The Pastry Affair

Nutella Swirled Banana Bread

Kristin Rosenau — Sun, 19 May 2013 15:15:43 +0000

I've had quite the tumultuous relationship with Nutella. Since discovering I was highly allergic to tree nuts back in high school, I have been careful—and lucky—to avoid most incidents. While almonds are perfectly fine for me to eat (thank goodness), other tree nuts have been labeled with a big "Do Not Eat" sticker. My diagnosis has never bothered me too much and I rarely feel as if I am missing out. It wasn't until I moved to England when studying abroad that I experienced my first pang of tree nut jealousy.

When my friends all discovered Nutella for the first time, it quickly became a forbidden fruit in my eyes.

In the cool English winter, many an evening was spent around the kitchen stove, laughing and joking, as a jar of Nutella was passed from spoon to spoon. I would often stand off to the side with a glass of water, alternating between great interest and wariness at the jar in their hands. Eventually, my curiosity took over and I could no longer stand in the sidelines. As the jar of Nutella was ritually passed around the circle, this time I made certain it would make a stop at me. When I found the jar in my hands for the first time (and several concerned faces pointed my direction), I cradled the container in my hands, lifted it towards my nose, and breathed in the wonderful scent.

My friends would later affectionately refer to this regular practice as "huffing Nutella." My rationale was that if I couldn't eat it, at the very least I should be able to smell it.

It wasn't until I had an accidental encounter with Nutella (in which I unknowingly ate a slice of cake enclosed in a layer of it) and nothing bad happened that my curiosity for it was taken to another level. I knew I was seriously allergic to tree nuts, but if almonds could be an exception to the rule, was it possible for hazelnuts to do the same? It was several years later before I found myself and a jar of Nutella in the same room and I could give my theory a test. Though I do not recommend taking the risk I did to anyone for any reason, my experiment had a happy conclusion. Though I still rarely buy or steal a spoonful of Nutella from the jar just in case, a sale sign at the grocery started a chain of events that led to this swirled banana bread.

Though it has taken a long time to reach this point, I think you'll agree that it was worth the wait.

Nutella Swirled Banana Bread is the culmination of five years of daydreaming about Nutella while baking. A basic banana bread recipe is elevated by dark swirls of Nutella. Instead of being folded in the batter, the Nutella is melted and drizzled directly through the batter which lends pockets of gooey Nutella in the final product. Despite the large Nutella swirls, the bread rises and holds together well; the secret inside is only revealed when the first slice is cut.

One Year Ago: Rhubarb Ginger Muffins and Coconut Waffles
Two Years Ago: Baby Sugar Cookies

Nutella Swirled Banana Bread

Yield 9 x 5-inch loaf

1/2 cup (1 stick or 113 grams) butter
3/4 cup (150 grams) brown sugar, packed
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
3 large ripe bananas, mashed
1 cup (125 grams) all-purpose flour
1 cup (120 grams) whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (118 ml) milk
1/2 cup (150 grams) nutella

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Grease a loaf pan.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, mixing well between additions. Beat in the vanilla extract and mashed bananas until fully incorporated. Mix in the flours, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the milk. Set aside.

In a small microwave-safe bowl, place the Nutella and heat for 15 seconds until lightly warmed and melted. Be careful, though; if the Nutella gets too warm it will seize up into a solid so less time in the microwave is better.

In the loaf pan, transfer 1/3 of the bread batter. Drizzle 1/3 of Nutella over the top and, using a butter knife, lightly swirl into the batter. Complete this step two more times, creating three layers. Bake for 55 to 65 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool loaf in pan for 10 minutes before removing and transferring to a cooling rack to cool completely.

Sparkling Pineapple Rum Cocktail

Kristin Rosenau — Thu, 16 May 2013 13:43:48 +0000

I used to be the girl who preferred the shadows. I drew comfort from the anonymity, from the lack of attention, from the invisibility cloak I chose to wear around my shoulders. I shied away from conversations, preferring to observe rather than participate. While I often wished I could be the boisterous and reactive one in the room, it was enough for me to simply watch them. As an observer in the shadows, I learned of the nature of those around me. I pinpointed those who filled the lulls in conversation, afraid of the silence, afraid to be left with the sound of their thoughts. I identified with those who were quiet just as myself, knowing their minds were buzzing with unsaid thoughts and opinions.

