Hummingbird High

Momofuku Milk Bar Chocolate Chip Cake

2013-06-16T08:03:00.000-07:00

Guys, it's my 26th birthday today.

I've never been a big birthday person. I think the last birthday party I threw for myself was in eight grade and it was such a stressful affair — water park, sleepover, movie — that I never threw another party again. I generally hate being the center of attention, and often times shy away from the spotlight. These days, if I'm feeling wild, I'll spend my birthday getting dinner at a restaurant or going to a quiet bar with some friends. But admittedly, it's getting more and more anti-climatic each year — I have nothing planned for today, for instance. Oh well. As long as no tears are shed (like last year's birthday, but that's another story), I'll consider it a successful day.

My, my, what a high bar I set for myself.

Presents are another way I like to suck the fun out of birthdays. I believe, sincerely, that birthdays are a way of getting what you want without having to pay for it. This is something that my boyfriend Erlend and I have argued about repeatedly over the years. While he's all about the surprise and the thought behind the process, I absolutely hate surprises and not knowing what I'm going to get. This is why I keep ordered Amazon wish lists to I send to him and family members year after year. That way, there's no disappointment when I open up any packages.

So yep. I'm like the grinch. Who hates birthdays. I'm Birthday Grinch.

Aware of my somewhat pessimistic outlook on birthdays, I decided it was time to establish some sort of celebratory tradition in honor of my birthday. Last year, I made this Funfetti Birthday Layer Cake from Momofuku Milk Bar's cookbook. It was probably the highlight of my birthday last year. I figured why not make another fully-stacked, gloriously layered, and unapologetically unfrosted cake from one of New York City's most famous bakeries?

So, behold this chocolate chip cake:

According to the Momofuku Milk Bar Cookbook, head pastry chef (and James Beard Award winner) Christina Tosi decided to keep her cakes unfrosted because she had spent so much time thinking about the different components, layers, and textures of the cake. Why hide it behind some frosting?

Indeed, as you can see in the picture above, this cake is particularly stunning: a layer of chocolate chip-butter milk cake soaked with passionfruit puree, topped off with a layer of passionfruit curd, topped with some chocolate crumbs, before finally finishing with some coffee buttercream frosting... only to repeat the whole thing again. All in all, the different parts make 11 different layers for one cake. Epic right?

A word on the cake: coffee-passionfruit-chocolate? Doesn't that seem a little out there? But it turns out that coffee-passionfruit-chocolate is a common pastry school combination, and one that's slowly becoming mainstream. In Portland, I've seen several bakeries offer up passionfruit-cocoa nib donuts in the last few months. Think of it like chocolate-orange, or chocolate-raspberry even. A tart, citrusy fruit flavor paired with some bold chocolate. My coworkers absolutely loved it. They finished off half the cake before lunchtime.

But I won't lie to you — this cake was a feat. Not only does it require you to find some pretty obscure ingredients and equipment, but it requires you to make four different parts using completely different recipes (cake, curd, crumbs, frosting) before finally even putting it together. The cookbook doesn't do a great job providing pictures of the assembly process either. You can use my process guide from last year's birthday cake post with step-by-step pictures to help you out. Before you start baking, read my baker's notes AND the recipe carefully. That's all I can tell you.

Should you decide to take the red pill and make this cake, brace yourself.

But believe me, it's worth it.
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No-Bake Tiramisu Parfaits + A Cookbook Giveaway!

2013-06-12T07:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, summer came early here in Portland. We're talking bright blue, cloudless skies and 80-degree weather. Since it rained EVERY DAY last June, I ain't complainin'. Well, okay, maybe a little bit.

Because here's the deal: I live in a teeny, tiny 1-bedroom apartment with my boyfriend Erlend. And by teeny, tiny, I mean it: our apartment is in an old Victorian-style house that's been converted into 6 different apartments. We have half of the top floor, which used to be the house's attic. Being an attic, the insulation is not exactly stellar. And by that I mean, it's actually absolutely terrible. We freeze in the winter, and we burn in the summer. To top it off, we have one inconvenient heater in the living room, and absolutely no air-conditioning.

So now let's throw that pesky little baking habit of mine in the mix. Turning the oven on in the summertime means that, whatever's baking or roasting in the oven, we're roasting along with it. The oven heats up the entire apartment, and no matter how many fans we turn on or windows we open, our apartment firmly remains as hot as the oven. And considering it's June and we've already had a couple of 80-degree days? I have no idea how I'm going to be able to turn my oven on in July and August.

So enter Cristina Suarez Krumsick's no-bake cookbook, No Bake Makery:

A few weeks ago, a publishing company reached out to me and asked if I was interested in a couple copies of No Bake Makery. And with summer coming up and my fear of roasting alive in my apartment becoming more realistic every day, I figured why not? I was already starting my search for recipes that avoided using my oven at all.

Thankfully, No Bake Makery eliminated all the work I needed to do — the cookbook contains 80+ different recipes for bite-sized bake treats, none of which require an oven. It's got quite a repertoire of recipes, ranging from truffles, bark, pies, cake, pudding, candy, and cookies... all without ever having to turn on the oven.

Looking through the recipes, I knew I definitely wanted to try the no-bake tiramisu since tiramisu is one of my favorite desserts:

No Bake Makery's tiramisu recipe did NOT disappoint. It was really more like a tiramisu parfait, layering ladyfinger crumbs with a mascarpone, coffee, and sugar cream. The mascarpone cream was absolutely addicting. I couldn't stop eating spoonfuls of the stuff. It had the consistency and flavor of sweetened condensed milk (one of my favorite ingredients), but spiked with espresso and vanilla. Indeed, according to the cookbook, author Cristina upped the amount of espresso traditionally found in tiramisu for the recipe. No wonder I was bouncing around for the rest of the afternoon. In any case, I'm definitely looking to trying more recipes from the cookbook.

And if No Bake Makery sounds like something up your alley, be sure to join my giveaway! I'm giving away a FREE copy to one of my readers. A couple of notes:

The giveaway is only open for 1 week and closes on June 19, 2013 (next Wednesday) at 11:59 PM PDT. At that point, a winner will be chosen at random and notified by email shortly afterwards.

I sincerely apologize for this one, but the giveaway is for US residents only. I cannot ship abroad/overseas.

You can enter as many times as you want. So the more times you enter, the more likely you'll win!

I promise you that your contact info will never, EVER be shared or given to anybody else. You will only receive an email from me if you've been chosen as the winner.

Still sound good to you? Cool! Fill out the form below to be considered for a FREE COPY of NO BAKE MAKERY:

Also, feel free to share this giveaway with your friends!

As for those who came for the tiramisu recipe, don't fret. I've got it for you below:
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Rhubarb and Pistachio Pavlova

2013-06-08T07:34:00.000-07:00

When it comes to dessert, my boyfriend Erlend and I are on opposite ends of the spectrum. I’m a big fan of classic sweets like cakes and cookies, but he prefers desserts of more exotic fare. Things like Asian sticky rice desserts, or esoteric desserts like pavlova.

When Erlend recently requested that I make a pavlova, I was a little bit confused — I’d never heard of the dessert before. So what is it, exactly?

I like to think of it as a giant meringue, but softer. That is, although a pavlova shares the meringue’s hard shell, its inside are fluffy and soft like a marshmallow. According to my research (ehem, Wikipedia), pavlova is actually pretty common in Australia and New Zealand; you just don’t often see it in the US. The dessert was named and created for the Russian ballet dancer Anna Pavlova (known for her beautiful dancing), which I found unsurprising. The dessert is delicate, light, and airy — just as I imagine a ballet dancer would be.

In Australia and New Zealand, pavlovas are often served in the summertime with whipped cream and fruit. To stay true to this tradition, I chose a recipe that topped off the pavlova with a healthy serving of roasted rhubarb, whipped cream, and pistachios:

The result was a dream. The rhubarb and pistachio pavlova was a beautiful balance of differing contrasts: the pavlova’s delicate, crisp exterior versus its soft, cloud-like interior. The rhubarb’s soft, tart texture versus the crunchy pistachios.

