Several months ago I watched Dorie Greenspan make madeleines on the Martha Stewart Show. While the madeleines looked divine, what struck me most from her demonstration was her handling of the lemon zest. Rather than whisk the zest directly into the dry ingredients, she placed it in a small bowl with the sugar and massaged the two ingredients together with her fingertips until she had created a moist and fragrant citrus sugar, a technique, she says, that serves to release oils from the zest into the sugar, making the lemon flavor twice as pronounced.
I still haven’t made the madeleines, but, when I remember to, I employ this citrus-sugar technique when appropriate when I’m baking. While it’s not critical — freshly grated zest, massaged into sugar or not, always adds a nice flavor — I have found that the technique does heighten the citrus flavor, which is especially nice in cakes and muffins and cobblers. Moreover, making the citrus sugar is kind of fun. Try it. It smells so good! And it makes just about the best fresh squeezed lemonade you could ever imagine.
The most recent dish I’ve given the citrus-sugar treatment to is my mother’s blueberry crisp, one of my favorites. Like most crisps, this one takes no time to prepare, and if you have a food processor, the topping — a mixture of flour, sugar, almonds and butter — comes together in seconds. The absence of oats and brown sugar in this crisp topping makes it particularly light and allows the lemon-sugared blueberries to really shine. Have a Happy Fourth Everyone.
Lemon Blueberry Crisp
6 cups blueberries (3 pints), washed and stemmed
zest of one lemon
1/4 cup sugar
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/4 teaspoon table salt (or 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt)
1 stick (1/2 cup) cold, unsalted butter cut into 1/2-inch cubes
vanilla ice cream for serving
1. Preheat oven to 425ºF.
2. Place blueberries in 9×13-inch baking pan. In a small bowl, rub zest and sugar together with your fingers until sugar is moist and fragrant. Spread over blueberries and toss to combine.
3. Pulse sugar, flour, almonds and salt in food processor until nuts are chopped. Add butter and pulse until mixture begins to clump. Spread over blueberries. Bake 25 minutes or until crisp topping is browned and blueberries are bubbling.
Many of you already know of this bran muffin, a Nancy Silverton creation served at the widely adored La Brea Bakery. Made with toasted wheat bran, freshly grated orange zest, and simmered and puréed raisins, it is one of the most delicious muffins — bran or otherwise — out there. This is a true bran muffin, not a brown muffin under the guise of bran muffin. Despite being nearly one hundred percent whole grain in makeup, it is perfectly sweet and super moist. This is a muffin you feel almost OK about eating by the half dozen and one you feel truly OK about packing into lunch bags and taking on road trips.
Is it a little fussy? Toasted bran, grated zest, plumped and puréed raisins? Yes, a little bit. But I would argue that the bran muffin to end all bran muffins deserves to be so. I think you’ll agree.
Notes: Because I don’t love the texture of raisins in baked goods, I puréed all of them in step 3 versus saving a half cup to fold in at the end. If you like the texture of raisins, however, by all means, save a 1/2 cup to be folded in at the end.
2 cups (125g) wheat bran
1 1/2 cups (190g total) dark raisins
1 1/2 cups (370ml total) water
1/2 cup (120g) buttermilk or plain low-fat yogurt (I used buttermilk)
zest of one orange
1/2 cup (105g) packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup (125ml) vegetable oil (I used canola)
1 large egg
1 large egg white
1/2 cup (65g) flour
1/4 cup (35g) whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Line a 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners or grease with butter or oil or use these free-standing paper liners, which are fun and pretty.
2. Spread the wheat bran on a baking sheet and toast in the oven for six to eight minutes, stirring a few times so it cooks evenly. Let cool.
3. While the bran is toasting, heat 1 cup of the raisins with 1/2 cup of the water. (Note: I simmered all of the raisins (1.5 cups) at once with 3/4 cups water, then added the remaining 3/4 cup water to the batter (step 4) afterwards.) Simmer for ten minutes, or until the water is all absorbed (I simmered for 10 minutes and all of the water was not absorbed, but I figured it was OK, and it was). Puree the raisins in a food processor or blender until smooth.
4. In a large bowl, mix together the toasted bran, buttermilk or yogurt, 1 cup water (or 3/4 cup water if you have simmered all of the raisins with 3/4 cup water), then mix in the raisin puree, orange zest, and brown sugar.
5. Stir in the oil, egg and egg white.
6. Mix together the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, and sift (or not) directly into the wet ingredients. Stir until the ingredients are just combined, then mix in the remaining 1/2 cup raisins (if you haven’t puréed all of them already).
7. Spoon the batter into the muffin tins, making sure the batter is mounded slightly in each one. Because muffin tins can very in size, if your tins are larger, make fewer muffins.
8. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the muffins feel set in the center.
This is what happened. My husband, who dislikes butterscotch, went out of town. I took the opportunity to make butterscotch budino, a dessert I discovered at Pizzeria Mozza several years ago, one that (along with the pizza) inspired many a 70-mile drive up to LA despite the inevitable, incessant, insane traffic.
I made the New York Times recipe (adapted from Pizzeria Mozza), which I discovered (too far along in the process to turn back) yields enough budino for a small village. My husband was only out of town for one night. I’m not sure what I was thinking.
After four too many budinos, I needed to take action. I couldn’t toss such a delicious creation, but eating it at the rate that I was seemed excessive. To prevent myself from assuming the role of small village, I dumped the remaining budino into my Kitchen Aid ice cream attachment and let it churn.
Never has such an intervention been more rewarding. I’ve never tasted salted caramel ice cream, but I’m pretty sure this is exactly how it would taste. And it is absurdly delicious. Budino, in its new frozen carnation, prevented me from becoming a small village, but only for one day. The ice cream disappeared from my freezer as quickly as the budino had from my fridge. And the recipe was revisited shortly thereafter, the new batch made with a few adjustments, namely without butter — I mean, butter in ice cream, as delicious as it was, is kind of gross.
The new butterless batch was just as, if not more so, delicious. I don’t know if it’s the relatively high amount of cornstarch or the presence of rum, but there’s something about this custard that produces the nicest textured ice cream. I made a third batch, too, and decided, just for kicks, to make ice cream sandwiches with about half of the batch. The cookies, made from a Fine Cooking recipe, taste just like the soft chocolate cookies flanking classic ice cream sandwiches. I have a feeling I’ll be making them all summer long.
Finally, Commenters, five of you — Trish, Kamilla, Elisa, Judy, and Dorothea — will receive a bag of Tipo 00 flour. With the exception of my friend Bates, who foremost deserves a bag, I used a random generator. I have emailed you. Wish I could send you each a bag.
My aunt sent me these Everything Clips in the mail a few weeks ago. They are awesome for everything, but especially for securing parchment paper to pans:
Butterscotch Budino Ice Cream
Adapted from the butterscotch budino recipe served at Pizzeria Mozza
If you just want to make butterscotch budino (versus the ice cream) follow this recipe.
for the custard:
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
3/4 cup milk (I used whole)
2 egg yolks
2 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon light brown sugar
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon rum
1. Combine cream and milk in bowl or pitcher, set aside. Whisk egg yolks and cornstarch (read note in next sentence first) in medium bowl, set aside. Note: There has to be a better way to whisk egg yolks and cornstarch than what I have been doing, which causes the yolks to clump all around the whisk. This is what I’ll do next time: Crack yolks into bowl. Spoon a little bit of the cornstarch into the yolks. Stir with a spoon until incorporated, then add more cornstarch and continue this process until all of the cornstarch has been added.
2. Combine brown sugar, kosher salt and 1/4 cup water in pot. Place over medium-high heat and let sit until edges start to brown. Tilt pot as needed to even the browning until caramelized, nutty and deep brown, about 10 minutes. Notes: The mixture should be bubbling (not crazily, however) the whole time, so adjust heat as necessary. Do set a timer. It’s hard to tell visually when the mixture is ready, but every time that I’ve made this, 10 minutes seemed to be the magic number.
3. Immediately whisk in cream mixture, mixture will steam and caramel will seize. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium. Whisk a cup at a time into egg mixture until half is incorporated. Remove from heat, and immediately whisk egg mixture back into pot until custard is very thick, about 2 minutes.
4. Whisk in rum. Pass through a fine mesh strainer. Transfer to a storage container (preferably glass or pyrex). Cover with plastic wrap, allow to cool, and refrigerate until completely chilled, the longer the better.
5. Transfer mixture to ice cream maker and freeze according to your machine’s instructions. Freeze until ready to serve.
for the ice cream sandwich cookies:
I followed the recipe on Fine Cooking for the cookie recipe.
I used my 2.5-inch round fluted cutter to make individual sandwiches, which is fun, but also wasteful. If you go this route, you’ll get about 12 sandwiches per batch of cookie recipe. What is nice about this method is that the ice cream doesn’t have to be too soft — mine was a little too soft, in fact — in order to start the assembly process. If your ice cream is scoopable, you are good to go. Also, I froze my scraps from the cutting process. These could be crumbled up and sprinkled onto the sides of a cake or toasted and crumbled onto ice cream or … I’m sure you have some good ideas? Again, what isn’t nice about this method is the waste as well as the extra steps cutting/scooping/etc. Next time, I think I’ll stick to the traditional method. Also, the flavor of the butterscotch budino ice cream I found got a little masked by the cookie. Next time, too, I would choose a different flavor ice cream, probably vanilla, to use for the sandwiches. I’m thinking the best vessel for the butterscotch budino ice cream might be a thin chocolate wafer cookie bowl or something of the like? Will report back if I discover something.
