Midweek Roundup: "Quite tasty"

Photo by Raymond

Your Just Desserts

I thought this week was going to be all about the prune filling, but it was more about the multiple steps involved and what might have gone wrong, or almost went wrong, and did go wrong.

Not so much for Raymond, whose biggest problem was the same feeling of deja vu that he had last week (deja vu all over again?) when he made the monkey dunkey bread.  Fortunately, he's not going loco.  He just baked them both as a Beta Baker, and since those top-secret posts have been erased from history, he couldn't check on it.  But he liked the cake the second time, just as he liked it the first.  He also thought the cake was "very easy," and making the caramel was "old hat," and he had no problem rolling up the cake.  (See above photo).  "All in all a really nice dessert."

Although Raymond made a double batch of lekvar to have some on hand for morning toast, for Faithy it was "plums yes, prunes no," so she substituted mango preserves for prunes.  She also substituted canned dulce de leche ("lazy me," says dynamo Faithy), and made the cake a little thicker by using a smaller pan and adding a little water and oil to the cake mixture.  Because the cream melted so quickly, she put it in the freezer, and served it with ice cream.  And presto!  The prune roll became an Arctic Roll.  who

Rachel, who took the cake to a party, admits that she didn't tell anyone what the fruit was in the cake roll.  "But then again, they didn't ask."  Are we getting better through experience or is it just my imagination?  Rachel thought that making the cake went "really smoothly" and the sugar syrup was "easy peasy."  The unrolled cake was "in good shape," and there was no problem with rolling it back up, although "the edge view reminds me of a wrinkly-faced dog.  Homely but appealing."  She drizzled the glaze atop instead of using a piping bag, which brought her some criticism from her would-be food stylist daughter, but the cake got gobbled up at the party, barely giving Rachel herself a chance to eat a piece.

Kristina titled her post "Caramel Cream Cake Roll" because "that sounds so much better than a recipe that starts with the words 'prune preserves,' right?"  As her husband was about to invite some friends over for dinner, with homemade dessert as a principal draw, he discovered the name of the dessert in question and said, "I can't sell that."  As it turned out, thought, she ended up "loving" the dessert.  And so, I surmise, did everyone else.  "I didn't expect to [love it], but the stewed prunes (aka Lekvar) took a back seat to the caramel whipped cream, and really just added a subtle fruit flavour that you wouldn't be able to put your finger on if you didn't know it was there."

Jen enjoyed making this cake because each component could "hang out and wait" for a time to fit in busy schedule.  Here's a hint:  wrap the cake in a Silpat instead of a kitchen towel--works just as well and you don't have to launder the Silpat.  And nothing went wrong, except for "Eliot was intrigued with the chocolate drizzle and asked his mom if she was making a tiger cake.  Even though the tiger cake was headless, Eliot was still OK with that.  "We all liked the cake, and I love the feathery lightness of the biscuit.  The prune lekvar is really good and pairs well with the caramel.  It actually felt like a great autumnal dessert, and a nice departure from all things pumpkin and spice and apple."

Mendy made his caramel whipped "cream" with Rich's Whip so it would be parve and he wouldn't have to get out the toaster oven.  This was a good plan except that Rich's is sweeter than cream, so the caramel whipped cream ended up to be "cloyingly sweet."  He made up for that by using 82% dark chocolate "love me a Scharfenberger 82%."  Mendy's used to buying lekvar, but he made it this time and found that he missed the allspice flavor that he grew up with.  Still, no complaints about the lekvar or the cake.  And from the smiles on "Omi girl's) and "Ez man's" faces, no complaints from them either.