When I was little, I always imagined that clouds in the sky were edible. In my head, I had pegged their texture and flavor as similar to cotton candy. But with this recipe, I found out that, nope, I was wrong this entire time. If you could touch and taste a cloud, they’d taste like pavlovas. Most likely.
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Supernatural Brownies

2013-06-05T07:42:00.000-07:00

Man, I had a tough week last week.

It was a combination of things. First things first, my family was in town. While I love my family, it's always a little bit stressful hosting them as they require a lot of hand-holding in terms of entertainment, figuring out what to do, etc. In addition to taking care of all the planning and activities, I basically played chauffeur all week. If you know me in real life, you know what a foul mood driving around will make me since I tend to avoid it at all costs (I bike to work everyday, rain or shine). Needless to say, I was pretty exhausted when we said our goodbyes.

My family's visit to Portland also happened to coincide with Saveur Magazine's Best Food Blog Awards Ceremony. A few months ago, I was absolutely thrilled to find out that my blog was a finalist for the ceremony's Best Desserts & Baking Blog category. As a finalist, I was invited to attend a ceremony recognizing all the winners and finalists hosted by Saveur in Las Vegas's famous Bellagio hotel. The invitation promised two days of amazing food tours, as well as the chance to be in the company of some of the world's best bloggers and important people in the food industry in general.

After several weeks of hemming, hawing, and discussion with both friends and family, I decided to forgo the invitation to the ceremony and instead spend the time with my family. For several reasons: 1) my parents were coming from abroad (by way of a 13 hour+ flight) to visit, 2) it was my dad and brother's first time in Portland, and 3) I hadn't seen any of them since Christmas (or in the case of my brother, since 2009). Family is more important, right?

And although I know that I made the right choice, it still sucked looking at Saveur Magazine's and other invited bloggers' instagram pictures, tweets, and posts of the extravagant event. I know I should have blocked my instagram feed or something, but the masochist in me just kept monitoring the event hashtag and staring at the pictures of awesome meals, incredible views of Vegas, and most importantly, bloggers I admired all together, looking like they were having the time of their lives. And to spend just two days being treated like a star, especially considering how much time and effort I've put into this blog? It would have been the experience of a lifetime — most likely a once in a lifetime opportunity. One that I passed up.

And it was with those gloomy thoughts in mind that I found myself baking a batch of brownies:

When times get tough, I do what I always do: I bake brownies. Sure, I love desserts of all kind, but nothing can cheer me up like a brownie and a tall glass of milk.

These brownies, recommended by my coworker Alanna (who knows the best recipes), are the best recipe I've ever made: Nick's Supernatural Brownies. Intensely, unapologetically chocolatey. Almost pure unadulterated fudge, yet topped off with the papery, flaky top that is the signature of the best brownies. Supernatural brownies, indeed. I found myself eating almost the entire pan on Thursday night. And it helped a lot. Eating your feelings away always does, right?

Especially when you eat them away with brownies.

A few baker's notes:

I've never seen brownies that have brown sugar in the recipe, and this recipe uses the brown sugar to great effect. The brown sugar adds a subtle caramel flavor and texture that gives these brownies their unique taste and fudgy texture.

Under any circumstances, DO NOT OVERMIX THE BROWNIE BATTER. Doing so will result in tough, hard brownies that will make me cry for you. Simply fold together the ingredients until they are just incorporated. Ideally, you should still have one or two small flour streaks left in the batter when you transfer the batter to the baking pan.

Word on the internets is that these brownies improve over time; you're supposed to let them sit overnight before consuming so that the flavors really soak in and you're left with an ultra, caramelly, chocolatey brownie. But good luck holding off a whole night with these babies.

Strawberry and Citrus Cornmeal Ice Cream Sandwiches

2013-06-02T09:07:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay. So I've gone a little strawberry crazy this month. I am fully aware that the last four out of the five recipes I've posted on this blog have used strawberries in some way. BUT I CAN'T HELP IT, OKAY?! I have a problem! I admit it! I'm addicted to strawberries!

I decided to try making ice cream sandwiches after perusing through the other finalists for Saveur Magazine's Best Baking & Desserts Blog and falling in love with Dessert for Breakfast's Peanut Butter and Jelly Ice Cream Sandwiches. Not only do they sound tasty, but they're absolutely beautiful. Stunning, even. I don't know how Stephanie did it — as you can see in my pictures, my cookies turned out misshapen and my ice cream... well, wrinkly. Don't even get me started on what a nightmare it was to shoot the damn things. Let's just say I ended up with a sticky countertop, camera, hands, pants... yeahhh.

Oh well. At least they tasted good. Because cornmeal in baked goods is always a winner, and when combined with strawberries? The perfect marriage.

But then again, of course I'd say that, right? Because my name is Michelle Lopez, and I am addicted to strawberries.

Alright, time to stop talking before I end up with my foot in my mouth. Without further ado, the recipe:
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Olympic Provisions

2013-05-31T07:52:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, my friend and I went to Olympic Provisions for brunch. Olympic Provisions is a highly-lauded charcuterie and restaurant that cures their own meats right here in Portland. Oregon. They've got two restaurants in the city (one on the east side and on the west). Prior to this brunch, I'd only been to the westside Olympic Provisions once before on a lunch with my coworkers, where we'd spotted famed chef Tyler Florence grabbing lunch. But truth be told, I was less interested in the celebrity chef sighting and more interested in the hot dog I was eating. I was also busy side-eyeing my coworkers' charcuterie plate, which had looked so incredibly tasty that I still regretted not getting my own several weeks later. So let me tell you — I was extremely excited to finally make it to the east side Olympic Provisions to finally get that damn charcuterie plate for myself.

When we walked in, we were greeted by their famous, light-up "MEAT" sign:

In addition to the charcuterie plate, my friend and I decided to an asparagus and egg sandwich. I know a vegetarian sandwich seems like an odd choice to get at a restaurant famous for its, you know, MEAT, but we figured it might be nice to throw some vegetables in our meal. Though I'm not sure it counted, because it was slathered in garlic cream sauce, sitting up top a butter-slathered loaf of ciabatta bread:

And it was absolutely delicious.
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Strawberry Shortcake

2013-05-29T07:50:00.000-07:00

Guys, behold my opus: strawberry shortcake. She's a beauty alright.

You knew this was coming. I've been hooting and hollering about strawberry season in Oregon for a good few posts now. First there was strawberry ice cream. Then there was my sweetened condensed milk loaf with strawberries and cream. But I'm not gonna lie — those were first of the season strawberries. Good, but not the best they could be.

But on my last trip to the farmer's market, everything changed. Locally grown strawberries of all varieties were in abundance:

Pints after pints of bright red, luscious strawberries. Ever-so-sweet and fully ripened. We walked away with three pints for only $8; it was really quite the steal. I opted for hood strawberries, which are known for their bright color and sweetness:

Similar to my recipe for the sweetened condensed milk loaf, I wanted to find a recipe that featured strawberries as the star — a strawberry shortcake seemed like the best solution. Nothing but layer upon layer of buttermilk cake, macerated strawberries, and whipped cream, this cake is a dream. I recently brought it to a dinner party where our host actually exclaimed in delight when he saw the cake. It was the perfect springtime dessert.

Without further ado, the recipe and a few baker's notes:

Choose strawberries that are darker red and smaller — this signifies that the berries are riper, which means they'll yield more juice and will be sweeter and more intense in flavor.

Make the strawberry filling first by allowing the strawberries to macerate (fancy word for soak) in sugar, vanilla, and rose water. The rose water imparts an almost flowery taste to the cake — I'm a big fan, but feel free to exclude if you're opting for a more traditional shortcake flavor.

