Queenie's Treasury

Hello, my doves! Today is the first day of autumn (in the Northern Hemisphere, at least), so it seems fitting to share with you some of the things I've been craving (food and otherwise) in the name of the new season.

First up, these delicious Tate ballet flats from the ladies at Marais USA. I absolutely love the animal print, and I'm delighted that feminine, pointy toes are back in this fall. Just imagine these with a pair of cropped trousers or a full skirt. Perfection, yes?

Next, a lovely little print from Ana Victoria Calderon's shop on Etsy. The colors are just perfect for autumn: a little muted, a little soft, all cozy and warm. Just looking at it makes me crave apple cider. And bourbon.

Finally, some actual food! This plum and mascarpone pie screams early autumn to me, what with its gorgeous purple color and rich, caramelized glaze. And mascarpone makes everything into its best self.

The cold stuff.

Each summer, sometime in July, I remember: I have an ice cream maker. (A cheap one that has lasted five summers so far.) It's not that I truly forget about my ice cream maker; after all, its canister stares me in the eye every time I open my freezer. But I seem to forget about the glories it can bestow upon me. Then it gets hot and nasty and my cravings increase, and I remember: it's time to make the ice cream.

This year, I bought my first-ever ice cream cookbook, the incredible Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams at Home by Jeni Britton Bauer. After just one outing, it is now my official ice cream bible. Why? Well, Jeni doesn't have you fuss around with eggs and custard. Instead, she explains the science behind her American ice cream base, including the reasons for using a little corn syrup, and the genius addition of softened cream cheese to help emulsify the mixture. And her recipes are organized by season, emphasizing fresh, local ingredients. But not in an obnoxious way, I promise.

And, let me tell you: it works. This is wonderful, creamy, balanced, stress-free ice cream. I tried my hand at her recipe for sweet basil with honeyed pine nuts, and it was magnificent. The pine nut praline was a snap to make (my one alteration: use parchment paper to line your baking sheet), and the crunchy, sweet bits of nut added interest and earthiness to the sweet and spicy basil-flavored ice cream.

I think my next attempt will be her beet, mascarpone and poppy seed ice cream. Oh, yes. (And, if you're not game to make the stuff at home, you can always order Jeni's ice cream, made with love in Columbus, Ohio, from her website.)

Cooling off.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that vacationer in possession of an appetite must be in want of an ice cream cone. After all, what is summer vacation if not an excuse to treat ice cream as its very own food group? New Englanders know this instinctively, and ice cream is available pretty much everywhere you turn.

On my first night in Maine, en route to Rockland to stock the fridge, I spotted Dorman's Dairy Dream by the side of Route 1. It was too late to stop (everything in Maine closes by 9 PM, it seems, and Dorman's is no exception), but I made a mental note to visit later in the week, as there was no way something so cute wouldn't be worth a stop.

Turns out, I wasn't wrong. Dorman's flavor list includes classics like peppermint stick, grapenuts, and pistachio, as well as less commonly-seen varieties, such as ginger and orange-pineapple. I chose a small coffee cone, while Louisa went for the peppermint stick. (I thought she was going to go for ginger, but I was wrong. It's nice when even your best friend can surprise you from time to time.) The ice creams were wonderful in an entirely classic way - creamy, rich (but no mouth-coating ickiness), and a bit on the sweet side. Our cones melted quickly in the midday heat, and we slurped up every drop.

A couple of days later, the ice cream craving struck again. My friends Liz and Skylar, who've lived in Rockland for a couple of years now, suggested we stop by Lulu's on Oak Street - so long as it was open. (Lulu's is a seasonal joint, and sometimes doesn't open until later in July.) Lucky for us, it was open, and in spectacular fashion.

Lulu's, it turns out, is a more modern take on the New England creamery concept. Sorbetto, gelato and ice cream are all on offer, and the flavors are a bit wider ranging than those at Dorman's. I went for a small cup with two types of sorbetto: dark chocolate noir, and strawberry balsamic. Both were ridiculously delicious. The strawberry balsamic tasted so strongly of rich aged vinegar and strong berries that I couldn't believe Lulu's captured the flavor in an ice cream. And the chocolate? It was like eating a bittersweet chocolate bar, but in sorbetto form. So, you know, not bad. (And by not bad, I mean amazing.)

