Forgetting a birthday- be it your partner's, your mother's or your best friend's, it's a cardinal sin. And whenever it happens, the guilty is always the worthy recipient of scorn and derision, and usually, what's coming to the accused is always warranted. Birthdays are important things, and should be celebrated accordingly- with festivity, and whenever possible with lots of food and alcohol. But what happens when you forget your own birthday?
Well, it's not exactly my own birthday that I have forgotten; now that would almost be equivalent to suffering retrograde amnesia, but it's actually the blog's birthday that I have neglected to remember. It's true, Milk and Cookies turned 2 years old, a good 8 weeks ago, and the momentous occasion almost passed by without so much as a mere mention or acknowledging it with a hip-hip-hooray and a little rendition of "for he's a jolly good fellow". Shame on me! Perhaps I was too distracted by my up-coming travel plans.
Born on the 2nd of May 2006, how could I forget that (slightly embarrassing) pioneer post that kicked off the whole odyssey into baking and eating? And the only way to exonerate one's self from the embarrassment and shame of forgetting their own blog's birthday is to make a cake celebratory enough to compensate for the indiscretion. Yes, for any baker, cake is the answer to most of life's quandaries.
I had always wanted to bake one of the celebration cakes featured in Dorie Greenspan's book Baking From My Home to Yours. But I've always had this aversion towards seemingly complicated cakes, especially layer cakes that looked so labour intensive. They look all great and majestic in the pictures; tiers and tiers of scrumptious layers towering towards cake heaven but ten mixing bowls and several whisks later you find yourself knee-deep in batter you no longer have the will to bake.
I'm more one of those 10 items or less chicks, nothing complicated, no fuss, no mess. I usually don't go for recipes with so many steps that include beating, melting, sifting, whisking, folding, sprinkling and a lot of waiting around for things to bake then cool and settle before you go on to the next step. Call me the impatient baker but I'm all for simple desserts; that's probably why you see so many small cakes on this blog. They're quick to bake, and the quicker they come out of the oven, the quicker I can get to eating them.
In saying this, my curiosity was getting the better of me and I was imagining what it would actually be like to be the architect of one of these tower of Babel constructions. It's mortifying to say but I think this has to be my first proper attempt at a layer cake. Be it a cake of only two layers, but a layer cake nonetheless. And all this time I had the audacity to call myself a baker, tsk tsk. There goes my reputation.
Also, I figured that going through the whole process of making this layer cake would be the only penance that could justify my wrongdoing. After all the blog has treated me so well over the past two years, it was the least I could do for such an oversight. So off I went, on my day off work to make a cake worthy of forgiveness.
There's not much I can say about this cake that you wouldn't already gather from looking at it. It looks delicious and it tasted just like it looked. The cake is all Dorie, except for the cream filling. I just thought that there needed to be something to soften the richness of the chocolate cake and the cream does this really well. There's also much to be said about my frosting skills (or lack of it) with the blank patches at the bottom edges of the cake, but hey, for my first reluctant hand at this I think the blog and I can finally move forward and put this whole thing behind us.
This cake is dedicated to the blog and to another great year of blogging. And with the blog going into a new chapter in the next coming months it's only fitting to set-off the move to London with this cake, I guess making layer cakes aren't all that bad (as she takes another forkful to her mouth).
And a big thank you to all the well wishers who voiced their delight and excitement about my up-coming move to the United Kingdom, I cannot wait.
Cocoa-Buttermilk Birthday Cake
Serves 12
Adapted from Baking From My Home to Yours
FOR THE CAKE
2 cups all-purpose flour
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
225g unsalted butter, at room temperature
1½ cup sugar
2 large eggs
2 egg yolks
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup buttermilk
110g bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled (optional)
FOR THE CHOCOLATE MALT BUTTERCREAM
150g bittersweet chocolate, chopped coarsely
¼ cup (packed) brown sugar
2 tbsp malted milk powder
1 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder
¼ cup boiling water
180g unsalted butter, at room temperature
pinch of salt
½ tsp vanilla extract
1½ cup confectioner’s sugar
FOR THE CREAM FILLING
200ml pure cream
2 tbsp confectioner’s sugar
Preheat oven to 180ºC.
Butter 2 x 22cm round springform cake tins, dust the insides with flour and line the bottoms with parchment paper.
MAKING THE CAKE
Whisk together flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda and salt.
Using a stand mixer with paddle attachment or hand mixer in a large bowl; beat the butter on medium speed until soft and creamy.
Add the sugar and beat for 2 minutes.
Add eggs one at a time, then yolks, beating 1 minute after each addition.
Beat in vanilla extract.
Reduce mixer speed and add the dry ingredients alternatively with buttermilk, staring and ending with dry ingredients. Mix only until each new batch is blended into batter.
Add the melted chocolate and fold in with rubber spatula (optional).
Divide batter between two cake tins.
Bake for 26-30 minutes or until cakes feel springy to the touch and start to pull away from the sides of the tins.
Transfer cakes to racks and cool for 5 minutes.
Run a knife around the sides of the cakes and unmould. Peel off parchment paper and invert and cool to room temperature.