The cake uses three small 6-inch cake pans to make a buttery buttermilk cake. You can probably use bigger, more traditionally sized cake pans to make two layers, but be sure to adjust baking time accordingly.

According to the cookbook I adapted the recipe from, it's a little unsual to use all baking powder and no baking soda in a cake that contains buttermilk. It was done in this recipe to emphasize the nuttiness of the buttermilk and to produce an extra-tender crumb.

The cake layers can be baked up to 2 days in advance; to store, allow the layers to cool completely before wrapping and refrigerating.

The finished shortcake will NOT hold up for more than a day — the whipped cream will loose its fluff, and cause the entire cake to lose its structural integrity. However, it's important to assemble the dessert at least an hour in advance so that the juice and cream have a chance to seep into the cake layers and allow all the flavors to meld together beautifully.

Enjoy!

Portland Farmer's Market (Again)

2013-05-26T09:50:00.000-07:00

See these onions below?

Remember that scene in The Great Gatsby (book or movie, it doesn't matter which and I won't judge you if you say the latter), where Gatsby's throwing all these shirts at Daisy and Daisy starts sobbing because she's "never seen such beautiful shirts before"?

Well, every time I look at that picture of onions, I nearly start sobbing. I just want to clutch them to my face, against my nose, and bawl, "But I've never seen such beautiful onions before!"

Did I weird everybody out just now? If so, I'll shut up and let the pictures speak for themselves. But one last thing before I go — can I just say that I love this city? I'm incredibly lucky to live in a city that grows such beautiful, abundant, produce so nearby and brings it all to the city to boot.

You'll probably see one of these posts every week, so I'll apologize in advance for flooding you with pictures of produce and small eats at the Portland Farmer's Market:

No-Bake S'mores Pie

2013-05-25T08:30:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, the weather in Portland was absolutely beautiful and stunning. We're talking about 80-degree, blue and cloudless skies... in April. If you're a Portland local, you'll know how utterly rare and crazy it is to have such beautiful weather so early in the spring.

Encouraged by the perfect weather, my friends and I decided to plan a camping trip for this weekend. But not just any kind of camping trip. A glamping trip. Are you familiar with the term? It's a portmanteau of the words "glamorous" and "camping", and when combined together is a shortcut for "glamorous camping".

So what goes on in a glamping trip? Well, everything that goes on in a camping trip... but more glamorous. On the last glamping trip I went on, instead of eating from cans of beans and rice, my friends and I had brought a cooler of pork and red pepper skewers from New Seasons, Portland's local version of Whole Foods. We'd also brought a pound of asparagus (complete with lemon, black pepper, and butter for garnish) to grill over our fireside. Other glamping items? Pillows, toilet paper, and champagne.

As we were divvying out supplies and assigning who was purchasing what, my friends of course suggested that I take care of dessert. And since we were running out of space in the car, why not just bring some chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers for s'mores? Good quality versions of each ingredient, of course.

Looking at what I had been assigned, I couldn't help but feel a little bit cheated. S'more fixings? Really? Didn't my friends want me to whip up a batch of cookies or brownies or something? I know that s'mores are a campfire classic, but it seemed a waste to have the food blogger of the group bring nothing but ingredients. Staring doubtfully at the chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers in front of me, I had an idea.

Pie.

Specifically a s'mores pie.

Because there is nothing that defines glamping better than a s'mores pie. I feel like this pie is the very definition of glamping: an ordinary camping staple, classed up and turned on its head. To make the pie even more glamorous, I used a graham cracker crust recipe from New York City's famed Momofuku Milk Bar and a chocolate truffle recipe from San Francisco's famed Tartine Bakery. Since I had friends from both cities attending the camping trip, I wanted to represent some of the best and highly lauded bakeries from their hometown.

I took an instagram picture of the pie and sent it to my friends, who all freaked out in excitement. Our enthusiasm for our camping trip was at an all time high... until we checked the weather report. Highs in the 40s, constant, icy rain, and some thunder. And just like that, our plans for our glamping trip was thrown out the window.

Oh well. At least we still had this pie.
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Sweetened Condensed Milk Loaf with Strawberries and Cream

2013-05-22T07:51:00.000-07:00

As a food blogger, I often feel guilty about the amount of my food waste. Because let's admit it — it's rather indulgent and unnecessary to have a hobby that involves baking a dessert from scratch every few days. And let's talk about the fact that there are a lot of recipes out there that use odd amounts of ingredients. A third of a can of sweetened condensed milk? Just a few tablespoons of cream? What am I supposed to do with the rest of the ingredients, especially if they're going to perish in a few days? I hate to say it, but it used to be that the remaining quantities will sit in my fridge and simply spoil because I've forgotten about them. Yikes.

These days, I've been trying to be better about reducing my food waste as a whole. I've always been fairly good at dividing up the baked goods between coworkers and friends, making sure that there are no extras that sit around my kitchen uneaten. With leftover ingredients, I've learned to become more mindful and more flexible — that is, whatever ingredients I have on hand will be those that will be used in my baked good for the day, period. This philosophy sometimes creates new challenges and exciting combinations in my baking.

This sweetened condensed milk loaf is an example of that:

A few days ago, I made a delightful, no fuss, strawberry ice cream that unfortunately used odd quantities of ingredients — for instance, the recipe only used 1/2 cup of sweetened condensed milk, which is about a quarter of a regular 14 ounce can. I also ended up with open and unfinished containers of cream and fresh strawberries.

Staring at the three ingredients before me, I initially had varying ideas of what I wanted to make. What if I used the sweetened condensed milk for an iced coffee drink, and the strawberries and cream for a strawberry milkshake? Great ideas, sure, but somehow, that didn't feel right. I felt like the three ingredients were meant to be together.

Peeking in my fridge for some more scraps, I found three leftover eggs. And that's when it occurred to me.

Why don't I just make a cake? No, nothing too fancy or requiring too much prep work. Instead, I was opting for one of those simple, vaguely rustic and yet delicious loaves. You know, the kind that the ladies of yesteryear threw together on a whim with whatever they had in their pantry?

And so this sweetened condensed milk loaf was born:

Since the strawberries were in their prime (it's strawberry season in Oregon!), I wanted to feature them on their own. I ended up soaking the strawberries (in a process called maceration) in rosewater and vanilla to really bring out their flavor. The cream I had was also pretty top-notch — a tiny bottle from my favorite dairy, Strauss Family Creamery in California. It was also worth featuring on its own, which I did simply by whipping it up with a teeny bit of sugar. And since the strawberries and cream were getting their own spotlight, I decided to make a simple loaf cake that featured the sweetened condensed milk as its main ingredient to make sure one of my favorite ingredients got its fair share of attention. The result was great: a dense, golden loaf that tastes faintly like sweetened condensed milk and browned butter.

But the three elements together — that is, the sweetened condensed loaf combined with the macerated strawberries and whipped cream — really just shined. It was the sort of simple dessert that a high-quality restaurant mindful of the seasons would serve. The kind of simple dish that stands as a testament to the fact that all you need are simple, delicious ingredients to make great food.

A couple baker's notes:

Be sure to use the best strawberries you can find! Choose berries that are smaller and darker red; in general, this signifies that they are riper and will yield more juice and flavor.

I soaked the strawberries in vanilla and rose water, which is available in the international section of any fancy grocery store like Whole Foods. If you can't find rosewater or don't want to spend that much on a specialty ingredient, you can replace the vanilla and rosewater with 4 teaspoons orange juice or orange liqueur like Grand Marnier.

No Fuss Strawberry Ice Cream

2013-05-18T10:13:00.001-07:00

Guys, it's strawberry season in Oregon.