Then one day I stepped out into the light.

It is hard to say when or why it happened. I certainly did not anticipate it coming. While debating dinner plans with friends, I noticed a quiet girl nearby listening, wearing the cloak of shadows I knew so well. I had seen her before, here and there, as we went about our days. This time, however, I felt an unfamiliar pull to talk to her, to invite her to join our dinner plans. And so I did. And so did she. I may never be the boisterous one in the room, but I am no longer afraid to expand my comfort zone to include new people and situations.

While I still retreat to the shadows now and then, I find the light brings a certain warmth.

In some ways, this cocktail reminds me of an unnoticed person, hiding in the shadows. It is not flashy or showy. It does not sparkle in the light like a glass of white wine or feature hundreds of fizzing bubbles like a flute of champagne. It does not have layers like a rainbow or feature bright, bold colors. It is a simple drink. A subtle drink. Pale yellow and opaque, it may not seem like much to the unaided eye.

To give it a hard look, to take a sip, opens your eyes to something you may not have considered before. You may even find it beautiful.

Sparkling Pineapple Rum Cocktail is a balanced, fizzy cocktail. Pineapple juice and ginger ale come together, effortlessly mixing together the sweetness of the soda and the tartness of the juice. With a shot (or two) of dark rum thrown in the mix, the cocktail can hold its ground. When I had my first sip, I was pleasantly surprised. The bright flavor drew me in and it truly felt like something special.

One Year Ago: Chocolate Salted Almond Ice Cream
Two Years Ago: Cornmeal Parmesan & Poppy Seed Crackers and Pina Colada Cupcakes

Sparkling Pineapple Rum Cocktail

Yields 1 serving

1/4 cup (60 ml) dark rum
1/2 cup (120 ml) pineapple juice
1/2 cup (120 ml) ginger ale
Ice, optional
Pineapple slice, garnish

In a large glass, stir together the rum, pineapple juice, and ginger ale. Garnish with ice or a pineapple slice, if desired.

Whole Wheat Almond Waffles with Blackberry Vanilla Syrup

Kristin Rosenau — Mon, 13 May 2013 00:13:00 +0000

Spring is here. It feels so wonderful to finally utter those words. After a winter that surpassed even Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Long Winter, I felt certain it would never arrive. Now that is has, it feels fantastic. The sun is rising higher in the sky, flooding me with warmth when it touches my skin. The trees may not yet have leaves, but the grass is starting to turn green and I feel like I can finally release a sigh of relief. Even though the nights have a sharp chill, the days are warm and for now that is all I need.

After a Midwest winter lasting six months, this weather feels like a gift.

When spring arrives, I am drawn to fresh fruits and berries. Even though the season for most of these fruits has not arrived, I cannot help but fill my red basket at the supermarket with them. After a long winter of apples and clementines, a burst of fresh flavor from a berry, however tart, is welcome to take up space on my counter top. After my last trip to the market, I found myself with a few cartons of blackberries. After playing around with a few desserts (and reminiscing over an old favorite), I settled on making a syrup.

Though I did not yet know what it would smother, the scent of blackberries bubbling and boiling on the stove was too much to resist.

I eventually settled on a plate of waffles. Waffles, just as pancakes, have the unique quality to fill a person up until dinner time rolls around. The heartiness of a good waffle, accompanied with a warm spring afternoon, make for a perfect combination. With these waffles, I added a few crushed almonds. While I found that they added a pleasant flavor and texture, you could certainly eliminate them if allergies are a concern.

Drenched in blackberry vanilla syrup, these waffles were taken to new heights and made for a lovely Sunday brunch shared with the ones I love.

These Whole Wheat Almond Waffles with Blackberry Vanilla Syrup are sweet and grounded. Crushed almonds are folded into a whole wheat waffle batter. The resulting waffles are fluffy and chewy. Drenched with a blackberry vanilla syrup, the waffles become fruity and bright. These are lovely for a weekend morning when you find a little time for yourself. Bonus: while cooking, the house fills with the scent of toasted almonds.

