Baking Epiphanies

If you’re a foodie of any calibre at all you’ve heard that The Great David Lebovitz has just released a book called The Sweet Life in Paris. My advice on reading the book: do so in the privacy of your living room. Because if you happen to be eating potato chips at the same time? And you end up laughing so hard when least expected that you spray half chewed potato chips all over the place? Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

If you read the blog, you’ll be taken right in with the trademark prose, but the recipes are pretty great too. One of the first that caught my fancy was Ile Flottante, or Floating Island – a classic fancy French dessert that incorporates 3 very basic pastry elements that I find kind of intimidating: creme anglaise (or cooked custard), meringue, and caramel.

Regardless, I was so high from all the laughing that I got right over my fear and gathered up the very very simple ingredients required for this fancy dessert – eggs, sugar, milk and some vanilla. It’s pretty crazy what you can make with this stuff.

First – the creme anglaise.

Here’s what you need to know about creme anglaise. Do not, under any circumstance, try to make creme anglaise while you are simultaneously texting a friend who is asking you for advice on how to save his marriage. Okay? Bad idea. I couldn’t ignore his desperate text-cries-for-help so I had to tend to him. Meanwhile, my milk was warm and I had already tempered the yolks, and there was no way I could tactfully extricate myself from either the heavy duty texting or the demands of the time-sensitive custard.

So I offered some advice that I hoped would give him a 5 minute pause, and poured the entire yolk-milk-sugar mixture back into the pan to thicken. Instinctively I could tell, my body could tell, that this was the moment of truth. I was “stirring constantly” as advised and watching my custard like a hawk but my mind was on my friend (and terrified that I would hear the ping of my Blackberry before the custard was ready).

And, you know? It’s like the creme – which had yet to decide whether it would become anglaise or sweet scrambled eggs – knew that my focus was elsewhere. It took a split second, a split second, for it to go from luscious and silky to ugly and curdled.

Do not mess with the custard, okay? It needs your undivided attention. I made it the second time around (in a text-free environment) and like a madwoman kept testing my spatula for that telltale clean streak that says the custard is ready and immediately set the bowl on some ice. Mission accomplished.

The meringue was much easier and very forgiving. Nothing is more magical than watching measly every day egg whites turn into this lush, thick, glossy mass of fluffy goodness. We were going for a soft meringue here, hence we baked it in a water bath, then you flip it over onto a platter, so the clean white side is facing up, until you’re ready to serve.

Then it was time for the caramel – and it came out great!

Okay, I lied. I burned the caramel. At least I think I did, because it looked okay but tasted awful. It’s amazing what sugar will do with heat, but now I understand why chefs are so stressed out all the time, man. It literally takes a nanosecond for things to go from great to….burnt.

Okay, yes I did it. I bought the Pricey Measuring Cups.

Okay? And I’m not doing so much fanciful baking that I could justify buying the Fancypants Measuring Cups. So why did I buy them?

Here’s the thing with the measuring cups. I already own two sets. The first set was missing the 1/4 cup measure. Did you know they sold measuring cups in sets of 3? Why would they do this? More importantly, why did I buy them? I was in a rush,  I got them in the grocery store baking aisle, it’s all they had, and in a moment of baker’s amnesia I must have reasoned, “Well, who uses the 1/4 cup measure anyway?”

Uh, everyone, practically. I soon found out that nearly every recipe in every cookbook calls for a 1/4 cup measure of something. And it gets really annoying after a while to do the 4 tablespoons thing. It just feels, I don’t know….like you’re not really a baker. Plus, every time I pulled out my measly set of 3 measuring cups, I thought – you guys are missing a member of the family. I am seriously not exaggerating when I say it really did take some of the joy out of baking.

To compensate, I bought a complete set of 4 measuring cups for a great deal – a steal! – at the dollar store! C’mon, a set of measuring cups for a buck? Sounds tempting, right? Except they were plastic. Cheap plastic. And I think the people who made them in China? They weren’t really too concerned about the accurate measurement of the measuring cups. Because the 1/4 cup measure on my El Cheapo Plastic set appeared to be suspiciously the same size as the 1/3 cup measure of my Incomplete Family set.

