A Dalliance with a Hot Pink French Macaron

With all my pastry affairs, it’s surprising I’d never hooked up with a French macaron.   I mean, I’ve gone hot and heavy with everything from homemade Twinkies to Lady Baltimore Cake.  It was high time I experienced the lusty passion of the French Macaron.

The encounter takes place at the Institute of Culinary Education during their “Macaron Mondays” program.   Chef Instructor Kathyrn Gordon is the co-author of “Les Petits Macarons” and knows the allure of the perfectly French sandwich cookie.  She’s spent years researching and baking macarons.

Chef Kathryn walks us through the basics of macaron amour. It’s actually a simple set of four ingredients – almond flour, confectioners sugar and granulated sugar, combined with egg whites whipped into a meringue.   Yet the conditions have to be right.  Too much whipping, too much baking, or too much humidity can destroy the relationship.  Subtlety is key to any relationship

She quickly pipes out some quarter-sized macarons decorated with Jackson Pollack-style splashes of color, and explains that during the French Revolution, nuns baked macarons as a nutritious alternative to meat. Sounds like my kind of religious order.

You’re looking for a classic figure in a macaron – a shiny, thin shell, with a “foot” around the shell – that slightly rough edge that meets the filling. 

I team up with a woman named Laura who I’ve just met and we get to work.  We have our choice of colors and fillings, and she makes a passionate plea to color our macarons hot pink and fill them with strawberry guava filling.   It’s just a little frou-frou and a very Pop Art choice, but when it comes to macarons, you might as well go all the way.

Perhaps I’m besotted, but I think our macarons are some of the prettiest and shapeliest in the class.

So here’s the thing about baking macarons.  You have to be ready for a long courtship.   A freshly baked macaron tastes hard and crunchy.   You must “age” macarons in the freezer.  The cookie and the filling need time to meld and develop that characteristic soft, chewy texture.  It’s only a temporary delay.  The deep freeze does nothing to chill the desire. 

This is not a one-night stand.  I’ll be back for more.  Love.  

©2014 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved  

Zany and the Summer of the Bundt

It’s been some time since we’ve heard from my pal Zany. Who would have guessed she was singularly responsible for upping the calorie intake of the city of Chicago?  

Dear T.W.,

Greetings from the Windy City.  I’m writing to you from the finish line.  No, I didn’t run a race…but I did go on a bit of a baking marathon over the past few months.  For this, I blame you, as I often do when it comes to over-ordering and other spontaneous food adventures. 

It all started last year after I read a Culinary Types post about the love of your bundt pan.  After reading that entry I said to myself, “I don’t have a bundt pan…should I get one?”  And later that morning I waddled (you may recall last winter I was pretty pregnant) to my nearest Macy’s and purchased my very own pan.

I remember making my first bundt just a day later for a ladies lunch at my friend’s house in the burbs.  For my first recipe I used your recommendation to go with a Martha Stewart classic – the blueberry lemon bundt.

The cake received such rave reviews (my friend whose husband went to culinary school devoured it), that I decided to make it again in the spring for a work luncheon to celebrate our team’s amazing assistant.  We gathered around a table outfitted with fine china (this was no ordinary event!) and sliced into the cake.  It was so tempting that even our I-would-rather-cycle-than-eat-carbs boss had a piece.  I let him believe it was the copious amount of blueberries instead of the two sticks of butter that made the cake so moist…

And that’s when it happened. 

Everyone was marveling over the beauty of the bundt (we were comparing who did and did not have pans), and my trusty colleague DT suggested, “You should make bundts more often.”

“Yeah,” chimed in another.  “You could do a theme or something.”

Challenge accepted.

“Maybe something like a ‘summer of the bundt’,” I suggested.  “I could do a different recipe each month!”  The carb lovers rejoiced.

A few weeks later I followed up a pound cake with lemon-basil frosting from Cooking Light.  I try to balance the number of calories I bring into the office, so considering the two sticks of butter I used the last time, this was my nod to a little lighter eating.  The pound cake was nice and solid, and the frosting had a light flavoring – perfect to pair with an afternoon cup of tea.  I alerted the boss that another bundt was on the premises, but this time he kept an arm’s length. 