MAKING THE BUTTERCREAM
Melt the chocolate with half the brown sugar in a bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water. Remove from heat.
Whisk the malt powder and cocoa together in a small bowl, pour over 3 tsp boiling water and whisk until smooth.
Gradually whisk in hot malt-cocoa mixture with melted chocolate- it should be dark smooth and glossy. Set aside.
Beat butter until soft and fluffy and add the remaining sugar and beat for another 2-3 minutes, until well blended.
Beat in salt and vanilla.
Scrape in chocolate mixture and mix until smooth.
Gradually add the confectioner’s sugar and beat for a couple of minutes, then add the remaining tablespoon of boiling water and beat until well blended.
It should be thick enough to use immediately. If it doesn’t hold its shape then beat it a just a bit more.
MAKING THE FILLING
Whisk cream into stiff peaks, it should be able to hold its shape properly.
Sift in confectioners sugar and fold into cream.
ASSEMBLING THE CAKE
Place one layer top side up on a cardboard round or a cake plate protected by strips of parchment paper.
Spread the top of this layer with cream filling.
Cover with second layer.
Frost the sides and top of the cake either smoothing buttercream for a sleek look of using a spatula, knife of spoon to swirl for more exuberant look.
Refrigerate the cake for at least 1 hour to set the frosting then bring it to room temperature before serving.
We just got through day 13. I'm suffering from umbrella fatigue. Yes, it's been the 13th day of continuous rain in Sydney; from drought to drenching, the pendulum does swing both ways. And I guess now it's official, autumn is here, and I have to say a begrudging thank you for making it so obvious that you've arrived. Say hello to soaked hems, muddy feet and one constantly wet dog. I'll just try to think of it as one less bath I have to give him.
I know posting on the blog has been quite scanty of late, must be that crisp autumn air forcing me into hibernation. But the advantage of this is that my motivation for baking grows even the more as the weather gets colder. Keeping those oven fires burning is one way of staving off the chills.
Sydney houses, are notoriously known for not being able to stand up to the colder months. Many overseas friends living here who come from much colder climes always gripe about the inadequate amount of insulation in our houses. And coupled with the lack of central heating in most homes, it makes the winter months even more unbearable.
Our comparably mild winter probably doesn't warrant builders making houses with central heating a standard thing, but no matter where you're from cold is cold, especially at 6am when the dread of getting out of bed to take a shower overcomes you. I guess keeping the oven on is one way to get around this minor setback.
I made these cakes earlier this month but decided to give it an encore appearance at around day 7 of our marathon rainfest, while holed up at home just watching the spate of storms come and go. It was either build an ark or bake a cake and seeing as I was sitting on a pile of passionfruit, I made some cakes. If I was going to go down in a deluge, I might as well go down with cake.
With my priorities in the right place, I spent the better part of a day baking. With no central heating in our house, Jack (the dog) and I spent the rainy afternoon in front of the blazing oven, our makeshift fireplace. I'm sure he spends his time loitering around the oven just in case a rouge piece of food happens to accidentally fall out and magically land in his strategically poised mouth. He's quite the optimist, but it's still nice to have his company, no matter what the motives. He likes to think of himself as the sous chef, although most of the time he's more like the cleaner, mopping up spilled ingredients. He doesn't mind.
Right now, passionfruits are ubiquitous, so there's every reason for you to buy a whole lot. Here in Sydney we get the smaller round and wrinkled variety that have that distinct deep purple colour. They look quite strange and unassuming on the outside, and they weigh almost nothing but once you cut through that purple woody exterior there's a wonderfully rich and intensely brilliant daffodil yellow pulp inside.
By itself the pulp can be a little too tart to eat, but ripple a few spoonfuls through some vanilla ice cream or yoghurt and you have yourself a killer dessert. And if you are familiar with the Australian picnic staple, the pavlova, then you know that it's the passionfruit that gives it its bite.
The cakes are actually lime flavoured, but only subtlety. The passionfruit syrup is what gives the cake its kick. And like many other tangy fruits, a little bit of sugar takes this a dish a long way and livens it up a bit more. Add a dollop of whipped cream and you have all the insulation you need to get through a rainy day.
Baby Lime Cakes with Passionfruit syrup and cream
Serves 10
Recipe from Australian Gourmet Traveller
FOR THE LIME CAKES
125g soft butter
165g (¾ cup) caster sugar
2 tbsp finely grated lime rind
3 eggs
120g (½ cup) sour cream or plain yoghurt
150g (1 cup) self-raising flour
PASSIONFRUIT SYRUP
110g (½ cup) caster sugar
80ml (1/3 cup) lime juice
3 passionfruit, pulp only
PASSIONFRUIT CREAM
300ml thickened cream
1 passionfruit, pulp only (optional)
30g pure icing sugar, sieved
Preheat oven to 170ºC.
Beat butter, sugar and rind using an electric mixer until light and fluffy, add eggs and beat to combine, then add sour cream or yoghurt and beat to combine.
Fold in flour, then spoon mixture among 8 greased and floured 150ml-capacity dariole moulds and bake for 15 minutes or until golden.
