There are two things I need to tell you about these cookies.
One is that they’re crazy-good. And the other is that they’re huge. The recipe makes just five cookies but each one is so packed with flavor, that you’ll be glad you can have one all to yourself. Your other four friends or guests will be delighted as well. (But they’re quite generous, so it’s okay to share…)
What makes these cookies extra special is their slightly savory, umami note, due to walnuts glazed with white miso. Miso is fermented soybean paste that can be purchased in Asian markets, but has become so popular, you can often find it in grocery stores. In these cookies, it adds a little je ne sais quoi, since it adds a subtle, yet complex note of flavors. Umami is often described as a flavor that’s craveable, and it certainly makes a compelling case for that description in these cookies.
If you don’t have white miso, or don’t want to make the candied walnuts, no problem. Just use toasted walnuts. Pecans, or another favorite nut will also work. You can also leave the nuts out, or swap in dried fruit for them. Do-ahead tip: The walnuts can be made a few days in advance and kept in an airtight container. The glaze will get a little sticky, but the walnuts are perfectly fine to use in these cookies.
Another “secret” to these cookies is to incorporate large chunks of chocolate into the dough. While it may be tempting to use chocolate chips, they’re really best if you chop up chocolate from a bar of good-quality chocolate. I leave the pieces quite rough and irregular, which – when baked – create large pockets and bites of dark chocolate.
I’ve adapted the recipe from SIFT: The Elements of Great Baking by Nicola Lamb. Her book explains many of the hows and whys of baking, as well as offering an array of creative recipes. Some are completely original and others are riffs on classics, and it’s a book that I refer to often and these cookies are a big hit whenever I bake them. I hope you enjoy these cookies as much as I do!
Adapted from SIFT by Nicola LambWhen you form the five mounds of dough, avoid compacting them too tight. You want to form them into loose balls rather than rolling them in your hands into smooth rounds. They're best when you chop the chocolate from bars of good-quality dark chocolate, and I leave the pieces fairly large – about the size of almonds, but you can use store-bought chocolate chunks if you wish.I baked my batch of cookies for 15 to 16 minutes, although the original recipe says 18 minutes. All ovens are different, but they're done when they're light brown across the top. The cookies shown in the post were baked on a cloudy day, so may look a bit dark. You want to err on the side of underbaking rather than overbaking. Another tip is that you can sprinkle extra flaky salt on top of each cookie when they come out of the oven. These cookies are best enjoyed the day they’re made but are delicious the next day as well. Store them in an airtight container at room temperature.
6tablespoons (90g)unsalted butterat room temperature
6tablespoons (85g)light brown sugar
6tablespoons (85g)granulated sugar
1largeeggat room temperature
1 3/4cups (220g)all-purpose flour
1/2teaspoonbaking soda
1 1/4teaspoons flaky sea saltor 1 teaspoon Diamond Crystal kosher salt, plus more for sprinkling (optional)
9ounces (255g)bittersweet or semisweet chocolatechopped in large chunks
Instructions
To make the miso walnuts, in a medium saucepan or skillet over moderate heat, warm the mirin, the granulated sugar, and the miso, stirring to incorporate and smooth out the ingredients. When the mixture starts to boil, add the walnuts and cook, stirring frequently, until the walnuts are completely coated and the miso mixture has almost all been absorbed by the walnuts, which will take a couple of minutes. They're done when there's only about a tablespoon of the miso syrup in the pan. Remove from heat and let cool, giving them a stir a few times as they cool.
To make the cookies, preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment on low speed, or by hand, cream the butter and sugars until well-incorporated for about 1 minute. Do not beat the mixture until it's too light or overly fluffy, which can cause the cookies to spread too much during baking.
Mix in the egg. Sift the flour and baking soda together in a small bowl, then mix that into the dough along with the salt.
Break or cut the walnuts up a little, but not too much, and stir them into the dough, then stir in the chunks of chocolate. You may need to get your hands in there to get everything thoroughly combined, but don't overmix. The dough can be somewhat irregular.
Shape the dough into 5 equal mounds on the baking sheet, each about 6 ounces (180g), placing them evenly spaced apart. Bake the cookies for 15-18 minutes, sprinkling them with additional flaky sea salt after they come out of the oven, if you wish. The cookies are done when they are light golden brown across the top. Err on the side of underbaking rather than overbaking.
Notes
Mirin is a sweet rice wine, available in Asian markets and well-stocked supermarkets. There are some substitutes for mirin here.
This may or may not happen to you, but sometimes when I’m a guest in someone’s home, where everyone pitches in to make dinner, all eyes (or just the host’s eyes) fall on me to make dessert. Gulp. I happy to pitch in with the cooking or bringing along a few baked goodies for the weekend, but I’m not always prepared to bake on the spot.
If you’re lucky, there may be a scale, a cake pan, a sharp knife, and hopefully sugar, butter, eggs, and flour. If you’re really lucky, there might be a whisk and a spatula, too. But if you’ve ever tried to peel a dozen apples with a steak knife because it’s the only one that’s even close to sharp, or eyeball 1 cup/140g) of flour, you know what I’m talking about. I once did a post on Things I Bring When I’m a Guest for the Weekend, which raised the ire of some, but I require a minimum of a knife, a spatula, a bowl, and a cake pan if I’m going to bake something, like a cake.
You’re likely familiar with the Moelleux au chocolat, the soft warm individual melting cakes that everybody loves. (If you have the kind of friends that have six to eight ramekins, well, that’s great.) I recently saw French food writer and journalist François-Régis Gaudy (his book, Let’s Eat France, translated into English, is a lot of fun and pretty amazing) make a Moelleux à la abricot on his Instagram page, which didn’t require a mixer or any special equipment. Not even a whisk!
His Apricot Cake was a very casual affair, baked in a rectangular mold on a sheet of parchment paper, and came out of the oven rather free-form, looking exactly like something that would come out of a French home cook’s kitchen, when baking dessert for friends. I’m fine with that but didn’t know if you were, so I thought I’d tinker with it and make it in a cake pan, which is easier to slice. I also fiddled around with the ingredients, as well as putting the brown granulated sugar on top (rather than underneath), to give the moelleux a nice sheen.
I used a springform cake pan but you can use any similar-sized vessel; an 8-, 9- or 10-square or round cake pan would work, or even a baking dish. The baking time will vary but if your experience with using a variety of ovens in other people’s homes is anything like mine, you’ll find that each one is different, and what one says is 350ºF/180ºC will be different than another whose dial says 350ºF/180ºC. I don’t travel with an oven thermometer but may add that to things I bring when I’m staying with people.
Tip: If you’re staying in someone’s place for the weekend, you can mix the dry ingredients in a container or zip-top bag then put the dessert together when you get there.
I made one cake with apricots first, which was sensational, but knowing fresh apricots are harder to come by elsewhere, I made another one with plums, which came out great as well. It would work with other summer fruits and berries but I really like the tanginess of apricots or plums against the moist cake layer, so stuck with those two. A handful of berries wouldn’t hurt either, but I do recommend keeping it simple.
Inspired by a recipe from French food writer and journalist François-Régis GaudryThe ground almonds are really delicious in the dessert, but if you can't get ground almonds (sometimes called almond meal or almond flour), you can use 1 1/4 cups (175g) of all-purpose flour in place of the mix. The picture in the post of the batter shows 3 eggs being added, and I took that photo when I first tested the recipe, which I did a few more times after that. The final recipe that I came up with, below, uses 2 eggs.
Course Dessert
Servings 8servings
Ingredients
1 1/2pounds (680g)apricots or plums(or another summer fruit, see headnote)
1 1/2tablespoonscoarse granulated brown sugarsuch as tubinado sugar (or granulated white sugar)
Instructions
Halve the fruit and remove the pits. Slice the fruit into 3/4- to 1-inch (2-3cm) wedges. Set aside. Preheat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC.) Grease a 9-inch (23cm) springform pan very well with butter or non-stick spray. (If you don't have a springform pan, you can use another cake pan but it may be harder to get the cake out so you may want to also line the bottom with parchment paper.)
In a medium mixing bowl, stir together the almond flour, all-purpose flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar. (My preferred tool to use for this step is a silicone spatula.) Add the soft butter and mix it in with the spatula until it's broken up into little pieces, roughly the size of kernels of corn. Stir in the eggs and vanilla extract, until it's almost smooth. It's fine if there are small pieces of butter visible.
Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Arrange the wedges of fruit on their sides in concentric circles over the batter, snugly placing the wedges against each other, pressing them gently into the batter as you go. Avoid putting them right up against the sides of the pan. It's best to leave some room for the batter to rise between the fruit and the pan, to avoid juices from the fruit adhering to the sides of the pan as the moelleux bakes. (It's unavoidable - and natural - if using juicy fruits, like plums, to have juice run out. But placing the slices not right up against the sides of the pan will help you get the cake out of the pan later.)
Sprinkle the coarse sugar over the top and bake until the center just feels set; a toothpick inserted into the center should come out free of cake crumbs stuck to it, about 1 hour. Remove from the oven and set on a cooling rack. If any fruit juices have bubbled up and stuck to the sides of the pan, run a knife around the outside of the cake, which will help it release later.
Notes
Notes: If you want to make this gluten-free, I'd go with the almond flour rendition, and use a gluten-free flour substitute in place of the wheat flour. If you want to reduce the sugar in the recipe, you could cut it by 6 tablespoons/75g and skip the sugar on top, although I wouldn't.
This recipe, from The Great Book of Chocolate, is one of my favorite recipes in the book. It’s a deep-dark chocolate spread that’s just as welcome on the breakfast table with warm croissants or toast, as it is as an afternoon snack, swiped on a slice of baguette.
The recipe comes from my friend Deb Perelman, of Smitten Kitchen, who came to Paris and made it in my kitchen with me. You can watch the full video here.
Since you’re making it at home, unlike store-bought spreads, you know what’s in this delectable. This recipe uses olive oil, which is healthy and delicious with the dark chocolate. I like to use one that’s fruity, which compliments the chocolate perfectly.
Depending on the type of chocolate you use, and it’s percentage of cacao solids, as well as the ambient temperature of your kitchen, the spread can be a bit firm, or soft, at room temperature. If it’s too firm, you can zap it for a few seconds in the microwave to make it more spreadable. If it’s too soft, it can be chilled briefly. In my kitchen, it’s perfect just as it is at room temperature…and I think you’ll love it too.
A delicious dark chocolate spread with olive oil that you're whole family will enjoy. The recipe is adapted from my book, The Great Book of Chocolate – now available!
Course Breakfast, Snack
Keyword chocolate, olive oil, spread
Servings 8
Ingredients
1/2cup (70g)powdered sugar
1/4cup (25g)unsweetened cocoa powderpreferably Dutch process
4ounces (115g)bittersweet or semisweet chocolatechopped
1/2cup (125ml)olive oil
Flaky sea saltsuch as Maldon or fleur de sel
Instructions
Sift together the powdered sugar and cocoa powder in a small bowl.
Warm the chopped chocolate and olive oil over low heat in a medium saucepan, stirring until the chocolate is melted and smooth. With a whisk, stir in the powdered sugar and cocoa powder mixture.
Transfer the mixture to small bowl and refrigerate until it's spreadable, which can take 2 to 3 hours. Check it every 15 minutes until it's the consistency of chocolate pudding. Scrape the mixture into a jar and store at room temperature until ready to serve.
Notes
The spread can be stored at room temperature for up to two weeks. It can be refrigerated for up to one month. Let it come to room temperature before serving. For more information about cocoa powder, check out my Cocoa powder FAQs.
Margot Lecarpentier is one of the best bartenders in Paris. At her bar, Combat, she shakes and stirs up cocktails – with and without alcohol – that are some of the best in the city. One a warm summer day, Margot stopped by to make an Affogato for us to enjoy in my backyard.
In Italian, affogato means “drowned,” and the typical affogato is a scoop of ice cream drowned in espresso, which is delicious. But Margot ramps things up a notch using a blend of rum, coffee liqueur, and amaro, which gives the dessert a lively kick. While you could use vanilla ice cream, Margot likes chocolate as much as I do, so I churned up a batch of chocolate sorbet, which also happens to be dairy-free, and she used that. Feel free to use your favorite flavor.
A delicious dessert with ice cream drowned in coffee liqueur, rum, and amaro
Course Drinks
Cuisine Italian
Keyword affogato, amaro, coffee liqueur, ice cream, rum
Servings 2
Ingredients
3/4 ounce (20ml)dark rum
3/4 ounce (20ml)amaro
3/4ounce (20ml)coffee liqueur
Ice cream or sorbet
2shotsespresso(cooled slightly)
Instructions
In a small pitcher or measuring cup, mix together the rum, amaro, and coffee liqueur.
Put one generous scoop, or several smaller scoops, of ice cream or sorbet into two ice cream dishes or small bowls. Douse each serving with the mix of liqueurs.
Add a shot of espresso to each portion and serve.
Notes
You can use your favorite brands of liqueur here. In this recipe, Margot used Rabarbaro Nardini amaro, but others, such as Fernet-Branca or Ramazzotti, would work.Nowadays there are non-alcoholic versions of most liqueurs, including the ones used here. If you’re avoiding alcohol, you can use non-alcoholic alternatives. For serving, feel free to shave some dark chocolate over the top of each affogato.
One of the first “recipes” on this blog was No-Recipe Cherry Jam, posted in 2005, which wasn’t quite a recipe. Nevertheless, a lot of people successfully used those guidelines to make cherry jam over the last fifteen years. The basis for it was how I’ve been making jam forever, using 3 parts sugar to 4 parts fruit puree. The standard ratio is to use equal parts sugar to fruit puree but I like to use less.
I often make cherry jam with sweet cherries, which are what one usually finds at the market. But if you can find sour cherries, those are wonderful in the mix, but when fresh, they have a short shelf life so should be used, pronto.
So feel free to mix things up, cherry-wise!
Unlike other recipes, making jam can require a bit of using your instincts, rather than relying on set times and temperatures. Checking the jam texture on a chilled plate is the best way to tell you when it’s done. (As an example, jam usually sets between 218-220ºF,103-104ºC, but this one set a few degrees higher.) Because cherries are low in pectin, this one often “sets” a few degrees higher, although don’t expect cherry jam to be as stiff as other jams that you might be used to, or buy. It’ll be a bit runny, which is just how it should be.
One tool I do recommend is a cherry pitter. Not everyone has one, and they do fall into the “single use” category, but come cherry season, mine gets a good workout. I wrote more about why you should get a cherry pitter here.
The biggest question I get about jam recipes is people asking about reducing the amount of sugar in them. Sugar in jam does a couple of things. One, it helps the mixture jell, along with any natural pectin in the fruit. And two, it preserves it. If you use less, the jam will be runnier and won’t last as long.
Europeans tend to like their jams runnier than their American counterparts, so in the morning, you can have a European experience when you spoon some of this jam on your morning toast, as we do.
Unlike other jams that wrinkle when you do the wrinkle test (putting a spoonful of jam on a frozen plate, returning the plate to the freezer and when the jam wrinkles with you nudge it, it’s done), this one will be more like thickened syrup. It’s done when it’s thick and sticky and holds its shape for a few moments after you drag a spoon through it (below.) The cherries will be shiny and glossy, like beautiful ruby-colored jewels.
If you only have 1 pound (450g) of cherries, feel free to cut the recipe in half. The liqueur is optional but heightens the flavors of the jam. Use only enough so it complements the fruit – you don't want to overwhelm it. As mentioned, this jam will be a bit on the runny side when "set." Sour cherries will produce a softer-set jam than sweet cherries.
Course Breakfast
Cuisine American
Keyword cherries, cherry, jam
Ingredients
2pounds (900g)sweet or sour cherriesor a mix
2 1/2cups (500g)sugar
freshly squeezed juice of one medium lemonplus additional juice if desired
1-2 drops of almond extract or 1-2 teaspoons of kirsch or another liqueur, such as amaretto or vodka
Instructions
Remove the stems and pit the cherries. Put them in a large non-reactive pot. If using only sweet cherries, add 2-3 tablespoons of water to the pot. (Sour cherries will exude enough liquid on their own so no need to add additional water.) Put a small plate or saucer in the freezer.
Cover the pot and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the cherries are wilted and cooked through, about 10 minutes.
Remove the lid and stir in the sugar and lemon juice. Increase the heat to medium-high and cook, stirring frequently until the mixture thickens. It's hard to say how long it will take, but when the mixture resembles the sixth picture in the post, the one in the pot with the bubbles, turn off the heat and test the jam by putting a small spoonful on the frozen dish. Return the dish to the freezer for a few minutes until the jam on it is cool. Run a spoon through it and if the liquid is very thick and leaves a clear patch, as shown in the photo in the post, it's done. If not, return the plate to the freezer and continue to cook the jam, testing it at various intervals, until it's done. (If you want to use a thermometer to check the jam, it should be ready somewhere between 220º and 225ºF, 104º-107ºC.)
When ready, turn off the heat and stir in the almond extract or liqueur (or both, if you wish). If desired, you could add an extra squeeze of lemon juice to balance the sweetness. Ladle into clean jars.
Notes
Storage: This jam will last several weeks in the refrigerator. If you wish to can it, you can find instructions here.
I had so much fun when Deb Perelman of Smitten Kitchen came to my kitchen in Paris and made a batch of Chocolate-Olive Oil Spread, a delicious recipe from The Great Book of Chocolate.
The spread is easy (and fun!) to make, and is just one of the more than 50 recipes in the book, which includes Chocolate Mug Cakes, award-winning Blue Chip Chocolate Chip Cookies, Individual Warm Chocolate Cakes, Chocolate Truffles, Homemade Rocky Road, Chili with Chocolate, and lots more.
I was recently gifted an overload of strawberries: I bought four baskets from a vendor at the market, whose booth I shop at often, and he threw in two extra baskets for free, the equivalent of a carte de fidelité (loyalty card) in Paris. So I’ve spent the past few days washing, hulling, cutting and cooking my unexpected bounty.
I’ve been making a number of things with the gorgeous strawberries. But I also realized that while I have a Strawberry-Rhubarb Jam recipe on the site, I didn’t have a strawberry jam. So here it is.
Although I’m giving you a recipe for the amount of strawberries that I used, you can use the same proportions if you have just a basket…or a bushel. You’ll just need to do a slight amount of math. Only the cooking time will change, so keep an eye on things.
Jam-making is not something you walk away from and you need to rely more on look and feel, rather than exact times. Another thing about jam-making is that fruit and berry jams are always better made in small batches; the shorter the cooking time, the better the flavor. So if you have more than 2-pounds (900g) of strawberries, consider making jam in a couple of batches rather than one big one.
Many traditional recipes use an equal amount of sugar to fruit, by weight, but I find it’s okay to decrease it to these proportions. Sugar is both a thickener and a preservation agent. If you reduce it too much more, your jam may not thicken and won’t keep for a long time. (Which is okay if you want thinner jam, you keep it in the refrigerator, and eat it relatively quickly.) This recipe can be scaled up or down, depending on how many strawberries you have. But if you want to make a lot more, best to make it in a couple of batches. To prepare the jars, pour boiling water into them, as well as into the lids. Let them sit 5-10 minutes, then carefully pour out the hot water and set them upside down on a cooling rack until ready to fill.
Since I keep my jams in the refrigerator, I don’t put them up them in a traditional sense. I usually just overturn the jars and let them cool, which provides a reasonable seal, then refrigerate them. I find my jams keep well this way for up to one year. Check the National Center for Home Food Preservation website for instructions on how to can fruit jams.
Note: Last season strawberries tend to have less natural pectin than ones that arrive earlier. So your jam may be less jelled. One strategy is the finely grate a green apple into the strawberries before cooking them, which adds pectin. (There are guidelines here for using liquid and powdered pectin.) I don’t mind the slightly runnier jam and it’s terrific on yogurt or served with fresh goat cheese for dessert.
Ingredients
2pounds (900g)strawberries
1 1/4pounds (2 2/3 cups, 580g)sugar
onelemonorganic or unsprayed
optional: kirsch (or eau-de-vie, or crème de cassis)
Instructions
Wash and hull the strawberries and cut them into quarters. If some are larger or smaller, just make sure the pieces all about the same size.
2. Toss them in a large pot, such as a Dutch oven casserole made of a nonreactive material, with the sugar. Cut the lemon in half, squeeze the juice into the pot, and add the lemon halves to the berries. Stir well, cover, and let sit a couple of hours (up to 8 hours) at room temperature, stirring one or two times while they marinate.
Put a small plate in the freezer. Turn the heat on under the strawberries to medium-high and cook the strawberries, stirring occasionally, as they reduce and the juices thicken. If a lot of foam rises to the surface, skim it away. When the syrup is the consistency of warm maple syrup – it will take about 10 to 15 minutes or so, depending on the pot and berries, turn off the heat and put a spoonful of the jam on the frozen plate and return the plate to the freezer. Check it in a few minutes; if it wrinkles when you nudge it, it’s done. If not, return the plate to the freezer and cook the jam a little more, testing it again. It may take a few times before you get it to the right consistency.
When the strawberry jam is done, remove the lemon and stir in a few drops of kirsch, if using, then ladle the jam into the prepared jars.
May 5th marks the release of TheGreat Book of Chocolate which is now available for pre-order from your local independent book seller as well as Bookshop, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble online. And I’m going on book tour! Due to global events, travel has become more challenging, especially internationally.
If you can’t make it to an event, and I’m not coming to where you live, and you’d like a personalized, signed copy of a book, you can order one from Kitchen Arts & Letters (before May 4th), Omnivore Books (before May 11th) or Now Serving LA (before May 14th), and they will send you a copy. Should you have questions, please contact the shops.
Note that a number of events are ticketed, which helps support the bookstores, and at places where books can be pre-purchased, that ensures that you’ll get a book. If you do have questions about events, please contact the venue directly as they are best equipped to answer your questions.
Hope you can make it!
May 4: Chat and booksigning with Matt Rodbard of Taste Live at RizzoliBookstore, New York City – tickets here
May 5: Booksigning at Williams-Sonoma, Columbus Circle, New York City – tickets here
May 6: Booksigning at Williams-Sonoma, Short Hills, New Jersey – tickets here
May 9: Markethall Foods, Oakland, CA – more info here (I’ll be signing books Noon to 1:30pm)
Note that this event is open to all, but books can be prepurchased from their website prior to event, and pastry boxes inspired by The Great Book of Chocolate and Ready for Dessert will also be available for pre-purchase. Prepurchasing a book ensures that you’ll get a book and also supports small, local businesses. Check the event page for details!
May 30: Booksigning at La Trésorerie Rive Gauche (48, rue de Grenelle, 7th, Paris), 3pm to 4:30pm. Copies of The Great Book of Chocolate and My Paris Kitchen will be available for sale and signing.
You can purchase or order the book at your local bookstore or online retailer from one of these links:
Events will be published and updated here as they are announced. Please note that events on this page are subject to change and revision. It’s suggested that you contact the venue before an event to confirm the time and date, as well as if a ticket or purchase is required, if you can bring books purchased elsewhere to be signed, or if you have any other questions or need additional information.
This time of year brings Seville oranges to the markets in Paris. For the past few years, I kept wondering why they were so hard to find since it’s perhaps my favorite of all jams and jellies to make, and eat. But lately, they’ve been everywhere. And I found myself busy making a lot of marmalade, which was easier since I came up with a brand-new, revolutionary technique which I couldn’t wait to share.
Since Seville oranges are rife with seeds, which makes slicing them difficult since you have to keep moving the seeds around with your slippery fingers, while trying to cut the oranges, then finding more, and fishing around deeper inside to extract more, plucking them out, etc… Each Seville orange has perhaps twenty to thirty inside.
So I thought, what if I was to squeeze the juice and seeds out first, strain them, then pour the juice back in? The seeds are precious commodities in jam-making, and get saved and used since they’re so high in pectin.
They’re wrapped in a sack and cooked with the marmalade giving the marmalade gets a suave, jellied texture. And this simple method, featured in my book Ready for Dessert, makes the whole process much easier.
You might be interested to know that Seville Orange Marmalade was created because of an error. Apparently, an Englishwoman in 1700, the wife of a grocer, was stuck with some sour oranges that were bought cheaply from a boat that was carrying them from Seville.
Since there was a storm, they wanted to get rid of their stock or oranges quickly, so the grocer bought them. But they were inedibly sour so his wife decided to try making jam from them, and viola!…Seville Orange Marmalade was invented.
Adapted from Ready for Dessert (Ten Speed) In my book, I advise letting the cooked oranges and the seeds rest overnight. That's an optional step. If you want to go ahead and finish the marmalade the same day you start it, you can.
Course Breakfast
Keyword confiture, jam, marmalade, orange
Ingredients
6Seville oranges(see Note)
1navel orange
10cups (2.5L)water
pinchof salt
8cups (1.6 kg)sugar
1tablespoonScotch(optional)
Instructions
Wash oranges and wipe them dry. Cut each Seville orange in half, crosswise around the equator. Set a non-reactive mesh strainer over a bowl and squeeze the orange halves to remove the seeds, assisting with your fingers to remove any stubborn ones tucked deep within.
Tie the seeds up in cheesecloth or muslin very securely.
Cut each rind into 3 pieces and use a sharp chef’s knife to cut the rinds into slices or cubes as thin as possible. Each piece shouldn’t be too large (no more than a centimeter, or 1/3-inch in length.) Cut the navel orange into similar-sized pieces.
In a large (10-12 quart/liter) stockpot, add the orange slices, seed pouch, water, and salt, as well as the juice from the Seville oranges from step #1. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer, and cook until the peels are translucent, about 20 to 30 minutes. (At this point, sometimes I’ll remove it from the heat after cooking them and let the mixture stand overnight, to help the seeds release any additional pectin. But it's not imperative.)
Stir the sugar into the mixture and bring the mixture to a full boil again, then reduce heat to a gentle boil. Stir occasionally while cooking to make sure it does not burn on the bottom. Midway during cooking, remove the seed pouch and discard.
Continue cooking until it has reached the jelling point, about 218ºF degrees (103ºC), if using a candy thermometer. I cook this slightly less than other jams and marmalades because the high amount of pectin helps the marmalade set up more stiffly. To test the marmalade, turn off the heat and put a small amount on a plate that has been chilled in the freezer and briefly return it to the freezer. Check it in a few minutes; it should be slightly jelled and will wrinkle just a bit when you slide your finger through it. If not, continue to cook until it is.
Remove from heat, then stir in the Scotch (if using), and ladle the mixture into clean jars. Sometimes I bury a piece of vanilla bean in each jar. (Which is a great way to recycle previously-used or dried-out vanilla beans.)
Notes
I don’t process my jams, since I store them in the refrigerator. But if you wish to preserve them by canning, you can read more about the process here.
Note: Sour or Seville oranges are called in French oranges amères and are available mid-winter in many other countries around the world as well.
Apparently I’m not the only one who loves polenta cake. The Italians like it so much that it’s called Amor Polenta. Which means “Polenta Love.”
Well, at least that’s what I thought it meant, because amour in French means “love.” And I assumed that it was the same in Italian. (Another reason for finally getting on that life-long ambition to live in Italy and learn Italian.) But for now, checking in an Italian dictionary, I found out that “amor” means “sake.” (As in, for the purpose of.) So I’m not sure how it got its name, but this cake makes a pretty good argument for the sake of whisking polenta into a cake.
I’m one of those people who is completely crazy for anything with cornmeal, from corn bread to even a kind of kooky polenta ice cream that I’m sure no one else has ever made, because I used a completely obscure polenta that very, very few people can get their hands on. But I felt compelled to make it, for the sake of using up a little bag of that polenta that I had.
Fortunately, polenta is available just about anywhere. I like to buy stone-ground polenta, which has a crunchier flavor. But you could use instant polenta for this cake, normally something I avoid. But I found myself with a bag of it and was looking for ways to use it up. And here’s where the rest of it landed.
Like many Italian cakes, which are unlike American cakes, this is not a buttery bomb of richness. True, there is butter and a few eggs in there. But the great flavor comes from ground almonds, which tend to make the cake much moister the following day as the nut oils soak the crumb, which is one of those baking terms (unlike amor) that pretty much seems to be what it is talking about. The polenta adds a bit of a savory quality to desserts, which draws me to use it a lot when baking.
This cake is a great snacking cake and I tend to walk around my apartment several times during the day, somehow landing frequently near the cake, where a serrated knife just happens to be stationed alongside. Ready and waiting to lop a slice off.
In addition to a collection of polentas, I found myself with a collection of eaux-de-vie on hand. Some were gifts, others were picked up on my travels. A few are anise-based, which pair nicely with polenta, and chocolate. I have a ginger one that is great when summer fruits are in season, like peaches, nectarines, and apricots. And the long bottle in the front right, the eau-de-vie of lees that I got in Switzerland, after I found out how good raisins in lie (eau-de-vie made from leftover grape yeast, and other stuff that falls to the bottom of wine vats post fermentation) was, after gorging on cauldrons of fondue.
As astute readers can see from the fill line of the bottle, that project never came to fruition. (I’m too busy trying organize my polentas and eaux-de-vie. And plotting a way to live in both Italy, and France.) But I did add a few shots of orange liqueur (not shown), which gave it a little boost of flavor. Not enough to be perceptible. But like that bag of instant polenta I’ve had for a few months, I was always conscious that it was there. You can use any kind of liqueur that you want – maraschino, limoncello, absinthe, kirsch, or even anise liqueur.
As much as I like this as a snacking cake, it can be dressed up with a fruit compote. I sectioned some tangerines, navel oranges, and pink grapefruits, drizzled a little honey over them, and served them alongside the cake. I had planned to spoon some warm sabayon over the cake and fruit, but decided that I had too many other things to do. Namely, get cracking on using some of those bottles of liqueur that I’ve been hoarding.
For this cake, using fine-ground polenta or instant polenta will result in the smoothest texture, although whatever is available will work. I’ve made it with coarse polenta too, and enjoy the crunch. Almond flour is available at specialty stores, Trader Joe’s, and online. If you can’t find it, grind 7 1/2 ounces (215 grams) sliced blanched almonds in a food processor with the flour until the almonds are pulverized.
Although cakes like this don’t always need adornment, I did glaze it with a dribbly orange glaze that firms up and gives the top a citrus-scented fruity crunch. For those wanting to skip the liqueur in the cake, you can leave it out and increase the almond extract to 1 1/4 teaspoon. For the glaze, you replace the liqueur with orange juice.
Ingredients
For the cake
8ounces (225g)unsalted buttercubed, at room temperature
scant 1cup (180g)sugar
zest of 1 lemon
3large eggsat room temperature
2tablespoonsliqueur or eau-de-viesuch as orange liqueur (Grand Marnier or Cointreau), kirsch or grappa
3/4teaspoonpure almond extract
3/4cup (125g)finely ground polentaplus additional for preparing the pan
4teaspoonsorange liqueur(such as Grand Marnier or Cointreau)
Instructions
Butter a 9-inch (23cm) loaf pan. Dust the inside with polenta, and tap out any excess. (Note: The pan I used has a nonstick finish. If you want to make sure the cake comes out nicely you may want to cut a rectangle of parchment paper and fit it into the bottom of the pan after you prepare it, especially if using an unfinished loaf pan.) Preheat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC).
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter, sugar and lemon zest at medium-high speed, until it’s light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. (You can also make this in a large bowl, beating the butter and sugar by hand.)
Add the eggs one at a time, stopping the mixer after each addition to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Mix in the liqueur and almond extract.
In a medium bowl, whisk together the polenta, ground almonds, flour, baking powder, and salt, until there are no lumps. Gradually mix the dry ingredients into the creamed butter mixture, just until well-combined. Do not overmix.
Scrape the batter into the pan, smooth the top, and bake the cake until it is golden brown on top and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out almost clean, perhaps with just a few crumbs attached, 45 to 50 minutes. Let cool on a rack for about 30 minutes, then run a knife along the outside of the cake to loosen it from the pan and tip the cake onto the rack. Let the cake cool completely before icing.
To glaze the cake, mix the powdered sugar with the orange juice and orange liqueur until the glaze is thick, but still runny – not too watery, but as thick as a milkshake. If necessary, add a bit more sugar if it’s too thin, or add a bit more liquid if it’s too thick. You can try smoothing a bit over the cake to see if it’s the right consistency for drizzling and dripping down the sides before glazing the entire cake.
Spoon the glaze over the cake, encouraging the glaze to run down the sides by nudging it towards the edges with the back of the spoon or a metal spatula.
Notes
Serving: When the glaze has firmed up, serve slices of the cake with a favorite fruit compote, such as fresh citrus segments, caramelized pineapple, poached pears, or sliced and sugared peach slices (peeled) or nectarines.Storage: The cake will keep for up to five days, if well wrapped, at room temperature. The cake will be noticeably moister the day after baking due to the oil in the nuts. It can be frozen for up to two months.
Not everyone thinks of citrus fruits as “winter fruits.” But that’s when oranges, grapefruits, tangerines, tangy lemons, and enticing limes are often at their peak. And that’s a good thing because there’s nothing that brightens up any season – but especially winter – better than a classic French lemon tart.
Any bakery in Paris will have a Tarte au citron on offer. Some are on the sweet side, others tart. I like my lemon tart, well…tart, for sure and when I search for lemons at my market, I choose the plumpest, juiciest ones I can find. Fortunately, good lemons are available just about anywhere, so anyone can make this tart. Most of us don’t even have to wait until winter!
I juiced my lemons, cracked some eggs, and got to work on the tart.
For the base, I used Paule’s pastry dough, which is so easy to make and hasn’t failed me yet. It’s delicious and buttery, and goes particularly well with the delicious lemon topping.
I cooked the filling, a sunny, luscious lemon curd, on the stovetop with the fragrant zest of the lemons, then poured the warm filling through a strainer to make it as smooth as possible.
One could pipe whipped cream on it or top it with meringue. To do so, let it cool and spread or pipe whipped cream over the top or serve a dollop alongside. If you want to give a go at meringue, check out my Lime Meringue Tart recipe or the marshmallow topping that I use on my Pumpkin Pie with Marshmallow Topping.
Both are delicious, but just as it is – or as the French say, nature – is just fine with me.
I recently updated this recipe to increase the amount of filling and I dialed down the sugar a bit due to frequent questions about reducing sugar in recipes. You can taste the filling in step 3 and if you'd like it sweeter, add up to 1/4 cup (50g) more sugar
If you find that you have a bit too much filling for your tart shell (they seem to vary), any remaining lemon filling that you don’t use can be spread on toast, fresh biscuits, or scones. You could substitute fresh lime juice for the lemon, and if you have Meyer lemons, reduce the sugar to 1/2 cup (100g). You can use a favorite tart dough recipe, or the one I’ve linked to.
Ingredients
1cup (250ml)freshly-squeezed lemon juice
grated zest of two lemonspreferably unsprayed
3/4 cup (150g)sugar
12tablespoons (170g)buttersalted or unsalted, cut into cubes
In a medium-sized non-reactive saucepan, heat the lemon juice, zest, sugar, butter, eggs and egg yolks. Have a mesh strainer nearby.
Stir until the butter is melted, then whisk the mixture continuously until the mixture thickens and holds its shape when you lift some of it up with the whisk and it visibly mounds up when dropped back down over the rest of the mixture in the saucepan. It should just take a few minute.
Pour the warm lemon curd though a strainer into a bowl (or directly into the tart shell), scraping with a rubber spatula to press it through.
Smooth the lemon filling in the prebaked tart shell and pop it in the oven until the curd is just set. It’ll take about 5 to 6 minutes.
Remove from the oven and let cool before slicing and serving.
There’s a lot going on when you write a cookbook. You begin with an idea, then spend a year or two testing and developing recipes. Once the first draft is done, it goes through a developmental edit where the editor gives feedback on what you’ve done so far and offers up changes, ideas, or things to reconsider.
One of my favorite pictures from Ready for Dessert: Slicing the Marjolaine, which is also one of my favorite recipes in the book. (Photo by Ed Anderson)
After you’ve implemented those (or not), it then goes to a copy editor who checks grammar and spelling, as well as scans the recipes for omissions or gaffes, such as forgetting to say when to add an ingredient, and checks your metric conversions. I’ve seen more and more books lately that also credit an “Americanizer,” who presumably takes on that last task, since conversions are a big lift. I kid you not. I’m pretty sure I could write two cookbooks a year if we all used the same system of measurement.
The book then goes to a production editor, who makes sure everything is in the right place, then to a proofreader. (Not all publishers do all these steps. Mine does.) During the process, cookbook authors often send recipes to testers to give the recipes a go and get feedback. Some authors have people develop recipes but I give a tester the finished recipe and get feedback on that.
Shooting some of the desserts in our backyard.
If the book is going to be photographed, food stylists generally make the recipes for the photos, although in some cases, the author does. (Which I’ve done.) But it’s a very big job organizing and planning the shoot, then gathering all the ingredients and making everything, which is especially challenging if you plan to shoot five different photos a day. Then there’s the cleanup afterward.
I was fortunate to have George Dolese and Elisabet der Nederlanden working as a team on my book since there were a lot of photos to shoot in 2 1/2 weeks. That’s a very long shoot, but my publisher wanted a lot of photos so we, along with photographer Ed Anderson, delivered.
George arrived with a 7-inch (18cm) thick notebook, and I was startled to see how organized he was. We’d corresponded a lot before he came to Paris, and he asked me what he should bring from the U.S. I said parchment paper circles, natural cocoa powder, Lazzaroni amaretti cookies (why can’t we get those here? Romain has been devouring the leftovers…), almond paste, and chocolate chips — among other things.
When George and Elisabet arrived, armed with massive shopping lists, I took them to a Grand Frais supermarket outside of Paris. For some reason there are no Grand Frais supermarkets in Paris, but they have a remarkable selection of everything, including aisles and aisles of every kind of fruit you can imagine, as well as a massive cheese aisle, a butcher, and shelves of nuts and baking ingredients.
Buying (lots of) butter at Grand Frais.
I also took them to Metro, a membership-only store that requires you to have a resale license. Elisabet is a particularly avid baker and went a little nuts in the baking aisles. She was especially wowed by all the various sugars available in France, from dark, moist cassonade (cane sugar) to crunchy pearl sugar.
Food stylists are invariably pros at cooking and often give valuable feedback if they run into any issues with the recipes. To be honest, food stylists do a better job than most of us can to make food look good for the camera. No one working on cookbooks uses fake food or anything like that, although when shooting pictures for the first edition of Room for Dessert (I was the food stylist on it), which became Ready for Dessert, I couldn’t find Concord grapes for the pie since it wasn’t grape season. A food stylist friend suggested that since it was only for a photo, I should use black olives. I used regular grapes instead and zhuzhed them up with some grape jelly for color.
Banana butterscotch cream pie, page 100. (Photo by Ed Anderson)
Once the book is laid out and designed, with everything in place, the publisher sends a PDF of the book to the author to check and make sure everything’s A-OK. Then it’s off to the printer, and when you get the final book in your hands, you notice that tablespoon in one recipe is spelled “tablespooon.” (Which happened to me in another book.)
Photographer Ed Anderson and I took a coffee break when shooting out and about in Paris, here in the Place des Vosges. I had hot chocolate!
As the great Maida Heatter called them, “gremlins” get into cookbooks, no matter how hard you try to keep them out. Also, as someone who likes to tinker with recipes, I sometimes find different ways to make them. Books also have limited space, so it’s nice we have the internet to fill things in, as I’m doing here.
During the photo shoots, I was sometimes tasked with “staff meal.” I kept things pretty French for the crew, and jambon-beurre (ham and butter) sandwiches became the most requested meal…and I was happy to oblige.
Ready for Dessert Recipe Notes & Errata
Here are some additional notes about the recipes, including a few tips on baking times, a little errata the thickness of a cookie recipe, and an bonus recipe, that’s on the cover of the book.
– For the Easy jam tart (page 121), if the dough is a bit too sticky to press into the pan, put the pan with the pastry in it in the refrigerator or freezer for a few minutes to firm the pastry up.
– When making the Peanut butter and jelly linzertorte (page 103), if the ropes that you’re rolling by hand to place over the top break, it’s ok to place the pieces on top of the tart and simply pinch them together. They’ll bake up beautifully. While a lattice topping is traditional on linzertorte (which is really a tart), baker Jessie Sheehan suggested that the dough could be crumbled over the top of the tart, which I’m going to try the next time I make it.
– For the Panna cotta recipe (page 161) you can reduce the amount of sugar to 1/4 cup (50g), and you can omit the cinnamon and lemon zest if you want them with those flavorings in them.
– For the Croquants (page 251), yes, the batter is measured out in teaspoons, one per cookie, which is the measurement in the book. It makes cookies the size they are in France, the cookies in the photo on the left. (It doesn’t seem like a lot of batter when you are making the cookies, but the batter spreads as it bakes.) You are welcome to make them larger, like the cookies on the right. You may need to increase the baking time another minute or so, until they’re toasty brown across the top.
– For the Pâte à choux recipe (page 276), the yield will vary depending on the size you pipe the dough. You may get twenty puffs if you pipe them larger, which is fine!
I also like to play with the temperature of the oven, depending on how I feel that day. Life isn’t always cut-and-dry, and neither is pastry dough. And as I’ve said before, recipes aren’t set in stone. If they were, cookbooks would be very, very heavy.
While the baking temperature in the first printing of the book has you baking the puffs at 425ºF (220ºC), I’m wondering if that’s too high for people? I like my puffs very crispy so that’s fine with me. But if yours are getting too dark for your taste, you can take them out before the recommended baking time. Similarly, you don’t need to keep them in the turned-off oven for 5 minutes after baking.
Another way I prepare pâte à choux puffs is to bake them in a 425ºF (220ºC) oven for 5 minutes, then turn the oven down to 375ºF (190ºC) and bake them until they’re golden brown. You can see the difference here:
On the left, baked at 425ºF/220ºC only (as the recipe appears in the book). On the right, puffs that were baked for 5 minutes in a 425ºF/220ºC oven, then turned down to 375ºF/190ºC.
When baking, always use visual clues to check for doneness, rather than strictly adhering to a baking time. When I baked professionally, we used a timer to remind us that something was in the oven. We never relied on it to tell us when something was done.
– When rolling out the dough for the Orange poppyseed sandwich cookies (page 246), the dough should be rolled 1/4 inch (6mm) thick, rather than the 1/2 inch in the book. I find the baking time of 12 minutes is just right for me, but if you like the cookies a little darker, I did a test at 14 minutes, shown below:
These were baked for 14 minutes; at 12 minutes, they’ll be lighter. The darker ones are crispier but the lighter ones meld more smoothly with the filling.
In the book, I gave a chocolate and chocolate-hazelnut options for filling the cookies, if you’d prefer to do that instead of using jam. But you can also fill them with Salted butter caramel sauce (page 283) that’s cooled until it’s thick and spreadable. And in place of poppyseeds, you can use very coarsely ground black or white sesame seeds instead. Or leave them whole! You’ve got options.
Poppyseed cookies filled with salted butter caramel.
-For the Palets Bretons (page 243), a magazine published the recipe with a baking time of “25-35 minutes.” After I developed the recipe, they were tested (again) here in my kitchen when the food stylists made them for the photo in the book. After the magazine published the recipe, one of the food stylists retested them in his kitchen in California and found the baking time in the book to be correct (see above.) But if your oven is different, just bake them until they’re golden brown across the top.
-The yield on the Seville Marmalade recipe (page 299) says it makes 8 cups but depending on various factors, you may get less. Also you don’t necessarily need to let the oranges rest overnight in the liquid. It does help the pectin work its magic, but it’s not obligatory.
– I’ve been playing with the Butternut squash pie (page 96), which is a great holiday treat. Some have said that it makes a bit too much filling for the dough. I recast the recipe so there’s no leftover filling, and you can get that here.
Sharp-eyed readers might notice the profiteroles on the cover of the book, from Grand Brasserie in Paris, have a layer of craquelin over the top. So I thought I’d share a recipe for chocolate craquelin.
I’ve never been a huge fan of sticky buns because I find many of them teeth-screamingly sweet. That said, these dial down the sweetness in favor of flavor, courtesy of two of my favorite things: pecans and maple syrup. And having the two swaddled in a butterscotch-like caramel seems to make each one taste even better than they do on their own.
I was intrigued by a new baking book, The New Sugar & Spice by Samantha Seneviratne, whose subtitle promises recipes for “bolder baking,” which immediately caught my interest. I don’t need to wow me with innovation – tweaking classics is often good enough. The wheel can only be reinvented so many times and no need to repair something that doesn’t need fixing.
It’s unfortunate that I am hooked on both, and like other expats, maple syrup and pecans are two things that we tend to hoard. Sirop d’érable (maple syrup) is available in Paris, the best bottles are sold at natural food stores, and pecans are around, although I often find them not quite at their freshest by the time they’ve hit the store shelves. So I lug those back with me. Fortunately, on occasion, I’m treated to bags by visiting friends and guests. Thank goodness I now have an American-sized freezer.
Well…to be honest, I used to hide them in the freezer, but since I’m a compulsive nibbler, I was getting tired of teething on frozen pecans. So I gave up and started keeping them in a drawer, which means easier access to these precious beauties.
Sticky buns are very easy to make. You start with a simple yeasted dough, softened with milk. Once it rises, you strew the rolled out dough with a mixture of brown sugar and cinnamon. Then comes the fun part: Rolling them up!
The doughy roll then gets sliced into spiraled wheels. Watching them rise in the pan – then rise even further in the oven, is one of the great joys in life. Eating them, of course, is the best part. But if you’ve got kids (or even a middle-aged man, like me), this is a really fun project for a weekend or during a holiday break.
While I was making these, I posted a live video on Snapchat, which is a fun way to share short videos that I’ve been playing around with. The downside is that I got so involved with shooting and sharing that I neglected to chop the pecans before using them, as you can see in the pictures. On Snapchat, posts and videos disappear after twenty-four hours – so when it’s gone, it’s gone! But you can follow me on Snapchat for other tips, future videos and a soupçon of occasional goofiness at davidlebovitz.
As much as I’m freaked out by new technologies, the old ones tend to vex people, too. Folks get freaked out by candy thermometers, but if you use one, you can get your caramel precisely to where it should be. I “went rogue” and didn’t use one, and my sticky buns got a touch too dark, which I liked for the “on the edge” flavor, but resulted in a sticky bun glaze that was less-runny that what some might be used to. So if you have one, you should put that candy thermometer to use when making these sticky buns.
The result of my morning of baking was a tray full of sticky buns that were great for a mid-morning snack but not bad for bringing to a meeting later that evening, which I did. The next day, people raved about them. I’ve got a few other “bold” recipes bookmarked from Samantha’s gorgeous book. And I’m going to make sure my stock of pecans doesn’t run too low, because I’ll be making these again in the near future.
Adapted from The New Sugar & Spice by Samantha SeneviratneThe original recipe calls for baking eight spirals in a 9-inch (23cm) round pan, but I wanted to get nine smaller ones, so used an 8-inch (20cm) square pan and cut the rolled up dough into nine disks. You can do either. Note: Do not use a springform pan for this recipe. Because of the maple caramel, the pan may leak. Even if you wrap it well with foil, caramel may seep out and you don’t want the lovely maple-accented glaze on foil. You want it on your sticky buns.The original recipe also called for a mix of walnuts and pecans, and I opted for all pecans since they’re one of life’s great luxuries to me. But you can swap out any nuts as you wish. There was also 1/2 cup (80g) of raisins added to the caramel along with the pecans, which I omitted as well, although you’re welcome to add them, or another dried fruit, like cranberries or sour cherries.You’ll also note the recipe calls for bread flour. Its higher protein content means that you’ll have better gluten formation and sturdier bread, or buns, as in this case. Most well-stocked supermarkets carry it or you can buy it . You can replicate it by replacing 1 1/2 teaspoons of all-purpose flour with 1 1/2 teaspoons of vital wheat gluten, per cup, or 140g, of all-purpose flour. (In France, I use T65 organic flour and add vital wheat gluten, which is available in natural food stores.)
Course Snack
Ingredients
For the dough
6tablespoonsunsalted buttercubed
2/3cups (160ml)whole or lowfat milk
3tablespoonsgranulated sugar
1 3/4teaspoonactive dry yeast
1large egg
2 1/2cups (320g)bread flour
1/2teaspoonkosher or sea salt
For the topping
6tablespoons (3 ounces, 85g)unsalted butter
1/4cup (45g)dark brown sugar
1/4cup (60ml)maple syrup(dark amber)
1/2teaspoonkosher or sea salt
1cup (140g)pecanslightly toasted and coarsely chopped
For the filling
1/4cup (45g)dark brown sugar
2tablespoonsground cinnamon
1/2teaspoonkosher or sea salt
3tablespoons (1 1/2 ounces, 42g)buttersalted or unsalted, at room temperature
Instructions
To make the dough, warm the butter, milk and sugar in a small saucepan. Pour into the bowl of a stand mixer and let stand until slightly tepid. (You can make this without a stand mixer. If so, pour the milk mixture into a medium bowl.) Sprinkle the yeast over the milk, stir gently, and let sit in a warm place until it starts to bubble, about 10 to 15 minutes.
Mix in the egg, flour, and salt, and knead with the paddle or dough hook at low-to-medium speed until smooth and elastic, about 5 minutes. (If kneading by hand, it may take a bit longer.) Knead the dough a few times with your hand until it’s a smooth ball, place it back in the bowl and cover the bowl with a kitchen towel. Let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 to 1 ½ hours. Time can vary, and it may take longer, or less time.
While the dough is rising, make the topping. Lightly butter a 9-inch (23cm) round or 8-inch (20cm) square cake pan. Heat the butter, brown sugar, maple syrup and salt in a small saucepan fitted with a candy thermometer and cook over medium heat until the mixture comes to a boil. When it gets foamy, after a minute or so, when a few of the bubbles start to get larger, remove from heat. (Samantha notes in her book that if using a thermometer, the temperature should read 212ºF (100ºC).
Pour the maple caramel into the prepared cake pan and strew the pecans over the caramel. Set aside.
To make the filling, mix the brown sugar, cinnamon and salt in a small bowl. Set aside.
When the dough has risen, knead the dough a couple of times on a lightly floured countertop and roll it into a 10-inch (25cm) square. Spread the softened butter over the dough and sprinkle evenly with the filling mixture. Roll up the dough as tightly as possible and using a serrated knife, cut the dough into 8 or 9 slices. If using a square pan, cut into 9. If using a round pan, cut into 8. Place them in the pan with the cut side up. Cover loosely with plastic wrap or a clean, lint-free kitchen towel, and let rise until almost doubled, about 1 hour.
Ten minutes before you’re ready to bake the sticky buns, preheat the oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Place the pan of sticky buns on a baking sheet lined with foil (to catch any overflow drips or spill) and bake until the center roll is lightly browned on top and it doesn’t feel soft when you press it with your finger, 25 to 30 minutes.
Remove the rolls from the oven. Let cool for 5 minutes then run a knife around the outside (if possible, as the buns may have overtaken the rims), then tip the sticky buns out onto a cooling rack or serving platter.
Notes
Serving and storage: Sticky buns are always best served warm, and the day they are made but are fine the next day. If you wish, you can keep them well-wrapped for a few days, rewarming them in a low oven, wrapped in foil until heated through. They can be frozen for up to two months.
I was recently reunited with something I miss very much – a loaded apple tree! Friends of mine who had a house in the French countryside had a tree that, come fall, had so many apples, the limbs threatened to break off. Not wanting to be an accomplice in apple-cide, I decided to do my part to save the tree, and the apples, and make Apple Jelly.
Ten years later, my friends sold their house, which ended my bounty of apples (and medlars.) So how happy was I when some other friends bought a house in Brittany, which had not one, not two…but four apple trees. Score!
The varieties were Reine de Reinette, Canada, and Boskop, which I found out when a concerned neighbor saw someone (me) swiping apples off the trees, and the ground, loading up sacks of them. I think he figured I was pilfering the pommes, but was reassured when I told him I was friends with the owner of the mini-orchard.
After talking with him a few minutes, I realized he was an expert on the apples and not only knew about the varieties of apples, but also what to do with them and nodded in approval when I told him I was going to make Apple Jelly. He was happy to help me fill some bags, which included green varieties, which are high in pectin and help the jelly set, and are more acidic than other apples, which make the jelly well-balanced and delicious. (Calvados, the famed apple brandy from Normany, use very acidic apples since the flavor is more pronounced once cooked.)
To make Apple Jelly, it’s probably a good idea to either a friend with an apple tree (with an explanation ready in case a neighbor comes by…) or get apples from a source where they might sell you apples that are dented or dinged, which are called pommes à cuire (cooking apples) in France, and are quite popular. At the markets, those apples are usually the first to get sold as people use the bargain beauties to make compotes and tarts with. And French bakers like to use a variety of apples in dessert, like Apple Cake, as the flavor is more interesting than if using just one variety.
In the end, I came home with over 50 pounds (23kg) of apples in all shapes, colors, and conditions. And all went to a good cause. This recipe uses a good deal of apples but makes a half-dozen jars, which is good if you’re anything like me and need to reward your friends, and perhaps a local apple expert, with a jar of jelly.
While some sources say to National Center for Food Preservation cook the apple jelly to 220ºF (104ºC), every time I've made this, it jelled at around 230ºF (110ºC). So it’s best to use a thermometer but also to test your jelly by dropping a dab on a chilled plate, putting it in the freezer for a few minutes, then checking to see if the mixture has jelled by nudging it and seeing if it mounds and wrinkles, as shown in the post. If you don’t have a candy thermometer, you can use the "nudge" method to test your jelly.
One pound (450g) of apples cooked will yield about 1 cup (250ml) strained juice from the cooked apples. So if you have fewer apples, or you get a different yield (since all apples are different), you can use that as a guideline and add 3/4 cup (150g) sugar and 1 1/2 teaspoons of lemon juice per cup of strained apple juice. You can easily halve this recipe, too.
Note that in step #3 depending on the size of your strainer or colander, you may need to use two, as I do. One tip is when putting the apples in the strainers if you can't get them all in, after filling them up, let the mixture sit 5 to 10 minutes; it'll settle down and compress, and you should be able to add the rest after that.
Servings 6jars, 1 cup (250ml) each
Ingredients
8pounds (3.75kg)apples
10cups (2.25L)water
6cups (1,2kg)sugar
1/4cup (60ml)freshly squeezed lemon juice
2teaspoonsCalvadosbrandy, or Cognac
Instructions
Rinse the apples and cut them coarsely into chunks, then put them and the cores and seeds, into a very large stockpot.
Add the water, cover, and bring to a boil. When bubbling, reduce the heat a bit, leave the lid askew, and cook for 20 to 30 minutes, until the apples are tender and cooked through.
Line a mesh colander with a piece of muslin cloth or a few folds of cheesecloth (or use a jelly bag and stand) and set it over a deep bowl, then ladle the apples and the liquid into the colanders. (I use two lined colanders since it was quite a bit of apples.)
Let stand or at least 3 hours (but you'll get more juice if you let the apples drain around ~8 hours), and during that time, no matter how tempting it looks, do not press down at any time on the apples to extract more juice or the jelly will get cloudy.
The next day, measure out the juice. You should have about 8 cups (2L) but may get a little more. Pour the juice into a large, non-reactive pot fitted with a candy thermometer, add the sugar and lemon juice, and bring to a boil. During cooking, as any white foam forms on the surface while the jelly is cooking, gently skim it off with a ladle. (See Note at the end of the recipe for some idea about repurposing the apples and the foam.)
Cook until the temperature reaches 220ºF (104ºC). At that point, turn off the heat and begin testing the jelly on a chilled plate in the freezer, using the method mentioned in the headnote. When it wrinkles and holds its shape, it’s done. If not, continue to cook and re-test it at intervals. This batch set at 230ºF (110ºC).
Remove from heat, stir in the liquor, and ladle into clean jars, then cap tightly.
Notes
Storage: I don’t preserve my jelly or jams in heat-treated jars because I eat them quickly, but store mine in the refrigerator where they’ll keep for several months. If you wish to preserve them, you can find instructions for canning at the University of Georgia website.Notes: The cooked apples can be passed through a food mill and used as applesauce, or for Chewy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies, Nonfat Gingersnaps, or my favorite Granola recipe.Any foam scraped off the top of the jelly while cooking can be refrigerated or frozen, and added to your next batch of jam. It's especially great used in jams made with low-pectin fruit, such as strawberries, apricots, peaches, pineapple, or cherries.
I’ll be at AXS design, one of my favorite shops in Paris, celebrating the release of Ready for Dessert on Sept 30th from 5:30 to 7pm.
AXS is filled with treasures, including French dinnerware, glasses and linens, and lots more. They were kind enough to lend me some of their beautiful items for the photos in book, so I’m thrilled they’re hosting the book launch and signing. Books will be available for purchase and I’ll be on hand to personalize them for you.
Thanks to Comté for providing samples of French cheese for the event.
Join me and my friend Jane Bertch in Paris on Sunday, June 29th, for a booksigning event from 3pm to 4:30pm at La Cuisine Paris at 78 Quai de l’Hôtel de Ville (4th).
Note that books are in limited supply and you are welcome to bring books you’ve purchased elsewhere. Please note that the venue is not able to take credit card payments on-site.
When my publisher told me they wanted a new edition of the book, I decided to revise the book completely, from top to bottom. Ready for Dessert is a compilation of my favorite recipes, so I knew that I wanted to keep my signature Chocolate chip cookies, the Chocolate-cherry biscotti accented with black pepper, and classic Black & white cookies, along with everyone’s favorite, the Fresh ginger cake, as well as a tangy Lemon semifreddo, and the recipe for the Coconut layer cake I made for Alice Waters’ father on his birthday every year.
To sweeten the pot, I added brand-new recipes to Ready for Dessert, favorites culled from my kitchen in Paris, including Île flottante (inspired by the version I always order at a favorite local bistro), a very special Riz au lait (rice pudding) topped with crunchy, candied nuts and salted butter caramel sauce, buttery Palets Breton cookies, and my version of the iconic, and irresistible (truly!), Maple tart from Tapisserie in Paris, the pastry shop of the highly-regarded restaurant Septime, so you can make it at home.
One of my favorite pictures (and recipes) from the new edition of Ready for Dessert is the Marjolaine cake. We made several of these cakes for the photo shoot and gave leftovers to the local butcher shop – and now I’m their favorite customer.
Award-winning photographer Ed Anderson, who photographed my books, My Paris Kitchen, Drinking French, and The Perfect Scoop, returned to Paris to shoot the pictures for the book, in my kitchen and backyard, as well as out-and-about in the city. Another bonus was that I got to work with two of my favorite food stylists, Elisabet der Nederlanden and George Dolese. We had a blast shopping in Paris for ingredients, and making the recipes in my kitchen, then eating them as well.
When the food stylists end up devouring your recipes during a photo shoot, that’s the highest compliment a cookbook author can have. They bake and cook food all day long, so are picky about what they eat. (And boy, did they eat!) I also invited friends to come by and join us, so you’ll find guests shots in the book as well.
The all-new edition of Ready for Dessert is now available at your local independent bookseller and online.
Below are some bookstores and online retailers where you can order the book:
Dinner in Paris generally starts at 8 pm, especially in restaurants, and I get ravenously hungry between lunch and dinner.
Parisians do dine rather late – often not until 9:30 pm or later, and that’s an awfully long stretch. So French people visit their local pâtisserie for an afternoon snack, known as le goûter, although nowadays Parisians often call it le snack.
Le snack is often nothing more than a buttery financier or a tender madeleine. At home, French children at home are often given a split piece of baguette with a bar of dark chocolate tucked inside to keep them happy until dinner.
But my snack of choice is invariably les chouquettes: Cream puffs covered with crunchy nuggets of sugar, then baked until golden-brown. The eggy, pillowy puffs are piled uneventfully behind the counter and sold in crisp little paper sacks, each one holding about 100 grams, or about 10. I found that engaging the counter person in a few words of niceties will often mean that before the ends of the bag are twisted shut, an extra puff will be tossed in as a little gift for l’américain.