The next bundt was in celebration of my good friend and colleague Jonesy’s birthday.  Jonesy has an adventurous spirit, which is what I really like about her.  She also got extra points in my book when she agreed to visit a food truck for a lunch meeting (note to loyal CT readers, we ate outside).  For her, I went the old school route and made Betty Crocker’s sour cream coffee cake.  T.W., this cake is why people call things “classic.”  It was crumbly like coffee cake should be, the cinnamon swirls were my finest piece of art…and the frosting….well just look at the picture!  

Now I was in a groove.  My bundts were falling perfectly from the nonstick pan and I was earning water cooler street creds in the office.

But, for my next piece, I picked a different target – Luigi, my favorite Italian (and husband).  For those CT readers who don’t know, Luigi and I had a baby girl this past New Year’s Day…we’ll call her Sticky Hands (because her hands are ALWAYS sticky).  I really want a good mother-daughter relationship in the kitchen, so I’ve started her early.  Strapped into her activity chair, I read to Sticky the recipe for a chocolate sour cream bundt cake with chocolate ganache frosting.  It was Father’s Day and I couldn’t think of a better gift!  That night when Luigi cut into the cake it still had a little warmth.  Luigi didn’t say a word as he rapidly slid his fork through his piece until it was gone.  Only when he was done he muttered (with his head down), “You’re going to have to take some of that into work or I’m going to eat it all.”  

Bringing that cake into work was a grave mistake.  Colleagues DT and Brecks both labeled it as the best thing I had made since I started working there. 

Now I was in trouble.  Summer wasn’t over and I still had more bundts to make!  T.W., you may recall my panic attack one weekend as I struggled with which recipe to choose next.  We decided on a white chocolate raspberry bundt, because if you can’t beat a chocolate recipe, serve another!

Despite your warning about your experience with overloading / exploding berry bundts, I added a few more raspberries to this recipe – and it was worth it!  

As summer drew to a close, I had the perfect bundt finale in mind.  But a certain Chicago-based carnivore, who shall remain nameless, decided to vacate the city for weeks, so she wasn’t around for me to bake her a birthday bundt surprise!

I searched and searched for the perfect recipe, asking Sticky Hands for advice.  And as I fed her a scoop of homemade applesauce it came to me…why not honor the coming of a new season?!  Despite the 80-degree Chicago weather, last weekend I lined up my nutmeg, cloves and cinnamon to welcome autumn with an apple spice bundt and maple frosting.  Again, I read the recipe to assistant Sticky Hands…who was more interested in the cooking tools than the actual cooking.  

So, now you know what I did this summer.  But, as my colleagues reminded me, there are three other seasons in a year, so why stop now?!

Yours in condiments,

Zany  

©2013 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

A Sugar High with a Cupcake Cutie

My friend Amanda knows a lot about human behavior. So she probably knew it would take me all of two seconds to agree to join her for a class on baking Nostalgic Snack Cakes at the Institute for Culinary Education (ICE) in New York City.  

Who could resist such an offer? After all, we both grew up in suburbia during the golden age of lunchbox snack treats, where nobody really fretted about a little sugar or empty calories in the diet and hyperactivity was euphemistically described as “school spirit.”  Suzy Q’s and Ding Dongs are our ethnic food!  Having already delved into the art of the homemade Twinkie, I’m anxious to expand my snack cake repertoire. 

The class is led by Chef-Instructor Faith Drobbin.   She’d laid out a sampling of snack cakes that she’s prepared in advance.   There are freshly turned Twinkies, Suzy Q’s, Funny Bones, and Ding Dongs.   

We chat about the different names of cakes generated by the longtime rivalry between snack cake giants Hostess and Drakes. Was it a Ding Dong or a Ring Ding?   What’s the difference between a Twinkie and a chocolate glazed Twinkie, called a Chocodile? Is the filling Marshmallow Fluff, or buttercream?  What’s the difference between a Yankee Doodle and a Sunny Doodle? What were Captain Cupcake’s actual super powers? The class is filled with snack cake aficionados, but I’m just a little suspicious of the woman in the back of the room chomping on a Granny Smith apple.  Who let her in?  

Chef invites us to try the samples she’s laid out.   Everyone is very polite and restrained, but after 5 minutes I can’t hold back.