Cool for 5 minutes then turn onto a wire rack to cool completely.
For syrup, combine all ingredients and ¼ cup water in a small saucepan and stir over medium-high heat until sugar dissolves, then bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes or until syrupy. Makes about 1 cup.
For cream, combine ingredients and whisk until soft peaks form.
Refrigerate until required.
To serve, pour half the warm syrup over cool cakes and serve with passionfruit cream and extra syrup passed separately.
There's been a chill in the air of late. Autumn is well and truly here and although summer may well be done and dusted, some of it's late harvest has decided to stick around for a farewell party. Yes, stone fruits are something to look forward to come summer, but there's always enough left behind to tide you over till the beginning of autumn. In a last ditch effort to relive summer days, I suggest getting stoned.
Of course I'm not talking about sparking up a doobie and getting fried, but rather enjoying the last that summer has to offer in its stone fruits. I'm having summer weather withdrawals right now, seeing that we never really got to have a proper one on the east coast. So this was my way of sparking up some lost memories of summer.
And really, what's a summer without a peach? The quintessential image of biting into a ripe one, its juice dripping from the corners of your mouth, can make up for all the lucklustre weather we have had for months. They said it was going to last till March and it certainly did, and it looks like we just sailed right into autumn without even the slightest bump. Maybe there was the odd lightning crash and tree falling on one's roof, but other than that, as far as I'm concerned we've been in autumn since December.
So this is my long overdue swan song for the summer we never had- almond cakes topped with roasted peaches. There's only one way to bid her farewell and it's with the best she had to offer. So rosy blushed peaches was an appropriate choice for a goodbye offering.
I actually made this a few weeks back, although never had time to blog about them for a while. I found the peaches at the Entertainment Quarter Farmer's markets going for a song and couldn't pass them up. Then I happened upon a recipe for Almond cakes with roasted apricots on the Australian Gourmet Traveller website, and you know when you see a recipe that you simply must have right now, well that sheer impulse overcame me and I was bent on making this that very same day. I'm sure the droolworthy photograph on the AGT website helped in stoking the urge for them right away.
Seeing as I didn't have apricots but had a heap of cheap peaches lying around, well, you know what I did. When life gives you peaches, you can decide to make a cake.
Peaches, like many other stone fruits, roast very well and there's very little you can do to improve on its flavour. So you might as well stick to the basics, a little sugar and little bit of booze and you have yourself a top notch dessert. It's amazing what wine does to a syrup. The booze of choice for this fare was a Seppelt Rutherglen Tokay that we bought on our last trip to the Hunter Valley- a sweet, honey flavoured dessert wine that was ideal for a fruit based dessert.
I have to say that the almond cakes didn't turn out as dark as they were pictured on the website, so I was a little worried I had made a mistake. But after tasting the cakes, there wasn't anything to worry about. Not sure why there was a lack of colour, but at least it wasn't lacking on taste. Two thumbs up for this recipe and perhaps a better and less illegal way of getting stoned.
Almond cakes with roast Peaches and orange blossom fool
Serves 6
Adapted from Australian Gourmet Traveller
SPECIAL EQUIPMENT: blowtorch (optional)
110g (½ cup) raw caster sugar
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped
8 peaches, halved, stones removed
4 pieces of orange rind, removed with a peeler
80ml (1/3 cup) dessert wine
1 tbsp orange juice
3 tsp orange blossom water
300g crème fraîche
30g brown sugar, sieved
FOR THE ALMOND CAKES
120g (¾ cup) pure icing sugar, sieved
50g almond meal
35g plain all-purpose flour
¼ tsp baking powder
2 tbsp finely grated orange rind
2 eggwhites, lightly whisked
90g butter, melted and cooled
Preheat oven to 200ºC.
Using a blowtorch, scorch the peach skins until they blister. They should peel off easily.
Combine sugar and vanilla seeds in a bowl and scatter over the base of a roasting pan large enough to hold peaches snugly.
Place peaches, cut-side down, in a single layer in pan, pressing into sugar.
Turn peaches and scatter over orange rind.
Combine wine, orange juice and 2 tsp orange blossom water in a jug and pour around apricots.
Roast for 10 minutes or until just tender and golden.
Set aside to cool, then, using a slotted spoon, remove 4 peach halves from syrup and process using a food processor until smooth. Set aside.
MAKING ALMOND CAKES
For almond cakes, reduce oven to 170ºC.
Combine dry ingredients and rind in a bowl, add eggwhite and fold through until just combined.
Add butter, stir to combine, then divide among six shallow pie moulds, smooth tops and bake for 15 minutes or until golden and centre springs back when lightly pressed with a fingertip.
Cool in pans for 5 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack placed over a tray.
Spoon a little apricot syrup over cakes and cool completely.
Combine crème fraîche, brown sugar and remaining orange blossom water in a bowl and whisk until thick and smooth. Fold through apricot purée to form a ripple effect. Top each cake with 2 apricot halves and a generous dollop of fool. Serve with syrup to the side.
Hello... It's been a while, hasn't it.