Sigh. Was I ever going to get this right? What was going on with me and finding a reliable 1/4 cup measure?

In my desperation I took to my preferred mode of self-therapy, otherwise known as Amazon.com, and came across these extremely professional looking, chef-approved set of seven, seven, measuring cups. Not only did they have a proper 1/4 cup measure, they even had an 1/8 cup measure. And the ultra convenient 3/4 cup measure. Because isn’t it so annoying to have to do the 1/2 cup, plus 1/4 cup to get the required 3/4 cups of sugar? Or am I just exceedingly lazy?

Is it a bit strange that I can go on for so long about measuring cups? Well, I’m not done yet.

Plus, the Fancypants Set is made by MIU France. Now I don’t know a whole lot about MIU France but I can tell they’re French and well, the French know approximately everything about baking. And measuring things. And being fancy.

So. There you go. Now – here’s more. I think it is necessary to reserve a set of measuring cups for the sole purpose of baking. Because if you’re like me, you always need the cups to measure out other stuff, like rice or cereal. Every single morning I wake up with the intention of going on a diet, and I’m absolutely militant about measuring out a cup of cereal and a 1/2 cup of milk. The rest of the day, I may not measure a thing, but in the morning, you can bet your bathroom scale that I will be measuring my cereal and my milk.

So inevitably when it comes time to bake – my measuring cups are all over the place – in the cereal bin, unwashed in the sink, hiding under a pile of dishes in the dish rack, or cozily tucked inside my sack of Basmati.

I’ve decided, therefore, that the Fancy Pants Measuring Cups will have their own privileged corner in my cupboard from which they shall be dethroned for the sole purpose of baking.

And in case you were wondering about the fate of the Incomplete Family and the El Cheapo Set, they’ve been relegated to the menial and thankless task of measuring stuff so I don’t eat too much.

I can assure you that these will most likely not be the last set of measuring cups I purchase. This set is good for baking accuracy, short of measuring your ingredients on a scale. But there’s a whole world of cute, artisinal measuring utensils that I haven’t even gotten into yet. So it’s safe to say this will not be my last obsessive story about measuring cups. In fact this is only…..a measure of more to come.

A post I saw over at ruhlman.com got me thinking about how I’ve arrived at the doorstep of the culinary world in search of something that goes much deeper than merely creating great-tasting food. Baking as a craft is no doubt fascinating with endless opportunities for perfecting, growing and learning. And while the craft itself does draw my interest, it also offers a respite that connects to something deeper within.

Since graduating college, I’ve tried off and on to be a “writer”. I use that term loosely to basically mean “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing but I think I should be doing something intellectual“. As I struggled valiantly to grapple with the “tools” of a writer’s trade – namely thoughts and words – I felt a deep sense of disconnect within me that I could not place. All I knew is that it just didn’t feel good.

When I got especially frustrated, I’d go into the kitchen and make something – anything – from scratch. Underbaked scones, flat as a pancake cookies, ridiculous recipe concoctions that no one would dare eat but me. I derived a great sense of pride from these total disasters that I never felt with writing, not even when I got my first published byline. But the thing was – even with all these recipe FAILS, I felt more smug and satisfied and stimulated to try again, try better – from the work I did in the kitchen, than anything I ever accomplished at my computer.

What was so ultra-satisfying in the kitchen, even when the results were far from perfect, that I could not feel even when I’d managed to string together the perfect combination of words for the first sentence of the first paragraph of the first chapter of the first book that would never see the inside of a publisher’s office?

Well, that’s just it. It’s hard to describe. Is it something to do with actual physical, tangible components that I gather by hand, then mix by hand? Or the child-like excitement I feel every single time I bake when I anticipate the results of my masterwork while it benignly does its thing in the oven? Was it the physical act of working with all my senses? The feel of butter and flour on my fingers? The immediate soul-satisfying scent of vanilla? The seductive gloss of melted chocolate? Was it the fact that for the moment, I didn’t have to think so hard, I could let my mind rest and let a deeper, more natural part of me take over? A part of me that simply knew what to do – and there was no anxiety in the doing of it.