Considering all the things that might go wrong with this cake, you probably wouldn't put "whipping the cream" high on the list.  And yet that's what happened to Catherine.  You'll probably guess that sad turn this take is going to take when you see that her post is titled, "The Prune Caramel Swiss Roll adventure on which we learn never to turn out back on a stand mixer."  That's what she did, and "instead of deliciously light caramel cream, I found myself looking at a large bowl full of wet sand."  I'd like to say something encouraging, but I have to admit that a cake filled with wet sand sounds singularly unappetizing.  She did manage to cobble together at least one edible piece (more cream and some gelatin).  "The combination of flavours (who would think of adding prunces?) was sophisticated and interesting as well as being delicious."  Just think how great it would be without the sand!.

Next week:  I think I told Tony many months ago that he should buy some mini madeleine pans because we'd be making them soon.  Well, it wasn't soon but it was eventually.  You can also make these in regular madeleine pans.

The countdown:  We're moving so fast.  Down to 5.

Prune Preserves and Caramel Cream Cake Roll

Pity the poor prune.  While other dried fruits--cranberries, apricots, cherries and the like--are found in healthy, well-muscled young hikers, prunes (especially stewed prunes, which sounds even worse) are in the sad cereal bowls of the elderly.  Rose wants to change all this.  It definitely helps to add caramel whipped cream--that was certainly never served at breakfast at my grandmother's house.

I guess these prunes are stewed.  Maybe lekvar means "stewed prunes."  At any rate, they're cooked with water, sugar, and some lemon zest until they're so soft and tender that you probably wouldn't even have to put in your false teeth to eat them.  This is, by the way, a multi-page, multi-step recipe, but it's not too bad if you just take it one step at a time and try not to think about all the steps that are left.  While the prunes are coming to room temperature, you make the sponge.  We've done this so often I feel that I should have the recipe memorized.  I don't, of course.

It involves beating whole eggs and then adding in beaten egg whites.  That's always good for at least one photo.

Then the batter is spread onto a half sheet pan.  I never get mine completely even.  After a while I get tired of smoothing it out with a spatula, so I just decide it's good enough.

After the lekvar and sponge cake are made, the caramel is next.  I've taken to using caster sugar sometimes; it has a little more color than regular white granulated sugar, so I thought it might interfere with my ability to tell when the caramel was done, but luck (and an instant thermometer) were with me.

Jim always likes the part where you add the cream to the caramel mixture and it "boils furiously."

I could just dig into that mixture of caramel and cream, but I have a little discipline.

One layer of cooled lekvar spread on the sponge cake.

Followed by a layer of caramel cream.

I should have rolled it tighter, I now see, but at the time, it seemed that I was.

Finally, the chocolate glaze.  Very easy; just melted chocolate, cream, and about a tablespoon of leftover caramel.

JJ and Lily came over just as I was finishing the cake, so there were bowls of caramel, chocolate, and caramel cream, not to mention various bits of cake that I'd trimmed off.  They were in hog heaven.  I gave each of them a small spoon and told them to have at it until all the bowls and scraps were eaten. By the time their mother came in the kitchen to see why it was so quiet, the evidence was gone--except on their faces, of course.  I told her it was actually a fruit dessert.

I served this to my book club.  I did not apologize for the haphazard look of the glaze or the too-flat appearance of the roll.  One person asked me if I bought the roll at Wuollet's (a well-known local bakery).  Another took a picture to send to a woman who wasn't able to come.  And every plate was absolutely clean.  Not even a morsel for the compost bin.  Take that, you prune haters!

Midweek Roundup: "Absolutely more-ish"

Photo by Catherine

Phyllis Caroline Blog

What's not to like about brioche, chocolate, and caramel?  There were very few criticisms to be found as we ate our way through petite balls of this bread.  And that is the only way to get the word "petite" into the description of this bread, which is otherwise a Don't Step on the Scale for at Least Two Days kind of treat.

Catherine found it "delicious, time-consuming and very sweet," and that was without the caramel sauce, which would have made it even sweeter.  Next time she would omit the chocolate because "it didn't need it."  With or without caramel, with or without chocolate, even the generous Catherine was not sure she'd share it at work.