They say it takes a village to raise a child but I think the same applies to many other things. Like how the past couple of weeks has taught me that it does indeed take a village and a half to get your friends married off successfully. I will think again, very carefully, before I play match-maker and set up two friends lest I endure the back-breaking labour of being a bridesmaid all over again.
Of course, I only quip about the taxing effort that goes into helping a friend plan a wedding, it's no doubt laborious but being a bridesmaid for a precious friend is always a barrel of laughs and I wouldn't trade all the tuile and chiffon in the world for it.
But now that all the festivities are done and dusted, all that is left to do is catch up on much needed sleep and get back into the routine of normal life- with say normal thngs like blogging. Yes, the fact that I had a blog completely eluded me all this time while I was up to my knees in questions like "Is this green too green, or does this pink look like a dusty rose, or a vintage rose?" And all you had to tide you over with, all this time was a post on my mediocre madeleines that stunk of feet. I'm sorry.
I did promise a madeleine recipe to follow that wasn't so odourous and rank as the ones before and here it is. I made these a while back as an attempt at re-creating the apple and cinnamon madeleines I tried at the markets by Manna From Heaven- an Australian handmade biscuit company that believes in using only quality ingredients. To this day I am still yet to taste a better madeleine. They are extremely moist and delicately sweet and smell incredibly unlike feet! Manna From Heaven only make these madeleines in limited numbers and only during autumn/winter. So you have to be quick to catch them or else they are pretty much gone before you have enough time to take a whiff.
I don't know exactly how Rachel- MFH's founder, gets the madelines to be so moist, but they are incredibly irresistible. From what I gather, traditionally, madeleines are quite dry cakes and are made moist when dipped into or eaten with tea. An example of what I would say are traditional madeleines are Adriano Zumbo's madeleines which almost demands you to have a drink ready in your hand before you choke on the little cakes that stick to the roof of your mouth.
I would have to say that Manna From Heaven's apple and cinnamon madeleines are a welcome departure from the traditional. Although Adriano Zumbo's madeleines, and pretty much everything else in the Balmain store are nothing short of a masterpiece, but when you don't have a spare drink lying around I would probably opt for the moister kind.
I have to say that re-creating a recipe from memory is not an easy thing. I pulled together all my madeleine recipes and tried to build my own using the techniques and measurements from them all. My version of the apple and cinnamon madeleines is nothing near the exquisiteness of Manna From Heaven's, although it is still delicious. Slightly moist and aromatic, there is nothing better for an afternoon snack.
Next time, I might try using a little bit more melted butter and apple puree to get a wetter batter. I am not sure if this will work, but baking in the name of research isn't such a bad thing, is it?
Apple and Cinnamon Madeleines
makes 24 madeleines
150g plain all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp ground cinnamon
100g unsalted butter, softened (plus more for greasing)
50g light muscovado sugar
75g caster sugar
2 eggs, lightly whisked
½ cup pureed apples
granulated sugar for coating
Preheat oven to 180ºC.
Brush madeleine moulds with butter.
In a small bowl sift together flour, baking powder and ground cinnamon, set aside.
Cream butter and sugars in another bowl until light and creamy.
Add eggs and apple puree and beat until combined.
Sift in flour mixture and fold until the flour has been incorporated into the wet mixture.
Place a heaped teaspoonful of the mixture in each mould and bake for 8-10 minutes or until the tops are golden.
Remove from oven and cool for 5 minutes in tray.
Unmould and lightly coat madeleines with granulated sugar.
NOTE: I have received several comments about the Spanish origin of polvoron or namely polvorones. I do realise that this Filipino sweet was most definitely inherited from the Spaniards during their colonisation of the Philippines during the late 1500's, and I do apologise for not pointing this out earlier. However, this version of polvoron, I believe, is the Filipino permutation of the dessert after thousands of years of acquiring the recipe. Traditionally, Spanish polvorones is made with almonds and cinnamon, and does not contain any powdered milk like the Filipino version does. So although polvoron did originate from Spain, the Filipino version does differ markedly from it's Spanish original.
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Everyone loves a shortcut, taking the longer course or going through arduous and difficult procedures is usually left to sadists. Why do you think those "lose-10-pounds-in-two-weeks" exercise machines are so popular, and not to mention liposuction. Hey, when all this food-blogging weight finally catches up with me, I wouldn't say that lipo was out of the question. Inherently we all like the shorter path, easier to tread and faster to get through. Who wants to row a boat across a river when there is a perfectly reliable bridge?
Sometimes a shortcut takes you to a place you never wanted to be at in the first place, sometimes it gets you in an argument you never wanted to have as you are tossing the street directory out the window, but enough about my life. Sometimes a shortcut can take you to a delicious destination in half the time, like a cake without the bake. Say what?
Yes, a cake without the bake. It's polvoron- a Filipino sweet that is somewhat like a toasted wheat cake that consists of flour, powdered milk, sugar and melted butter, and is compressed into a cake using a polvoron press. I used to eat these by the dozen as a child and I never imagined that I could make it myself. It always stood in my memories of childhood on some imaginary pedestal of foods that I could never possibly recreate. It seemed almost irreverent to reach into that corner of my childhood remembrance and rehash something that I have such a wistful affection for.
