I have waxed rhapsodic on this blog about my love of a traditional Christmas fruitcake, a classic holiday dessert, but my love of fruitcake extends beyond the Dickensian Christmas cake. During my first year of law school, my parents spent the year living in Florence, Italy, and the Christmas I spent with them that year was the only Christmas I have spent away from home (whether home was in California or New York.) What I remember from that Christmas was the cold, damp air, the lights everywhere, but most of all the food. We went to the Mercato San Lorenzo and loaded up on Prosciutto, Grissini, Pecorino, and even, memorably, whole black truffles that we shaved over pasta for New Year’s Eve. But what I loved the most were the sweets. Panettone in every bakery, and even better, panforte, a fruitcake like confection which may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Panforte, a specialty of Siena, a hill town near Florence, dates back to the middle ages, when it was paid as a tax to monks and nuns, and was reportedly carried by Crusaders on the crusades. A combination of fruits and nuts, honey and sugar and spices, it is a cross between a caramel based candy and a cake. It is also utterly addictive, with a satisfying chew from the fruits and the caramel, and a crunch from the nuts.
(...)
Read the rest of Panforte Margherita (459 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: cake, candy, Christmas, holiday

I wasn’t sure what to call this. The recipe that I adapted it from is called a pie, and it bakes in a pie pan, but we all know a pie, and this is no pie. Cobbler would have a higher proportion of fruit, crisp would be, well, crisp. Torte seems too highbrow. This combination of sweet tart cranberries, caramelized sugar, crunchy nuts and a dense, sweet buttery dough is definitely not highbrow. It takes maybe 10 minutes to throw together (if you move slowly) and is homey and delicious and beautiful. Cake is perhaps the closest approximation, though light and fluffy this is not.

It’s always nice to have this kind of dessert around for the holidays. Something you can throw together for a dinner party, to keep around the house for visitors to nibble on, or to serve as an alternative to pie on any groaning dessert table. This is particularly good — the cranberries and pecans are pure Americana, making this a perfect dessert for Thanksgiving, and the cranberries are a gorgeous red color that sets a festive tone for Christmas. And butter is good any time of year. The tartness of the cranberries cuts the sweetness from the butter sugar topping, but the butter and sugar do give the cake a delicious sticky crunchy texture in the crust.

I like this flavored with cardamom — my favorite baking spice around the holidays — but if you’re of a more traditional bent, don’t be afraid to use cinnamon and nutmeg. Mine is flavored with vanilla, but almond extract or even a bit of rum or brandy would also be nice. You can serve it straight from the pan, perhaps topped with some whipped cream or vanilla ice cream — or turn it out onto a plate for a showstopper dessert. It’s rich, forgiving, and beautiful – just like your favorite relative — and perfect for the holidays.

Recipe
Cranberry Pecan Upside Down Cake
Adapted from Laurie Colwin’s Nantucket Cranberry Pie. Seriously, have you bought all her books yet? Why not?
1 cup melted butter, divided
1 1/2 cup sugar, divided
2 cups cranberries
1/2 cup toasted pecans (do not skip the toasting. Toasting the pecans is essential!)
2 eggs
1 cup flour
pinch salt
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon ground cardamom

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a 9″ glass pie plate, melt 1/4 cup (1/2 stick of the butter) and combine with 1/2 cup of sugar. Add cranberries, then pecans.

In a separate bowl, mix remaining 3/4 cup melted butter and 1 cup sugar with eggs, flour, vanilla, salt, and cardamom. Pour over the cranberry pecan mixture.

Bake for 30 minutes. Let cool slightly, then loosen the edges with a thin knife and turn out onto a plate.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: Christmas, cranberries, desssert, holiday, nuts, sweets, Thanksgiving

October is probably my favorite time of year here in Southern California. The days are clear and sunny (and can be hot — supposed to be in the 90′s today!) but it invariably cools off at night, leaving clear skies, perfect for stargazing. October is also one of those magical food times, when we’re still getting a few tomatoes and peaches from the summer, but the cool weather produce is starting to come in — apples, peaches, butternut squash, and grapes.