Katya also preferred a more simple version of this bread, the plainer monkey without the caramel pour-over and the chocolate filling.  That said, however, she admitted that when she told her colleagues what it was supposed to be like, she saw their "eyes glaze over with desire."  So next time she thought she'd take the version that would satisfy the most insatiable sweet tooth.

To Nicola, who nicknamed her bread "Resistance is Futile," this bread/cake was a reminder of why she had stopped baking for a year:  the recipes that are "totally amazing" and make "blood sugar spike."  She gave one to her son Isaac as a bedtime snack, and, after declaring it to be "totally amazing," he promptly went for more.  (Remember, Catherine warned that they were "more-ish.")

Raymond somehow "worked this in" along with some other kitchen projects (I have enough trouble doing one a week!), and found it "delish."  He also promised to either take his "weekend baking projects to work or share them with the neighbors....  I am sure that everyone is going to be wanting seconds."

Vicki, who loves the smell that baking brings to her kitchen, knew from "the lovely aroma" that the monkey bread was going to be something special.  And tasting it made her even more sure.  "This is definitely going to be a family favorite for years to come."

When I read Rachel's blog, I thought, for probably the 100th time, that doing a bake-through of Rose's recipes really does make you a better baker.  She recalls first hearing of monkey bread on a Martha Stewart show and thinking it looked good but complicated.  Then she bought a few versions, but they were disappointing.  So finally she made her own, and was not disappointed at all.  "This bread was so good!"  And, although it took a while, "the 'fiddle factor' was negligible" and "many tummies were happy."

Like Raymond, Kristina, playing catch-up, had a busy and productive weekend in the kitchen:  "2 loaves of bread, monkey dunkey brioche dough, and all of the components of cannoli."  With all that baking, though, when it came time to finish the monkey dunkey, she "looked at the instructions for filling the dough balls with chocolate, said 'No way!' and just made [it] without the chocolate, without the caramel sauce, and without gilding the lily with chocolate drizzle."  Still "plenty gilded" for a "great breakfast"!

Jen remembered making this monkey bread as a Beta Baker, at which time her tube pan leaked, making the predictable mess, so this time she made it in a bundt pan.  She didn't roll the dough--just pressed it into shape, and used chocolate chunks instead of chocolate perles, but otherwise, the monkey bread was pretty much as directed.  When Eliot tasted it, he said, "We are eating cake." When Mark tasted it, he said it might be his favorite Baking Bible project yet.  And when Jen tasted it, she said she was sure she would be making this for years to come.  I think we can all see this bread becoming a family tradition.

Rosa dropped the chocolate and the dunking sauce, fearing that it would be too sweet.  Instead, she added toasted pecans, as well as the caramel sauce.  Still "monkey," but not as "dunkey."  And still delicious.

Next week:  The Prune Preserves and Caramel Cream Cake Roll.  It's a lot of words, so you may just end up calling it that prune-y thing.

The countdown:  How has this happened?  Only six more baking projects left!

Monkey Dunkey Bread

After last week's cannoli debacle, I was afraid I'd lost my baking mojo.  Worse, when I looked at the recipe, I thought that Rose had gone the way of those recipes that you see on Facebook that are made up of butter, cream, sugar, doughnuts, marshmallows, and chocolate chips.  You know the ones--they take a bunch of decent ingredients and mix them together so the end result looks just over-poweringly sweet.  Monkey bread (not what you'd call a subtle bread) stuffed with chocolate, dipped in buttered sugar, glazed with caramel sauce, and topped (if you don't mind "gilding the lily" with a second (chocolate) sauce).  I thought the whole thing sounded like gilding the lily.

But, I thought, after all, the whole recipe starts with Rose's brioche dough, which has never gone awary, and has been the base of some pretty fantastic breads.  And so I decided to have faith.

Working with this rich but not-too-sticky (if you've overnighted it in the refrigerator) dough always makes me happy.  I will say that cutting the dough into 32 pieces, rolling each piece out, filling it with chocolate perles, then reshaping the dough and squeezing the edges together got a little tedious.  About as tedious as reading that last sentence.

