There is absolutely no rhyme or reason to this post. It's just a bit of this 'n that.
When The Boy was here over winter break, I crumbled up Amaretti cookies into a dish of yogurt for a little dessert. I was shocked to learn he'd never eaten one of these delectable little crunchy cookies. We corrected that situation immediately.
The Boy often gives me gifts of his time and effort for the holidays. Like putting all my music CD's into a format that I can access on my laptop. This year, he was tickled to have an actual object to give me: a kitchen scale that measures in ounces and grams.
I love it. It comes in mighty handy when weighing out dried sweet potato snacks for my pugs:
Speaking of which, this is an acceptable bed, to a pug. Actually, to two pugs:
I was poking around on the Internet to learn more about my great-uncle, who was part of a failed expedition to the North Pole in the first years of the 1900s. He and his crew were marooned for two years before being rescued. The surprise was I found a batch of photographs recently sold by Sotheby's, including this startling sight. The crew adopted two baby polar bears and brought them home. Here are "Billy" and "Mary Louise," on the deck of the ship that rescued my great-uncle and his crew:
I have high hopes for a new Masterpiece "Mystery" series, premiering right after this week's episode of "Downton Abbey." The television critic for the Los Angeles Times gave "Grantchester" a great review:
The show is set in post-WWII England, in the tiny town of Grantchester, which really exists. It is the site of one of the most wonderful places I've ever visited. I spent a magical day with The Hubby walking from Cambridge along the River Cam, past white swans and docile cows, to have tea and scones at "The Orchard." People have been doing the same since the time of Oscar Wilde and the Bloomsbury bunch:
If the television show is half as wonderful as my day in Grantchester was, it'll be memorable indeed.
Stories of food, tea, pugs, simple living in big cities, and all things cute.
Showing posts with label dessert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dessert. Show all posts
Saturday, January 17, 2015
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Chocolate Pots-de-Crème
Chocolate Pots-de-Crème is an easy, yet thoroughly elegant French dessert that only uses a few ingredients. You probably have all of them in your kitchen (and bar!) right now. If you're looking for something to impress your guests, this is it. (Just don't let on how ridiculously simple it is to make.)
The traditional way to serve Pot-de-Crème is with a Pot-de-Crème set--natch! It consists of a serving tray and six or so little ceramic pots with lids:
(There's a Dutch word that means something like "short, fat, cute thing": I wish I could remember it, because it's the perfect description for these little dudes.)
You don't have to use specialized china for this recipe. You can use teacups, espresso cups, shot glasses, juice glasses, or old-fashioned champagne coupes (the ones that are wider than they are tall).
To make the recipe, you scald half-and-half (also called light cream) on the stovetop. The cream is ready when there's a line of bubbles around the edges of the pan and a thin film has begun to form on top.
To incorporate the hot cream into the rest of the ingredients, you'll need either a standard-sized blender or an immersion blender.
The recipe can be made with chocolate chips or chopped chocolate. Use the best you can find, because the deliciousness of this recipe hangs a lot on the quality of the chocolate:
Along with the chocolate you'll use two egg yolks:
And some tasty booze. We like using Kahlúa or Bailey's Irish Cream (below):
You can also add a pinch of salt if you wish, but you don't have to. When all the ingredients except the cream are in the blender or bowl or large measuring cup (as you see here)...
...then pour the scalded cream into the other ingredients and either buzz until the racket stops (if using a blender) or use an immersion blender until everything is creamy-smooth:
Pour the mixture into the waiting cups (or shot glasses or teacups or whatever):
Chill for 3 hours, then serve:
The traditional way to serve Pot-de-Crème is with a Pot-de-Crème set--natch! It consists of a serving tray and six or so little ceramic pots with lids:
(There's a Dutch word that means something like "short, fat, cute thing": I wish I could remember it, because it's the perfect description for these little dudes.)
You don't have to use specialized china for this recipe. You can use teacups, espresso cups, shot glasses, juice glasses, or old-fashioned champagne coupes (the ones that are wider than they are tall).
To make the recipe, you scald half-and-half (also called light cream) on the stovetop. The cream is ready when there's a line of bubbles around the edges of the pan and a thin film has begun to form on top.
To incorporate the hot cream into the rest of the ingredients, you'll need either a standard-sized blender or an immersion blender.