Oregonians are fiercely proud of their strawberries. Earlier last week, I had two different parties lecture me on how Oregonian strawberries are far superior to the California variety. Californians, they scoffed, grew their strawberries for size and shape but not flavor. Oregon strawberries, although smaller, are marked with a distinctive "hood", and are generally redder and sweeter:

Strawberries have always been one of my comfort foods — which is a bit ironic because if I eat too many of them, I start to have a mild allergy attack. I wasn't always allergic to strawberries. The allergy was born four summers ago, during my first summer as a fresh college graduate. Back then, I was a bit of a wreck. Graduation seemed like it had loomed out of nowhere and thrust me into unemployment with nothing to offer but an incredibly academic (and faintly useless) degree from an esoteric college. To save money, I would buy pints upon pints of strawberries and simply eat an entire box for a meal, dipping the fruit in a combination of sour cream and brown sugar. My mouth soon interrupted into hives; my doctor explained that I'd given myself a strawberry allergy by consuming such large quantities over a short amount of time. Apparently that can happen, so, head's up.

A few months later, I moved to San Francisco to start my first job that paid, unfortunately, what most first jobs out of college pay — barely above livable wage. To top it off, most of my income was going into my astronomically high rent and nothing else. Barely able to afford groceries, I found myself living off the cheap eats (read: nothing above $5) that San Francisco had to offer: $1 bacon-wrapped hot dogs from illegal carts on the middle of the street attracting a drunk crowd, $4 super-quesadillas from the sketchy Peruvian restaurant window around the corner from my apartment, and interestingly enough, $3 scoops of ice cream from Humphry Slocombe, the quirky ice cream parlor a few blocks away from my apartment.

Although Humphry Slocombe is known for more exotic ice cream flavors like bacon, ancho chile and chocolate, brown butter, and olive oil, I remember that there was one day I walked in and found my favorite flavor: plain-old, no-fuss, strawberry ice cream. I treated myself to a scoop and was absolutely delighted — it was everything I wanted in my strawberry ice cream. Creamy, smooth, and unapologetically strawberry flavored, I was instantly hooked.

I went back to the ice cream parlor several times for more, only to find that they never served plain old strawberry ice cream ever again. I mean, strawberry was always present, but in some other crazy combination like strawberry olive or strawberry ice cream with Szechuan spice. Later, when some friends of mine had given me the Humphry Slocombe Ice Cream Book as a present to commemorate my time in San Francisco, I flipped through the book only to land on a page with a recipe grumpily titled "Here's Your Damn Strawberry Ice Cream." I couldn't believe it — could this be the elusive classic strawberry ice cream that I had kept coming back for, without any success? Indeed, it was. The cookbook explained that they had only ever served plain old strawberry ice cream once in their shop's history, when the owners admitted that they had partied a little too hard the night before and were, well, hungover. I guess that was the day that I'd come in.

In any case, the book had given me the recipe for the best strawberry ice cream I've ever had in my life. I'm not good with ice creams — although I've made a few of them before, I'm awful with cooking custards and my previous attempts have come out either too soft or grainy. Hence the genius of this recipe and why I claim it's "no fuss": it involves absolutely no cooking. Simply whisk together some strawberry puree and a crap ton of cream and sugar, and voila! The best strawberry ice cream of my life — smooth, creamy, and unapologetically about the strawberries all the way. Also, this recipe has sweetened condensed milk. You all know how much I LOVE sweetened condensed milk.

A few baker's notes:

Strawberries are in season now, so be sure to use the best strawberries you can find. This ice cream is all about the strawberries.

There's red wine vinegar in the recipe, which seems a little weird, but really isn't. That's there to help balance out the sweetness of the fruit; you can't taste it at all! According to the cookbook, working with fruit in ice cream is always a little bit tricky since fruit flavor can vary so much. Be sure to taste the ice cream before you throw it into your ice cream maker — if it needs a little bit more sugar, add a pinch more. If it's a little too sweet, throw in a splash of red wine vinegar (but not too much, or else, you know, you'll get vinegary ice cream). I used the quantities the ingredient suggested, and it worked out fine for me.

This ice cream is best after it's been freshly spun, right out of the ice cream maker. The fluffy texture is really remarkable — like eating strawberry cream clouds.

I always have a hard time storing ice creams after I've made them, finding my cheap Ikea tupperware to be too thin. My ice cream always inevitably ends up with some awful freezer burn. I found these insulated, reusable pint containers the other day to help prevent the freezer burn and I've been really pleased with the results so far.

Blog + Cookies: On Writing and Homemade Oreos

2013-05-15T07:40:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the second episode of my new column, Blog + Cookies, my occasional column on what it's like to run a food blog. Today's topic? Writing about food.

These days, it's not enough to just post pretty pictures and a recipe on your blog — readers have also come to expect a cute little anecdote about your recipe, day, life, whatever. As a blogger, I sometimes struggle with my writing and, when I'm completely frustrated and just want to slam my head against the table, I remember these three tips:

1. It doesn't have to be completely about the food.

The best bloggers are the ones who are really able to bring a little bit of warmth and life into their posts. They do this by creating context around the recipe, discussing the history of the dish, why the recipe means so much to them, and how they sourced the ingredients for the dish.

But let's not lie — all that can be a little bit too much. There are only so many times you can read a post on how the blogger spent all day foraging for ingredients at the farmer's market. Plus, if you work a full-time job alongside of your blog, you just don't have time for that sort of thing. At least, I don't. And that's why it's important to remember that it doesn't have to be completely about food.

One of my favorite pieces of food writing is this Serious Eats review for Crabbie's Alcoholic Ginger Beer. If you've got a few minutes, you should seriously check it out. At first glance, it doesn't even seem to be about the beverage — at all. Instead, we've got some guy rambling on about his pothead friend, before segueing into some hilarious and bittersweet self-reflection about his own vices, until finally crescendoing into a surprisingly informative review. It's completely compelling. You can't help but keep reading as you wonder where on earth he's going. Genius.

2. Start with the second paragraph.

I have to thank my coworker Mike for this awesome tip. Often times, I'll have writer's block and can't think of how I want to introduce the recipe. So you know what I do? I just launch into what I want to say without providing any beginning whatsoever. And when I finish writing, I'm surprised by how easy the first paragraph with the appropriate introductory context follows.

For example, my buying agent recently asked me to write a "Dear Seller" letter to the sellers of the house I was interested in purchasing. Stunned that I had to write a letter to ask for permission to buy somebody's house, I started off with a rather ornery introduction complete with expletives:

Hi there,

I imagine you've probably got a stack of letters to get through, each of them more or less saying the same thing: you have a beautiful home, it's in a great neighborhood, blah dee fucking blah.

You can imagine an introduction like that wouldn't have gone well with the seller. But much to my surprise, the subsequent paragraphs that came after that rather vitriolic first sentence actually had, well, substance. Out of nowhere came a pretty heartfelt and honest message: how after I'd spent a nomadic childhood living in several countries, I was ready to call Portland my home and build my roots here. How I admired that they had obviously spent a lot of thought and care on their home, and how I hoped to live up to that.

You see, once I had gotten past the pressure of starting the letter and introducing what I wanted to say, all the good stuff had flown out of me just like that. And afterwards, it was easy enough to edit the letter to a more, um, easier-to-swallow introduction:

Hi there,

I imagine you've probably got a stack of letters to get through, so I'll keep this short and sweet.

And it wasn't even that much different from my initial attempt... right? Right. ;-)

3. It's okay if you don't have too much to say.

I don't know about everybody else, but here's the truth for me: most of the time, I don't really have too much to say about the recipe. At all. Because nope, I didn't spend all day foraging and sourcing the ingredients from the local market. Nope, I didn't find this recipe in a box in my grandmother's attic, where it had been passed down from generation to generation. Do you guys want the plain old boring truth? Most of the time, I just thought it sounded like a good and idea and decided to bake it! And that's totally okay too.

These cookies, for instance, are the perfect example of a lack of story. I've always wanted to make a homemade version of Oreos, one of my favorite childhood snacks, and was pleasantly surprised to find that a recipe in Thomas Keller's highly lauded Bouchon Bakery Cookbook. It turns out that he likes Oreos too. Who woulda thunk that Oreos would be the guilty pleasure of the chef behind the French Laundry and Per Se, frequently cited as some of the world's best restaurants?