Straining the custard after it thickens is important — it removes all of those curdled little bits.
A series of fortuitous events in the past few months have led to a number of wonderful discoveries: an ingredient — Tipo 00 flour; a technique — minimal handling of dough; and a reward — the best pizza I have ever made at home.
Let’s start from the beginning. Five trips in three weeks to 2Amys Pizzeria in NW Washington DC (over an hour drive from my house) convinced me it was finally time to get my hands on some Tipo 00 flour, a soft-grain flour requisite in the production of D.O.C. Neapolitan pizza, an ingredient I’ve been thinking about for five years now.
I hate to admit it and in retrospect it pains me, but a $7.25 shipping charge has been the sole barrier between me and Tipo 00 flour for about a year now. Am I wrong to expect everything to ship for free and arrive the next day? (I know, so bratty! Sorry.) Anyway, to soften the blow, I ordered 10 bags, which made the total price per bag $4.22, a nominal fee especially when each bag yields six pizzas.
About the time that my flour arrived, I received a text message from a friend who had been experimenting with the Jim Lahey pizza dough. The message read: “Help!” While she had been having great success flavor-wise with the Lahey recipe, her pies were less than picturesque. (Click on the link…it will make you chuckle. I love you, Bates.)
I had to come to my friend’s rescue. She had requested video guidance, which I was certain was out there and which I was determined to find for her. My quest for her, however, may have proven to help me equally as well. A video and a note published on Serious Eats made me realize that for all these years that I have been making homemade pizza, I have been majorly overhandling my dough, at least for the sort of pizza I strive to make.
The note from Lahey read as follows:
While I’m not picky about the flour — either bread flour or all-purpose is fine — what does concern me is how the dough is handled. Treat it gently so the dough holds its character, its texture. When you get around to shaping the disk for a pie, go easy as you stretch it to allow it to retain a bit of bumpiness (I think of it as blistering), so not all of the gas is smashed out of the fermented dough.
Having just spent $42 on 10 bags of flour, I sort of wished Lahey felt more strongly about the type of flour he used, but ultimately I agree that the handling of the dough is more important than the type of flour used. As soon as I began really paying attention to how I shaped my pizza rounds — gently/minimally — I noticed a difference in the finished product. The air pockets pervading the unbaked round (video/photo below) really affect the flavor and texture of the baked pizza.
I’ve made the Lahey dough many times now, and it is always delicious, regardless if I use bread flour or Tipo 00 flour. I do feel strongly, however, that the Tipo 00 flour produces a superior product, especially in texture. The unbaked dough is softer, more delicate and easier to shape — it doesn’t resist the shaping as much as the dough made with bread flour. The crust of the baked pizza, too, is a bit more tender, and the outer edge has a bit more chew.
Again, regardless of the flour, with the Lahey method, I’ve finally been able to achieve that quintessensial Neopolitan ballooned and blistered outer edge. I think I’m ready for my wood-burning oven. Santa, I hope you’re reading.
Finally, Readers, as you might imagine, I have a few extra bags of Tipo 00 flour on hand. Since you won’t be able to find this product without paying for shipping, I’d love to share my remaining bags with a few of you. Leave a comment if you’re interested. Just tell me you’re favorite thing to eat or you’re most valued kitchen tool (one of mine is commercial-grade plastic wrap, see below) or what’s next on your to-make list. Thanks so much for reading.
2Amys Pizzeria serves D.O.C. Neapolitan pizza, which means they follow the strict requirements outlined by the Italian government for producing authentic Neapolitan pizza. The guidelines cover all the bases: the oven (wood-burning); the shaping (by hand); the final size (no larger than 11 inches); the ingredients (dough must be made with tipo 00 flour, fresh yeast, water and salt and the toppings extend to Italian plum tomatoes, mozzarella di bufala, extra-virgin olive oil, fresh basil and dried oregano).
If you’re looking for more information on Tipo 00 flour, this link on Forno Bravo is helpful.
I know it is terribly ungreen of me, but one thing I cannot live without is heavy duty plastic wrap. Nothing makes me want to tear my hair out more than a box of super market cling wrap. If you’re OK with having a hideously large shape sitting out in your kitchen for all to see, this product might just change your life.
