A New Direction

Eliza has been having some, well, digestive issues recently that may or may not be caused by my consumption of dairy. There’s only one way to find out, so for at least the next two weeks I’m going to be dairy free. Hopefully this small adjustment to my diet will help Little E’s tummy problems.

But don’t most yummy desserts require oodles of butter and cream and such? Not necessarily. I have been a vegetarian for several years (with a brief hiatus while I was pregnant) and even spent a few months as a vegan, so I know for a fact that cruelty-free deliciousness does exist. If you don’t believe me, try the vegan cookies and cream cake at Whole Foods—it’s out-of-this-world good.

I have almost no experience with vegan baking, so this next couple of weeks (or months, if dairy is indeed the culprit) will be a true learning experience. I have no intention of quitting my blog; instead, I’m just going to make dairy-free desserts for a while. I’m sure there will be a few missteps, but I hope to discover some truly wonderful recipes along the way.

Pastry Cream and Phyllo

I like to think that the first time I made pastry cream was when I was around 13 years old, after watching Julia Child make a croquembouche on PBS. I was inspired to make cream puffs, and did, fairly successfully. From then on, I was obsessed with baking and pastry. You could say that Julia Child made me what I am today.

I don’t think that’s an accurate memory, though, just a romanticized version of what really happened, based on all the current hype surrounding the release of Julie and Julia.

Here’s what I know to be true:

1. I made cream puffs when I was in middle school.
2. I watched Julia Child make a croquembouche on PBS once.
3. I sure like baked goods.

Continuing on my quest to use up all the random food in my kitchen, I vowed to make something with the phyllo dough that’s been in my freezer forever. I’ve never used phyllo before, but I’ve seen people use it, and that’s got to count for something, right?

I hadn’t made pastry cream in a long time, so I thought I’d make some to go with the phyllo, along with some sliced fresh strawberries and whipped cream. It’s really my favorite type of dessert: a little fruit, a little crust, and a little cream . . . perfect!

I used the phyllo to make some little cups. I wrestled a bit with the phyllo, and the end result would probably make a Greek grandmother weep, but the cups are tasty and, well, cuppy. I used five sheets of phyllo, brushed a lot of butter in between, and sprinkled the butter with sugar. I pressed squares of the layered dough into a muffin pan and baked them. I was actually surprised at how not hard (I wouldn’t go so far as to say easy) it was to work with the phyllo. I think it might become a good tool in my dessert arsenal.

I was nervous entering into the pastry-cream-making portion of my dessert, as Eliza had been fussy on and off all afternoon. Luckily, she cooperated enough to let me finish it, with only a few glitches.


Phyllo Cups with Pastry Cream and Strawberries

Ingredients

For the phyllo cups:
10 sheets phyllo dough
1/4 cup melted butter
Sugar

For the pastry cream:
6 egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
pinch of salt
2 cups half and half, heated
1/2 cup corn starch
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Sliced strawberries
Whipped cream

1. For the phyllo cups: Layer five sheets of phyllo, brushing each sheet with melted butter and sprinkling with one to two teaspoons of sugar. Cut into six four-inch squares. Press the squares into a muffin tin, making little cups. Bake at 350 for 5-10 minutes, or until the edges are golden. Let the cups cool before using.
2. For the pastry cream: In a saucepan, whisk the egg yolks until creamy and yellow; whisk in the sugar and salt. Sift in the corn starch, mixing well. Slowly add in the heated half and half.
3. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking continuously. The mixture will get lumpy as it begins to boil--keep whisking. Reduce the heat to low and keep cooking for a minute or two, until it gets super thick. Remove from the heat and add in the vanilla.
4. Press the pastry cream through a sieve to eliminate the lumps. Let it cool before using.
5. To assemble: Fill each phyllo cup with a couple of tablespoons of pastry cream. Cover the pastry cream with sweetened sliced strawberries, then top with a big dollop of sweetened whipped cream. Take a big bite, then moan with delight.

My measurements for the strawberries and whipped cream are, well, nonexistent, because I just kind of made a bunch of everything and threw a couple of the desserts together for me and Erik. The pastry cream recipe makes about two cups, which means I have a tub of pastry cream in the fridge that I will have fun incorporating into other desserts this week. I made 12 phyllo cups, which was probably overkill, but I wasn’t sure how my maiden voyage into phyllo would turn out, so I made extra. I whipped up about half a cup of cream and sliced maybe a pint of strawberries, and I have lots left over. This isn’t a very specific recipe--just throw some stuff together and see what works.