My only regret? We visited Lulu's late on Friday, which meant we never had a chance for a return trip.

Amply delicious.

Last Sunday, I spent a truly wonderful afternoon with my friend, Miya, and her adorable daughter, Emi. Emi turned three on Tuesday, and we decided that such an event deserved not only a special story time (we read a chapter of Little House In The Big Woods, part of the set of "big girl" books I gave Emi for her big day), but also a little stroll for something all three of us love: ice cream.

Miya lives in Prospect Heights, a few blocks from Ample Hills, a homegrown Brooklyn ice creamery, and one all of my Brooklynite friends have been bugging me about visiting for ages. I was thrilled to relent, and ordered a single scoop of the salted caramel with crack cookies.

Oh. Mah. Guh.

This is some seriously ridiculous ice cream. It's indulgently creamy, but without that horrid, too-fatty, mouth-coating after effect. It's blended with just enough air to go down easy, but not so much that it enters the dreaded frothy territory. And the flavor. My GOD the flavor. The salted caramel comes through strong and clear - unlike so many caramel-flavored things, this one actually retained the slightly bitter, almost burnt quality of good caramel, and the salt was wonderful against the sweet, buttery crack cookies (shortbread coated in dark chocolate).

Emi was kind of mad that I didn't give her a lick, and says I owe her two next time. We'll see about that.

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.

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.

Shake Shack, 4 PM, 9 April 2011

Pancakes and bacon custard. My take? Too salty, not maple-y enough. I feel like a traditionalist-slash-provincial, but there you have it.

Super creamy, though.

Dress to impress.

You may remember some of my past odes to cream puffs. And I don't mean profiteroles - I mean cream puffs. Profiteroles, you see, don't do it for me. The ice cream makes the choux pastry shells go hard and cold, and then cold and soggy. Just...no.

But cream puffs? Filled with whipped cream, pastry cream, cheese, whatever - those, I love. I've had some delicious ones in Pennsylvania and in California, but I'd never attempted them at home. Until now. Turns out, they're the kind of dessert that will impress your guests way out of proportion to the amount of effort you need to put in.

Basically, you make a choux pastry, then bake it into little puffs. Does that sound fancy? Well, trust me: it ain't. You boil some water with some butter, mix in some flour and eggs and...well, that's it! Drop those suckers onto parchment-lined cookie sheets and bake for twenty minutes or so, and you have seriously French, seriously tasty little shells that you can fill to your heart's content.

To keep things simple, I filled mine with a mixture of whipped cream and mascarpone cheese. The cheese adds heft and complexity, but is way easier to deal with than pastry cream (one requires opening a package; the other is, well, pastry cream). You can do whatever you like, though - even fill them with ice cream, if you so choose. (Different strokes for different folks, right?)

I topped mine with hot fudge for a festive touch; you can also dust them with confectioner's sugar for a perfectly decadent breakfast or afternoon tea. Pastry puffs: the chameleons of the dessert world, am I right?

Cream Puffs with Chocolate Sauce
Choux pastry recipe adapted from Mastering The Art of French Cooking

For the pastry puffs
1 cup water
6 tbs. unsalted butter
3/4 cup flour
1 tsp. granulated sugar
5 eggs, one beaten with 1/2 tsp. water

For the filling
3/4 cup mascarpone cheese
1/2 cup heavy cream
1 tbs. granulated sugar

For the chocolate sauce
6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate
1/4 cup heavy cream
2 tbs. turbinado sugar

Make the pastry puffs:
Move the oven racks to the bottom and top thirds of the oven. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

Place the water, butter and sugar in a 1 1/2 or 2 quart sauce pan and bring to a boil. Continue to boil until the butter melts. Remove from the heat and immediately add all the flour. Beat vigorously with a wooden spoon to blend. Replace the pot over medium high heat for a minute or two, beating with the spoon all the while, until the dough begins to come away from the sides and the bottom of the pan is coated with a film of flour.