Since I had never made this childhood dessert before, and always ever purchased it from the Filipino store, I doubted whether my creation could attain the same pleasure and gratification I got whenever I popped one of the store-bought ones in my mouth. Sweet and milky, the powdery cake slowly melts into a thick pool of sweet creamy goodness in your mouth. But I never realised how simple it was to make. And did I mention there is no baking involved?
Traditionally polvoron is milk flavoured but sometimes nuts like cashews or peanuts are added. Also a popular addition is pinipig, which is immature glutinous rice that is pounded and added to the flour mixture and sometimes pandan (screwpine) or ube (purple yam) is also used to flavour polvoron. But as a child with such a juvenile palate, I could only savour the plain version of polvoron, I was much too fussy to eat anything green, or even more so purple.
But this time I decided to make the original milk flavoured polvoron and a chocolate version as well. I know as a child I would have relished a chocolate flavoured polvoron, as most children probably would. I assume that this flavour would have caught on by now as I know that some places in the Philippines do sell a very post-modern cookies and cream version of polvoron. And if your imagination stretches far enough you could pretty much cnceive any flavour of polvoron- say green tea, lavender, coffee, hazelnut, which ever way you are inclined the polvoron can go that way.
As for the cake without the bake, well it might seem off-putting and unsavoury to be eating flour unbaked, but what is done first is that the flour is toasted in a skillet until it is slightly browned. Turn your eyes away for a moment and you might have yourself suffering from smoke inhalation, burnt flour does not smell good, so make sure you keep your eyes on the colour of the flour at all times. Just like caramelising sugar, it can go brown in the blink of an eye. It all comes together with a little melted butter and the powdery mixture is compressed in a polvoron mould that contains a small press that pushes out the shaped polvoron. And to finish it off the polvoron is individually wrapped in paper like little powdered lollies.
The verdict, well I couldn't help but be hard on myself. Could my own rendition of this hallowed childhood sweet be as good as it is in my memory? I don't know. To be honest when I tasted it I was pleasantly surprised at how similar it tasted to the store-bought variety, although for me it just wasn't the same. It was probably because my palate had been clouded by years and years of eating this stuff as a child, and frankly I don't think any version of mine could ever taste as good as it does in my imagination. But do try it for yourself and come to your own conclusion.
But if you would like to see what other meals and recipes people are reminiscing about, head on over to the Skinny Gourmet. She is holding a food event focussing on food nostalgia. The round-up will be posted at the end of January.
But if you would like to see what other meals and recipes people are reminiscing about, head on over to the Skinny Gourmet. She is holding a food event focussing on food nostalgia. The round-up will be posted at the end of January.
Polvolron
makes about 24 polvoron
1 cup plain all-purpose flour
1/3 cup granulated sugar
½ cup powdered milk
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
FOR CHOCOLATE POLVORON
2 tbsp hot chocolate milk powder
In a large skillet over low to medium heat, toast the flour until light brown.
Remove from heat and add the sugar and powdered milk, (add the hot chocolate milk powder if making chocolate polvoron)
Add the melted butter and mix thoroughly in skillet.
Transfer flour mixture to a plate and compact mixture in a polvoron press.
Place moulded polvoron onto a flat baking tray/cookie sheet and refrigerate for 1 hour.
To wrap, cut tissue or soft wax paper into 12cm x 12cm squares.
Place polvoron piece onto the middle of the paper and fold over top and bottom sides, tuck in edges into the middle and twist
The weather; it's always been a talking point no matter where you go. Meet a stranger at a bus stop and strike up a conversation about the weather and you find yourself a mate for life. And I do mean "mate" as in the Aussie idiom and not in that biological sense that results in procreation. But nonetheless, I think that the weather has the efficacy of bringing people together in the same way that food does.
I know in Sydney it has become a bit of a past time to talk about it's wild and wacky ways, especially with its ferociously destructive bent of recent times. The weather has become a little bit of a farce, seeing that we have seen it all in the past couple of months. It's probably been one of the hottest, coldest and wettest summers in history. And, like mine, many Sydneysiders tongues have been sent wagging with all this unprecedented, history-making weather.
I stood in a queue at the Post Office and struck up a conversation with one woman about the recent hailstorm and how long it took the SES to come and patch her roof. Then another lady behind us piped in and recounted about how she had to quickly get all her greyhounds inside as their corrugated iron shed was no match for the golf ball sized hail stones. At that point I could feel those warm and fuzzy feelings, that only usually turn up come Christmas time, well up in my gut. Now this is what community feels like.
And I guess this is where my fondness for food stems from- it's inclination for community. Meals bring people together, food is such a rallying force- and when you get a collection of people gathered together in united mastication, it's a beautiful thing. I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's more fun when you get to share the calories around, and what's a few kilojoules between friends?
Now here is one dessert that is definitely meant for sharing; the cakes are made individually so there is enough for everyone. And you don't have to feel like you are taking on the Spanish Armada as the cakes are incredibly light and airy. When you think of oranges, you think winter, but when you're in the midst of a cold spell like we are today it's the perfect thing to warm your belly.