Flaccid Caramels, Chalky Truffles, and a Delicious Fruit Tart

I learned an important lesson this week. I am not a confectioner.

I’ve been on a baking winning streak. Pretty much everything I’ve made in recent memory has been good. No major mishaps. Maybe I’ve gotten a little cocky, because this week I took on something I’ve never been good at: candy.

I’ve read a lot lately about salted caramels, and they truly appeal to my taste for the combination of salty and sweet. I thought about finding a local shop that sells them, but decided to try making them myself. Big mistake.

It might have been the wicked Austin humidity that was the culprit, though. I realize I’m a bit of a masochist for experimenting with chocolate and sugar when it’s 104 degrees and 70% humidity. But, like I said, I’ve gotten a little cocky and I thought my skills could somehow transcend Mother Nature’s obstacles. I was so wrong.

My caramel, despite reaching the right temperature on my candy thermometer, never set up quite right. I ended up with a big, brown, over-salted square of vaguely chocolatey goo. Erik tried to be polite, saying the flavor reminded him of See’s chocolate lollipops, but I knew it was bad. There was nothing wrong with the recipe, per se, but I lack the patience to try to make these again.

Next up was truffles, something I’ve made many times before without any trouble. In retrospect, I see that the recipe I used wasn’t great, as it called for far less heavy cream than I remember using in past successful attempts, and the directions said to melt the chocolate first, then add the hot cream mixture to it, mixing to combine. In all my experience making ganache, I’ve always added the hot cream to finely chopped chocolate, which melts it. In this case, I ignored the voice in my head that said this ain’t right and followed the instructions as written.

So, what happened? My ganache broke. Never in my life have I broken a ganache. I made two batches of truffles, actually, and only the second batch broke; the first batch was grainy, but edible. I tried in vain to fix the broken ganache, and ended up just chucking it angrily in the trash.

The flavor of the “successful” batch of truffles was flat (despite the spicy kick of cayenne pepper--go figure) and the texture was chalky. The recipe made an even dozen, and nine still sit in my kitchen, untouched. Chocolate never goes untouched in my kitchen. I suspect they will linger there for a couple more days before I heave them in the trash with a great sigh. It will be a long time before I try my hand at candy again.

A couple of friends were coming over for pizza that night and the truffles were supposed to be for dessert. I was reluctant to offer only the disappointing truffles, so, since I only had a couple of hours before they showed up, I scrambled to find something else to make.

Baking Illustrated (a collection of some of the best dessert recipes from Cook’s Illustrated) has a great recipe for a Freeform Summer Fruit Tart that sounded perfect: bursting with fresh in-season fruit, and not too heavy or sweet. I was hesitant about making the dough, though, given my humidity issues that week. Then I remembered that I had some store-bought pie crust in the fridge that would be perfect. (Note: I prefer to make everything from scratch, but not only was my time limited and the weather uncooperative, but I’ve been trying to make a conscious effort to use up the food we have before buying new stuff. Hence the store-bought crust.)

I got some ripe black plums and sweet blueberries at Central Market, along with some cream to whip up and serve on the side. I also got a loaf of apple cranberry walnut bread (not for dessert, just because I like it), half of which I ate in the car on the drive home.

The recipe calls for a 12-inch circle of dough--I had two 9-inch circles, so I decided to make two tarts. They were absolutely delicious and a huge hit with everyone.

I like that you can use any combination of stone fruits and berries for the filling. The assembly of the tart was super easy and fast, and that, combined with the unlimited possibilities for fillings, makes this a truly versatile recipe and perfect for company. I will definitely make this one again.

Here is the recipe as I made it:


Plum and Blueberry Tart
(adapted from Baking Illustrated)

2 9” store-bought pie crusts, at room temperature
1 pound of ripe plums, sliced
1 pint fresh blueberries
6 teaspoons granulated sugar
2 tablespoons butter

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Unroll the pie crusts and place each on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Pile the fruit in the middle of each crust, to within 2” of the edge, evenly distributing the plums and the blueberries. Sprinkle the fruit in each tart with 2 teaspoons of sugar (use more or less, depending on the sweetness of the fruit), dot with butter, and then fold the edges of the crust over the fruit, overlapping each fold. Brush the folded-over edges with water and sprinkle with the remaining sugar.