But eventually the job was done.  I love chocolate.  But just as I don't agree that bacon makes everything better, neither do I agree that chocolate makes everything better.  I was unconvinced that this bread needed chocolate.

The butter-sugar glop mixture did serve a purpose, which was to make sure that every little ball of dough was covered with a coating of a simple butter and brown sugar mixture.

And when I put these little buttery balls in the pan and stuck them in the oven, I thought, well, that looks good enough to me.  It shouldn't be any sweeter than this.

And then I dutifully proceeded to make the caramel sauce, which was definitely going to make the monkey bread sweeter, not to mention a whole lot richer.

Here's the baked monkey bread straight out of the oven.  I confess that I used a one-piece angel food cake pan, instead of one with a detachable tube.  My reasoning was that Woody had given me this pan, and he surely wouldn't give me anything other than a superior piece of equipment.  And if he did, I could blame him if the monkey bread wasn't up to snuff.

Thanks for the nice angel food cake pan, Woody.  The monkey bread fell apart slightly, but not disastrously so, and who cares anyway.

The verdict?  Was this monkey bread too sweet?  Too complicated?  Beyond the pale?  Well, not really.  I'd like to try it again without the chocolate perles and the caramel sauce (and of course, not the optional chocolate sauce, which I didn't use this time).  But then it would just be monkey bread (although the quality of the brioche dough would guarantee that it wouldn't be "just" anything).  But the addition of chocolate didn't make it too sweet.  In fact, the bittersweet nature of the dark chocolate counteracted the sweetness of the brown sugar "dunk" and the caramel.  And, while it certainly didn't need the caramel, it was such a delicious caramel that it's all right with me.

Midweek Roundup: "Rustically homemade"

Photo by Nicola

She Bakes the Cake

Let's face it.  We're all much harder on ourselves than we are on anyone else, and baking is no exception to this rule.  Look at Nicola's cannoli, for example.  Aren't they lovely?  And what is the best thing she can say about them?  That at least they didn't come out of a packet (as did the cannoli that her grandmother always brought to family gatherings and that cemented her reputation as an ace baker).  The brandy snaps?  Nicola says they "look more akin to a crocheted afghan blanket, rather than anything approaching lace."  See?  Way too harsh.  On the other hand, "the creme patisserie was incredible."  Never one to do things by halves, Nicola cleverly doubled the recipe.  (I wish I'd thought of that).  Not only did she not have to divide an egg in half, she also had plenty of leftover pastry cream.

Rosa made some of the most gorgeous cannoli you'll ever see.  Of course, you might not recognize them as cannoli, because the ends are cut off, they're filled with white chocolate mousse, drizzled with melted dark chocolate, topped lavishly with all kinds of fresh fruit, and then lightly sprinkled with sugar pearl dust.  Take a look--they're exquisite desserts.  And what does Rosa see?  Her beautiful desserts?  No, she sees that the cookies were too thick.

Rachel took a look at the recipe and realized that "the combination of a fruity, creamy filling and a short shelf life didn't seem like a viable option for [her] family."  So she decided just to make the cookies.  Well, not "just."  She didn't stop at cookies.  She also tried rolling some of them up, just for fun.  (Um, maybe "fun" is not quite the right word).  And some of the cookies that she rolled into cannoli shapes, she filled with ice cream. And she discovered that, whether rolled or not, "they go well with vanilla ice cream."  Like Rosa's, ice-cream filled cannoli may not be traditional, but they do sound good.

Catherine was clearly thinking along the same lines as Rachel.  She knew that her brandy cookies weren't going to snap in humid Darwin (it was raining at Rachel's house too), so she gave up on the shaping and bought some vanilla ice cream.  Catherine's blog is quite instructive--not necessarily on the art of making cannoli, but it's certainly worth a look if you ever want to make a brandy snap wreath, which comes from spacing the snaps a wee bit too close.  But it's a lacy, golden wreath that can be snapped apart, and each interestingly-shaped portion can serve as a base (or a roof) for a big mound of ice cream.  