Yesterday may have been ice cream and short-shorts weather but just like your luck in Vegas, Sydney-weather can turn just like that. And just like that, it's now back to long-sleeve, scarves and sweet indulgent cakes weather. I guess you can't complain, when you get to sit in front of the television, feet curled up under you with a plate of this. I know right now, I'm not saying a thing.
And if you are hankering for more, then head over to the The Garden of Eating soon and check out the round up of other comforting treats in the 2008 Comfort Food Cook-Off that is sure to weather any cold snap you might be amidst of.
Little yoghurt and orange blossom cakes
Recipe from the Australian Gourmet Traveller
Serves 12
300g (2 cups) plain all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
300g vanilla yoghurt
60ml (¼ cup) buttermilk
160g unsalted butter, softened
220g (1 cup) caster sugar
½ tsp finely grated orange rind
4 eggs
100g vanilla Persian fairy floss, to serve (optional)
FOR ORANGE BLOSSSOM ICING
60g unsalted butter, softened
600g icing confectioner’s sugar, sifted
3 tsp orange blossom water (see note)
1½ tbsp vanilla yoghurt
Preheat oven to 160ºC.
Grease and line twelve round dariole cake pans (see note).
Sift flour with baking powder and a pinch of salt and set aside.
Whisk yoghurt and buttermilk together in a bowl and set aside.
Using an electric mixer, beat butter, sugar and orange rind until pale and creamy.
Add eggs, one at a time, beating briefly between each addition to combine.
With mixer on low speed, add one-third of the flour and mix to combine, then add one-third of the yoghurt mixture and mix to combine.
Repeat with remaining mixtures, alternating, until incorporated.
Mix just until batter is smooth, then divide evenly among prepared cake pans.
Tap base to level and bake for 45 minutes or until a skewer inserted withdraws clean.
Cool completely in pans on a wire rack.
Remove cakes from pans.
FOR ORANGE BLOSSOM ICING
Beat all ingredients and 1½ tbsp water in an electric mixer for 1 minute or until smooth.
Working with one cake at a time and using a hot, wet spatula, ice cakes starting with sides, then top. (If icing becomes difficult to spread, continue to dip spatula in hot water until icing is completely even.)
Set aside and stand for 1 hour or until icing is firm to touch, then serve each cake topped with a little fairy floss (optional).
NOTE: Orange blossom water is available from The Essential Ingredient (www.theessentialingredient.com.au/) and other specialty food stores.
NOTE: As many of you have been asking where I got these lovely paper cases for my cupcakes, I thought it would be easier to let you all know on the blog, rather than respond to every email. Many birds with the one stone, I guess.
The paper cases are from the Donna Hay home collection- these particular ones are called "Classic Ticking". I got mine from David Jones.
After salvaging the mess of a recipe that was the Chocolate Espresso and Mascarpone Tart, I had pretty much decided that this was the last straw with Martha. Yes, she's wholesome, she's almost likeable and yes she is so eerily perfect that it's borderline psychotic and creepy, but I was resolute in my stance not to try any of her recipes ever again. And there was no amount of pristinely pressed collared shirts and perfectly piped icing that would make me change my mind. Or would there?
It’s been almost a year since I vowed, with unwavering tenacity that I would never again try a Martha recipe because of all the inconsistencies and holes she left in the details and instructions of her recipes. At first I wasn’t sure if it was just the one recipe I had tried but it proved to be that a number of her recipes from the Internet were laden with mistakes.
But, a year later am I really able to make amends with Martha? What is it going to take?
Well the answer gladly is, maybe. Perhaps, I can make up with Martha and although we still aren't the best of friends, we are certainly making a go of it.
As much as I would love to mock her nauseating affinity for perfection and ability to make even the most anal and OCD-ridden person appear normal, I have to say that I am ready to give her a second chance. She’s redeemed herself with a carrot cake recipe that pleases everyone. And given that it is quite a feat to stuff up a carrot cake recipe, I would have been surprised if this one was a disaster, but I had to start somewhere. And I had to start small. After all Martha has jaded me on more than one occasion. It just so happens that only one of those occasions was documented on the blog.
Not only has she found herself a measure of forgiveness, but I have also found myself a go-to recipe for carrot cake. A few minor adjustments here and there, but for the most part, it’s all from Martha. Congratulations girl, I no longer loathe you.
The cake has an incredibly moist and smooth crumb. You could almost say they are like little auburn feather pillows, light to the touch. And because they are so light you could be fooled into eating one too many. I know I was.
The only alterations I made to the original “Martha” recipe was adding a few more spices and using macadamia oil instead of vegetable oil. Macadamia oil’s taste is very subtle and doesn’t make much of a difference to the overall flavour, but certainly adds more depth than vegetable oil would. But if macadamia oil is not available then there is no reason why you can’t just use vegetable oil. If it was good enough for Martha, then, well.
So there you have it, Martha and I may see a friendship in the near future after all. I might have to test another disaster-free recipe from her to make that call, but for now I can say that I don't detest her and her recipes as much. As long as she doesn’t come at me with a wooden spoon or a steam iron, we should get along fine.