I made this video for my friend, Bates, who was struggling with shaping her dough. I advise watching the one on Serious Eats first. My main goal with this video was to capture the air pockets that pervade the dough when it is handled minimally — the presence of these air pockets make a difference in the final product.
Fig Jam, Caramelized Onion & Blue Cheese Pizza with Jim Lahey Dough
Pizza Dough Source: Bon Appetit vis Jim Lahey’s book: My Pizza.
Note: If you buy Tipo 00 flour, this recipe comes together in seconds — each bag conveniently weighs 1000g, which is what the recipe calls for.
For this pizza you’ll need:
fig jam, thinned out with a little bit of water for easy spreading
blue cheese, any type you like
Parmigiano Reggiano, grated
Jim Lahey Pizza Dough (recipe below)
7 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (1000 grams) plus more for shaping dough
4 teaspoons fine sea salt
1/2 teaspoon active dry yeast
1. Whisk flour, salt, and yeast in a medium bowl. While stirring with a wooden spoon, gradually add 3 cups water; stir until well incorporated. Mix dough gently with your hands to bring it together and form into a rough ball. Transfer to a large clean bowl. Cover with plastic wrap and let dough rise at room temperature (about 72°) in a draft-free area until surface is covered with tiny bubbles and dough has more than doubled in size, about 18 hours (time will vary depending on the temperature in the room).
2. Transfer dough to a floured work surface. Gently shape into a rough rectangle. Divide into 6 equal portions. Working with 1 portion at a time, gather 4 corners to center to create 4 folds. Turn seam side down and mold gently into a ball. Dust dough with flour; set aside on work surface or a floured baking sheet. Repeat with remaining portions.
3. Let dough rest, covered with plastic wrap or a damp kitchen towel, until soft and pliable, about 1 hour. DO AHEAD: Can be made 3 days ahead. Wrap each dough ball separately in plastic wrap and chill. Unwrap and let rest at room temperature on a lightly floured work surface, covered with plastic wrap, for about an hour or two before shaping.
4. To Make the Pizzas: During the last hour of dough’s resting, preheat oven to its hottest setting, 500°–550°. Working with 1 dough ball at a time, dust dough with flour and place on a floured work surface. Gently shape dough into a 10″–12″ disk handling it as minimally as possible. Arrange dough disk on parchment-lined baking sheet; top minimally with desired toppings: to make this pizza, first spoon some of the thinned out fig jam over top, then top with caramelized onions, the blue cheese, and finally the Parmigiano Reggiano. Bake pizza until bottom of crust is crisp and top is blistered, about 7 minutes. Transfer to a work surface to slice. Repeat with remaining pizzas.
Shots from our lunch at 2Amys a few weeks ago: Green tomato, ramp, Grana & egg pizza:
The margherita pizza at 2Amys is just about the ideal — pizza, food, meal, everything. It is so unbelievably delicious.
A couple of friends of ours take beer drinking very seriously. Never is their freezer not stocked with frosted pint glasses, nor their fridge with craft beers. If you drink beer at their house, they insist it be in a glass, not a bottle, and if they drink beer at your house, you best have chilled glasses on hand. Beer needs to breathe, they insist, and they pour hard, ensuring a nice foam head develops.
They’ve converted us. Pint glasses now dominate our freezer door, and various six-packs, almost an entire level of our refrigerator. One variety in particular, Dogfish Head’s 60 Minute IPA, we can’t seem to live without. It is so good. Seriously, at every first sip, “perfection” is the only thought that comes to mind.
Final note: With salad season upon us, I’ve compiled all of my favorite dressings and vinaigrettes onto one page.
We’re keeping things simple this Memorial Day: burgers, salad, beer. I love the above-pictured kale caesar, but a Greek salad or a simple romaine salad with blue cheese dressing would accompany the burgers just as well.
And while I’d love to try out something new for dessert, I might just have to turn to some old favorites. Memorial Day has to be celebrated with pie or crisp or cobbler, right?
A few months ago, a NYTimes recipe that has been circulating the blogosphere for some time now usurped my favorite burger bun recipe. Try it! You’re burgers will never taste so good.
Before reading this article, I had tried countless recipes for brioche, none of which produced the texture I had hoped for, all of which made me cringe at every step of the process — the amount of eggs and butter I wasted on unimpressive loaves is sinful. This recipe is it. Search no further. Yum.
3 tablespoons warm milk
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 1/2 tablespoons sugar
2 large eggs
3 cups bread flour
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened.
1. In a glass measuring cup, combine 1 cup warm water, the milk, yeast and sugar. Let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, beat 1 egg.
2. In a large bowl, whisk flours with salt. Add butter and rub into flour between your fingers, making crumbs. Using a dough scraper, stir in yeast mixture and beaten egg until a dough forms. Scrape dough onto clean, unfloured counter and knead, scooping dough up, slapping it on counter and turning it, until smooth and elastic, 8 to 10 minutes.