Yes, perhaps none of these versions is quite what Rose had in mind when she wrote this recipe, but that's what happens when your baking children go off on their own frolics.

Next week:  I'm pretty sure you'll frolic when you taste next week's Monkey Dunkey Bread.

The countdown:  We are getting very close to the end.  I've added all the recipes that are still on the list, so you can see what we'll make each week from now until the end.  You may be surprised to see that we end with the Kouign Amanns.  "But wait," you may say.  (Jim did).  "I thought we started with those."  True enough, but it's such a spectacular recipe that I wanted to make sure that everyone, especially those who weren't with us at the beginning, has a chance to make these pastries.  Not to mention the fact that even if you did make them before, you'll have a chance to eat them again.  (It was that fact that got Jim to stop worrying over the duplication).  And of course, if you want to end with Luxury Chocolate Buttercrunch Coffee, well, it won't bother me one bit.  I'll just sit and eat my improved Kouign Amann (because don't you think that two years of weekly baking has had some effect on our skill levels?) and feel that all's right with the world.  A feeling that's been eluding me lately.

Brandy Snap Cannolis

When I first made the two-year baking calendar for the Alpha Bakers, these cannoli were somewhere in the first three months.  Might as well get them over with, I thought.  But then I kept rearranging the list, and the cannolis kept going further down.  Until finally there was no escaping it.  Still, I thought to myself, this may turn out better than you think.  After all, the Meringue Twigs turned out to be fairly presentable.  And the Pink Pearl Lady looked a little weird, but it was good.  The more I looked at this cannoli recipe, though, the more I sensed disaster ahead.  Sadly, my prognosticating powers were all too accurate.  After hours of hard labor, I ended up with one moderately acceptable cannolo (honestly, that is the singular of cannoli).  Everything else went to the squirrels (who seemed quite delighted with the unexpected treat).

In fairness, making the batter for the brandy snaps was, well, a snap.  Just heat up some butter, sugar, and golden syrup.

And then add flour, whisking until the flour is completely mixed in.  Then pour onto prepared baking sheets.

The batter spread a lot (I may have made the cookies too big), and I only got five on the first sheet, so I switched to the bottom of a half-sheet pan.  Big mistake.  The cookies on the cookie sheet turned out fine.

But something about the makeup of the half-sheet pan didn't agree with the makeup of the brandy snap, and the cookies refused to crisp.  They refused to harden, although they seemed to be done.  Finally I scooped them up, turned them into a gooey brown ball, divided the ball into six pieces, and smashed them onto a cookie sheet.

The dark brown, lumpy ones below are the snaps that didn't work out.  At this point, I was still relatively optimistic that I could rescue at least some of the cannoli.  I figured I could just put more powdered sugar on the thick, lumpy ones, and, after all, half of them looked more or less like what they were supposed to look like.

Also, I was pretty proud of myself for figuring out that Rose's mini rolling pin would make the perfect sized dowel.

And for finding the same-sized pestle from a marble mortar and pestle set that served to keep the opening in the cannoli round while they cooled and hardened.

But here's where things really started to fall apart.  First, the pastry cream didn't thicken.

It was completely liquid, even though I used the correct amount of egg and cornstarch (I checked).  I thought it might thicken as it cooled, but it didn't.  Not at all.  I thought the mascarpone and whipped cream would make the filling thick enough if I just added a little pastry cream, but the entire mixture was still very thin.

I squeezed as much liquid from the dried fruit mixture as I could, and I didn't add the Grand Marnier, because the filling just didn't look thick enough to work in a pastry tube.  Actually, I was so dismayed at how everything was turning out that I forgot to be worried about the fact that I was going to have to use a pastry tube.