So here it is, enjoy! Martha'second chance Carrot Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting.
Related post: Martha...not what she's cracked up to be
Carrot Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting
adapted from marthastewart.com
makes 12
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup macadamia oil*
2 tablespoons orange juice
½ tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground allspice
½ tsp ground nutmeg
½ tsp salt
¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons flour
1½ cups shredded carrots
FOR THE FROSTING
8 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
¾ cup confectioners' sugar
½ tsp vanilla extract
Orange zest
*If macadamia oil is not available you can substitute with a vegetable oil.
Preheat oven to 180°C.
Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with paper cups.
In a bowl, combine sugar, macadamia oil, orange juice, vanilla extract, and eggs.
Stir in baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg and salt.
Add flour; mix. Stir in carrots.
Divide batter evenly among muffin cups, filling only about ¾ of the way up.
Bake for about 20-25 minutes or until toothpick inserted in centre comes out clean.
Allow cupcakes to cool completely before frosting.
Meanwhile, in a mixing bowl, combine cream cheese, confectioners' sugar, and vanilla extract.
Whisk until smooth.
Frost cupcakes, and garnish with orange zest.
As much as strawberry shortcakes are a childhood favourite for many people, it was something I never grew up with. The only strawberry shortcake I was familiar with was the cartoon character. Some of you might remember her and some of you might not want to admit you remember her.
While perusing the pages of Good Living online, I came across a Steve Manfredi recipe for Strawberry and Ricotta Shortcakes. I knew I had to satiate my curiosity for these shortcakes, and especially when strawberries are so cheap right now.
I told you about how I almost ran off the side of the road when I saw that they were selling asparagus for 69 cents a bunch, well strawberries aren’t that cheap but they are in season so what that means is that they are at their most bountiful and most fragrant.
I’m not one that fully ascribes to eating everything organic; frankly I think there needs to also be an emphasis on eating and buying local as organic isn’t necessarily always the best choice. But I have to admit that when it comes to strawberries, I think that organic is far superior.
The great thing about these strawberries is that they are organic and locally produced, jackpot! They might not be as super-sized as the non-organic versions however I have found that they are softer, juicier and more aromatic. I can’t remember who gave me this advice, but when shopping for strawberries if you can’t smell them then they probably aren’t worth buying. This is mantra I have shopped for strawberries with.
Strawberry and Ricotta Shortcakes
serves 9
from SMH Good Living
FOR THE SHORTCAKES
230g plain flour
60g caster sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
Pinch salt
80g unsalted butter, cold, cut into 2cm cubes
160ml thickened cream
FOR THE RICOTTA CREAM
250ml thick cream
2 tbsp caster sugar
125g ricotta
1 tsp vanilla essence
FOR THE FILLING
300g medium-sized strawberries, hulled and halved lengthways
Icing sugar for dusting
First, make the shortcakes. With an electric mixer, fitted with the paddle attachment, mix the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt.
Add the butter and beat until the mixture looks like coarse meal.
Add the cream and beat until the mixture comes together.
Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and form into a 15cm square about 3cm thick. Refrigerate for an hour.
Preheat the oven to 180C.
Using a 5cm biscuit ring, cut out 9 cakes.
Place on a baking tray and bake for 20-25 minutes until brown.
Cool on a cake rack.
Make the ricotta cream by whipping the thickened cream with the sugar.
Fold in the ricotta and vanilla.
Slice each shortcake in half and fill with the strawberries and ricotta cream.
Dust with icing sugar.
I feel like one of those bad parents, like a deadbeat dad who says he's going to take you to the circus but never gets around to it and next thing you know, the circus has packed up and left town. Why, because I made a promise that I still haven't delivered on. Perhaps that makes me the perfect politician, I don't know, but I feel guilt-ridden for making everyone wait so long for the surprise I was teasing you all with months ago.
I don't know what the retribution is for undelivered promises, but hopefully this little offering will prove a worthy penance. And no, the offering isn't that injured Bichon Frise I was talking about earlier, but it's actually this little saccharine opus, a vanilla-scented mascarpone cheesecake with spiced redcurrants and pashmak.
Now that's a mouthful in more ways than one.
And, I guess it's safe to make the big reveal and divulge what the secret ingredient I was so excited about is. They are, *virtual drum roll*... red currants! Some of you might be taking a collective gasp of air, thinking, cool. While some of you are thinking, so what?
Well, redcurrants aren't something I usually come across in the shopping aisles in my neck of the woods. I have never seen them sold fresh here in Australia; not in any grocery or farmer's market, so you have to understand the thrill of such an exotic find. They didn't come fresh, rather snap frozen, although this was good enough for me as they still bore the plump juicy redness that made them look as is they were just picked right off the bush. I couldn't resist and bought two punnets worth, which isn't a complete splurge if you ask me, but in saying that, you will definitely be seeing more of these babies in the future.
Redcurrants, a member of the gooseberry family are typically more sour than the gooseberry and blackcurrant varieties, however they are excellent cooked down in sauces, syrups, jellies and preserves. High in potassium, vitamin C and fibre, this fruit may be little but it packs a big punch.