3. Shape dough into a ball and return it to bowl. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, 1 to 2 hours.
4. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Using dough scraper, divide dough into 8 equal parts. (Note: I think dividing the dough into 10 pieces rather than 8 yields better sized buns — when divided into 8 pieces, the buns are rather large.) Gently roll each into a ball and arrange 2 to 3 inches apart on baking sheet. Cover loosely with a clean kitchen towel and let buns rise in a warm place for 1 to 2 hours.
5. Set a large shallow pan of water on oven floor. Preheat oven to 400 degrees with rack in center. Beat remaining egg with 1 tablespoon water and brush some on top of buns. Bake, turning sheet halfway through baking, until tops are golden brown, about 15 minutes. Transfer to a rack to cool completely.
It’s always nice when dead easy produces damn delicious. This little marinade — equal parts Worcestershire sauce and olive oil combined with a healthy sprinkling of lemon pepper — is a good one to have on hand this time of year. While you’re busy scraping off your grill grates, refueling your propane tank, perusing your various grill-time-cooking guides, worry not about how you’re going to add flavor to those steaks. This marinade is it. What’s more, it produces just about the best tasting leftovers, though I can’t promise there will be any.
Above: T-Bone steaks from our “cowpool” cow (steer, actually). If you’re interested in joining a cowpool check out this site: Eat Well Guide. Type “cowpool” into the keyword search box. If you can’t find what you’re looking for there, try Eat Wild.
Dead Easy Steak Marinade
Note: Adjust the quantities based on how many steaks you are cooking. The below quantities yield enough marinade roughly for 2 t-bones, ribeyes, New York strips, etc. or for a large flank steak or for a couple of skirt steaks.
for the marinade:
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
salt-free lemon pepper*
just before grilling:
* Salt-free lemon pepper can be hard to find. If you only can find the lemon-pepper containing salt, don’t add it to the steaks until just before grilling. And omit the kosher salt (see steps below).
* You can always make your own lemon pepper, too: For 1 teaspoon lemon pepper substitute 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest + 1/8 teaspoon fine ground pepper
1. Whisk together Worcestershire sauce and olive oil in a bowl or in a vessel in which you plan on using to marinate the steaks. (Alternatively, pour ingredients into a ziplock bag.) Liberally sprinkle steaks on both sides with salt-free lemon pepper. (Note: If you are using lemon-pepper containing salt, do not add any during the marinating process.) Place steaks into bowl with marinade or into ziplock bag and submerge with marinade. Let sit for 20 minutes and up to 24 hours.
2. Just before grilling, remove steaks from marinade and place on a plate. Discard marinade. Season steaks on both sides lightly with kosher salt — Worcestershire sauce is salty, so you just need a light sprinkling here. (Note: If you are using the lemon-pepper containing salt, season steaks with it on both sides in this step and don’t add any kosher salt.)
Have you ever spotted Kerrygold butter at your super market? Inexplicably in the cheese section? And wondered if it were any good?
Well, it is. My mother brought me some this weekend. She spoils me, still, at age 30. Along with the butter, she brought her favorites from the Greek market — a tin of olive oil, a branch of dried oregano, a block of manouri cheese; some pantry items she knows I hate spending money on — cheese cloth and parchment paper; and of course, some baked goods — Bakery Lane’s honey-whole wheat bread and toasted coconut-raspberry jam bars. Delicious. As my mother says, I felt like a bride.
But don’t be too jealous. No sooner had she unloaded the basket of goodies had she pulled out her travel file, spilling with newspaper clippings along with her latest neuroses.
“Just read the middle paragraph,” she insisted waving the clipping in my face, “about human skin cells and dander and dust mites and their feces. And about how much humans perspire every evening. And about…”
“Sure thing, mom.” I didn’t want to eat my breakfast anyway.
Yes, my friends, my mother is worried again. She’s worried about the ungrounded outlets in my bathroom; the dead, unfelled pine tree in our backyard; the dime-sized rash on my 6-month-old’s neck; and the copper can I store olive oil in — “What’s that lined with?” she asks every visit. These are worries I expect, however. Par for the course, really. But this latest concern — a personal hygiene affront veiled by a When to Clean the Sheets article — was a first. I’m starting to develop a complex.
I suppose some things never change. My mother worries about me, still, at age 30. Oh mama, you know I love you. And thank you for being such a good sport.
OK, on to some fun stuff:
1. As I mentioned, Kerrygold Butter, made from the milk of grass-fed cows in Ireland, is delicious. It’s definitely a splurge, best saved perhaps for spreading on good bread and topping with radish slices, if you’re in to that sort of thing.