The recipe can be made with chocolate chips or chopped chocolate. Use the best you can find, because the deliciousness of this recipe hangs a lot on the quality of the chocolate:
Along with the chocolate you'll use two egg yolks:
And some tasty booze. We like using Kahlúa or Bailey's Irish Cream (below):
...then pour the scalded cream into the other ingredients and either buzz until the racket stops (if using a blender) or use an immersion blender until everything is creamy-smooth:
Pour the mixture into the waiting cups (or shot glasses or teacups or whatever):
Chill for 3 hours, then serve:
Chocolate Pots-de-Crême
Serves
6-8
Note:
not suitable for very young children or anyone with a compromised immune system
(because of the eggs)
1-1/4
C. half-and-half
1
C. good-quality semi-sweet chocolate chips (or chopped-up chocolate)
2
egg yolks
a
pinch of salt (optional)
3
Tbsp. rum, brandy, or Bailey's Irish Cream liqueur
In
a small saucepan, heat the half-and-half to scalding (a small line of bubbles
forms around the edges of the saucepan). Into a standard-size blender, place
the rest of the ingredients. Remove the scalded half-and-half from the stove
and carefully pour it into the blender with the other ingredients. Cover and
blend at high speed until the racket stops.
Pour
into small espresso cups (or demitasse cups, small teacups, or heavy shot
glasses). Chill for three hours or more before serving. Depending on the size
of the cups, makes 6-8 servings.
Variation:
Kahlúa Pots-de-Crème
Reduce
the half-and-half from 1-1/4 C. to just 1 C. Increase the booze to 1/2 C.
Kahlúa. Proceed with the recipe, above.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Berry Bounty
Most of the country is turning cool, thinking about Halloween, and pulling sweaters out of the back of the closet.
Here in Los Angeles, it's summery-warm yet, and for some magical reason, the local farmers' markets are still selling fresh berries:
Is it through some sort of witchcraft or alchemy? I don't know.
I just know I like them sprinkled lightly with sugar.
Here in Los Angeles, it's summery-warm yet, and for some magical reason, the local farmers' markets are still selling fresh berries:
I just know I like them sprinkled lightly with sugar.
Monday, August 18, 2014
Vanilla Yogurt Taste Test
I'm lactose-intolerant yet love all dairy products: ice cream, milk, yogurt, cheese: yum! But the only way I can ingest cow's milk products is to take a lactase enzyme with the first swallow.
That's okay, but sometime I just want to dive into a dish of ice cream or a cup of yogurt without worrying about repercussions. So decided to taste-test three different vanilla yogurts--one made with cow's milk, one with sheep's, and one with goat's:
This is the goat's milk yogurt. The packaging is a little funky:
The foil lid is definitely funky, although kind of cute:
This is the sheep's-milk yogurt. Nice packaging:
The foil lid is restrained but attractive:
Simple, with just a touch of humor:
The goat's milk yogurt was a decidedly caramel color. The smell and taste of goat was overwhelming, and not in a good way. I could only handle two small bites:
The sheep's milk was delightful. There were little flecks of real vanilla bean in it, and the taste was slightly different from regular, cow's milk yogurt, but in a nice way:
The cow's milk yogurt, not too surprisingly, was spectacular. It tasted as rich and sinful as ice cream. I had to keep checking the label to make sure the sugar content was as low as it said. And nonfat? Could hardly believe it:
The cow's-milk yogurt is so good I would serve it as a dessert, covered with sliced strawberries or maybe freshly sliced peaches.
All three yogurts had admirable side qualities. The sheep's milk carton felt and acted like plastic, but was biodegradable:
The cow's-milk yogurt packaging urged you to recycle the removable, paper sleeve. And it identified the county where all the deliciousness came from:
The goat's milk folks have created a kosher, "Certified Humane" product, and they are savvy enough to mention there are seasonal variations in their product (it's close to Nature! it responds to the seasons!):
And while goat's-milk may not make the best yogurt, it makes the best non-cow's milk ice cream I've ever had in my life. I've tried all these flavors of LaLoo's (except the Vanilla Snowflake, which for some reason I can't find).
Rich, nuanced, deeply satisfying. They are absolutely amazing. I may have to go out and buy some right now.