I think it’s all of those things. I’m sure there are writers – real writers – whose creative juices flow naturally as they play around with thoughts and words. For me, I realized, I had to get out of my head and into my body. I’ll take the long hours standing on my feet, peeling apples for hours on end over staring at the blank page of a Word document any day. The peeling I find hypnotic, meditative, productive. The blinking cursor – is just a bloody curse.

I for one, am really glad I got over my culturally-fed ideas of what constituted a “respectable” career and embraced the kitchen where playing around with the most exotic of all ingredients – butter, flour, sugar and eggs – gave me the deep sense of connect I was seeking all along.

I have to admit that I’m a little bit afraid of yeast. Recipes that call for yeast always seem so complicated – kneading, then resting, then coming back looking double or triple the size and then the whole punching down business…horror stories of the dough spilling out over the pan and crawling across the counter and taking over your kitchen….it all seems like putting yeast in stuff causes dough to act like some unruly monster that is impossible to tame.

In reality, I’m sure it’s not that complicated and my fear (as with most fears) is more about facing the unknown than it is about The Yeast. For my first yeast-related baking project, therefore, I found what may be the World’s Easiest Yeast-Involved Recipe. There’s no proofing, waiting, doubling or punching. In fact, I’m not exactly sure what the yeast did for this recipe. All I know is that I used 1/2 teaspoon of it and got over my yeast-related fears.

The original recipe called for a jam filling but since I take the opportunity to swap out fruit for chocolate any chance I get, I decided to wing it with the filling and used up what was in my refrigerator. Which happened to be 5 oz of cream cheese and a cup of Ghirardelli milk chocolate chips. There’s no rhyme or reason to the ratios of the filling recipe other than that’s what I happened to have around. I much prefer playing around with food this way than being a slave to the recipe don’t you?

Anyway, I was going to call them Milk Chocolate Cheesecake Filled Doughnut Cupcakes but then I thought, that’s just overkill. How many different desserts do I really need to reference in one recipe, right?

The end result was mixed. I have to say, I did good on the filling. I am now of the belief that a little vanilla extract creates infinite magic in sweet stuff that’s indescribable. A little vanilla and a tablespoon of sugar was enough to sweeten the cream cheese before the addition of the already-sweet melted milk chocolate.

The cake part of the cupcake, I’m not so sure about. It tasted a little dry and eggy to me, and it really didn’t remind me of a doughnut at all. Maybe the yeast didn’t do its job? It did provide a slightly bread-like, springy texture but…anyway, suffice to say I was underwhelmed. Clearly, I still have so much to learn about yeast.

[Update: I actually loved how this tasted the next day. The flavors had a chance to settle and it tasted great, and fresh too. I should have disregarded the original recipe's suggestion that you "serve the cakes warm". Bad idea.]

The best part was the melted butter with the CINNAMON SUGAR sprinkled on top. Incidentally, I am also of the belief that a little cinnamon sugar can make even a dry wannabe doughnut taste pretty darn good.

Here’s my makeshift filling recipe. By the way, this makes way too much filling for this recipe, so you should probably halve it. Or make the whole batch and just eat the rest with a spoon. Or spread it on toast, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. Or fill crepes with it. You get the idea. There’s never too much.

Milk Chocolate Filled Doughnut Cupcakes

(Adapted from Indulgence Cupcakes by Christabel Martin)

Makes 12 cupcakes.

For The Filling:

1 cup milk chocolate chips

5 oz. cream cheese, cut into pieces

1 Tablespoon sugar

1/4 Teaspoon vanilla

Melt the chocolate chips in a double boiler over simmering water. Cool. Meanwhile, cream together the cream cheese, sugar and vanilla until light and smooth. Pour the cooled chocolate into the cream cheese mixture and mix until well blended. Refrigerate until firm, or until ready to use. Allow to sit at room temperature for 10-15 minutes if mixture is too firm prior to using.

For The Cupcakes:

1 1/4 cups self-rising flour

1/2 cup superfine sugar

1/2 cup milk

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon dried yeast

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted

2 tablespoons cinnamon sugar

Preheat the oven to 350. Line a 12 cup standard muffin pan with paper liners.

Combine the flour and sugar in a bowl and make a well in the center. Put the milk, eggs, vanilla and yeast in a jug (or large measuring cup) and whisk to combine. Pour into the well in dry ingredients and whisk until smooth.

Divide half the mixture evenly among the paper liners. Top each with 1 teaspoon of the milk chocolate cream cheese filling, then cover with the remaining mixture. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean when inserted into the center of the cake part.

Brush a little melted butter over each cake, then dip it into the cinnamon sugar (or sprinkle on top). Serve the cakes warm.

It’s a gorgeous day in New York – an improvement from the cold, gray weather we’ve been suffering through even though rumor has it that it’s almost going to be summer time soon. As I heard one guy say on the street today, “Well, we’ve moved up into the 60’s, so at least we’re on our way up.” Sigh, where are you summer?

Anyway, it was still sunny and cool, more like early spring, but I decided to take advantage of the sunshine and set out to visit two bakeries that I’ve heard and read about ad nauseum but had yet to visit. I don’t know if it’s just me, but for the most part, I read about a place and have such high expectations that by the time I get there and sample the goods, I’m inevitably disappointed.

Well, not this time. I went to two tried and true New York bakery establishments and they both deserve every bit of the fanfare following they get.

First up was Amy’s Bread. I went there expressly to try the Lime Cornmeal cookie, which is a little weird, I know, since they are a bread place after all. But I had heard so much about this Lime Cornmeal cookie over on my baker-role-model Joanne Chang’s blog that I was literally dreaming about it and decided it had to be the first thing I tried there.

It was great. It had a great corn flavor which made me think that using good quality cornmeal probably makes all the difference. It’s like eating a lime-corn version of a classic NY Black & White cookie. Big and soft.

Over the weekend, inspired by my anticipated consumption of this cookie, I made an experimental version of corn muffins. I based it off the Magnolia Bakery cookbook recipe, and added lime zest and and a little cayenne to the batter. Why cayenne, you ask? Because I have an addiction to heat. It’s….problematic.

Need more evidence of my addiction? I decided to make a lime glaze for my corn muffins and added finely chopped Thai Bird Chilis to the glaze. Umm, yeah a little wacky. I don’t know what it is, I apparently can’t keep from adding hot stuff to my food, even when it’s supposed to be sweet. Anyway, the sweet-spicy combo is classic for Thai cuisine, and Bangkok’s where I grew up, so it must be in my blood. It didn’t taste half bad, actually. The glaze had a little bit of a bitter aftertaste, I’m not sure if it was ‘coz the confectioner’s sugar I used was sub-par (ugh, I bought store brand, lesson learned), or if the combo of the lime with the chili gave it a little bit of a bitter edge.

My muffins were a moderate success, but the Lime Cornmeal cookie from Amy’s was pretty dang awesome.

Next up was Levain Bakery, home of the “best chocolate chip cookie in Manhattan”. And yes, it was good. Really awesomely, cosmically good. My only complaint, as so many others have already attested to, is that it doesn’t seem to qualify as a “cookie” per se, because it’s so big, it looks more like a scone.

Then again, at the end of the day, if it tastes good, who the hell cares whether it falls in the category of cookie or scone, no? Let’s just call it a Fat Cookie and get on with the more important task of eating the thing. I got the classic Chocolate Chip Walnut – and they do not gip you on them walnuts – so nutty, chocolatey, doughy (in the best way possible) and yummy. Ultra-satisfying.

I walked the 40 blocks back to Port Authority but after all that yummy goodness,  I’m not sure it made much of a dent in the calorie tally.

Seriously.

Annoying.

Why is this always the hardest part?

Epiphany # 1: It ain’t over till it’s out of the pan.

Hence  – (hence?)

1. When in doubt, use parchment.

2. Cool thoroughly. Like, beyond thoroughly.

3. Cursing at brownies, cooking spray, muffin pans or author of recipe while digging madly with a spatula generally does not help the situation.

4. Ugly, broken, smashed up brownies still taste just as good as good-lookin’ ones.