We get grapes from so many places around the world now that we forget to think of them as seasonal fruit, but anyone who lives in or near wine country knows that fall is the time of the grape harvest, and that applies to table grapes as well. The best, sweetest, most flavorful varieties abound in fall – the red, green and black grapes we see every day, but also the headily perfumed muscat grapes and the classically flavored concord grapes. I had long wanted to make a grape pie, but the grapes with the truest “grape” flavor — the flavor of grape juice and grape jelly — are Concord grapes, which are also famous for their grape seeds.

(...)
Read the rest of Fresh Grape Pie (292 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: autumn, grapes, pie

Early fall kicks off birthday season in my family. Somewhere in there, my darling girl turned FOUR. When I started this blog, she was not yet two, a round cheeked, lisping toddler, and now she is a full blown kid, with opinions and ideas and a personality all her own. Also in there, I turn, well, let’s just say considerably older than four, and leave it at that.

I am of the school of thought (and trust me, the Nuni shares this with me) that in order to properly celebrate a birthday, you need cake. Not pie, not pudding, and not even cupcakes. But an old fashioned, frosted layer cake. And it’s nice to have a simple one you can whip out of your oven for just such occasions.

This is the easiest, most foolproof chocolate cake recipe I’ve ever made. I remembered an old internet acquaintance who happened to be one of the best bakers I’ve ever “met” making an offhand comment that her go-to chocolate cake recipe was a Black Magic cake. It was invented by Hershey’s, requires no fussy chocolate melting, or butter creaming. It’s just wet ingredients, dry ingredients, mix, pour into pans, and boom, you’re left with a meltingly moist cake. The cocoa powder and the coffee add that deep dark chocolate flavor, and the cocoa, coffee, oil and buttermilk all make it wonderfully moist. This is the cake to make for anyone’s last minute birthdays.

And because every cake deserves to be tarted up with frosting, I made this intensely flavored roasted pistachio buttercream frosting. The color is real, not artificial, from eight ounces of pistachio nuts. The frosting is very soft and fluffy at room temperature, but firms up nicely in the refrigerator, so plan accordingly, depending on how firm you like your frosting. The key to getting the frosting really smooth is to grind the nuts in the food processor for a good long time. I used olive oil in the frosting, because I thought the green color and peppery flavor would add a nice kick to the frosting.

Recipe
Foolproof Moist Chocolate Layer Cake
(Thanks to Hersheys)
2 cups sugar
1-3/4 cups flour
3/4 cup cocoa powder (not dutch processed)
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup strong black coffee
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour (I used Baker’s Joy or an equivalent product) 2 9-inch cake pans.

In a large mixing bowl (or the bowl of your stand mixer), combine the sugar, flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder and salt, and whisk to combine.

Add eggs, buttermilk, coffee, oil and vanilla, beat for about 2 minutes. The batter will be thin. Divide evenly between the pans (if you’re bad at eyeballing, a kitchen scale helps admirably with this) and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean (or with a few crumbs, no batter).

Cool the cake layers in their pans for about 10 minutes, then turn them out and cool thoroughly before frosting and assembling.

Pistachio Buttercream Frosting
8 oz. roasted unsalted pistachio nuts (I buy them shelled from, you guessed it, Trader Joe’s)
2 T granulated sugar
6 T powdered sugar, divided
1 tsp olive oil
3 T honey
1 cup unsalted butter
Pinch of salt, to taste

In a large food processor, process the pistachios and the granulated sugar until very fine. Take out a few tablespoons of the ground pistachios to decorate the cake, and set aside.

Add 2 T powdered sugar and the olive oil, continue processing until the nuts are smooth. Add the honey, and continue to process until the paste is smooth to taste, and not grainy. Add the butter and the remaining powdered sugar and beat until combined. Chill.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: birthday, cake, chocolate, layer cake

When my dad died, well-wishers contacted me and asked, “What can I do?”

How do you answer that question? “Bring him back” “Turn back the clock” “Make me feel better”?

The truth is, it’s hard to do anything. The person you really want to talk to, to share the jokes with, to check in with, is the one person who isn’t there. And you feel very alone, even if you’re surrounded by people.

This week, my friend Jennie lost her husband. Much as I adored my dad, my loss pales in comparison to hers. I’ve seen well-wishers virtually surround her, asking, once again, “What can I do?”