Admittedly, I'd eaten one of these during my trip to New York a few weeks ago and I was, well, surprised. Although they looked like Oreos, they definitely were NOT Oreos. Instead of an artificially sweet and highly preserved frosting, Thomas Keller's Oreos sandwiched a whipped white chocolate and cream ganache. The chocolate biscuit itself was intensely chocolatey and almost salty, providing a great balance to the white chocolate filling. Indeed, these were not Oreos at all — more like Oreo's posh, slightly snotty cousin. I loved it.

A few baking notes:

This is a bit of a time consuming recipe — both the white chocolate filling and the chocolate dough need to be chilled before you can work with them. Read the recipe carefully ahead of time, and plan accordingly.

The chocolate shortbread biscuit dough originally called for 2 teaspoons of kosher salt, but I found that to be way too much. Feel free to use 2 though if you like the flavor of salted chocolate!

The white chocolate filling can and should be made in advanced, since it needs to be refrigerated for at least 4 hours until it's workable. The filling is very delicate and temperature sensitive, so don't make the same mistake I did and bake it on an 80-degree day. Not the best recipe to make for the summer, but now I know.

It's best to use a pastry bag to frost the cookies, but you can also just use an offset spatula to spread the frosting around.

I told you this was the Oreo's posh cousin.
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Portland Farmer's Market

2013-05-13T09:06:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend Erlend and I have spent our past few Saturday mornings perusing the Portland Farmer's Market. While he (smartly) gathers a week's worth of food and vegetables for himself, I'm more interested in what I'm able to eat right then and, of course, the photo opportunities the market present.

I've always been a little bit shy about pulling my DSLR out at restaurants and most places in general. I guess it's a residual from growing up? My parents were pretty strict with dining table manners and etiquette: no cell phones/Game Boys/etc at the dinner table were allowed. Dinner time was family time, no exceptions allowed. To be honest I'm not even sure what they would say about today's trend of taking pictures of and instagramming one's food.

Eitherway, I've been making an effort to get past my irrational embarrassment about my DSLR. Besides, food photography in real life presents fun challenges that I've learned to control in my janky setup at home. For instance, whereas most of my photography at home takes place under soft, muted light from my window (that I filter with a bedsheet!), the farmer's market had bright, brilliant sunlight that created beautifully harsh contrast and dramatic shadows. Think: bright vivid colors and tight composition. I loved it.

Without further ado:
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Lemon and Coconut Cream Pie... in a Jar!

2013-05-11T08:39:00.000-07:00

Guys, I believe I'm what's known as an "over-committer" — you know, the kind of person who signs up for too many things and spreads herself way too thin? Let's take the end of April as an example. What a crazy week that was! In less than seven days, in addition to my full time job at a crazy-busy start-up, I had gone to New York and back, competed in a trail race that I was way undertrained for, met with both my realtor and mortgage officer for the first time, attended a Portland food blogger's event by the Little Green Pickle, and committed to baking three items for the National Food Bloggers' Bake Sale. Yikes, just writing all that stuff out gave me a headache.

So on the Friday of that week, I had a slight panic attack when I realized that it was the National Food Bloggers' Bake Sale the next morning and I hadn't even started on any of the baked goods I promised to bring. Heck, I didn't even have any ingredients ready. To be fair, it was my fault entirely — the wonderful Fabiola of Not Just Baked had organized the Oregon chapter, and she'd done a great job of nudging us bloggers along with many gentle reminders. It was just my own inept planning that had landed me in this somewhat-screwed position in the first place. Because seriously, which idiot goes out of state, competes in a brutally steep and body-wrecking 6-mile trail run, and promises to make chocolate truffles, homemade oreos, and lemon tartelettes all in 5 days? This idiot, apparently.

And looking at the ambitious list of goods I had promised for the bake sale, I just had to laugh at myself. The truffles could stay, but the homemade oreos had to go. Sandwich cookies (like these brownie variation), while tasty, fun, and beautiful, had a low yield and were time consuming to make. And lemon pie tartelettes? Who was I kidding? How on earth was I supposed to transport 24 miniature pies by bicycle, my primary mode of transportation?

Well, they say necessity is the mother of invention, and this recipe is nothing but proof of that. Since this lemon cream recipe is one of my favorites on this blog, and I was committed to making sure it was available for the world to try. If the tartelettes wouldn't hold in my bicycle pannier, why not figure out a way in which they could? And that's when it dawned on me...

Pie. In a jar. Because what's more durable than a mason jar?!

My boyfriend had been bugging me to make a parfait for some time now, and needless to say his nagging paid off since it turned out that parfaits ended up being my main source of inspiration for this recipe. If I was going to stuff tartelettes in a jar and sell them to the public, they better be pretty right? I couldn't just shove them in there. And what's prettier than a parfait with its layers of cream?

Figuring out how to stuff tart crust into a jar turned into another challenge of sorts. I decided to take my regular pie crust recipe and simply crumbled it together instead of delicately rolling it into a pie crust. It ended up working wonderfully — the same flavor, minus the fuss that usually comes with baking a pie crust. Buttery and delicious, especially when layered between lemon cream, toasted coconut, and vanilla chantilly cream.

The bake sale itself ended up being a massive success. All the proceeds from the bake sale were donated to No Kid Hungry, a charity dedicated to ending childhood hunger in America by helping provide kids access to nutritional food and educating low-income families how to cook healthy, affordable meals. Together with other bloggers, we made over $800 total! Special thanks to Fabi and all the other wonderful bloggers who participated for making such a wonderful event come to life in Portland.
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Homemade Rhubarb Marshmallows

2013-05-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

There are definitely some foods out there that just don't seem like they could be replicated in your home kitchen, and marshmallows are one of them. What a weird and bizarre food they are! Sweet, soft, squishy, and powdery — it's what I imagined clouds to taste like when I was younger.

But truth be told, I don't even like marshmallows. Why bother making them at home? Could a homemade version really be that much better than the store-bought kind? I wasn't convinced, but after flipping through several baking cookbooks with marshmallow recipes, my curiosity began to grow. Because here's the truth: there are some recipes on this blog that I make because I truly enjoy the food; there are others that I make for the challenge of it. This is one of those recipes. Because not only did I want to make marshmallows, I wanted to make flavored marshmallows. I really don't know how, but somehow I'd gotten stuck on the idea of a rhubarb marshmallow. Doesn't that just sound awesome and friggin' tasty?

So after searching the internet for rhubarb marshmallows and failing find any recipes, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Using Miette's vanilla marshmallow recipe as a base, I subbed out the recipe's corn syrup for some homemade rhubarb simple syrup. A ballsy move, considering I had never made marshmallows before and feared that corn syrup and rhubarb syrup were too dissimilar to produce the same results.

So how did it fare?

I'm not going to lie — at first I was a little bit skeptical of my creation. First of all, homemade marshmallows don't look like the pretty, uniformed little cylinders that you get in plastic bags at supermarkets. As you can see from the picture above, my marshmallows were cut in odd-shaped, disparate squares.

Also, quick side note for food photographers — it's REALLY hard to take good pictures of homemade marshmallows and just make them look attractive in general. Just FYI. I hate my pictures. There, I said it.

However, after my first bite, I realized that homemade marshmallows are a different species of their own entirely. They really are quite different from the jet-puffed marshmallows that you find in the store. Incredibly light, pillowy, and airy, these homemade marshmallows almost dissolve in your mouth! They reminded me more of a light meringue than anything else — and that makes sense, because it turns out homemade marshmallows are made from nothing but egg whites, gelatin, and sugar. The rhubarb syrup brought the perfect amount of subtle tartness to the sugary marshmallow flavor.