I picked a smallish pastry tip because I thought maybe the not-very-dense filling would work better coming through a small tip.  Alas, what happened is that the fruit got stuck in the pastry tip and nothing came out.  Refusing to believe I couldn't somehow rescue this, I grabbed another tip and another bag, and I sloshed as much filling as I could from one bag to the other.  Daubs of white filling flew all over the kitchen.  I ordered Jim to put his camera down--"I don't want a record of this," I said.

And that, dear reader, is how there came to be one cannolo on a plate and why the squirrels are now begging at our back door.  Jim said it was pretty good.  I didn't even want to taste it.

Midweek Roundup: "A Complete Doddle"

Photo by Nicola

She Bakes the Cake

To be precise, Nicola called this recipe a "complete doddle" if you have an already-prepared crust sitting in the fridge.  If you have to make the crust first, it's not so much of a doddle.  However, before you think this was a complete breeze for Nicola, you should probably also know that she overbaked the tart (but only because she followed the directions) and ended up with a "crack between the pastry and the filling [that] could swallow a small child."  (You can see the crack in the picture--it clearly presents a danger to small children).  This tart is on Nicola's make-again list, but next time she's going to eat it soon after it comes out of the oven, when the crust is at its crispest.

Creative Vicki not only made the tart ("exactly how I always wished a lemon bar would taste") but she also made a parfait with the leftover filling, crumbled shortbread cookies, raspberries, and whipped cream.  In fact, Vicki should get to work on her own cookbook, called something like "Everyday Trifles."  She clearly believes that any dessert can be improved, and any disaster can be rescued, by trifleizing a recipe.  And really, she does have a point.  Look at her parfait if you have any doubt.

Jen did something even more daring than making a parfait.  She made a tart crust without rolling out the dough--she just patted it into a pan.  Why has it taken so long for someone to suggest this?  No rolling, no splitting, no breaking, no sticking.  And it looks lovely too!  With no rolling of pie crust to put her in a bad mood, her blog is happiness itself:  "wonderfully creamy and lemony," "very simple to make," "a delightful dessert."  I don't think pastry whizzes understand how daunting rolling out a piece of dough can be to those of us who are pastry-challenged.

Leave it to Kristina to celebrate her making of the Araxi Lemon Cream Tart by visiting Whistler, B.C., the home of the Araxi Restaurant.  No word on whether she herself visited the Araxi for a taste of the original tart, but she did whip up her own, which she described as "quite a simple" recipe.  Just wave your hands around the ingredients and "Done!  This made a great dessert on Saturday, with my parents visiting.  Just had another piece tonight, and I think the rest might make it to work tomorrow."

Rachel noted that when you bake a lot of Rose's recipes, you realize that chocolate and lemon are high on her list of favored flavors.  And if you're "going to bake a lot of lemon desserts, this one should be on your list!"  Rachel also zipped right through this recipe:  "Almost before I realized it, I was pulling the baked crust from the oven!"  This was a satisfying recipe for another reason; Rachel figured out how to whip small amounts of cream with her hand-held mixer without splashing cream all over the kitchen walls.  (She made a makeshift silicone guard, and now most of the cream stays in the bowl).  It's the small things that keep us going.

When you start reading Faithy's blog, you think this is going to be a story with a very unhappy ending.  No time to rest!  Bubbles that couldn't be removed!  Poured too much filling in the tart shell! Until you get to the last paragraph, which is a perfect example of all's well that ends well.  "This is the BEST lemon tart I have ever tasted!  I always thought lemon tart is too sour for me ... but this cream tart, I love!  Now I feel like making it again...soo good!"

Next week:  Brandy Snap Cannolis.  I can pretty much guarantee that nobody is going to say that these were a breeze to make, but, like so many other of Rose's multi-page, multi-step, multi-process recipes, they may well turn out to be worth the effort.

The countdown:  Just eight more elegant recipes.  I hope you have time to try some.