Jennie has answered. She has asked people to bake a pie, for Mikey, today, the day of his memorial. A peanut butter pie, which was his favorite. To share that pie with loved ones, because she wishes she could share this pie with him.

As I mentioned before, I consider Jennifer a virtual neighbor. The Nuni is the same age as her younger daughter. We’re both working moms, with young kids, trying to cook for our families, to raise them with authentic food. Though we live 3,000 miles apart, through the magic of the internet, we chat as if we lived 3 blocks apart. As if our lighthearted dinner invitations could be accepted on a whim. As if I could run over to borrow a cup of sugar, to share a cup of tea, instead of just running to her site for a recipe. And I wish with all my heart that I could just show up, with that cup of tea, and be there for her today.

I can’t show up, but she asked for this. So it’s the very least I can do. I woke up this morning at 5 am, and before I left for work, I made this pie. For Mikey. For Jennie. For their beautiful girls. And for my family. Jennie expresses love through food, and I do the same. I’ll share it with my darling daughter and my beloved husband, but I’ll also share it with my neighbors, over a casual dinner, a glass of wine. And wish that Jennie were sharing it with us. I hope that this small show of support makes her feel just a little less alone.

The recipe for peanut butter pie can be found on Jennifer’s site here. Make it for your loved ones, and give thanks that they are there to share it with you.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: pie

I have this vision of summer. Long, twilit evenings spent outdoors. A cold glass of wine, some fairy lights. There’s music playing in the background. The kids are running around. There’s laughter, and good conversation, and the air is cool. We linger over dinner. The food is delightful — refreshing, light, playful. And then, since nobody wants to leave, we cap off the evening with dessert. Nothing too sweet or too heavy. Just a little something sweet, something light, something fun.

Summer should be FUN.

The reality of summer doesn’t always match my vision. Childhood doesn’t prepare you for the hard, cold, reality that most jobs don’t offer a summer vacation. My summer evenings are often spent in the car, in a long sweaty slog through traffic. I come home to a house that’s 90 degrees (in my fantasy life, I often forget that summer is HOT), and decide whether to open the windows, letting the dubious cooling effects of outside air rush into the house, along with flies, stinkbugs, and of course, mosquitoes, or whether to close off the outdoors, turn on the air conditioning, and cocoon. And get bitten my mosquitoes anyway. Friends are busy, or out of town, and dinner is a ham sandwich, as that’s just about all Nuni will eat these days. Summer reality has its joys – ripe tomatoes from the garden, and the twilights are long. We do eat outdoors. But my reality is that summer also has its aggravations, and isn’t any more fun than any of the other four seasons.

At least dessert can still be fun, right?

These tiny pies are fun. First of all – tiny pies? Always fun. Put them in jars and you double the fun (and make them super easy to transport for a picnic or a beach trip — see? More fun.) These are tart and refreshing and, unlike traditional key lime pies, light, low fat and relatively healthy. Lightened with egg whites, tangy with yogurt and lime juice, these mini pies are what summer was meant to be.

I was inspired to make these because, after a meeting of Food Bloggers Los Angeles at my house (which was, I admit it, quite fun, though also quite hot), I was left with a bag of key limes the kind people at Melissa’s Produce gave me, and a couple of tubs of Vanilla fat free Greek yogurt from Stonyfield Farms. Yogurt and limes ends up being an inspired combination.

Recipe
Mini Key Lime Yogurt Pies in Jars
Adapted from Classic Home Desserts by Richard Sax

If you don’t have key limes, you can substitute with regular lime juice. I found the best jars for these are little 4 oz. canning jars. You can also pop them in the freezer with the lid on, and either let them thaw in the picnic basket or, on especially hot days, eat them frozen.

1/2 c. milk
3/4 packet gelatin
2 egg yolks
1/2 c. key lime juice (12 limes)
1/4 c. sugar, divided
1/2 cup nonfat vanilla Greek yogurt
2 egg whites
2 oz. Trader Joe’s cats’ cookies (these are easily replaced with gluten free cookies to make these gluten free)

6 4 oz. canning jars

Sprinkle the gelatin over the milk, and wait a few minutes until the gelatin has softened.. Remove 1 Tablespoon of the milk gelatin mixture and set aside. Heat remainder of milk mixture to nearly boiling.