My only word of warning is that homemade marshmallows tend to be stickier than the kind you find in the store. I suggest rolling them generously in powdered sugar to prevent them from sticking to each other when storing them away. I also didn't use any artificial food coloring in my marshmallows, so if you want a more vividly colored marshmallow, I suggest throwing in a half teaspoon of food coloring during the whipping process. Finally, don't be intimidated by the marshmallow-making process! All the recipe calls for you to do is heat up some things in a pot, and then slowly pour the resulting syrup into some egg whites while they're being whipped. Voila. Homemade marshmallows, just like that. Who woulda thunk?

Mexican Chocolate Truffles

2013-05-05T08:50:00.000-07:00

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Contrary to popular belief, I'm not as organized as everybody seems to thinks I am. This is my first post where my recipe actually corresponds to a holiday, and can I tell you a secret? That was kind of accidental. Especially since, well, here's another secret: I'm not the world's biggest fan of Mexican food.

I always cringe a little bit when I let that bomb drop. "What?!?!" People exclaim at me. "How can you not like Mexican food?!? Who doesn't like burritos/tacos/insert-beloved-Mexican-dish-here?" Me, apparently. I don't know... part of it is that I'm incredibly spoiled — after high school in Texas and a two year stint in the Mission District of San Francisco, I was constantly surrounded by awesome, high-quality Tex-Mex and California-Mexican food. And I think it was during that time that I kinda OD'd on Mexican food — as a starving post-college kid, I definitely spent most of my paltry paycheck from my first job on burrito dinners. One can only have a thousand calorie burrito/taco a few times before it starts to get old, not to mention negatively effect your waistline.

Mexican chocolate, on the other hand, is a different story.

So what differentiates Mexican chocolate from regular chocolate? In a word — spices. Mexican chocolate is normally roasted cocoa nibs, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice and sometimes even chile. Sounds good, right? Now imagine that in truffle form:

Ohhh yeah. I took it there.

When I first got the idea for Mexican chocolate truffles, I set about the fancy grocery stores in my neighborhood to search for some Mexican chocolate. Much to my dismay, good quality Mexican chocolate ended up being something like $6 for barely 3 ounces. Yikes — at that rate, a basket of chocolate truffles would end up costing me a quarter of my biweekly paycheck!

After some careful thought, I decided to see if I could "fake" the Mexican chocolate flavor. Why not take a truffle recipe I already trusted and throw in the Mexican spices I adored?

Because Mexican chocolate tends to be a little bit more grainy than regular chocolate (on account of all the spices), I was careful to use lots of butter in the recipe to give the truffle a perfectly smooth texture. The result is awesome: a perfectly smooth and silky chocolate, with the kick from the spices I adore in Mexican chocolate. My only word of warning about this recipe is to keep them refrigerated since they tend to melt in the sun. They are mostly made of chocolate and butter after all.
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Portland Food Bloggers' Happy Hour at the Bent Brick

2013-05-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

You know how there are just some days when things are just absolutely crazy: you're swamped with work at the office, you've overcommitted to social activities, you're constantly on the phone with your realtor, you're wrecked from yesterday's 6-mile trail race that you most definitely did not even train for but somehow fumbled through, and gosh darn it, all you need is a drink already!?! Nope? Just me?

Well, in any case, thank god for the Little Green Pickle and the Bent Brick:

Every so often, I'm lucky enough to get invited to an event hosted by the Little Green Pickle. The Little Green Pickle is a PR and media relations firm that specializes in food. They represent some of the best restaurants in town and often invite local food bloggers around the area to come gather, eat, and drink at their client's restaurants.

Somehow Frances at the Little Green Pickle must've had some weird intuition that this was going to be one of my more hellish weeks when she invited me to this happy hour nearly a month ago. A little pick-me-up cocktail after work was exactly what I needed. I was especially excited about the Bent Brick since it's literally only six blocks away from my office — my coworkers and I have been looking for a good place around the area for happy hour sometime now and I wanted to scope the Bent Brick out for the team. And oh boy, it did not disappoint:

My first drink was called "Seeing Things Clearly" and filled with all sorts of delicious stuff like vodka, honey, rhubarb liqueur, and chamomile bitters — basically, all my favorite flavors. It was really refreshing and a great springtime drink. Thanks to Carrie from Little Green Pickle for the awesome hand modeling in the top picture (though I'm not actually quite sure if she knew I was taking pictures of her hand like a creeper).

New York City

2013-05-02T07:21:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in yesterday's ginger-molasses cookie post that I was in New York City last weekend.

Or should I say, the concrete jungle where dreams are made, oh!

That's the view from my friend Julie's rooftop in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Pretty awesome, right? Her building is a weirdass artist's haven in a neighborhood of hipster warehouses. Truth for real.

First dessert stop of the trip? momofuku milk bar for some of Christina Tosi's infamous crack pie. Mmm.

Cracked Ginger-Molasses Cookies

2013-05-01T08:09:00.000-07:00

If you follow me on instagram, you'll know that I just got back from a weekend trip to New York City. There's really nothing quite like New York. The avenues of skyscrapers, the hustle and bustle of people, and everything that makes New York the vibrant city that it is! It's incredible — whatever you want to do, the city has it. Want to spend your days hopping between Thomas Keller's Bouchon Bakery and Christina Tosi's Momofuku Milk Bar? Done. Conversely, want to spend your evening playing FIFA, watching three Xbox movies in a row, and having two different kinds of delivery sent to your door without ever picking up the phone? You got it. Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything.

Sometimes I wonder what my life be like if I'd moved to New York City when I'd initially planned. Back when I graduated from college, my friend Leah and I had big plans to move to the city and live together as roommates. You know, the typical liberal arts college student's dream. It eventually didn't pan out, and I ended up getting my first job in San Francisco instead.

While I don't regret any of my past experiences in San Francisco, Denver, and everywhere else I've lived, I do sometimes daydream about the life I would have in New York instead. What neighborhood would I have live in? Would I be avoiding Manhattan's expensive rent and hipstering it up in Brooklyn, hanging out in the trendy patio bars of Williamsburg? Or would I be shelling out a fortune for a tiny studio in the classic Manhattan neighborhoods I adored, like Nolita or the East Village? Would I be one of these waif-thin, fashionably dressed people I admired on the streets with the $300 shoes and obscure designer labels? Heck, would I even be working in the same industry and job that I'm working now? Or running this blog, even?

In any case, I made these cracked ginger-molasses cookies in honor of one friends in New York who has a particular fondness for them:

Julie had actually asked me to make ginger-molasses cookies back when we lived together over the summer, but I'd avoided making them, giving one paltry excuse after another. Truth be told, I always get this way when I get special requests from good friends — I'm not great with pressure! I didn't want to just whip up a mediocre recipe that wouldn't live up to her expectations; so although I shuffled my feet and hemmed and hawed around her, I actually started secretly testing ginger-molasses cookie recipes.

And after nearly six months, I finally found one:

What makes these ginger-molasses cookie recipe the best? First of all, as you can see in the picture above, they make beautiful cookies that crack perfectly as they cool. But what's more important is the way that they taste. With a generous portion of ginger, allspice, and cloves, these cookies definitely have a spicy KICK to them that's balanced out by the sweetness of the blackstrap molasses. The molasses also lends the cookies a hearty, chewy texture that defines my perfect cookie.

And as for my musings about my perfect life in New York, although it's fun to imagine how things could have been, at the end of the day I'm quite happy in Portland. Admittedly, Portland's never going to have the glamor, energy, hustle and bustle of New York. But that's why I love it. The cheap rent, the abundant amount of space filled with lush green trees, and the quaint little craftsman homes. How you can still get good, New York City quality food at cheap prices. Or ride your bike across major streets without fearing for you life and feeling like you're going to die. These are the things I love about Portland and that's why I gladly chose this city as my home.
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Lemon and Almond Streamliner Cake

2013-04-24T07:04:00.000-07:00

You know how in job interviews, they ask you for your weaknesses? Let's play that game right now. Let's imagine that I'm applying for a job of a professional food blogger. What are some of my weaknesses?