Bake the tarts for about 20 minutes, or until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbly, rotating the pans halfway through. Let the tarts cool on the pans for ten minutes, then either serve warm or transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling. Serve with honey-sweetened whipped cream.

Makes two tarts, which is enough for 8-10 people.

Donuts at Mrs. Johnson's Bakery

Erik and I got kicked out of a bar on Monday night.

Were we drunk? No. Disorderly? Certainly not.

We had Eliza with us. Sweet, sleeping, three-months-old Eliza. Was she drunk and disorderly? Nah.

Apparently, some bars in Austin take the “no one under 21” law very literally. We went to Lavaca Street Bar to meet a couple of friends and were promptly told by a waitress, who apologized profusely, that we couldn’t have a baby in the bar. Bummed out and all dressed up with no where to go, Erik suggested we get dessert somewhere. I suggested donuts at Mrs. Johnson’s.

Mrs. Johnson’s Bakery is special. Oh, sure, the donuts are spectacular, but what really sets Mrs. Johnson’s apart from the rest is their hours of operation. I’ve never known of a bakery that opens at 7:30 p.m. and closes at noon the next day. What this means is that you can get a hot, fresh donut not only to go with your morning cuppa joe, but also late at night after binge drinking your way down Sixth Street (or after getting kicked out of a bar for having a baby). You don’t even have to get out of your car because Mrs. Johnson’s has a drive-through window (though I would hope that if you’ve been binge drinking on Sixth Street all night you’re not driving anywhere. Ask your friendly designated driver/cabbie to swing by on the way home).

Mrs. Johnson’s donuts are delish. You can tell how good a donut shop is by how good their old fashioned donut is. It is a simple donut, yes, but if a bakery can get it right, chances are the rest of their donuts will be stellar. Beware the bakery that dazzles with fruity fillings, crazy sprinkles, and silly names; they might not have what it takes to turn out a truly tasty creation.

We got six donuts to go (we actually went inside the bakery; I didn’t want to miss out on that warm, sticky bakery smell). Erik chose a cinnamon roll, a Bavarian cream filled, and a glazed cake, and I got an apple fritter, a chocolate cake, and, of course, a plain cake (a.k.a. an old fashioned). Our free donut to eat on the way home--a Mrs. Johnson’s tradition--was a glazed cake donut.

It took all my willpower to not eat my three donuts that night. I had the plain cake donut right away and it was still warm. The outer crust was perfect: crunchy, sweet, fried goodness. The inside was moist and perfectly cakey. I saved my other two for the next morning. The apple fritter was good, though it could have been more apple-y, and the chocolate cake donut was delicious.

Going to Mrs. Johnson’s got me thinking about donuts. I’ve always been fascinated by universal foods--you know, foods that have a variation in almost every culture, like donuts. Pretty much every country has a version of sweet, fried dough: beignets in France, oliebollen in Holland, facturas in Argentina...even Chinese red bean buns are reminiscent of a filled donut (and they happen to be one of my favorite things in the whole, wide world).

In my Googling I found a recipe for Pumpkin Doughnuts with Sugar Glaze that looks dreamy; I’ll definitely be trying it when the weather cools down a bit. More interestingly, though, is a recipe I found for Neighborhood Donuts. Now, I usually despise "semi-homemade" cooking (I’m looking at you, Sandra Lee), but these piqued my interest. It’s a creative use for a lot of ingredients most people have in their kitchens. There have been countless nights we’ve wanted something sweet and dessert-y but were too lazy to get our butts out of the house. Neighborhood Donuts sure would have done the trick.

Suffice it to say, I’ve got donuts on the brain. I’d better get over my fear of frying, and fast.

A Note About Cook's Illustrated

The links in the previous post are to recipes from Cook's Illustrated. In order to view the recipes, you need to register for either their 14-day trial subscription or their one-year paid subscription, for $34.95. In my opinion, the paid subscription is worth every penny. I could reprint the recipes here for you and probably not get sued, but I don't want to be shady and stick it to the fine folks at CI. If you want these recipes, shell out the $34.95. You will have access to 10 bajillion superbly developed recipes and you won't be disappointed.