Mix the reserved milk with egg yolks and 2 Tablespoons sugar and beat until combined. Add the hot milk mixture, then return mixture to stovetop and heat until thickened enough to coat a spoon. Add yogurt and lime juice. Chill until cold, stirring periodically.

Meanwhile crush the cats cookies until fine, and divide the crumbs among the jars.

Beat the egg whites with remaining 2 T sugar until stiff. Fold the egg whites into the chilled lime mixture, then pour the mixture into the jars on top of the crumbs.

Cap with the jar lids and chill until solid. Serve topped with whipped cream.

Melt

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: limes, picnic, pie, Summer, yogurt

I have discovered the REAL secret to pie. No, not a foolproof, ultra-rich crust (though I’ve got that), or even a more traditional tender, flaky all-butter crust (although I’ve pretty much got that down, too). It’s not even a pie filling good enough to make a grown man cry. No, the secret of pie is that once you start making it, you get the knack of the mixing and the rolling and the dab of this and the dab of that, it becomes completely addictive. It also becomes easy, which tempts you into dangerous waters. You start messing around, and getting fancy.

I’ve been thinking about this pie for a while. I think that blueberries and corn sound like an eminently reasonable combination, but every time I mention it to someone, they say “Hmmmm…” I was inspired by this savory corn and tomato pie I made last summer, which I still dream about, and by the fact that corn and blueberries are both native American crops, which make this a perfect fourth of July pie. There are also those lyrics from South Pacific: “I’m as corny as Kansas in August, I’m as normal as blueberry pie…”

Whatever the inspiration, this is a pie to keep. The corn adds its own crunchy sweetness to the soft blueberries, and the native starch in the corn helps set the pie filling. Adding cornmeal to my standard butter crust also enhances the corn flavor as well as adding a nice crunch. The result is an all-American, height of summer pie to end all pies. Only of course, it won’t.

(...)
Read the rest of Blueberry Corn Pie (245 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: blueberry corn, pie, pie crust, sweets

To me, there’s something a bit mystical about Midsummer’s Day, the longest one in the whole year. Perhaps it was being raised by a Shakespeare professor — I half expect to see fairies peeping through the trees in the long, slow evening, tempting me with apricocks and dewberries, purple grapes, green figs and mulberries. Perhaps it’s just that deepseated human yearning for light and sunshine.

Or maybe it’s the strawberries.

In Sweden, whose northern latitude means the dark of winter is very dark indeed, they know how to celebrate the glorious (very) long days at midsummer. In the middle of June, they hold a midsummer festival, featuring flowers, feasting, and the short strawberry season.

This cake is inspired by the traditional Jordgubbstårta, or Swedish Midsummer Strawberry Cake. It’s traditionally made with spongecake, strawberries and cream, but I decided to tart it up a bit by replacing the spongecake with layers of almond laced meringue, and giving them a Scandinavian flair by adding a trace of cardamom. It doesn’t require any special pans — the meringue is just dolloped onto baking sheets lined with parchment and greased.

Then spread into pre-set circles and baked in a very low, slow oven for a few hours before you stack them with cream and strawberries.

The result is a cross between a Swedish Midsummer Cake, a French Macaron or Dacquoise (the big sister to the macaron), an English Victoria Sponge, an American strawberry shortcake, an Australian Pavlova and my weird imagination. A very good cross. Let’s just say that four people demolished the entirety of this eight inch cake in one sitting. The edges of the meringue stay crisp, while the cream and the juicy strawberries soften the center into a creamy, light cake. It’s the very essence of summer — light and almost insubstantial, but deeply satisfying.
(...)
Read the rest of Swedish Midsummer Strawberry Meringue Layer Cake (389 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: birthday, birthday cake, cake, meringue, strawberries, sweets

Before Mother’s Day, the web abounds with recipes for Mother’s Day breakfast in bed and Mother’s Day brunch. Apparently, the morning belongs to the women, because you don’t see nearly as many Father’s Day breakfast recipes. But in my mind, weekend breakfasts — the kind that kids delight in, with pancakes and waffles and sugary anythings — are a dad thing. My mom is not a big breakfast eater, and is of the insanely practical frame of mind that breakfast should consist of proteins and whole grains, like scrambled eggs and oatmeal. My dad wasn’t a big breakfast eater either as a regular rule, but on weekends we used to hit the best breakfast places in town – the restaurantswith the best steak and eggs, or the really good blueberry pancakes, or the giant, gooey cinnamon rolls. When I spent the night at my friend Stacey’s house, her dad would make all the girls coffee ice cream milkshakes for breakfast. Lisa’s dad was always good for Belgian waffles with whipped cream and strawberries.