2. C4C Flour. Several months ago, after watching Thomas Keller make polenta waffles and fried chicken on tv using his new C4C flour — a gluten-free mix that can be subbed one-for-one with all-purpose flour — I immediately ordered a bag. Beyond curiosity, I didn’t have a reason to buy this gluten-free flour, but I’m so happy I did. So far, and I’ve only made a couple of things (shortbread and waffles), I’m impressed. It’s pricey, certainly, but it’s a good product — worth it for the mere convenience of being able to use it in nearly any pastry, dessert or quick bread. But if you want to make your own mix, this recipe looks promising.
Side note: My mother recently tipped me off about a simple substitution when making our favorite brownie recipe gluten-free: She swaps the flour for almond flour. So simple. You’d never know the brownies were gluten free, and the almond adds a nice flavor, too. I suspect this works best when little flour is called for.
3. Lemon Shortbread. Melissa Clark’s shortbread continues to be one of my favorite foods on the planet. I find a reason, it seems, to make the rosemary variation at least once a month. Inspired by a visit to 2Amys, where a wedge of lemon shortbread stole the show (after the pizza of course), I had to make a batch. A few appropriate adjustments to Clark’s recipe produced a lemon shortbread to swoon over. This time, I also added lemon thyme from our CSA and used gluten-free flour. I can’t stop eating it.
Incidentally, the article my mother passed along, When to Clean the Sheets, is informative and entertaining, if you can get over the yuck factor. It’s perhaps best not read at mealtime.
When making shortbread, it’s important to not over pulse the dough. This is about what the mixture should look like:
Lemon-Thyme Shortbread, Gluten-Free or Not
Yield: One 8- or 9-inch shortbread, about 16 pieces
Source: Melissa Clark of the NY Times
A few notes:
The thyme or lemon-thyme is purely optional. It’s a very subtle flavor, one I really like, but if you’re not into herbed sweets, just leave it out.
2 cups all-purpose flour or C4C gluten-free flour or your favorite gluten-free substitution for flour
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon of finely chopped fresh lemon thyme or thyme (optional — this flavor is very subtle)
zest of one lemon
1 teaspoon plus 1 pinch kosher salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted cold butter, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 1/2 tsp. honey
2 teaspoons fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1. Heat oven to 325ºF. In a food processor, pulse together flour, sugar, thyme, zest and salt. Add butter, honey and lemon juice, and pulse to fine crumbs. Pulse a few more times until some crumbs start to come together, but don’t overprocess. Dough should not be smooth.
2. Press dough into an ungreased (or parchment paper-lined for easy removal) 8- or 9-inch-square baking pan. Prick dough all over with a fork. Bake until golden brown, 35 to 40 minutes for 9-inch pan, 45 to 50 minutes for 8-inch. (Note: When I bake this in a 9-inch pan, it takes about 32 to 35 minutes minutes. And When I make it in my 8-inch pan, it takes about 35 to 37 minutes.) Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Cut into squares, bars or wedges while still warm. (Note: I have let the shortbread cool completely — cut it the next day in fact — and had no trouble cutting it up when cool.)
Ok, I think I’ve got this. An old recipe for blueberry buckle printed in the “Letters” section of the July 2004 issue of Gourmet magazine led me to just the crust I had longed for after making my first buckle last week. This dough, made with egg yolks and a little cream, yields the perfect bottom crust — not too cakey, not too crisp, a slightly sweet, perfectly sturdy layer that really allows the rhubarb to shine.
Anyway, I hate to bore you with the same dish two Fridays in a row, but rhubarb season is fleeting and so getting to the bottom (ha ha ha) of this buckle business was of utmost importance. Martha said it best: “This dessert belongs in everyone’s outdoor entertaining file.”
But if you blink and miss rhubarb season altogether, don’t despair. I suspect blueberries and peaches and every other wonderful stone fruit and berry will make dream-worthy buckles all summer long.
Adapted from Martha Stewart and Rosebank Farms Café via Gourmet Magazine, July 2004
Yield = 16 squares
A few notes: I thought the buckle I made last week could have used a little more streusel, so I doubled up this week and topped the buckle with a more generous layer of streusel. I did have a little bit leftover (about a heaping 1/2 cup), which I threw in the freezer. And, I did have some leftover dough as well — I used about 3/4 of the dough recipe for this buckle. I plan on making mini homemade pop tarts with the remaining dough? Thoughts? I’m sure you all have wonderful ideas as well, and if you care to share, I would love to hear. I’m too often guilty of letting dough scraps go to waste.
