd buy and frame them RIGHT now. There's a cabbage, an onion, a bell pepper and an ear of corn. I may have to give into temptation and buy the artichoke-decorated notecards.

Rainy travels, part five: Patisserie Fauchère, how I love thee...

While we were underwhelmed by our dinner at Hotel Fauchère's Delmonico Room, we were floored by the quality of every single piece of bread that passed our lips - the apple walnut bread served with our cheese plate, the bread served with dinner, the croissant at breakfast on Saturday morning.

Having been assured by the staff that all baked goods came from the hotel's patisserie (housed in a separate building next-door), we made a point of stopping by after our visit to Grey Towers on Saturday afternoon.

The patisserie is located in one of the hotel's two smaller, adjacent properties, both of which seem to be former residences. The patisserie has a cute little porch filled with marble-topped cafe tables and wire chairs - on a warmer, less rainy day, it would be a perfect spot to sit, enjoy a croissant and a paper (they sell the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times) and watch the denizens of Milford go by.

We perused the selections on offer and settled on monkey bread, a rhubarb madeleine and a cream puff, all to share (I also had, of course, a cup of coffee.).


The monkey bread was adorable - I'd seen loaves of the stuff before, but never an individually-sized version. (For the uninitiated, monkey bread is kind of a quick version of cinnamon rolls - but instead of rolling and slicing individual rolls, you coat the outside of small chunks of dough with cinnamon and sugar and pack them into a loaf pan. To eat, just pull a chunk of dough off of the whole.)

The rhubarb madeleine was pretty, but did nothing to alter my conviction that madeleines are truly meant to be eaten hot from the oven; after about ten minutes, they begin to go a bit spongy and lose the slightly crunchy outside that distinguishes them from plain old cake.

The cream puff was, in a word, awesome. The choux paste was light as a feather, but still eggy and rich in flavor. The pastry cream was judiciously mixed with whipped cream and flavored strongly with vanilla, all of which yielded to a deep flavor and a smooth texture. We had one of the "small" cream puffs, and it took a lot of willpower not to buy one of the big ones to take back to my room with me for some late afternoon alone time.

Cinnamon buns, two ways.

A couple of weekend ago, I set myself a challenge: make a whole hell of a lot of cinnamon buns.

Cinnamon buns are one of my favorite things of all time, but I'd never, ever made them at home before. I had no idea where to start (an internet search for recipes yielded, as you can imagine, an overwhelming number of options), and so I consulted my new go-to: my tweeps.

They came through with two very different recipes: one a quick-rising, buttermilk-based, biscuity version, and one a more traditional yeasted bun, with nuts and a caramel topping. Both are delicious, but different enough to satisfy two very different kinds of cravings. (Click the link for the buttermilk recipe; see below for the for yeast-risen recipe.)

The buttermilk biscuit version is chewy, slightly salty, and tangy from the buttermilk and cream cheese topping. The yeasted version is lighter in texture and has a deep, caramel flavor, made even richer by the addition of nuts to the filling. It also makes about three times as many rolls, so be prepared to either freeze your leftovers (they keep well for a few weeks) or invite over an army of friends to eat them while they're hot.

No matter which you choose (or if you make both), make sure to roll the filling tightly into the dough, something key to an evenly-baked, moist bun. And, of course, you must enjoy at least one bun with a cup of coffee - there really is nothing better than that.


Katie's Cinnamon Nut Buns
Makes approximately 24 buns

For the rolls:
1/4 cup warm water (about 110-115 degrees)
2 packets (1/4 ounce) active dry yeast
1 1/2 cups warm whole milk (110-115 degrees)
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
1/4 cup sugar
2 1/4 tsp. salt
3 large eggs
6 cups all-purpose flour (plus more for work surface)

For the filling:
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2/3 cup pecans
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
A pinch of salt
1/2 cup butter, at room temperature

For the glaze:
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
6 tbsp. unsalted butter
2 tbsp. water

Sprinkle yeast on water in small bowl, let stand until foamy (5-10 min.).

Butter two 13x9 (or three 9x9) baking pans; set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together milk, butter, salt, sugar, and eggs. Add yeast mixture. Using a wooden spoon, stir in 6 cups flour, until you have a soft, shaggy dough (if needed add more flour).

Turn dough out onto a floured work surface; knead until smooth (5 to 10 min.) Butter the inside of a large bowl; place dough in bowl, turning to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let stand in a warm spot until dough has doubled in size, at least one hour.

Place all of the filling ingredients - except for the butter - in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment. Pulse until coarsely ground; set nut mixture aside.

Divide the risen dough in half (keep the other half covered). On a flour-dusted surface, roll dough out into a rectangle about 16 inches by 10 inches. Spread 4 tablespoons of the butter over dough, leaving about 1/2-inch border all around.

Sprinkle half the nut mixture over butter. Leave a border around the filling so it doesn't spill over. 
 Roll the dough tightly, crosswise, like a jelly roll. Once you've finished rolling, use a sharp knife to cut the log crosswise into 12 equal pieces.

Place buns, cut side down, in the prepared pans. Cover pans loosely with plastic wrap and let stand in a warm spot until doubled in size (about an hour).

Place the oven racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven, and preheat to 375°F. Bake buns until golden brown (25 to 30 minutes), rotating pans back-to-front and top-to-bottom halfway through.

Remove pans from the oven and let cool in pans, on racks, for fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, prepare the glaze:

In a small saucepan set over medium heat, mix the brown sugar, butter and water, stirring gently until the mixture comes to a simmer. Cook one minute more, then drizzle the glaze over the cooled buns. Let stand 10 more minutes before serving.