Nothing is easier to make than chouquettes and you can bake them right with ingredients you likely already have on hand. The only thing you’ll need to find is pearl sugar, which gives the puffs their signature crunch. Some tell me you can buy it at Ikea stores, or you can find it at King Arthur or on Amazon. If you have sugar cubes, you can crush those up into rough chunks and use those, although they’re not quite the same. And if you’re like me, and like chocolate, you could press some chocolate chips into a few of the puffs before baking.
This is one of my favorite of all French snacks and I can polish away a whole bag, or tray, in no time. These are best made and eaten right away, or later the same day – if they last that long!
From The Sweet Life in ParisShaping the mounds of dough is easiest to do with a pastry bag, although you can use two spoons or a spring-loaded ice cream scoop.Pearl sugar is available in the U.S .from King Arthur and at G. Detou in Paris, and is also available from French companies such as Daddy (called perles de sucre) and Vahiné (sucre chouquettes). You can approximate pearl sugar by crushing sugar cubes in a sturdy zip-top freezer bag with a rolling pin or hammer.
Course Dessert
Cuisine French
Servings 6servings
Ingredients
1cup (250ml)water
1/2teaspoonsalt
2teaspoonssugar
6tablespoons (90g)unsalted buttercut into small chunks
1cup (140g)flour
4large eggsat room temperature
Glaze:1egg yolkmixed with 1 teaspoon milk
Pearl sugar
Instructions
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees (220 C.) Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone baking mat. (Depending on the size of your baking sheets, it may take two.)
Heat the water, salt, sugar, and butter in a small saucepan, stirring, until the butter is melted. Remove from heat and dump all the flour in at once. Put the pan back on the heat and stir rapidly until the mixture is smooth and pulls away from the sides of the pan.
Allow dough to cool for two minutes, then briskly beat in the eggs, one at a time, until smooth and shiny.
Using two spoons, scoop up a mound of dough with one spoon roughly the size of an unshelled walnut, and scrape it off with the other spoon onto the baking sheet. You can also use a pastry bag fitted with a plain 1/2-inch tip and pipe them.
Place the mounds evenly-spaced apart on the baking sheet(s). Brush the top of each mound with some of the egg glaze then press the pearl sugar over the top and sides of each mound. Use a lot. Once the puffs expand rise, you’ll appreciate the extra effort (and sugar.)
Bake the cream puffs until puffed and well-browned, about 25 to 30 minutes. If they get too dark midway through baking, lower the heat of the oven to 375ºF (190ºC) and continue baking. (If you want to make them crispier, you can poke a hole in the side with a knife after you take them out of the oven to let the steam escape.)
Notes
Storage: The cream puffs are best eaten the same day they’re made. Once cooled, they can be frozen in a zip-top freezer bag for up to one month. Defrost at room temperature, then warm briefly on a baking sheet in a moderate oven, until crisp.
In some places, eggs are in short supply. For bakers, that may present a problem for us. But the folks at King Arthur Baking have provided an excellent guidelines to using egg substitutes, with tips for using everything from seltzer and flax seeds, to chickpea liquid and fruit puree, so you can keep on baking.
I’ve been on a marmalade bender lately. Well, it’s actually been for the last few weeks. Winter, of course, is marmalade season and the markets in Paris are heaped with citrus: Corsican clementines, pretty yellow bergamots, hefty pink grapefruits from Florida (although some infer appellations from elsewhere – namely, the Louvre), leafy lemons from Nice, and lots and lots of oranges.
The stands are so piled up that it’s not uncommon to be walking down the aisle and have an orange roll off of the piles and land on your foot. (Which is why it is a good idea to wash any fruit before you use it.) This means I’ve got so many jars of marmalade, that when my friend Luisa stopped by and saw the jars piled on top of a shelf in my bedroom, she said “I’ve doing the same thing ” at her apartment in Berlin. Sometimes I think jam-making could be classified as an epidemic and if so, there’s ample evidence that I’m ready for an intervention.
While kumquats were once classified with their look-alike citrus brethren and sistern (admittedly, it can be hard to tell as it’s difficult to get a look under their navels), they are now placed in another genus category (Fortunella), even though they share many characteristics of citrus fruits.
One of those characteristics is that they are winter fruits. And another is that they are très bon pour la santé (good for your health), containing lots of vitamin C. And they also make you feel happier, since not only does their tangy-bitter flavor brighten up even the darkest of winter day, nothing makes me happier than to wake up in the morning and gaze at my shelf of marmalade first thing in the morning.
I was especially happy when I was doing my shopping at the outdoor market and came across a big bin of kumquats. I scooped up a nice-sized bag of them and brought them home, where they patiently waited in the refrigerator until I decided what to do with them.
Originally I’d considered giving them a quick-candying and strewing them over poached prunes with a scoop of ice cream. But I ended up sticking my fingers into the bowl of prunes a few too many times during the week and ended up with a small puddle of cinnamon-spiced dark syrup pooled in the bottom of a container in my refrigerator, which I didn’t think would go with anything.
So I decided to get out my little serrated knife, slice up my Fortunella fruits, and make marmalade. I added a couple of lemons not just to bulk it up, but because I thought with the added sugar, the marmalade would benefit from some extra acidity.
I normally spoon my marmalades on morning toast, but after I made this batch, I had cleaned up the kitchen and was going to reward myself to a nice bowl of split pea soup for lunch with some Comté cheese and – like most good ideas (and a few of the bad ones) – it suddenly occurred to me that the tart marmalade might be nice with the nutty cheese I was cutting into batons.
And sure enough, it was. Fortunately I have three nice jars of marmalade to add to my collection. So far this year I’ve made Seville orange marmalade (eight jars) and four jars of mixed marmalade, using the bergamots and citron that were plucked off a tree in Sicily. After all that slicing, seeding, and simmering, the last pot of marmalade has been jarred and stored; they’ll last me through the winter. And if I am prudent, a number of spring and summer mornings as well.
Many of the little rings of kumquats will, unfortunately, come apart as you cook the marmalade. The reward, however, is gorgeous jars of tangy marmalade that you’ll be happy to spread on your morning toast or serve with a bit of cheese after dinner. I served mine with Comté, but a nice goat cheese or another nutty mountain cheese, like Gruyère, would pair nicely with it.
It takes a bit of patience to slice and pluck out all the seeds from the kumquats, but you can get 2 to 3 jars of marmalade for your efforts. I use a small serrated knife to slice off the stem end, then start slicing the kumquats crosswise, until I get close to the center. Finally, I stick the tip of the knife into the area where the seeds are and slip them into a small bowl. Because the seeds are rather large, any that you miss you can usually find just by doing a little scanning of your pile of sliced kumquats.
I use oval Nagami kumquats, which are more puckery than the round Meiwi kumquats, which you sometimes come across. Do try to get organic or unsprayed fruit from your local market or natural food store. The kirsch is optional, but it does nicely round out the flavor of the marmalade. You can substitute another liquor, such as gin, Grand Marnier or Cointreau, light rum, or a dash of brandy. Or it can be omitted, if you wish.
Ingredients
2lemonsstemmed, halved lengthwise, seeded, and very thinly sliced
1pound (450g)kumquatsstemmed, seeded, and sliced
Reserve the seeds from the lemon and kumquats
5 1/2cups (1.3L)water
2cups (400g)sugar
pinchof salt
Optional: 1/2teaspoonkirsch or other liquor
Instructions
Put the lemon slices in a large non-reactive pot. Cover with cold water and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the lemons are translucent, about 5 minutes. Drain. (Discard the water.)
Put the blanched lemons back in the pot. Tie the seeds from the lemons and kumquats securely in a piece of cheesecloth and add the seed sack to the pot along with the sliced kumquats and water. Bring to a boil; remove from heat, cover, and let stand 24 hours.
The next day, put a small plate in the freezer.
Add the sugar and salt to the pot, and cook the marmalade for 30 to 45 minutes over medium heat. Remove the bag of seeds and when it’s cool enough to handle, squeeze the seeds in the cheesecloth using your hands or place it in a ladle and press it with the back of a soup spoon (being careful not to break the fabric and release the seeds) over the jam pot to so the pectin goes directly into the marmalade mixture.
Continue cooking until it has reached the jelling point, about 220ºF (104ºC) degrees, if using a candy thermometer. To test the marmalade, turn off the heat and put a small amount on the plate that has been chilled in the freezer and briefly return it to the freezer. Check it in a few minutes; it should be slightly jelled and will wrinkle a bit when you slide your finger through it. If not, continue to cook until it wrinkles slightly on the chilled plate when you nudge it.
Remove from heat, then stir in the kirsch (if using), and ladle the mixture into clean jars.
Notes
Note: I store my jams and marmalades in a cool place, often the refrigerator if not planning to use them within a few weeks. if you wish to can or preserve them, you can check out these canning tips.