The point is, mother’s day may be the traditional day for breakfast in bed, but in my experience, when it comes to indulgent breakfasts, it’s all about Dad. So why not indulge your dad this father’s day with a sugary, gooey breakfast of his own?

When I saw this maple syrup dumpling recipe in Saveur, I was instantly intrigued. We always keep a bottle of maple syrup on hand (Grade B, natch, for maximum flavor) but we usually pour it over the french toast, waffles or pancakes. These dumplings are cooked in the maple syrup, which gives them an intense maple flavor and gooey texture that’s perfect for a sweet and not at all sensible weekend breakfast.

For me, there’s the added bonus that these, like my father, are French Canadian, and the French name for them is Grands-Peres, or “Grandfathers.” I couldn’t resist offering them up for Father’s Day, since I won’t be able to share breakfast with my dad this year.
(...)
Read the rest of Father’s Day Grands-Peres – Maple Syrup Dumplings (203 words)

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: breakfast, brunch, holiday, maple, sweets

I have a terrible sweet tooth (as you may have divined if you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time), but my sweet tooth is not typical. Not for me the sweetness overload, the gooey cakes, the sugary cookies and candies. I prefer a more subtle sweetness, balanced by savory, or tart, or nutty flavors. Something that could easily be served for breakfast or afternoon tea.

Enter the clafoutis. A classic French dessert that’s sometimes described as a custard, sometimes as a pancake. It is a custard with flour, a pancake with more cream. Or it’s own thing. An eggy, custardy, but not insubstantial dessert with a subtle sweetness that is braced by whatever fruit it is made with. It’s not much to look at, generally — it’s really a country casserole, with nubs of fruit poking through a golden, eggy crust. It’s practically foolproof to make, and the batter comes together almost instantaneously. And yes, I am hooked.

The classic clafoutis is made with cherries, and indeed, a cherry clafoutis was on my agenda as I hit the grocery store. But then I spied the rhubarb — enticingly ruby stalks promising fragrance and tartness and that indefinable exotic yet familiar flavor that only rhubarb offers — and I was a goner.

I adore rhubarb everything, and I like it best where the flavor of the rhubarb shines through without much adornment in the form of strawberries or orange juice or other such nonsense. Rhubarb does, however, pair beautifully with custard, as the English know so well, and I thought it would make a lovely clafoutis — it’s melting tenderness complementing the silkiness of the custard/pancake.

Not too sweet, fragrant and juicy from the rhubarb, with the eggy structure of the clafoutis? Yes please.

Recipe
Roasted Rhubarb Clafoutis
The excellent clafoutis base is from Dorie Greenspan’s Around my French Table. It can be adapted for any fruit.

For the rhubarb:
1 lb. rhubarb
3 T. granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Chop the rhubarb into roughly 1 inch pieces, taking care to discard the leaves. In a 10X6 baking dish, toss the rhubarb pieces with the sugar. Roast 10-15 minutes, or until the rhubarb is tender.

For the clafoutis:
3 eggs
1/2 cup granulated sugar, plus additional for sprinkling
Pinch of salt
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 cup flour
3/4 cup whole milk
1/2 cup heavy cream

Reduce oven heat to 350 degrees.
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs together with the sugar until blended. Add salt and vanilla, whisk until combined. Whisk in flour until thoroughly combined, then whisk in cream and milk.
Pour Clafoutis batter over the roasted rhubarb. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes or until the clafoutis is puffy and golden. Sprinkle additional granulated sugar over the top, and serve with whipped cream.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
Post tags: dessert, easy, French, rhubarb