Buns keep well, cooled completely and then frozen in plastic bags, for up to four weeks. Thaw overnight and warm gently in the oven before serving.

Many, many thanks to @lostplum and @KathrynYu for the awesome recipes!

My mom.

I was listening to NPR's weekly food podcast today (subscribe here to enjoy the same geeky excitement), and this week's edition featured a conversation with Nigella Lawson, who was explaining the different ways she's involved her children in her cooking over the years.

Her descriptions of batter-stirring and bean-trimming sent me off into a reverie, thinking about the different ways my mom introduced me to the glories of the kitchen. Sometimes people ask me where my love of cooking came from - this seems, to me, to be such an odd question, but probably only because the answer seems so obvious to me.

I grew up in a house where the only food on hand for snacking was fruit, vegetables, or the kind you made yourself. As a result, I learned to bake chocolate chip cookies and how to arrange a cheese plate (complete with grapes, fancy crackers, and sliced saucisson) before I turned 10.

We were never forced to eat something we disliked (when the family had swordfish - which I still hate with a fiery, burning passion - Mom always grilled me some chicken), but we had to try everything once. As a result, I was the only first-grader who listed her favorite foods as strawberries and cucumbers.

On Parents' Night, our parents had to find our desks based on this information. While the other grown-ups wandered around, comparing endless worksheets that read "pizza" or "spaghetti," my parents were perched at my seat, patiently waiting for those with less cuinarily adventurous progeny to find the right desks.

My mom is an incredible woman - a successful, single (Well, not single anymore!) businesswoman who raised two (fantastic, funny, smart, kind, immodest) children, and she passed her love of good food, good wine and good cocktails down to me. In our house, dinner parties were the norm, and cocktail parties lasted long into the night. And, of course, we had to bake all our own sweets.

And so, in honor of my mother, I'm going to share one of her favorite recipes with you. These fudge brownies are incredibly simple to make, but have never failed to make people swoon on cue. I've tweaked the original recipe ever-so-slightly with the addition of a little espresso powder to bring out the flavor of the chocolate - but they remain, at heart, my mother's favorite brownies.

I hope you love them as much as we do.

Jane's Favorite Brownies
Based on a recipe from The Everyday Gourmet

4 oz. unsweetened chocolate
1 cup butter
4 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tbs. instant espresso powder
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
6 oz. semisweet chocolate chips
2 tsp. vanilla extract

Pre-heat the oven to 350°F. Grease a 13x9 baking pan and set aside.

Melt the butter and chocolate together in a double-boiler set over very low heat. Allow to cool slightly.

Beat the eggs and sugar together until pale yellow. Add the cooled chocolate mixture and beat until well-combined. Mix in the flour, espresso powder, baking powder and salt and stir until combined. Fold in the chocolate chips and vanilla.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and back 25-30 minutes, until just set in the center. Allow to cool on a rack before cutting.

Makes 16-20 brownies.

Do you peel your rhubarb?

I've seen recipes that mention it, and ones that don't. I've mostly done it, but sometimes I skip the step to save time. So, my question for you all is: do you peel your rhubarb? Do you find a major difference in texture when you do? Is it worth the time?

Someone was listening!

OK, so, it's not as good as the real thing - but it's 58 degrees out today, and headed to be about 65 before things are all said and done. We don't get the asparagus or the strawberries or the ramps yet, but we do get the sunshine and the opportunity to break out the dresses and flats!

To celebrate today's preview of spring, I took a walk along the East River and then hit my favorite local bakery, Two Little Red Hens, for a coffee and a cinnamon roll. Totally sinful, but totally worth it. The roll was a delicious, yeasty nest of buttery icing, plump raisins, and spicy cinnamon. I highly recommend a trip to the Upper East Side (or Park Slope!) to indulge yourself.

What are the rest of you doing to welcome our little burst of springtime?

When inspiration strikes.

A few weeks ago, I spied this post on the (always entertaining) blog Internet Food Association. The idea of bourbon combined with caramel, buttercream and cake was pretty much irresistible to this boozehound. I decided to try my hand at my own version. They turned out pretty darn good - not too big, not too sweet, and just rich enough.

For the cupcakes, I used Nigella Lawson's phenomenally simple fairy cakes recipe. If there's an easier recipe in existence for making cupcakes from scratch, I've yet to find it. One batch of the recipe yields twelve small cupcakes, and nine medium-sized ones. (Skip the Royal Icing, obviously, unless you're skipping the buttercream!)

The buttercream was Gourmet's brown sugar buttercream - I first made this frosting as part of their legendarily (at least in my circle of friends) delicious blackberry brown sugar cake. It takes time (you'll be dropping butter into your mixer for about 15 or 20 minutes), but it's not difficult. The frosting keeps well in the fridge for up to a week, and is good for two batches of the fairy cakes.

The one piece of special equipment you need is a candy/deep-frying thermometer. The buttercream starts with a base of whipped egg whites, into which you stream piping hot sugar syrup. If the syrup isn't at the right temperature (about 248 degrees Fahrenheit), the frosting will be either grainy or soupy.

Finally, look up any recipe for caramel sauce (mine was an improvised version that used milk instead of cream), and stir a tablespoon of bourbon in at the end.

To assemble, let the fairy cakes cool completely, then frost generously with the buttercream. Drizzle with as much caramel as you like (you may want to place the cakes on parchment paper or aluminum foil while you do this, for the sake of your countertops), and eat. Cakes will keep - stored in an airtight container, at room temperature - for a few days.