Off the top of my head, here's what I would say:

I'm awful at making custards.
I'm terrible at taking pictures of cakes.

Let's talk about the first, shall we? I'm absolutely awful at making custards with cornstarch in them. Almost every custard recipe that uses cornstarch requires you to cook the liquid over medium-low heat until the custard thickens; cook it to the perfect point, and the custard will set perfectly as it cools. I don't know what it is, and I seemed to have missed the memo of what the custard is supposed to look like as it thickens. I don't know how many times I've had to throw out custards because I've undercooked the initial base and I just couldn't get the damn thing to thicken and set! I suppose a lot of it has to do with patience and how I don't have too much of it. Because yep, it takes a surprisingly long amount of time to cook and thicken a custard properly.

But at the end of the day, the payoff to custard isn't that great anyway. I've mentioned this before, but I've definitely been guilty of avoiding making baked goods that aren't photogenic. And yep, custard is one of them. How are you supposed to make a blobby thick liquid look appetizing through a photograph? Now imagine spreading that blobby liquid on a cake. I already have enough trouble taking appetizing pictures of my 9-inch cakes. As much as I love my camera and its nifty fifty, sometimes, just sometimes, a fixed focal length is a pain in the butt, especially when you're limited by your workspace (that is, a tiny corner of my 1-bedroom apartment).

But then I remembered something I wrote in a previous post: it's not about the way it looks. It's about the way it tastes.

And this cake tasted AWESOME. So the cake is a buttermilk cake that is flavored with almond paste, and the lemon in its name comes from the custard that tops it. While the almond cake would be too sweet on its own, it's balanced out by the lemon custard (which would be too tart on its own).

Truth be told I'd had my eye on this cake for sometime now because it seemed to combine all of my favorite things to eat: cake and custard, lemon and almond. But ironically enough, at the same time, I'd also been avoiding it for those same reasons! That is, I hate taking pictures of cakes, I hate making custards, and the recipe uses a lot of expensive almond paste. I figured that 2 pros < 3 cons, and so this recipe ultimately ended up on the back burner.

But when my boyfriend saw me scrutinizing the recipe for about the 50th time in one week, he came home with a surprise."There," he said, slamming a can of expensive almond paste down in front of me. "Now you've got no excuse. Make the cake." I protested that I sucked at making custards and taking pictures of cakes. He rolled his eyes. "Just make the cake."

And so I did:

The only setback I suffered was the custard. Being an impatient person, I didn't cook the custard's base long enough and it didn't set as it cooled. Don't make the same mistake I did — take your time cooking the custard until it gets thick enough to REALLY coat the back of a spoon and refuse to slide off easily.

The recipe comes from Vintage Cakes, the cookbook of the baker behind Baker & Spice, a beloved local bakery in the suburb of Portland. I highly encourage folks to check out the cookbook — the whole idea behind it is that Julie Richardson (the co-owner and head baker at Baker & Spice) found a box of vintage cake recipes in her bakery's attic; after testing out some of the recipes and finding them to be a little too sweet and reliant on 50s' style baking methodologies and ingredients, she then set about updating and adapting them for modern tastes. This particular recipe, for instance, was found in a 1967 issue of a publication called Baking Industry. Although Julie never found the reason behind the name, she loved the idea behind an almond and lemon custard cake and included it in her cookbook.

And I'm glad she did, otherwise, I wouldn't be sharing it with you all today. ;-)
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Roasted Vanilla-Rhubarb Shortcakes

2013-04-20T08:37:00.000-07:00

Guys, spring is here and I am so friggin' excited. Portland is in full bloom and it's absolutely beautiful over here. PLUS, we're past that awkward time between winter and spring where there was NOTHING was in season! In fact, my friends in San Francisco even reported seeing the first strawberries at their farmer's markets, so I know that in a few short weeks, my beloved Oregon berries will also finally arrive. Expect lots of berry pies topped with dollops of creme fraiche.

But for now, I'll have to do with some rhubarb:

Raise your hands if you've ever looked at the big, beautiful stalks of rhubarb in the supermarket, only to shy away because you had absolutely no idea how to prepare them? Just me? Because I'll be honest here —I've been intimidated by rhubarb for as long as I can remember. I had no idea how on earth to prepare them. What exactly was I supposed to do with those stalks? Is rhubarb the sort of thing you had to peel? Also, I'd heard that rhubarb leaves are poisonous. Is that even true, or a malicious rumor to scare away the amateurs?

In any case, I figured this year is the year to get over my fear of rhubarb. After a winter of baking chocolate goods, I craved something fresh, fruity, and tart — so rhubarb fit the bill, basically. But before committing to buying pounds of rhubarb, however, I did my research. Indeed, although there are a number of ways to prepare rhubarb, but I decided to go with a rather unimaginative route and simply roasted them in some red wine and sugar. Doing so was a great idea, not only because of its simplicity, but because the roasted rhubarbs resulted in a bold, beautiful maroon syrup:

I could have just posted the recipe for roasted rhubarb right then and there since it was so amazing on its own, but I wanted to go the extra mile and make it special for several reasons. Long story short, I just wanted to try and cheer everybody up since I know that it's been a hard and distressing week for most. My goal was to create something delicious and comforting, allowing a little bit of escape from it all.

I decided to pair the warm rhubarb with some sweet shortcake biscuits and vanilla chantilly cream, and, well... wow. Doing so really transformed this dessert into something else — something that succeeded in evoking the kind of simple comfort we could all really use right now. I know that sounds kinda corny, but sometimes, just sometimes, all you need is a warm, creamy dessert straight from the oven to help you get through the bad times.

A couple notes — you can make either the rhubarb or shortcakes biscuits ahead of time. Rhubarb filling can be made 5 days ahead: let cool after roasting, then cover and chill. Reheat slightly before serving. Shortcake biscuits can be made 1 day ahead. Let cool completely and store airtight at room temperature.
As for which one to make ahead of time, it really depends on which ingredient you want as the star. I ended up baking the biscuits first and then roasting the rhubarb to make sure it was fresh from the oven, but admittedly, it's much easier to reheat the rhubarb than it is to reheat the biscuits.
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Brownies and Cream Sandwich Cookies

2013-04-17T08:01:00.000-07:00

Let's talk real talk.

I know this sounds cliche, but I’ve always loved food, especially desserts. I’ve always been a big eater — the closest I’ve ever come to dieting is that month when I went sugar-free on a challenge from my boyfriend. But I sometimes worry that this blog is changing my perception on food, especially since I definitely feel the pressure from my recent success. For instance, these days, I shy away from making baked goods that aren’t photogenic, or I’ll post a recipe that I’m unhappy with because I feel the pressure to post something new. And that’s when I know things are heading in the wrong direction — when I’m posting for the sake of posting, and not because I love the recipe.

I don’t know where the line between a good food blogger and a bad food blogger is, but I suspect it’s somewhere around that point. Anthony Bourdain once berated these three food bloggers for loving food so much, that their love was lost in their obsession in capturing the moment. He criticized them for turning food into a competition about being there first, knowing the most, and one-upping their peers by doing so. Similarly, I recently attended an event that I thought was a potluck amongst food bloggers, only to discover that it was an event of bartering instead of sharing. I hated that it pitted goods from one person against another, inadvertently assigning values to different people’s goods based on the quantity/portion of their goods being exchanged, as well as what was being swapped for what. I felt like I was in the middle of some cutthroat competition where people were judging me and my baked goods. That might be some people’s cup of tea, but it took me by surprise since I hadn’t known what to expect. But I did know that it wasn’t to be bid on — instead, I had just wanted to share my goods indiscriminately.