Remove from the heat and make a well in the middle of the dough. Add one egg at a time, beating thoroughly with the spoon until well-mixed. Continue with the remaining eggs, one by one. Once all the eggs have been added, mix for another minute more, until smooth.

Line two cookie sheets or jelly roll pans with parchment paper. Drop 2-inch diameter rounds of dough onto the pans, leaving about two inches between them. Wet your fingers and shape the rounds into even shapes, if need be. Brush with the tops with just a bit of the egg and water mixture.

Place in the pre-heated oven and bake for 15-20 minutes until puffed, firm and golden brown, switching the pans positions' halfway through. Remove from the oven, steel yourself, then cut a slit in the side of each puff with a sharp knife. Replace on the pans and place back in the (now turned-off) oven for ten more minutes. Remove to a rack to cool completely.

Make the filling:
In a medium bowl, beat the cream and half the sugar until it forms stiff peaks. In a separate, larger bowl, beat the mascarpone and half the sugar until it is lighter and somehwat fluffy. Fold the cream into the mascarpone and mix gently until evenly blended.

Make the chocolate sauce:
In a double boiler set over low heat, melt the chocolate, cream and sugar together. Stir occasionally with a wooden spoon. When the sauce is evenly melted and smooth, remove from the heat.

To assemble the cream puffs:
Slice a puff 2/3 of the way around - it should look like a Muppet with a mouth that opens and closes. Fill with as much of the filling as you can. Place two or three filled puffs on a plate, then top with the warm chocolate sauce. Serve immediately.

Serves four.

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.

It has begun.

Thanksgiving preparations, that is. Already today I've roasted chestnuts for tomorrow's brussels sprouts side, and I have a deep dish apple pie in the oven as I type. Next up? A replay of the bourbon pumpkin pie I made a couple of weeks ago, and a cocktail of some kind. And possibly a manicure.

But first I need to go buy a second pie plate!

Happy pre-Thanksgiving, kiddos!

Going pumpkin.

In my family, apple pie traditionally wins out over pumpkin. If we have to choose one kind of pie to eat at Thanksgiving, we're going to choose apple. That's just how we roll.

That said, I actually rather like pumpkin pie, especially when it's a bit light and custardy, and served with some whipped cream. (To be honest, I like everything better when it's served with whipped cream.) And, as you know, I have a special sweet spot for anything boozy, particularly if said booze is bourbon.

And since we have a big group at Thanksgiving this year, which means multiple pies, I decided it was time to finally try the recipe for bourbon pumpkin pie from the late Gourmet's very last issue. (Fitting, I think, that it went out on one of its stellar Thanksgiving showings.) I'm lucky enough to have a proving ground for my Thanksgiving pies: my office does an annual potluck lunch a couple weeks before the holiday, which means I get to try out my recipes on a wide and willing audience.

This year, the response was definitely positive: bourbon pumpkin pie FTW! Which, I have to tell you, made me pretty happy. Not only is the pie tasty, it's also supremely easy to make. Rolling out the crust is pretty much the most intensive task; other than that, all you really have to do is parbake it, mix up the filling, and bake everything together for one last round. Super, super simple.

My kind of pie, and yours too, unless you're some kind of crazy person who doesn't like easy, delicious pie. In which case, that's cool.

Bourbon Pumpkin Pie
Adapted from Gourmet

1/2 recipe Queenie's pie crust
15 ounces pure pumpkin
2 cups heavy cream, divided
1/3 cup sour cream
2 large eggs
3/4 cup plus 1 tbs. turbinado sugar, divided
3 1/2 tbs. bourbon
1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
3/4 tsp. ground ginger
1/4 tsp. ground allspice
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/4 tsp. salt

Roll out dough between two lightly floured sheets of plastic wrap into a 12-inch round and fit gently into pie plate. Trim edge, leaving a 1/2-inch overhang. Fold overhang under and lightly press against rim of pie plate, then crimp decoratively. Lightly prick bottom all over with a fork. Chill until firm, at least 30 minutes (or freeze 10 minutes).