That's okay, but sometime I just want to dive into a dish of ice cream or a cup of yogurt without worrying about repercussions. So decided to taste-test three different vanilla yogurts--one made with cow's milk, one with sheep's, and one with goat's:
This is the goat's milk yogurt. The packaging is a little funky:
The foil lid is definitely funky, although kind of cute:
This is the sheep's-milk yogurt. Nice packaging:
The foil lid is restrained but attractive:
And this is the cow's milk version. It somehow reminds me of an IKEA store:
Simple, with just a touch of humor:
The goat's milk yogurt was a decidedly caramel color. The smell and taste of goat was overwhelming, and not in a good way. I could only handle two small bites:
The sheep's milk was delightful. There were little flecks of real vanilla bean in it, and the taste was slightly different from regular, cow's milk yogurt, but in a nice way:
The cow's milk yogurt, not too surprisingly, was spectacular. It tasted as rich and sinful as ice cream. I had to keep checking the label to make sure the sugar content was as low as it said. And nonfat? Could hardly believe it:
The cow's-milk yogurt is so good I would serve it as a dessert, covered with sliced strawberries or maybe freshly sliced peaches.
All three yogurts had admirable side qualities. The sheep's milk carton felt and acted like plastic, but was biodegradable:
The cow's-milk yogurt packaging urged you to recycle the removable, paper sleeve. And it identified the county where all the deliciousness came from:
The goat's milk folks have created a kosher, "Certified Humane" product, and they are savvy enough to mention there are seasonal variations in their product (it's close to Nature! it responds to the seasons!):
But for just plopping down on the back porch and ripping open a quick snack, I vote for the sheep's milk yogurt:
And while goat's-milk may not make the best yogurt, it makes the best non-cow's milk ice cream I've ever had in my life. I've tried all these flavors of LaLoo's (except the Vanilla Snowflake, which for some reason I can't find).
Rich, nuanced, deeply satisfying. They are absolutely amazing. I may have to go out and buy some right now.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
A Dessert Worth the Splurge?
I was buying a few books at my local chain bookstore and saw this single-issue glossy magazine at the checkout line. The cover photo called out to me. "Hey-ay!," it beckoned. "Come try me for your next reeeeally special dinner party!"
The dessert looked like an English Trifle, only with entire Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and what seemed to be enormous chunks of brownies tucked into the yummy, custardy mass:
So like a greedy fool, I bought the magazine (and it wasn't cheap!) and whisked it home.
Bad move, that.
When I leafed through the publication, I was dismayed. Many of the recipes relied heavily on packaged foods, like frozen whipped topping, artificially flavored cream cheese, and packaged cake mixes. The food was relentlessly artery-clogging and not very innovative.
Ugh.
And the cover recipe? It calls for brownies made from a mix. Worse yet, what I mistook for a Crême Anglaise was actually vanilla Jell-O pudding.
Ugh.
If I'm going to ingest some serious calories on dessert, I want to be eating homemade brownies and a sauce that starts with eggs, heavy cream, sugar, and real vanilla extract.
I might some day try to re-create this recipe, but with all elements made from scratch. If I do, however, the Reese's cups get a pass.
No sense trying to mess with perfection.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Almost-Candied-Quince and Apple Pie
I've never cooked with quince, but a recent L.A. Times article by Russ Parsons, and a fall-food challenge in my ladies-who-cook group changed that.
Quinces look like blocky, green pears. They are easy to peel:
They look like a pear inside, too. But they feel like an apple that's gone all woody and punk-y. I nibbled a raw piece; they taste like wood, too.
But I trusted Parsons: cooking simply transforms this fruit. Slice up the quince:
Pour over the slices a sugar-water (or sugar-water-wine) syrup infused with cardamom seeds, cinnamon stick, cloves, and orange zest:
Bake the slices in the heavenly, spicy syrup until they turn rosy pink and almost translucent:
Ohhh, delicious!
Parsons suggests different ways to use the almost-candied quince, including serving it with cheese, or folding into a clafoutis, or stirring into Greek yogurt. I decided to create an apple-quince-cranberry pie:
YUM! The pale slices of apple commingle with the pink slices of quince, studded with the ruby cranberries here and there:
The ladies and I ate it all up.
Quinces look like blocky, green pears. They are easy to peel:
They look like a pear inside, too. But they feel like an apple that's gone all woody and punk-y. I nibbled a raw piece; they taste like wood, too.
But I trusted Parsons: cooking simply transforms this fruit. Slice up the quince:
Pour over the slices a sugar-water (or sugar-water-wine) syrup infused with cardamom seeds, cinnamon stick, cloves, and orange zest:
Bake the slices in the heavenly, spicy syrup until they turn rosy pink and almost translucent:
Ohhh, delicious!