I once read somewhere that the reason why humankind became the dominant species was because of the way we consumed our food; it was the ability to cook, as well as the act of sharing the food that allowed us evolve to our current civilization and society. And there’s something to be said about that. Blogging, the love of food, and general DIY should never be a judgement and numbers game, where one measures success based on the number of pageviews, pretty pictures and content, and overall popularity. It shouldn’t turn people into judgy jerks and provide a means for one to feel superior about oneself. No — it’s always been about sharing.

That’s why I worry about the mindset I sometimes get into. I shouldn’t be blogging for the sake of blogging! Instead, I should be making sure that my blog always remains a medium for me to share the recipes that I’ve enjoyed and made me happy. I'm not here to post things for fame or superiority; I'm here posting these recipes so that other people get the opportunity to make and enjoy them too.

I made these brownies and cream sandwich cookies for the event I mentioned above, knowing that they would produce a decent number of cookies to provide everybody with a taste. At some point during the event, I stopped taking trades and just started giving them away for free since I felt foolish taking something in exchange for goods I'd made with the intention of allowing everybody a taste. I was especially proud of the cookies because I thought they were one of my personal bests:

I’ve been wanting to make a sandwich cookie for a while now since I’d spied one of my favorite bakeries, Miss Zumstein’s, beautiful versions. I was inspired to make a brownies and cream cookie because that combination is one of my favorite desserts. For me, there’s nothing more comforting than a warm brownie topped with some cold, creamy ice cream. Making the cookies was also an especially fun process — I used a butter knife to dole out dollops of cream on each cookie, and proceeded to (gently) smash the two cookies together.

The cream is my favorite part of the cookie. It’s made from sweetened condensed milk, one of my favorite ingredients as well as my largest vice. Combined with a little bit of powdered sugar, salt, and butter, this cream was definitely a dead ringer for the frosting you find in the middle of Oreos:

If you’re worried that the whole cookie sounds a little bit too frighteningly sweet, don’t! I made sure to use an intense and almost bitter chocolate batter for the brownie sandwiches. The trick here is to use 100% unsweetened chocolate for the brownie dough. The bitterness of the chocolate will balance out the sweetness from the sweetened condensed milk cream.
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Cinnamon French Toast Crunch

2013-04-13T08:42:00.000-07:00

Earlier this week, I posted that I was in San Francisco for a few days. It's always strange to visit a place that you used to call home. I've mentioned before that I spent a few years in the city — six months after graduating from college in Portland, I landed my first full-time job and packed my bags for San Francisco where I spent the subsequent next two or so years.

When people ask me why I left San Francisco, I always hesitate before I tell them the truth: that I've never been the city's biggest fan. It's hard to say that about one of the world's most beloved cities, but when I lived there, I found the city to be crowded, under-resourced, overpriced, stressful, and dirty. There was a line for absolutely everything — to even ENTER the supermarket, for instance.

I've had the opportunity to go back to San Francisco a few times since moving away, and I find myself enjoying the city more and more with each visit. At first I attributed it to the fact that some of my best friends still live in San Francisco, a far departure from when I first moved there and literally only knew two people. It also helped that I didn't have to deal with navigating and finding my way around the city on my own, as I did when I first moved there.

My most recent visit was particularly special though. Maybe it was the fact that I got to hang out with some good friends that I hadn't seen in years. Or that I'd been blessed with a week of bright blue sky and 70-degree weather. Or that I managed to go to all of my favorite places in the city without too much of a wait. All those things combined into one giant realization: perhaps I didn't give the city the chance that it deserved.

There are always going to be a lot of things about San Francisco that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. For instance, how the city fails to provide enough resources or support for its large homeless population while the rest of the city booms from the success of the current tech bubble. The fact that the average rent for a tiny two-bedroom in a sketchy neighborhood is around $2500, and good luck finding a decent place if you're not working at a fancypants tech company.

But this time, I see that there's good too. Tartine's Lemon Cream Tart. Blue Bottle's New Orleans Iced Coffee. The Farmer's Market at the Ferry Building. Catching your favorite food truck hiding in a tucked-away alley between buildings. How you can get great Chinese, Burmese, Mexican, French and American food all in the same neighborhood without ever needing to use any other mode of transportation besides your feet. And of course, the triumphant feeling of getting a table with your friends at a crowded bar/popular restaurant and finally sinking your teeth into their signature dish.

So when I got back to Portland, I knew that wanted to bake a recipe that was classically San Francisco. Which is why I bring you this recipe for Cinnamon French Toast Crunch:

This recipe comes from the Mission Street Food Cookbook, a cookbook from famed San Francisco restaurant Mission Chinese Food. I've already professed my love and gratitude for the restaurant in my post about their sour cream brownies, so I won't bore you with the details. What you see above is a French toast recipe with a twist — instead of using an egg and frying the bread over the stovetop, this recipe toasts the bread, before dipping it in a hearty bowl of sugar and brûléeing it with a torch, and topping it off with some cream and sweetened condensed milk. The result is a breakfast/dessert that tastes like a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and a ramekin of creamy crème brûlée all at once. The varying textures (the crunch from the brûléed sugar, the milky texture of the bread once it absorbs the cream) is absolutely heavenly — think bread pudding, or a tres leches cake.

Also, I was so committed to capturing the city's personality that I actually brought back a loaf of famed Acme Bakery's pain de mie to use in my recipe! Yep, I was that girl hauling a loaf of bread with her through airport security, up in the air, and across state lines:

And it was worth it, because I feel like this cinnamon french toast crunch really fits the bill — it's a dish that captures San Francisco, not only as a culinary destination, but as a city as a whole. A dessert from a beloved San Francisco restaurant: Made from high-quality ingredients. Novel and familiar at the same time. Playful yet slightly pretentious (because what breakfast dish needs a flame torch?). And of course, absolutely decadent and irresistible. It's the San Francisco I've come to know and love indeed.

Minus the long wait at the door.
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Hummingbird High is a Finalist for Saveur Magazine's Best Desserts & Baking Blog Award

2013-04-12T11:04:00.000-07:00

Guys, I found out this morning that my blog was selected as a finalist in Saveur Magazine's Best Food Blog Awards!

Selection for the award is done by nominations by readers on the internet and the Saveur community. I remember seeing some tweets when the competition first opened up, but quite frankly, I'm don't even remember if I even nominated myself. There are so many talented food bloggers out there — I figured there was no way I would even make the final cut. I closed out of the window and promptly forgot about the competition.

So when I saw that Saveur magazine's tweet that I was one of the finalists for the Best Desserts & Baking Blog this morning, I was... dare I say, stunned? I received the notice when I had just arrived at work, and literally stood at my computer frozen in shock in the middle of taking off my cycling jacket. ME? My blog? A FINALIST for the award for the Best Desserts & Baking Blog?! WHAT?! I also saw that I was in the company of some heavyweight dessert bloggers, whose work I was already subscribed to in my RSS feed and admired. Honestly, I'm just incredibly honored to be even considered in the league of Bakers Royale, Desserts for Breakfast, Honey and Jam, Joy the Baker, and Top with Cinnamon. I think it's safe to say that I'm definitely the underdog of the category!

The winner will of the award will again be decided by the community's votes, so vote for me! Voting starts from today through midnight next Friday on April 19th. Admittedly, I don't expect to win, but you never know. All in all, I'm just really happy and proud that I was even considered for this award — thank you guys for reading and paying attention to this blog. I couldn't have done it without you all.

San Francisco

2013-04-11T23:10:00.002-07:00

For those of you who follow me on Instagram, you'll know that I was in San Francisco recently. Although it was a short business trip, I was able to sneak in some time to visit some of my favorite places in the city. Here's a quick preview before my full post:

The first photograph is a picture of pork belly, coca-cola braised pork, and miso tofu buns from The Chairman Bao Truck. The second photograph is a picture of meringues from famed Tartine Bakery in the Mission District.

I always feel awkward and rude pulling out my DSLR in restaurants, so I didn't really get a chance to take too many pictures. I'm much better at capturing the moment using my phone though. So for more pictures, be sure to follow me on Instagram!
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