Now it took quite some time to muster up the inspiration to do something that would prove a worth compeer to the unintended hype that it was given. How could any fruit live up to such grandiose expectations. When people were emailing me and leaving comments about how they were waiting with bated breath as to what this surprise was, I found myself pressured to live up to all the ballyhoo it generated.
The only choice I had was to do something spectacular and the only thing I could think of was a mascarpone cheesecake. Now the only thing I needed was a recipe. That's when a visit to West Ryde library became a serendipitous event.
I was waiting for my car to be serviced and needed somewhere to park myself for the next couple of hours, I was already spending a fortune on this car, so a trip to the shopping mall wouldn't have been the wisest move. I needed somewhere where I wouldn't have to spend any money and I could wile away the hours undisturbed. Where else but a library.
So off I went into the magazine section and perused the different options, trashy, fashion, home and garden, architecture, business, but wait there was a food section. So off I go digging through the back issues of Australian Gourmet Traveller and I stumble across the 2006 March issue. And I guess the rest of the story explains itself.
I also found recipes for grapefruit soufflé and Amaretti parfait which you might see later on, but this was the one I was most excited about. The original recipe had spiced blueberries but I figured redcurrants would do just as well.
So just imagine a luscious cheesecake with spiced red currants topped with a little cloud of Persian fairy floss, it's seductive. It's almost sickening to call the dish seductive. Just in the same way you don't want to but can't help calling a fig or a fresh summer salad one of those "sexy" foods, this one was truly up there in its inherent sensuality.
Just look at it, with it's come-hither mien. From it's pretty primrose complexion to it's velvety centre, the splash of blood red syrup oozing down the sides and the billowing tuft of spun sugar, its gastronomic allure at its most persuasive. And forgive me for turning this dish into something that sounds more like a trashy Mills & Boon novel but I just can't help it. I promise I'll stop with the sychophantic prose but I cannot help but be a an adoring fan.
If you are wondering what that white puff is on top of the cheesecakes, it is Pashmak- Persian fairy floss. I guess the thing that sets pashmak apart from the typical fairy floss you find at the carnival is that the recipe uses sesame oil and flour. The texture feels a little like wool and it doesn't dissolve as easily on your tongue as normal fairy floss. The packaging doesn't really tell much about how pashmak is made, although this is the little blurb on the back of the pack:
" pashmak is a persian recipe for candy floss or cotton candy. much effort has gone into making this product by hand. traditionally it is served plain with tea or coffee and makes for an exotic accompaniment to a variety of modern desserts. may be used as a garnish or served on petit fours plates."
So there it is, the secret has been revealed and I can now sleep at night knowing that I didn't let you down. Next time I make a promise I hope it doesn't take this long for me to fulfil it. I guess this is where you can insert the adage better late than never.
Vanilla Scented Mascarpone Cheesecakes with Spiced Redcurrants and Pashmak
Adapted from Australian Gourmet Traveller March 2006
Serves 8
75g caster sugar
zest of 1 lemon
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped
100g mascarpone
150g cream cheese
1 large egg
1 egg yolk
2 tsp plain flour
1 tbsp pouring cream
Persian fairy floss
SWEET PASTRY
90g unsalted butter, chilled
50g icing sugar
125g plain all-purpose flour
1 egg yolk
25ml ice water
SPICED REDCURRANTS
125ml fruity red wine
100g granulated sugar
1 vanilla bean, seeds scraped
1 cinnamon stick
1 star anise
5 strips of lemon/orange rind
150g red currants
TO MAKE THE PASTRY
Combine the butter, icing sugar and flour in the bowl of a food processor and pulse for 1 minute or until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.
Add the egg yolk and pulse for 30 seconds, then add the ice water and pulse until the mixture comes together to form a dough.
Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes to an hour.
MAKING THE CHEESECAKE
Combine the caster sugar, lemon zest, vanilla beans, mascarpone, cream cheese, egg and egg yolk in the bowl of a food processor and process until smooth.
Pour the mixture into a medium bowl and whisk in the flour and cream.
Whisk until just combined.
Preheat oven to 180ºC.
Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface to 3mm thickness and live tart tins.
Trim the edges. Line tart cases with parchment paper and fill with pie weights.
Bake for 10 minutes then remove pie weights and bake for a further 5-10 minutes.
Remove from oven and allow to cool. When cooled, remove from tins.
Fill tart cases all the way with mascarpone mixture.
Place tarts on a baking tray and bake at 220ºC for 8 minutes then reduce heat to 100ºC and bake for 15-20 minutes.
MAKING THE SPICED REDCURRANTS
While the tarts are baking, make the syrup.
In a small sauce pan over medium heat, combine the wine, sugar, vanilla beans, stick of cinnamon, star anise and orange rind and stir until all the sugar has been dissolved.
Bring to the boil and reduce heat to a simmer.
Remove cinnamon stick, star anise and orange from syrup and discard.
Add the redcurrants and simmer for another 5 minutes.
To serve, place tart on a plate and spoon over some redcurrants and top with a tuft of pashmak (Persian fairy floss).