“I’m going in,” I whisper to Amanda.   We divvy up a chocolate glazed, cream filled Ding Dong.   It is a heavenly, light, devils food cake, filled with sinfully good cream filling.  "Do I have chocolate in my teeth?" I self-consciously ask Amanda.   

Chef Drobbin does a fine job of demonstrating the Yellow Snack Cake recipe, and the Chocolate Snack Cake recipe.   Here’s where I have a snack cake epiphany.   Every single snack cake in the universe consists of either yellow cake or chocolate cake, with cream filling and a chocolate glaze.   No matter what the snack cake may be, the recipes for the individual components are the same.   If you master the recipes, you unlock the caloric key to infinite variations.   At this moment, I feel a little like Escoffier and Twinkie the Kid all at the same time. 

Amanda’s insight is just a little different as she eyes the Chocodile.  “I really think the key learning here is that everything is better dipped in chocolate,” she remarks.

We get ready to bake, and there are lots of questions from the class.   How do you get the goop in?   How big should we make the Twinkies?

“How big do you want your snack cake?” comments Amanda. “These are First World problems!”

Chef advises us that with the proper recipes, pans and techniques we can create a fine facsimile of any iconic snack cake.  Yet they won’t taste exactly the same.  Ours will taste better, because we’re using butter and eggs.  

We start baking and needless to say, as the day proceeds, our vegetable intake is minimal, and our carbohydrate consumption is close to astronomical.

We prepare Chocolate Snack Cake for cupcakes, Ding Dongs and Chocodiles. At times, we find ourselves engulfed in a cloud of cocoa, but when it all comes together, the batter is dark and glossy.

We decide to double the batter for the Yellow Snack Cake Mix.  This is a bit of a no-no, and Chef is somewhat peeved. When we’re done, we actually have enough snack cakes to host a birthday party at PS 143 in Queens.     

Amanda becomes quite accomplished at injecting cream filling into the cupcakes.

And, we perfect the high art technique of snack cake glazing. 

Some of it resembles Lucy and Ethel at the candy factory. At one point, a blob of icing lands on Amanda’s big toe.  She has worn flip flops to the class.  I really need to talk to that young lady about proper kitchen attire.

The final touch?  We express our inner doodler, by applying the squiggle of icing on the top of the Hostess Cupcakes.    We have prepared enough empty calories to power an army, and we box up our cakes and head for the subway.   I have a sugar hangover. Amanda complains that she’s thirsty and she has a tummy ache. She returns home to consume a large helping of animal protein, and enjoy the adoration of her daughter who has been waiting all day for treats from Mom’s class.  

Me?  Well, we were such a well frosted, high producing team that I think we may have a future in snack cakes. I think our next class should be, “How to Make Your First Million by Hosting a Neighborhood Bake Sale.” But first, I'm planning my next marathon bike ride.   

©2013 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Poppy Seed Cake with Strawberries and Summer Blossoms at Restoration Farm

Summer arrives on Long Island with an attitude – never predictable, yet never indifferent.   There are cool breezy days, black clouds, torrential rain, and afternoons of withering humidity.   One can only accept the cacophony and try and go about the rituals of the season.

I make my annual pilgrimage to Patty’s Berries and Bunches on the East End of Long Island to stock up on strawberries.   

The strawberry season is short and sweet, and two quarts are collected to supplement my summer desserts.  

At Restoration Farm, the lettuce for which we have patiently waited now stands tall.  As the Summer Solstice approaches, the heat of longer days will coax the prized greens and vegetables to maturity. 

On a late Sunday afternoon, members gather for the annual Summer Solstice potluck, where we celebrate the bounty of the fields and the farm community we share.   

The buffet table is topped with a delicious spread of homemade salads, cakes and pies, all contributed by members.  

We pile our plates high and revel in the moment, enjoying the music of a sultry jazz ensemble.

My contribution is a sweet summer treat – an Almond Poppy Seed Loaf Cake topped with Long Island Strawberries.   (Recipe found here)  The tartness of the strawberries perfectly compliments the delicate flavor of almonds. 

And, throughout the farm, a bevy of blossoms have emerged to welcome this precious season of sunlight, warmth and earthly delights.

©2013 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved