Brownies fit into three basic classifications: cakey, fudgy and chewy. It took me a while of deliberating just what kind of recipe I was looking for. I ruled out cakey immediately because something fluffy and light seemed more like, well, cake. I wanted to achieve something more or less like the one bite brownies, but couldn’t decide whether or not this would be “fudgy” or “chewy”. I looked around for a one bite brownie emulating recipe and the best I found was for a chewy brownie with these directions: “Prepare brownie mix according to box directions and pour into mini muffin tins.” Thanks for that little gem, Internet.

So, knowing I wanted a chewy recipe now, but with no decent recipes found, I gave up. A few days later, I received the latest issue of Cook’s Illustrated in the mail. It seems they were also having a similar predicament, also wanting to create a recipe with a texture similar to the store bought variety. They found a solution through several hundred test recipes. Luckily for me, I just had to read their results.

The chewiness factor seems to boil down to a 1:3 ratio of saturated to unsaturated fat. That means that a chewier brownie is actually achieved by “cheaping out” and using vegetable oil in place of two thirds of the butter. I find something truly awesome about this fact. In all of my baking efforts (which are fairly limited, I must admit), it’s always been about using butter, and the best quality butter you can afford. Here’s a recipe telling me to swap out some Crisco to improve the results. That’s just great. Not only is it great for this recipe, but it’s great knowing this fact when it comes to making, say, chewy cookies.

Enough about chewiness and on with the show! I modified the recipe slightly. I used natural cocoa powder instead of Dutch-processed and recommend you do the same. Their recipe tries to fortify chocolate flavor in every way, adding instant espresso (a natural compliment to chocolate), unsweetened chocolate, extra chocolate chunks, but chose the significantly more subtle cocoa. I don’t understand it. There are no chemical leaveners for the more acidic natural cocoa to interfere with in the recipe and, as far as I know, using natural cocoa powder only improved the chocolate taste. Otherwise, my only alterations were to omit the extra chocolate chunks, as there is more than enough chocolate action going on to please most chocolate lovers without it. That and shorten their wordy directions.

This recipe is a really good “science experiment” to illustrate the power of emulsifiers I was talking about over on Bread is Pain in my article How to Buy Chocolate. When you combine the cocoa and fats, the whole thing looks like a curdled mess. It is only when you add the eggs, containing lecithin, that the whole thing becomes a satiny smooth mixture. Neat, huh?

Chewy Chocolate Brownies

• 1/3 cup natural cocoa powder
• 1 1/2 teaspoons instant espresso
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons boiling water
• 2 ounces unsweetened chocolate, finely chopped
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 2 eggs plus 2 egg yolks
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 2 1/2 cups sugar
• 3/4 teaspoon table salt
• 1 3/4 cups all purpose flour
• (optional) 6 ounces bittersweet chocolate chips or chunks

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and adjust oven rack to lowest position.
2. Line a 13×9″ casserole dish with foil or parchment paper, leaving enough to hang over the edges of the dish for easier removal of the contents later. Spray this lightly with nonstick spray.
3. Whisk together the cocoa powder and instant espresso with the boiling water until smooth, then add the chocolate, stirring until melted.
4. In stages, whisk in the butter, vegetable oil, eggs, vanilla extract, sugar and salt into the chocolate mixture until well incorporated. The mixture should be smooth and satiny.
5. Sift and fold the flour into the chocolate mixture with a spatula. Make sure there are no lumps. Fold in the chocolate chunks, if using.
6. Scrape the batter into your prepared pan and bake until a toothpick can be inserted into the center and come out with just a few crumbs attached to it, about 35 minutes.
7. Remove the pan from the oven and cool for 10 minutes. Remove the brownies as one slab using your prepared foil or parchment handles and set on a cooling rack to cool completely before slicing.

About the only thing I would consider changing with the recipe is an addition of chopped walnuts. Beyond that, I cannot fathom a better brownie recipe.

As I’ve griped about before, the local markets in my new neighborhood are Muslim owned, which makes it difficult for me to purchase pork. I don’t feel right about purchasing pork from the corporate chains (if for no other reason than because it’s poorly cut) so for the most part, I’ve been abstaining for the last couple of months. The exception has been with ham. Every once in a while, Provigo will have picnic hams on sale for 99 cents a pound, which means I can pick through and find a ham suitable to feed us for a week for about eight dollars.

I like to boil the ham instead of bake them because it renders it significantly less salty and rewards me with a nice pot of ham stock to use as I please afterward. Ham stock is lovely commodity, reconstituting pretty much any humdrum dried starch into something delicious. Here are two simple recipes for use of said ham stock, one for black eyed peas and another for split peas.

Black Eyed Pea and Ham Soup

• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 onion, thinly sliced
• 1 carrot, peeled and chopped
• 1 red chili, seeded and minced
• 3 cloves garlic, crushed
• 1 bay leaf
• 8 cups ham stock
• 1 cup black eyed peas
• 8 ounces cooked ham, roughly chopped
• 1 bunch (4-5 ounces) spinach or collard greens, washed
• 2 tablespoons cooking cream
• salt and pepper

1. Melt butter in a large soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, chili and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened.
2. Add the bay leaf, black eyed peas and ham and cover with ham stock. Raise the heat to high to bring to a boil. Cover and cook until the beans are tender, about an hour to an hour and a half.
3. Add the spinach and cook for several minutes, just a bit passed wilted. Remove from the heat and add the cream. Season to taste with salt and pepper, if necessary.

Split Pea Soup

• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil or (preferably) lard
• 1 onion, diced
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• 2 carrots, peeled and diced
• 1 clove garlic, crushed
• 1 cup yellow split peas
• 1 cup cooked ham, diced
• 6 cups ham stock
• salt and pepper

1. Heat vegetable oil in a large soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, carrot and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened.
2. Add the split peas and ham and cover with ham stock. Raise the heat to high to bring to a boil. Cover and cook until the peas are tender and falling apart, about an hour.
3. Stir the peas until they fall apart, mash or puree them to your desired consistency. Season to taste with salt and pepper, if necessary.

The preference to use yellow split peas is purely aesthetic. There is a taste difference between the two, but I find the yellow more apealing. Ahem.

When I ask Shannon what she wants for breakfast, she usually answers, “Pancakes!” This is a bit of an ongoing joke between us, as I tend to automatically veto breakfasts comprised purely of carbohydrates. This isn’t necessarily because I’m a nutritional Nazi (which is partly true) but because a breakfast without protein and/or fiber leaves me feeling logy for the rest of the day, sort of in a starved and squinty daze. Every once in a while though, if I wake up before her, I’ll go to whip up a batch of pancakes and hope to have them done before she gets out of bed.

There seem to be two types of pancakes: the slightly crispy edged ones that sort of look like they have a rim at their edges, and the tender and stackable hotcake ones they’re always showing in commercials. Now don’t quote me on this, because my “science of pancakes” isn’t exactly up to snuff, but I think the major difference between these two pancakes comes down to the leavening agent.

When baking powder is used exclusively, the pancakes tend to rise while they’re in the pan, which gives them a bit of time to crisp up. When baking soda is used as well, the batter is slightly leavened already, so when it is poured into the pan, it rises more uniform and the pancakes end up more tender. That might not be exactly how or why, but I’m 99% certain the result holds true. Please, feel free to correct me. I hate being wrong. That is, I hate not knowing when I’m wrong.

When using baking soda, you have to utilize an acid in the recipe to set it off, such as buttermilk. So buttermilk pancakes, in theory, will likely be the tender and picture worthy variety. These tend to keep better when making a large batch, because crispy things don’t tend to keep crispy for very long. Therefore, I think the buttermilk pancakes have a slight edge over the crisped edge variety.

The rest is simply about heat control. I like to use a cast iron skillet to cook my pancakes, slightly greased for the first pancake with a bit of vegetable oil, and then a spot of butter whenever it needs it from there on in. There’s just something right about using cast iron to cook a pancake. If nothing else, cast iron retains heat better, so once you find the sweet spot, that exact temperature on your stove that churns out perfect pancakes, you won’t have to fiddle with knobs when the thinner Teflon pans start to lose heat.

As you may know, Quebec produces most of the world’s maple syrup. That doesn’t mean it’s particularly inexpensive here, but no matter where you are, it’s still worth getting the good stuff. There’s nothing better than real maple syrup as a topping for a stack of pancakes. “Pancake syrups” or whatever other maple flavored syrups that don’t actually contain anything derived from maple trees are just high fructose corn syrup with some artificial flavors added. It’s too thick and too sweet and too… fake – it’s soda pop concentrate for breakfast is what it is. Please, if you haven’t tried or don’t already use real maple syrup, make the switch. If nothing else, it’s actually useful for many other things than pancakes! End rant. Insert recipe.

Buttermilk Pancakes

• 1 1/2 cups (185g) all purpose flour
• 3 tablespoons (45g) sugar
• 1 teaspoon (5g) baking powder
• 1 teaspoon (5g) baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon (2g) salt
• 1 large egg
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 3/4 cups buttermilk
• Vegetable oil, butter and real maple syrup

1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees.
2. Sift together the dry ingredients (flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt) in a large bowl.
3. Combine the egg, butter and vanilla and stir into the dry ingredients. Gradually whisk in the buttermilk until you have a slightly runny and pourable batter. Alternatively, combine all of the ingredients in a blender. The blender is nice because it has a pour spout. Also, less dishes. I like the blender.
4. Heat a cast iron pan over medium heat, greased with a bit of vegetable oil. Pour about 1/4 cup of batter into the center of pan (a small ladle tends to be particularly well suited for this and produces uniform results). Watch for small bubbles to appear all over its surface, then carefully flip it over with a spatula.
5. Continue cooking the other side for another minute or two, then transfer the pancake to a baking sheet and leave in the oven to keep warm.
6. Adjust the heat as necessary and repeat with the remaining batter. Add a little bit of butter as necessary to prevent pancakes from sticking.
7. When all is said and done, pile up your hard work on a plate, top with a pat of butter and drizzle real maple syrup over the stack.

I like pancakes with steel cut oats and bananas. Just in case you’re ever making me pancakes. Don’t forget the coffee! I’m going to need it.

This is another recipe I was reading in Laura Calder’s book “French Taste” that made me think, “Hey, I haven’t made crème caramel in a while!” As you can see, this is another basic classic recipe containing nothing but sugar, milk, eggs and vanilla, and that’s what I’ve been in the mood for lately, trying to showcase the versatility of eggs and working on simple desserts at the same time.

I have a thing for the flavor of orange, especially in custard, and thought it would go nicely with the vaguely dulce de leche flavor she had said would be infused in the custard from heating the milk in the same pan as you used to make the caramel. Before the custard cooked the flavor was almost cloyingly sweet and really infused with flavor, but when I baked it, a lot of that flavor dissipated. I am not sure how much of that is because I did not infuse enough flavor into it and how much of it is because they weren’t ready the first time my timer went off and I ended up cooking them too long.

Regardless, the bites of sweet orange with the slightly bitter caramel was a nice compliment, even if the orange flavor in the custard itself didn’t really seem to come through too well. You could easily go without the addition of the oranges and go the classic route, if you wanted to. As a side note, I am vaguely disturbed that my picture looks as though it may be just as likely that I had a halibut steak for dessert. I really need to set up a better place to take photos. Yes, I have been saying that since 2006. Oh, it’s classic A Food Year foibles all over again. What can I say? I’m not a photographer.

Crème Caramel with Oranges

• 2 cups sugar
• 2 cups whole milk
• 1 vanilla bean
• 2 oranges, zested and segmented*
• 6 eggs

1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees with the rack positioned in the center. Bring a kettle full of water to a boil. Have six small ramekins and a casserole dish or similar capable of holding them all at the ready.
2. Dissolve half of the sugar (1 cup) with 1/4 cup of water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium and continue to cook until the sugar becomes nicely caramelized and fragrant.
3. Quickly portion the caramel into the bottom of the six ramekins, swirling them individually to coat their bottoms evenly. Allow them to cool while you prepare the custard.
4. To make the custard, add the milk to the saucepan that you cooked the caramel in and return it to the heat. Bring the milk to just below boiling point while using a high resistant spatula to remove the remaining caramel from the pan and dissolving it into the milk.
5. Slice the vanilla bean in half lengthwise, scoop out the seeds with a paring knife, and add the vanilla pod and seeds, along with the orange zest, to the milk. Remove from the heat and set aside to infuse for 10 minutes.
6. Meanwhile, whisk together the eggs with the remaining cup of sugar. Strain the milk, discarding the vanilla pod and orange zest, and slowly whisk the milk into the eggs and sugar, being careful not to curdle the eggs. This is your custard mix.
7. Portion the custard mix into the ramekins. Place the ramekins inside the casserole dish and fill the dish up with the hot water, approximately halfway up the sides of the ramekins. The water bath provides a slower and more consistent heat transfer to the custards and prevents them from curdling.
8. Place the casserole dish into the oven, being careful not to spill the water, and bake until the custards are set, about 30-40 minutes. When shaken, the center of the custard should jiggle like Jell-o, but there will be no noticeable liquid in the ramekins.
9. Remove the ramekins from the hot water bath and cool slightly. To serve, trace a paring knife around the rim of the ramekin and invert the ramekin onto a plate. If you wish to make the dessert a day before, cool the custard to room temperature, cover the ramekins individually and place in the fridge. Remove them from the fridge at least 20 minutes before serving and then submerge the bottom of the ramekins into hot water for 10-15 seconds to dissolve the caramel before plating. Top with orange segments.

Optionally, this could be made in one large ramekin or casserole dish and then cut into slices to serve.

* To make orange segments (“supremes”) lay the orange on its side and, with a sharp chef knife, slice off the top and bottom of the orange. Set the orange on its sliced bottom to give it a flat surface and then, with your knife, carefully remove the skin and pith (the white part) following the shape of the orange. When all of the peel of the orange has been removed, carefully slide your knife between the membranes that hold the segments in place and plop them into a bowl. Check out This Video for a visual. Alternatively, say “the hell with it!” and open up a can of mandarin oranges, or omit entirely.

The Sparrow rejuvenated my impression of scrambled eggs. I thought I would never see the day when scrambled eggs weren’t offered as the egg option for people that don’t like them – that is, people that only like their eggs if they’re cooked to death, brown, rubbery and tasteless aside the liberal application of ketchup. The Sparrow’s scrambled eggs are the difference between eating a Hershey’s kiss and an artisan’s truffle; between eating a dyed supermarket tomato and one fresh from the vines of a garden; between a hot pocket and a pizza pulled straight from a wood-fired brick oven. You get the idea.

I wouldn’t say scrambled has now become my preferred way to eat eggs, but I certainly recognize that they can be a desirable option now. The trick to making good scrambled eggs is to basically do the opposite of what every diner seems to do. That is, cook them slowly over low heat, and only to a point, rather than as quickly as possible on a searing plaque. Dare I say, scrambled eggs can even be a touch runny when poured out of the pan. They will still be cooked through, only the proteins will have not completely coagulated, giving them a softer, creamier texture, almost like a condiment for toast as much as they are an item to themselves.

The French have a way of doing this which is a little too complex first thing in the morning for me. The whites and yolks are beaten separately, then cooked gently over a bain marie (a double boiler; any non-reactive bowl that can be placed over a pot of hot water without its bottom being immersed), the whites first until they just begin to set, then the yolks added for the remainder of the cooking time. This requires dirtying no less than five dishes and is a considerable pain before morning coffee. No doubt delicious, but too ambitious, let’s say.

I do not know for certain how The Sparrow prepares their scrambled eggs, but I’ve devised a method that emulates them to a close enough facsimile. Their eggs rest atop a large slice of rustic toast and are served with house smoked salmon. When summer hits, I hope to achieve the same thing with my own smoker, but in the meantime, just the eggs will have to do. Knowing for a fact that they contain creme fraiche and chives by simply reading the menu, don’t give me too much credit if this helps you successfully duplicate the dish for yourself.

My general rule is to make two large eggs plus one additional egg for every two people. So five eggs for two, seven eggs for three, ten eggs for four. Why? I don’t know, it just seems like the right amount. The addition of cold butter melts during the cooking, and not only gives you a bit of a temperature safeguard, but simultaneously flavors the eggs and gives them a silky texture.

Every cooking show I’ve ever watched will say that you can substitute sour cream for creme fraiche, and while you technically can make such a substitution here, it’s really not the same. You can substitute Greek yogurt for sour cream, but you will certainly notice the difference, if you get my meaning. Texturally they are quite similar, but the flavor of creme fraiche is a better compliment to eggs than sour cream, in my opinion. Here in Quebec, Liberte makes a wonderful creme fraiche, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if that’s also what The Sparrow used in their kitchen.

Scrambled Eggs with Creme Fraiche and Chives

• 5 large eggs, room temperature
• 1 heaping tablespoon creme fraiche
• 2 teaspoons cold salted butter, diced
• 1 tablespoon fresh chives, minced

1. Whisk the eggs together, at least enough to break apart the yolks, then stir in the creme fraiche and 1 teaspoon of the cold butter.
2. In a large nonstick pan over medium-low heat, gently melt the remaining butter. Once it has melted, add the eggs.
3. Stir the eggs often with a spatula, making sure to reduce the heat if they begin to brown. The idea is to cook them slowly so they do not become rubbery, but not so slowly that you feel as though you’re laboriously stirring at the stove!
4. When most of the eggs have set into pillowy curds and just a touch of liquid remains, remove the pan from the heat and fold in the chives. The carryover heat from the pan should be just enough to finish cooking the eggs to the perfect consistency, the cold butter and creme fraiche having melted into the eggs giving them a luxurious texture. Spoon the eggs over a generous slice of toast and season to your preference with additional salt and some freshly ground pepper.

I’m kind of on a roll for posts about the many unique properties of eggs lately, and after accidentally spending my afternoon reading pastry blogs, I decided to bake up some meringues. There’s something particularly amazing about whipping up something that looks as unappetizing as egg whites into a mass of fluffy white cloud. I was particularly happy about getting to use a piping bag and pastry tip, as I spent good money on these things and they’ve been stowed away for almost a year now without a single use.

If someone knows a way to get that satisfying brittle crunch out of a lemon meringue pie the way a meringue cookie cracks in your mouth, please let me know. The texture of a slowly baked meringue cookie is truly unique. I’m not wild about their flavor as a standalone, but if I could achieve that crispness as a topping for custard or lemon curd, I’d whip some up much more often.

This recipe follows the methodology for “French” meringue, because it is the type, as far as I know, most suited to meringue cookies and macarons. It is important to use caster sugar for this recipe. Caster sugar is a superfine sugar. If you were to use normal white sugar, the meringue’s texture would likely be noticeably gritty instead of soft and delicate. To make caster sugar, if you do not keep it around your house, you can simply pulse white sugar in your food processor until it is superfine. I’ve been reading this for years and thought that was a load of bunk because my food processor blade does not seem to strike particularly low in its basin; but it worked. It worked really well, actually, to an extent that I’m now trying to figure out what I can use caster sugar for that I haven’t been for all these years. Creme brulee, here I come!

The baking process for the meringues can literally take hours because the temperature is so low, but you cannot rush it. It takes time for the meringues to properly dry out. However, if you hate waiting on things or have a wife who prefers them chewy in the middle, then you can free up your oven for the afternoon by pulling them out of the oven in an hour or so. Since my wife bought me a digital scale for such purposes at Christmas, and pastry is usually measured in weight instead of cups for precision, it might help you to know that the ratio I learned is 30g egg whites to 50g caster sugar. The vanilla can be added to taste and the icing sugar is simply added because the cornstarch in it helps as a stabilizer.

Meringue Cookies

• 3 large eggs, just the whites, at room temperature
• 3/4 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon icing sugar
• 3/4 cup caster sugar

1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees (yes, Fahrenheit) with the rack positioned in the middle of the oven.
2. Using an electric mixer on its lowest setting (or by hand with a whisk, if you’re so inclined) whisk the egg whites, vanilla and icing sugar in a non-reactive bowl until they hold soft peaks. They should be glossy and white with no visible weeping of liquid.
3. Continue mixing as you gradually add the sugar by the tablespoon until it has all become incorporated.
4. Whip the egg whites to firm peaks. Take a bit of the mixture and press it between your fingers. If it feels gritty, continue mixing until the mixture feels smooth.
5. Fill a piping bag with a 1/2″ pastry tip (or a Ziploc bag with the end cut off, or a funnel of parchment paper, or simply use spoons). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and pipe out 12 equal dollops of meringue.
6. Place them into the oven and bake, turning the sheet 180 degrees every 45 minutes to ensure even cooking. After an hour and a half, depending on the amount of moisture contained in the whites, they may be done. Take out a sample, crack it open, and if it meets your standards, turn off the oven, crack the door and allow them to cool to room temperature.

I’ve read that these will keep in an airtight jar for at least a week. I’ve never seen a pastry shop keep meringues in airtight jars. I have no idea what the turnover is for meringues, but I swear the same meringues have been sitting in some store windows for years with no visible depreciation. I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, as meringues have never lasted more than a day in our kitchen.

I was flipping through my latest cookbook purchase, Laura Calder’s “French Taste”, hoping for a cake to jump out at me that would be fit for a birthday celebration. I have really enjoyed her latest season of “French Cooking at Home” on Food Network Canada and decided to give her book a look through when I was out one day and ended up picking it up. The recipes are simple, solid and inspirational, and her writing is quite lighthearted and charming without sacrificing merit. There are topics covered in the book that are rarely covered in others without seeming like an uptight manners lesson, such as how to serve a glass of water, that just seem fitting and logical. I endorse it, and not only because I have a boyish crush on Calder herself. Whenever she comes on the TV my wife will yell out, “Your girlfriend is on again!” to lure me from the office.

Anyway… I found a cake that suited not only this purpose, but another I’ve been looking to fill. Lately I’ve been trying to mentally conjure an image of a dessert containing both oranges and almonds but couldn’t really decide on what to make. Her recipe for an orange and almond cake not only seemed appropriate for an occasion, but would fill this void. But first I had to go out and purchase a spring form pan. We had several of these in Alberta and, after buying the ingredients necessary to make this cake, I realized they did not make the cut to move with us. This just clearly goes to show how often I use a spring form pan, if after living in Montreal for three plus years I have yet to require one.

This cake is “flourless”, but in the sense that when people say flourless, they usually don’t really mean not containing flour, they mean that it does not contain wheat flour. It is also, much like a Souffle, leavened with eggs, instead of baking soda or powder. The cake itself is the bare essentials of cake making, containing only eggs, sugar and “flour” (ground almonds) flavored with orange zest. Such a cake can be a tad dry, though still delicious, on its own. To improve its flavor and texture, it is “punched” with a syrup of orange juice, Grand Marnier and vanilla.

The original recipe called for a decoration of candied orange zest, which I made, but ended up folding in to whipped cream to serve as an accompaniment. Should you wish to make candied orange zest, simply zest three oranges, place them in a pot with enough cold water to cover and bring to a boil. Drain, and repeat twice, to remove bitterness from the peel. Then, heat 1/2 cup sugar with a tablespoon or two of water over medium-high heat. Cook this mixture until it becomes a fragrant, deep caramel then add the orange zest, along with 1/4 cup of water – careful, as this will cause some splattering and sugar burns are vicious devils (this is an understatement.) Continue cooking for a minute or two, then remove the orange zest with a fork to parchment paper to cool. To make the whipped cream, simply whisk together 1 cup of heavy cream with 2 tablespoons of icing sugar until it holds its own, then fold in the candied orange zest. This was so good that people were passing around a single communal tablespoon of it around the room to enjoy, before the cake was even sliced.

I should also admit to being a bit of an over achiever and, not wanting to waste the caramel syrup produced making the candied zest, continued to cook it to the hard crack stage (302 degrees), poured it onto a Silpat-type sheet and let it cool slightly, then quickly worked the caramel into orange-flavored candies in the shape of “Bonne Fête”. This was a last minute decision, and the candies didn’t quite set as well as I liked, but made for a decent haphazard cake decoration.

Orange Almond Cake

• 6 eggs, separated
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 3 oranges, zested
• 1 1/2 cups almond flour (ground almonds)
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1.5 ounces Grand Marnier
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1-2 tablespoons icing sugar
• 1/4 cup sliced almonds

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees with the rack positioned in the center.
2. Beat the yolks, sugar and orange zest until the mixture becomes thick, pale and ribbony.
3. Add the almond flour to the yolk mixture, stirring to thoroughly combine, and set aside.
4. Beat the egg whites to stiff peaks (just when they begin to lose their glossy shine and, when your whisk is removed, leaves a “stiff peak” when it leaves the mixture). Lighten the yolk mixture with 1/3 of the egg whites, then gently fold in the remaining egg whites using a spatula.
5. Lightly grease a 9″ spring form cake pan and place a piece of parchment paper on the bottom. Fill the pan and bake until set, about 35-45 minutes. A toothpick should be able to be inserted into the center and come out clean. Do not open the oven for the first 30 minutes of baking.
6. While the cake is baking, mix the juice of the oranges with the 1/2 cup of sugar in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, and cook until it becomes a thickened syrup, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the Grand Marnier and vanilla.
7. When the cake is finished, remove it from the oven, allow it to cool slightly, then demold. Carefully spoon the prepared syrup over the cake, allowing it to soak in all over.
8. To serve, transfer to a serving dish, place icing sugar in a fine strainer and lightly tap to “dust” the cake and cover with sliced almonds.

Souffles seem to polarize people into two camps: one who claim that they are impossibly difficult and finicky and another who insist that they’re actually a cinch to produce. Souffles are marginally more difficult than making an omelette, which is similar to what you’re left with once one has fallen, but they should not be particularly frightening. Like many things in the kitchen, all that is required to make souffles is a bit of patience and some understanding of what is happening behind the closed doors of the oven.

Unlike omelettes, souffles come in two types, sweet and savory. Generally what you’ll see are chocolate souffles for the sweet side and cheese souffles for the savory, this is because people generally love chocolate and cheese. Souffles in my house, when I bother to make them, are no exception, because I too enjoy chocolate and cheese – though not typically simultaneously.

A souffle is essentially bechamel (savory), pastry cream or custard (sweet) leavened with egg whites. Since it is the structure of the egg white proteins and incorporated air that makes the souffle rise, that structure is essential in keeping it stable. Heated for too long, the structure will burst, causing it to literally collapse by the weight of itself. When the souffle is removed from the oven, the air that caused it to rise begins to cool, also slowly causing the structure to eventually fall. So no matter how expertly prepared, a souffle still has to be eaten pretty much immediately after being removed from the oven.

Whipping egg whites by hand is a pain. Just be thankful if you did not go to a culinary school that insisted on doing everything by hand, over and over again, to gain an appreciation for “how things used to be”. An electric mixer will make quick work of things for you. Just make sure absolutely no egg yolk gets into your whites and that your bowl and utensils are immaculately clean of fat. If you are in the predicament of doing things by hand (or happen to have a masochistic streak and enjoy such tedious productions, such as myself) start whisking those albumens in a figure eight pattern until soft peaks begin to form, and then switch to the vigorous rotations. Your wrist will thank you.

Why should you go through all this trouble of whisking egg whites and such when you could just make a frittata? Oh, my friend, you have obviously not eaten a souffle before, for a souffle has a wonderful airy texture that cannot be compared to something like a frittata, quiche or strata. It is light, like a delicate meringue, without feeling as though you are eating eggy air. Serving a souffle is all about timing, but eating it is all about appreciating the texture. Simply put, there is good reason why you don’t find “chocolate frittatas” and chocolate souffles around.

Below, you will find a recipe for the savory variety. When I say “strong cheeses” I mean anything particularly flavorful, not necessarily Roquefort. I used Emmenthal, Parmesan and some sort of French cheese I don’t exactly remember the name of. Sorry. I do remember it was delicious though.

Cheese Souffle

• 1 cup milk
• 1 bay leaf
• 1/2 small onion, peeled and quartered
• 1 1/2 tablespoons butter
• 1 1/2 tablespoons flour
• 4 eggs, separated
• 3 ounces strong cheeses, grated
• salt and cayenne pepper

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2. Place milk, bay leaf and onion in a saucepan and bring just to a boil. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 10 minutes.
3. In a separate saucepan, melt butter over medium heat until foaming bubbles subside, then quickly stir in the flour with a wooden spoon. Cook butter and flour together for one minute to make a roux.
4. Strain the onion and bay leaf from the milk, discarding the onion and bay leaf. Gradually whisk the milk into the roux until fully incorporated. Cook until thickened, then remove it from the heat. This is your bechamel.
5. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Whisk in a tablespoon of the bechamel to the egg yolks to temper them and prevent curdling of the eggs, then add the egg yolks into the bechamel, stirring to incorporate. Add the cheeses to the bechamel and season to taste with salt and cayenne pepper.
6. In an impeccably clean stainless steel, glass or copper bowl, whisk or beat the egg whites with a small pinch of salt (a pinch of cream of tartar would be nice too, if you have it) until soft peaks form.
7. Mix 1/3 of the egg whites into the bechamel to lighten it, then fold in the remaining 2/3 of the egg whites with a spoon or spatula.
8. Pour this mixture into a buttered/greased 4 cup souffle dish. If you want, run the end of a wooden spoon or your finger in a circle around the souffle to give it a “tophat” finish. I like to see what kind of random chaos is going to emerge and leave it alone.
9. Bake, without opening the oven, for approximately 30 minutes. When the top of the souffle has risen well beyond the rim of the dish, is browned on top and only slightly jiggles when shaked. Serve it immediately or risk a catastrophic collapse of all of your efforts into a very cheesy pancake.

Gnocchi are one of those things that blur the line between pasta and dumpling. Being Italian in name, gnocchi seem to fall under the heading of pasta, but by their nature of ingredients and preparation, share every other similarity with the dumpling family. Gnocchi share more in common with perogies than ravioli or tortellini, even though those are both technically dumplings as well. Strangely, people would typically call those pasta as well, even though you would be hard pressed to find someone that would call a wonton pasta instead of a dumpling, despite being essentially the Chinese equivalent. What a strange world we live in.

In any case, gnocchi are inexpensive and delicious. Although they are often simply boiled and sauced, gnocchi can also be fried to give them a crispy outer texture and soft interior. Typically, gnocchi will be served with pesto, such as this recipe that I share with you, a basic tomato sauce or brown butter with sage, but they go well with virtually anything. They also make a great addition to soups, such as minestrone, finished in the broth at the last minute.

The trick to making tender gnocchi is to use a gentle hand and to avoid adding too much moisture. As you may have seen in a recent episode of House M.D. the trick is to bake the potatoes instead of boil them (thus removing moisture instead of introducing it), leaving the gnocchi fluffier and noticeably more tender. The addition of egg yolks is not a requisite ingredient, but a common one. I prefer adding Pecorino Romano, because it is a saltier cheese than Parmigiano-Reggiano, and the salt really helps to boost the flavor of the potato without stealing the show, but use whatever you prefer, or simply salt itself, when making the gnocchi.

To roast red peppers at home, simply turn your oven broiler on to maximum temperature and place red peppers within a few inches of the broiler on a baking sheet. Char (and I do mean char) the entire outside of the peppers, then transfer them to a bowl and cover with plastic wrap to steam. Once cooled to the touch, rub the skins off with your fingers, slice open and remove the seeds. If you have a gas stove, you can do this directly over the fire, turning them with tongs as required. Canned red peppers are often a suitable substitute, just make sure to look for acidic ingredients (such as vinegar or citric acid) as this will make them a more pickled than smoky addition. Commercially prepared pesto is probably the best bet this time of year, as basil quality wains outside of the summer months.

Gnocchi with Roasted Red Peppers and Pesto

• 1 pound starchy potatoes (such as Yukon gold or russets)
• (optional) 1 egg yolk
• 1/4 cup Pecorino Romano, finely grated
• All-purpose flour

• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 2 roasted red peppers, sliced into strips
• 1/4 cup pesto sauce
• Juice of one lemon
• Pecorino Romano, to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2. Pierce the potatoes with a fork and bake them in their skins on a baking sheet until very tender, about an hour.
3. Cool the potatoes to the touch, remove the skins and pass them through a food mill or mash to a fine consistency.
4. Stir in the egg yolk, if using, and Pecorino Romano. Using a wooden spoon, delicately incorporate just enough flour to form a cohesive, slightly sticky dough.
5. Divide the dough into four equal pieces. On a lightly floured surface, being delicate and careful not to overwork, roll out the portion of the dough into a rope approximately 1/2″ thick. That, or sip some tea while the children of the house get to work on making “snakes”.
6. Using a sharp knife, slice the rope (or snakes) into 3/4″ slices. If you like, gently roll the gnoccho (that’s a single gnocchi) along the twines of a fork. The depressions in the gnocchi will become future homes for sauce.
7. Repeat with the remaining dough. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and place the gnocchi on it, as close as you can get them without touching. Place this in the freezer. Once the gnocchi are frozen, you can remove them from the tray and place into a freezer bag that will keep for at least 3 months without any significant detriment to their quality. Since they are already frozen, they will not stick to each other. Otherwise, just get the water to the boil, and cook them for dinner already.
8. To prepare the gnocchi, bring a large pot of lightly salted water to a boil. Add the gnocchi, giving them a gentle stir to prevent them from sticking. Once they’ve floated to the top, they are finished cooking, and can be removed with a slotted spoon and transferred to your sauce.
9. To make the sauce, heat the olive oil in a large pan until hot, then add the roasted red peppers. Heat through, then add the pesto sauce. When the gnocchi are done, transfer them to the pan with their clinging, starchy water and cook for an additional minute. Remove from the heat, add the lemon juice and stir in a desired quantity of grated cheese. Simple and delicious.

This recipe makes enough for four people as an accompaniment or two as a hearty main course (it is a pound of potatoes, after all.)

The supermarket holds a great testament to this country’s love of apples. Of our three most eaten fruits, bananas are almost universally stocked of a single type, and oranges rarely extend more than two or three varieties, but apples, apples have their own section that rivals any other in the produce department. These apples are not created equal, all possessing characteristics to please many palates and cooking methods. For the snacker with a sweet tooth, there’s the golden delicious. For a satisfying and tangy crunch, there’s the granny smith. While some apples become mealy and undesirable when cooked, others can completely retain their shape in a pie or crumble.

While apples are certainly available year round, they will be naturally picked in the fall, so during the fall and early winter months you will see a greater variety of apples. If you happen to look, you will notice these locally grown and seasonal fruits hiding out among the standard fare. I have recently discovered a new favorite: the Russet apple. The Russet has an unappealingly dull and rough brown exterior not particularly noteworthy next to its shiny red counterparts. However, its fragrant aroma and flavor are unparalleled.

Russet apples are fairly small, but possess an incredible sweet flavor, almost reminiscent of a honey-infused cider. These flavors make the Russet apple an easy choice for use in pies or, as I did most recently, turned into applesauce. A similar underrated fruit to pair with it in baking would be the Bosc pear, its also rough brown exterior unfortunately conceals its otherwise exceptional characteristics.

Applesauce

• 1 pound Russet apples, peeled, cored and chopped
• 1/2 lemon, peeled and juiced
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 tablespoons brown sugar
• pinch of salt

1. Place the apples, a piece of lemon peel, lemon juice, cinnamon, sugar and salt in a pot and add just enough water to cover the bottom of the pot.
2. Bring the pot to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook, covered, until the apples are very tender and begin to fall apart, about half an hour.
3. Remove the lemon peel, taste the applesauce and add additional sugar, if necessary. Allow to cool to room temperature and then transfer to a jar and refrigerate.

If you want to preserve the natural color of the apple, simply substitute white sugar for the brown sugar and use a cinnamon stick instead of ground cinnamon. I love how the natural pectin in apples causes apple sauce to set almost like a jam if you reduce it enough. For a particularly fine texture, pass it through a fine meshed strainer or food mill before placing in a jar. Serve spread on warm, buttered toast for breakfast, alongside pork and root vegetables for dinner or as a component of dessert.