13 ounces rhubarb, trimmed and cut 1/2 inch thick on the bias
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 stick cold, unsalted butter
2 egg yolks
2 tablespoons heavy cream (I used whole milk and 1/2 and 1/2…all I had)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup light-brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1. Make the crust: Whisk together flour and sugar in a large bowl. Blend in butter with your fingertips or a pastry blender until mixture resembles coarse meal with some roughly pea-sized butter lumps. Beat together yolks and cream with a fork and stir into flour mixture until combined. Gently knead mixture in bowl with floured hands just until a dough forms. Flatten dough into a 6-inch disk and chill, wrapped tightly in plastic wrap, at least 1 hour.
2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees, with rack in center position. Line a 9-inch square cake pan with parchment paper.
3. Stir together rhubarb, 1/2 cup sugar and lemon zest; set aside to macerate. Note: I did this step right before I started rolling out the dough. When I dumped the rhubarb into the pan, it hadn’t soaked up all of the sugar — in other words, the sugar was still very much visible, but it didn’t seem to make a difference that it hadn’t macerated for very long. I dumped rhubarb and all of the remaining sugar straight into the pan.
4. Crumb topping: Stir together flour, brown sugar, and salt. Add the butter and mix up with your fingers until clumps form. Set aside.
5. Unwrap dough. OK, because the dough recipe yields enough for a 9×13-inch pan, cut off about a quarter of the dough and set it aside. Roll out the bigger portion of the dough between 2 sheets of parchment paper (or wax paper) into a 10×10-inch square, or as close to this shape as possible. Peel off top layer of parchment and invert dough into prepared baking pan. Trim up the dough where it creeps a little bit up the sides of the pan; patch the corner holes (if any exist) with trimmed dough.
6. Top this crust layer with rhubarb mixture, and sprinkle with as much crumb topping as you would like — as I noted above, I was left with about a heaping half cup of streusel topping. Bake for 30 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and bake for about 35 minutes more or until golden on top and cooked through. Let cool completely in pan on wire rack, then lift cake from pan using parchment. Remove parchment. Before serving, cut buckle into 2-inch squares.
In the wonderful world of bottom-crusted crumb-topped baked-fruit desserts, buckles are new to me. And I’m a fan. I love how the crispy top melts into the stewed fruit, which all sinks into the base. And I like that I can eat it as I would a brownie, out of hand, making for easy snacking morning, noon and night.
But I think I would like a buckle even more if it were different. I know, I hate to be picky, but I’m not looking to change much. The layer of rhubarb in this buckle is perfect — not too sweet, not too tart, which in my experience is a delicate balance to achieve with rhubarb. And the crumb top, while just a touch sandy, needs nothing more than a dab of butter to give it that crumbly, pebbly texture. The addition of lemon zest, adding a wonderful fresh, bright flavor, is essential.
It’s the base of the buckle that leaves me wanting. I want something less cakey, more sturdy, not quite a pie crust but something a little more buttery and shortbread like. Thoughts? Would a shortbread crust turn this dessert into a fresh-fruit crumb bar? Removing it from the buckle category altogether? I’m not sure I want that. Or do I?
Note: I made a half recipe, but if you want to make the whole recipe, find it here.
Other notes: As I noted above, I am not totally satisfied with the base of this buckle, but just know that that didn’t keep me from eating five pieces within an hour of cutting it up. I’d like to try this recipe with more of a shortbread crust, but as of now, I don’t have a recipe for one. This is a work in progress. I’ll report back when I find a base layer that I prefer. Or if you have any suggestions, I would love to hear them.
13 ounces rhubarb, trimmed and cut 1/2 inch thick on the bias
1 cup sugar, divided
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt (I used table salt)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1.5 large eggs*
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 cup sour cream
*The doubled recipe calls for 3 eggs, so I whisked up 3, weighed them, and used half, which was about 1/3 cup or 2 7/8 ounces.
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons light-brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened*
*I’ve upped the amount of butter here and changed it to softened rather than melted. I think the crumb topping needed more butter, and I like using softened butter in a crumb topping.
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees, with rack in center position. Line a 9-inch square cake pan with parchment paper. Stir together rhubarb and 1/2 cup sugar; set aside to macerate.
2. Whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Beat together butter, remaining 1/2 cup sugar, and the lemon zest until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs, a little at a time, then beat in vanilla. Beat in flour mixture in 2 additions, alternating with sour cream, beginning and ending with flour mixture.
3. Crumb topping: Stir together flour, brown sugar, and salt. Add 2 tablespoons of the butter and mix up with your fingers until clumps form. If it’s looking dry, add another tablespoon of butter and mix again until clumps form. Add remaining tablespoon of butter if necessary.