Preheat oven to 375°F with rack in middle.

Line shell with foil and fill with pie weights. (If you don't have pie weights, just use rice. Pour the rice back into a jar when you're done, and use again the next time you need pie weights. See? Now you have pie weights!)

Bake until the sides of the crust are set and edge is golden, about 20 minutes. Carefully remove weights and foil and bake shell until very lightly golden all over, 10 to 15 minutes more. Cool completely.

Whisk together remaining ingredients (leaving aside one cup of cream and one tablespoon of sugar) and pour into cooled shell.

Bake until edge of filling is set but center trembles slightly, about 45 minutes (filling will continue to set as it cools). Check on the pie occasionally, and if you notice the shell getting too dark for your liking (a strong possibility with a parbaked crust), cover the visible parts of the crust with a ring of aluminum foil, or with one of these. Cool the pie completely before serving.

The pie will keep overnight in the fridge; just make sure to cool it completely, then cover it with plastic wrap. Store on a level surface in the fridge. Make sure to bring the pie out early enough to return it to room temperature before serving; I'd give it at least 90 minutes.

Just before serving, whip the remaining cup of cream with the remaining tablespoon of sugar, just until it forms soft peaks. Serve the pie with generous dollops of the whipped cream.

Serves eight.

A crisp for the crispest of seasons.

Fall is here, people. I, um, might have mentioned that before. Sorry for the redundant message, but I'm just so gosh-darned excited about it! Yesterday morning I visited the St. Stephen's Greenmarket to buy a healthy supply of apples for the week, with an eye to making a few different apple-y items over the next few days. (And, of course, I threw in a few apples for snacking purposes.)

This afternoon, I tackled the first of my projects: an apple crisp. Crisps, like cobblers and crumbles, are amongst the easiest of all desserts known to humankind. You basically slice up some fruit (or not, in the case of berries), mix it with a little sugar and spice, toss the lot into a buttered baking dish and then throw a sugar-and-butter-and-possibly-oats topping down over everything.

And, kaboom! You have absolute, utter, fruity perfection. And your house will smell pretty damn good, too. Feel free to mess about with the ingredients here, especially the types of apples and the seasonings, depending on what you prefer. Cloves would be great, as would allspice. A little Calvados in place of the cider would make things pleasantly boozy, which is always a good thing. And light brown sugar will give you a more-golden, less-brown topping, and a slightly lighter flavor. Whatever floats your boat (or bobs your apple! Too much?)

Apple Crisp

1 1/4 cups oats (old-fashioned, not instant)
3/4 cups dark brown sugar, divided
1/2 cup flour
3/4 tsp. kosher salt, divided
1 1/4 tsp. cinnamon, divided
1/4 tsp. freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 cup chilled butter, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
2 lbs. assorted apples (I used honeycrisp and gala), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch slices
1 tbs. lemon juice
1 tbs. apple cider

Pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter a 2-3 quart glass or ceramic baking dish and set aside.

In a medium bowl, combine the oats, 1/2 cup of the sugar, flour, 1/2 tsp. of the salt, 1 tsp of the cinnamon and the nutmeg. Add the butter and blend the mixture with your fingertips until it forms soft, uniform clumps. Set aside.

In another bowl, combine the apples with the remaining sugar, salt and cinnamon. Add the lemon juice and cider and toss to combine, until the sugar has dissolved and the apples are evenly coated.

Pour the apples evenly into the baking dish. Sprinkle the topping evenly over the apples. Place the dish in the oven and bake for 35-45 minutes, until the top of the crisp is well-browned, and the juices are dark and bubbly.

Serves 4-6. Goes really, really well with vanilla ice cream.

The madness continues.

Last week, Smitten Kitchen posted a scrumptious looking recipe for peach shortbread. And you all know that when Smitten Kitchen says, "Jump," I say, "How high?"

I promptly scurried off to buy some late-season peaches, but I already had the other ingredients in-house. It's a remarkably simple recipe; the longest time commitment is waiting for the browned butter to cool.

Yes, browned butter. Did I mention that these peach shortbread bars feature my favorite baking ingredient ever? Indeed.