Parsons suggests different ways to use the almost-candied quince, including serving it with cheese, or folding into a clafoutis, or stirring into Greek yogurt. I decided to create an apple-quince-cranberry pie:
YUM! The pale slices of apple commingle with the pink slices of quince, studded with the ruby cranberries here and there:
Monday, January 14, 2013
T&P Featured on Kim Sunee's Blog!
Grandmother Bliss' Persimmon Pudding
I am so excited! I have the honor today of being a guest writer on the blog of a talented writer: Kim Sunee is the author of "Trail of Crumbs," a breathtakingly beautiful and brutally honest memoir about her life. It also has the most mouth-watering recipes; if you haven't read this book, pleaseplease buy two copies; one for you to keep and one to lend to your best friend.
Sunee is also the curator of the blog "Kim Sunee Food*Travel*Home," which occasionally posts recipes and reminiscences by guest cooks/authors. That's where I come in.
Today, January 14, she published my short piece on my Grandmother Bliss, and Grandmother's recipe for Persimmon Pudding, an old-fashioned dessert laden with spices, nuts, raisins, and sherry.
Grandmother Bliss with some of her grandchildren:
I am sitting on the lower step, center, with the white bow in my hair.
It's a delicious recipe. But even more delish is being published on the website of such a noteworthy writer. Do yourself a favor, and check out Kim's blog!
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
More Than Half a Loaf
Some people would look at this and say, "Oh, nuts. Not enough people ate the challah!"
I look at this and say....
Whoo hoo! I'm making Bread Pudding!
Umm yummm yummmm yummmmmm.....
I look at this and say....
Whoo hoo! I'm making Bread Pudding!
Umm yummm yummmm yummmmmm.....
Monday, September 10, 2012
A Late-Summer Wedding
Hello! I've been away from Teapots for a few days attending a family wedding. It was held on the banks of the Russian River in Northern California, at an old fishing camp turned guest lodge. It was a lovely weekend, and I wanted to share just a few things about the event that I loved.
The wedding was held in a grassy meadow, and guests were pre-warned that heels would be unwieldy and difficult. The bride wore flats, and her bridesmaids wore these pretty sandals:
The Honeymoon Suite was a dear white cottage with exposed rafters and rustic, white-washed furniture:
The flowers were simple and unstudied, as if they'd been gathered that morning in a flower garden:
Every table at the reception had a different arrangement of flowers, leaves, and vines:
Instead of a wedding cake, the bride and groom offered a dessert table filled with lovely goodies:
Guests admired a table filled with a collection of framed family wedding photos from the past:
The oldest was my grandmother's wedding portrait, from either 1911 or 1913 (She got married twice in two years!):
My parents' wedding photo from 1940 (sorry about the reflections; it was under glass):
My eldest sister's wedding, from 1963 (that's me as Junior Bridesmaid, in front, and the Mother of the Bride from this past weekend is our middle sister, to the bride's right):
Our whole family feels very blessed.
The wedding was held in a grassy meadow, and guests were pre-warned that heels would be unwieldy and difficult. The bride wore flats, and her bridesmaids wore these pretty sandals:
The Honeymoon Suite was a dear white cottage with exposed rafters and rustic, white-washed furniture:
The flowers were simple and unstudied, as if they'd been gathered that morning in a flower garden:
Every table at the reception had a different arrangement of flowers, leaves, and vines:
Instead of a wedding cake, the bride and groom offered a dessert table filled with lovely goodies:
Every guest was made to feel welcome--even the very littlest:
Guests admired a table filled with a collection of framed family wedding photos from the past:
The oldest was my grandmother's wedding portrait, from either 1911 or 1913 (She got married twice in two years!):
My parents' wedding photo from 1940 (sorry about the reflections; it was under glass):
My eldest sister's wedding, from 1963 (that's me as Junior Bridesmaid, in front, and the Mother of the Bride from this past weekend is our middle sister, to the bride's right):
Also on the table was an photo album created by the bride and groom. On every page, they left lots of white space for guests to write their greetings. What a sweet and fun update on the old, boring guest book!
They are out of focus, but I love these photos of the bride and groom in their first dance together:
It was a lovely, warm, personable ceremony and party.
Our whole family feels very blessed.
Labels:
decorating,
dessert,
family,
flowers,
simple living,
summer,
travel
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)