4. Spread batter into pan. Top with rhubarb mixture, and sprinkle with crumb topping. Bake until golden on top and cooked through, about 1 hour 5 minutes. Let cool completely in pan on wire rack, then lift cake from pan using parchment. Remove parchment. Before serving, cut buckle into 2-inch squares.
Yesterday morning, a little self-intervention led to a most-delicious discovery.
This is what happened. After finding myself once again scouring the internet for Tartine’s croque monsieur recipe, clicking on fruitless links I had clicked on before, and seeing myself heading down an equally defeating path — toward my bookshelf ready to thumb through my Tartine cookbooks to ensure once again I hadn’t made a glaring oversight — I paused. What’s wrong with you? I asked myself. This isn’t rocket science. This is croque monsieur.
And right then and there I stopped wasting time and marched straight into the kitchen, making bechamel the order of the hour. And then I preheated the oven to roast some asparagus and spring onions. And then I cut two thick slices of olive bread, grated some Comté cheese and picked a few thyme leaves. And before I knew it, a bubbling, bechamel-and-roasted vegetable-tartine had emerged from my broiler. And in an instant Tartine didn’t feel 2,847 miles away, and Tartine-style croque monsieur at home, such an impossibility.
While I didn’t even miss the meat on my spring vegetable croque monsieur, I suspect that a few slices of ham would bring my favorite breakfast sandwich even closer to home. Just know that if you can make a bechamel, and if you can get your hands on some good bread, some sort of Gruyère-like cheese, and some fresh thyme, you have the foundation for a daydream-worthy croque monsieur.
Of course, the only possible way this sandwich could be made any more delicious is if it were topped with a poached egg. Yum.
Asparagus and spring onions from our Olin-Fox Farms CSA:
Asparagus & Spring Onion Croque Monsieur
Serves: However many you like
Note: I’ve included a recipe for a bechamel sauce that I really like (it’s from Nancy Silverton’s sandwich book), but by all means, if you have a go-to bechamel recipe, use it. After the bechamel is made, there really isn’t a need for a recipe here. Just pick your favorite spring vegetables and cook them however you like, or if you have access to some good ham or bacon, go the more traditional route and substitute the vegetables with the meat. If you use a bakery-style loaf of bread and come Gruyère or Comté cheese, you’re good to go.
asparagus and/or spring onions, ends trimmed
good bread, cut into thick slices
bechamel sauce (recipe below)
grated gruyère, Comté or Swiss cheese
1. Preheat the oven to 400ºF. Toss the asparagus and spring onions with olive oil and kosher salt on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast the vegetables until tender, about 10 to 15 minutes. Test with a knife for doneness.
2. Preheat the broiler. Place the slices of bread on a sheet pan and broil them about a minute on each side. Remove pan from the oven. Spread about a tablespoon of bechamel over each slice of bread. Top with the roasted vegetables. Top with grated cheese to taste.
3. Broil until the cheese is bubbling and starting to brown. Sprinkle with the fresh thyme and serve immediately.
Note: This recipe is adapted from Silverton’s recipe for Mornay sauce in her croque monsieur recipe in her Sandwich Book. To make it a Mornay sauce, as far as I can tell, stir in 1/2 cup finely grated Gruyère and 1/4 cup finely grated Parmigiano Reggiano at the very end.
Also Note: This makes enough bechamel for about 30 croque monsieurs. I haven’t tried having the recipe, but it likely would work just fine. I don’t use bechamel that often, so I’m short on ideas for using up the remaining bechamel. Thoughts? I just plan on eating croque monsieur every day until I’m out of bechamel.
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 medium white or yellow onion (about 4 tablespoons finely chopped)
4 black peppercorns, crushed (I didn’t do this)
2 tablespoons flour
2 cups whole milk
1. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the onion, salt, and cracked peppercorns (if using), and cook about 10 minutes, until the onion is soft but has not begun to color. Remove from the heat and add the flour in two batches, whisking to combine it with the onion and butter. Return the pan to the stove and over low heat, cook a few minutes, until the flour is absorbed, stirring constantly so that it doesn’t brown. Remove from the heat and slowly whisk in the milk. Drop in the bay leaf.
2. Return the pan to the stove, and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, stirring occasionally to prevent the sauce from burning on the bottom of the pan. Cook for 20 to 30 minutes, until the taste of raw flour is gone and the mixture is thick, smooth and silky. If it’s too thick and becoming difficult to stir, you’ll need to whisk in a little more milk.
3. Using a fine mesh sieve, strain the sauce. (I didn’t strain the sauce — I don’t mind those onion bits, and the bay leaf was easy enough to pull out. Now, if you did the peppercorn thing, you probably want to strain the sauce.)