So head on over to Deb's blog and hook yourself up with the recipe. And if peaches have already disappeared from your local market, go ahead and substitute plums, or even very thinly sliced sweet apples. I have a hunch that this recipe is remarkably adaptable.

Brian & Caroline's house. Astoria. 9:00 PM, Saturday, August 21st.

Momofuku Milk Bar's malted chocolate cake. It contains toasted marshmallows. YUM.

Mousse tarts, ricotta cheesecake and cream horns from Veniero's. DROOL.

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.

Cake yearns to be free, you know.

I don't believe that cake is only meant for special occasions. After all, it's relatively easy to make, and it goes with absolutely everything. But, for some reason, we as a society seem to think of it as something meant for birthdays and dinner parties. I'm here to tell you it doesn't have to be like that.

That's right. I want you to liberate cake from its a-couple-of-times-a-year shackles. Loose it from its guests-for-dinner chains. Work with me, people.

To help you along, I thought I'd share one of my favorite everyday cake recipes. It's a simple buttermilk cake, and it bakes up like a light and fluffy version of pound cake. (Don't have buttermilk on hand? Use some plain yogurt instead.) It goes well with everything from macerated fruit to hot fudge to ice cream to whipped cream. When I made it last week, I had a slice with a bit of lightly sweetened whipped cream for dessert, and then brought the rest in to work, where people ate it plain - and loved every bite.

The best part? It takes about ten minutes to prep. All you need to do is remember to soften the butter a bit ahead of time. Seriously. It's so easy.

So, please - won't you help me save cake from a lifetime of celebrations and usher it into your regular routine? You won't be sorry.

Everyday Buttermilk Cake
Adapted from Gourmet

2 cups flour, sifted
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp. vanilla extract
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk (I use low-fat), well-shaken

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

Sift together the flour, baking powder and baking soda. Stir in the salt.

Using a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment - or a large bowl and a hand-held electric mixer fitted with the beaters - beat together the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition.

With the mixer or beaters on low speed, beat in the buttermilk until just combined. Add the flour in three batches, mixing well with a wooden spoon after each addition, until the mixture is just combined.

Spread the batter in the prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula, or the back of a wooden spoon. Rap the pan on the counter several times to get rid of any air bubbles.

Place the cake in the oven and bake until it is golden and a wooden pick inserted into its center comes out clean, about 30-40 minutes.

Place the pan on a rack and cool for 10 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the cake to loosen, and then invert the cake onto a plate. Invert the cake back onto the rack to cool completely.

Serve slightly warm or at room temperature. Keeps well wrapped tightly in plastic wrap for up to two days.

Serves 8.

Apparently, I'm all about the peaches.

Summer's bounty is everywhere these days. On trips to the market, I'm typically overwhelmed by the options on hand: berries, tomatoes, corn, melon, greens, stone fruit...they all abound, and, more often than not, temptation overwhelms my reason. I wind up with three pounds of peaches, or two pounds of plums, and I'm left - all alone - in my apartment, trying to figure out what to do with all of it before it goes bad on me.

This weekend, I decided to make a cake. As I often do when I am in need of inspiration, I headed over to Smitten Kitchen and did a little poking around. I searched for plum recipes, peach recipes, general stone fruit recipes...and hit the jackpot. I wanted something tasty that would showcase the peaches and plums I'd bought, but also be easy to get into the office the next morning. (I made a blueberry-nectarine buckle last week that nearly did me in on the subway.) Deb's dimpled plum cake seemed the perfect solution.

I didn't have enough peaches to make a lemon-and-peach version, so I went half and half: lemon with peaches and green plums. I was also out of light brown sugar, so I used dark - and loved the results. The cake was moist, with a fine crumb, and fragrant with lemon and molasses. And, true to expectations, it was remarkably easy to make and to transport - and, given that it was more or less gone by 1 PM, I'd say it was a hit at the office, too.

What more could a girl ask for out of some Sunday afternoon interwebs poking-about?

Dimply Peach and Plum Cake
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

1 1/2 cups flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
Scant 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
5 tbs. unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup (packed) dark brown sugar
2 eggs
1/3 cup canola oil
Grated zest of 1 lemon
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
Two peaches and three plums, halved and pitted

Place a rack in the center of your oven and pre-heat to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter and flour an eight-inch square baking pan, and place on a cookie sheet. Set aside.

Stir together the flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon in a small bowl.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or using a hand mixer fitted with the beaters), beat the butter on medium speed until it is light and creamy, about three minutes. Add the sugar and continue to beat on medium speed, about three minutes more, until the mixture is light, fluffy and uniform. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well to incorporate fully after each addition.

Beat in the oil, zest and vanilla, then reduce the speed to low and add the dry ingredients in two or three batches. Using a spatula, give the bowl a good swipe around the edges to make sure the batter is uniform. Pour into the prepared pan.

Arrange the plums and peaches prettily, cut-side up, in the batter. Jiggle them a bit to make sure their tops are even with the top of the batter.

Bake for 30-40 minutes, checking every five minutes past twenty to see how you're doing. When a knife or tester inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean, you're done.

Set the cake on a rack to cool for at least fifteen minutes. (This will also give the fruit juice that's come out of the plums and peaches to seep into the cake.) When you're ready to serve the cake, run a knife around the edge and invert it onto a plate, then back onto a final plate. (In other words, serve fruit-side up.)

Serves 8.

Oh. Em. Gee.

The march of the peaches continues, my friends, and I couldn't be happier about it. Last week, I spotted a recipe for peaches poached in wine and basil over at Food52 and instantly intrigued. I've always been more of a baker than a poacher, but something about the simplicity of the recipe (wine, basil, sugar, water, peaches) called to me.

The fact that I'd bought two pounds of peaches to no particular end might also have had something to do with it.

Regardless of motivation, the fact remains that I decided to make the poached peaches on Sunday afternoon. I tweaked the recipe in the smallest way (using rosé instead of white wine, since it's what I had on hand), but the results were still heavenly.

After only a few minutes of poaching (and a very easy peel), the peaches were even more luscious and heady than they'd been in their raw form. The syrup heightened their sweetness, and the slow poaching process coaxed the peaches from delightfully ripe to lusciously, sensually soft. The rosé wine lent itself to a rosier syrup than I'd expected, delicately scented with basil. Its remainders will, no doubt, make for amazing cocktails.

Guys, I gotta tell you: this is pretty much the sexiest dessert ever. For reals.

Enjoy. (Insert lascivious wink here.)

Peaches Poached in Wine and Basil
Adapted from TheRunawaySpoon on Food52

1 cup (dry) rosé wine
1 1/2 cups water
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 large bunch basil (about two cups' worth of leaves)
6 ripe yellow peaches

Place the wine, water and sugar into a wide-bottomed saucepan and stir to dissolve the sugar a bit. Bring to a boil over medium heat, and continue to boil for five minutes. Turn the heat down and allow the syrup to simmer gently while you halve the peaches.

Cut the peaches in half and gently remove the pits. This can be a delicate undertaking, depending on how ripe the peaches are. Add half the basil leaves to the syrup, then place the peaches in the pan, cut side down. (If all of your peaches don't fit in one go, you can do multiple rounds.)

Poach the peaches cut side down for about three minutes, then turn them (I used my fish spatula) over and poach for an additional three or four minutes. When pricked with a knife, the peaches should give way easily.

Using a slotted spoon, remove the peaches to a plate. Add any peach juices from the cutting board to the pan, along with the remaining basil. Bring the syrup to a boil and cook until reduced by half. Pour in any juices that have collected from the peaches, and let cool to room temperature.

Serve the peaches drizzled with the syrup; whipped cream or vanilla ice cream would also be lovely. Reserve most of the syrup for use in cocktails. Trust me.

Serves six.

Easy as tart.

I think I might have mentioned how much I love blueberries. And how much I love peaches. What, therefore, could be better than a recipe that combines the two into one delicious whole? Not a whole lot.

I'm a big fan of peach-blueberry pie, made with mountains of peaches and a very few berries, but I wasn't thinking far enough ahead to such a creation when I did my marketing last Saturday. The result? A pint of gorgeous, plump blueberries, and two small peaches left over from half a week of snacking on their companions.

The solution? A recipe for a smallish, easy-to-make tart that emphasizes the berries, treats the peaches as a luscious garnish and generally busts any myth claiming that pastry is tricky to prepare. You can use your food processor to make the dough, which you then press into the pan. No rolling means no flour-strewn counters. This recipe is a one-paper-towel-clean-up kind of deal, friends.

Hope you like it!

Simple Blueberry-Peach Tart

For the crust:
1 1/4 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1 stick (1/4 lb.) very cold butter (cut into bits)
1 egg yolk

For the filling:
1 pint blueberries
Juice of half a lemon
Scant teaspoon of cinnamon
2 tbs. turbinado sugar, divided
1/8 tsp. salt
2 peaches, sliced
1 tbs. milk or cream

Lightly whipped cream, for serving

Place the flour, sugar, salt and butter in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the blade attachment. Pulse until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. Add the yolk and pulse a few more times, until the mixture becomes to come together.

Dump the dough into the middle of a tart pan (I use my eight by ten inch rectangular tart pan; you can also use a nine or ten inch circular pan.). Using your hands or the flat bottom of a measuring cup, press the dough evenly into the bottom. Press the dough up the sides to the rim of the pan and set the tart pan on a baking sheet. Refrigerate the dough-lined pan for 30 minutes.

Place a rack in the center of the oven and pre-heat it to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Meanwhile, mix the blueberries, lemon juice, cinnamon and one tablespoon plus one teaspoon of the sugar together in a medium bowl. Allow to sit while the oven pre-heats. Once the oven is ready, remove the tart shell from the fridge and pour the blueberry filling into it, distributing evenly.

Place the peach slices on top of the berries, arranging them evenly over the top of the tart. Sprinkle the entire tart with the remaining sugar and lightly brush the exposed crust with the cream. Place the tart in the oven and bake until the berries are bubbling and the crust is golden, about 25-35 minutes depending on your oven's personality.

Cool on a rack until nearly cool before serving. You can also cool the tart completely, cover it well with plastic wrap, and serve it the next day. (Note: if you are in an area with a lot of humidity, the crust may soften a bit overnight. It's still tasty, though!) Serve topped with whipped cream.

Serves six.

Get thee a galette!

Berry season is in full swing here in New York, which means fresh blueberries are abundant. The berries are at the height of their goodness: they're firm and sweet and just a tad tart. And while berries from southern New England and the Midatlantic don't get the magnificently wild tang that graces berries from Maine, ours are still pretty darn good.

When faced with a pile of in-season fruit of any variety, my first instinct, typically, is to bake a tart. This time around, it's a blueberry galette, a free-form tart very similar to the strawberry-rhubarb crostata I made back in the beginning of June. Instead of individually sized tarts, here I've made one large dessert to serve a group of four or five, but it's just as easy to make as the crostata, and just as fun to eat.

I've seasoned the tart with my favorite combination for blueberries: sugar, vanilla and cinnamon, along with a dotting of butter and a hint of salt. The butter and vanilla lend the berries richness, while the cinnamon adds a spice to heighten their tart nature. Once you add all that, you will, of course, need a bit of sweetened whipped cream to cut through it.

Am I right?

Blueberry Galette

For the pastry:
1 1/4 cups flour
1/4 cup polenta
2 tsp. granluated 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:
1 pint of blueberries, rinsed and dried
2 tbs. turbinado sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/8 tsp. salt
1 tbs. butter, cut into 1/4-inch bits

1 egg, beaten with a tablespoon of cold water
Sweetened whipped cream, 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 galette, take the dough out of the fridge and let it sit; this will help take the chill off a bit. Pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Place the blueberries in a medium bowl and add the sugar, cinnamon, vanilla and salt. Toss to combine evenly, and set aside while you roll out the pastry.

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 close to completely before slicing. Serve topped with whipped cream.

Serves four to five, generously.