One Year Ago: Rhubarb Custard Tart
Two Years Ago: Creamy Grape Salad

Whole Wheat Almond Waffles with Blackberry Vanilla Syrup

Yields 3-4 servings

Whole Wheat Almond Waffles
1 cup (120 grams) whole wheat flour
1/2 cup (60 grams) all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 large egg
1 1/2 cups (350 ml) milk
3 tablespoons (40 grams) butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup (30 grams) sliced almonds, crushed into small pieces

Preheat waffle iron.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flours, sugar, baking powder, and salt. In another bowl, whisk together the egg, milk, melted butter, and vanilla extract. Stir in the crushed almonds. Slowly whisk the wet ingredients into the dry until just incorporated. The batter may be lumpy and that is okay.

Cook the waffles in the waffle iron according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Serve warm, topped with a healthy dose of blackberry vanilla syrup and fresh berries.

Blackberry Vanilla Syrup
6 ounces (170 grams) fresh (or frozen) blackberries
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a medium saucepan, sprinkle the sugar over the blackberries and cook over medium heat. As the berries cook, stir with a spatula, pressing on them to break them up into small pieces. If the berries are not sweet, feel free to add more sugar. Continue heating until the berries have released all juices. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract. Strain through a fine sieve, if desired.

Serve warm over waffles, pancakes, or ice cream.

Fresh Strawberry Cake

Kristin Rosenau — Thu, 09 May 2013 13:28:56 +0000

I have been keeping a secret from you for the last couple years. Partially out of embarrassment and partially out of the belief that I could quickly remedy the situation, I swept it under the cupboards and kept my lips sealed. The truth is that I do not know how to cook. While I know enough to fill the refrigerator and keep my stomach full, the knowledge and techniques involved in cooking often escape me. Take away my spatula and mixing bowl and things quickly slide downhill.

The ability to cook and the ability to bake are often entwined, but to me they have been two very separate activities. They feel different. Baking comes naturally to me; I understand how to turn butter and flour into something beautiful with little effort. Cooking, on the other hand, has always been a challenge. I fumble around fresh cuts of meat and vegetables, uncertain of myself.

My method of cooking is to throw a few vegetables together with egg noodles, top it with a fried egg, and call it dinner. While I do not mind these bland, makeshift meals, they certainly are not worthy enough to serve to anyone else (in fact, my boyfriend often turns his nose up at the strange combinations that find their way onto my plate). I am miserable when it comes to seasoning food, relying heavily on salt and pepper to rescue my dishes. Other spices seem to be beyond my culinary grasp.

My biggest pitfall, however, comes with cooking protein. Every time I place a chicken breast in a hot pan or grill, I radically misjudge the cooking time. I have to cut apart the chicken to check for a pink center (which there invariably is) as all of the juice runs out. I am excellent at preparing dry chicken. Moreover, I was recently informed that I incorrectly fry hamburger, rendering it to a nearly inedible rubber consistency (to my further discredit, I had assumed this was how it was supposed to be).

I did not realize how far I had fallen until I tuned in to the last season of MasterChef. Gordon Ramsey cursed out a contestant for frying an egg incorrectly. Since the contestant's browned, rejected eggs looked just as my own (beloved) eggs, it was another indication of how little skill I possess in front of a hot stove.

When I try to reproduce a recipe, I am fairly successful. To my own credit, I am quite good at following directions. It is when I am left to my own devices that my culinary skills seem to escape me. Recently I have been phasing processed food out of my diet which makes dinner time feel more difficult. While I do pop open the occasional can of soup or spaghetti sauce, the majority of my meals come together on the cutting board. I would love to learn how to cook, to understand vegetables and proteins as well as butter and sugar. To wield a knife and fry a fish fillet to perfection. Perhaps I just need to set aside some time to teach myself, to take away the intimidation and replace it with confidence.

Until I can cook a dinner from scratch that would make my mother proud, I think I will stick to what I know and love—baking. I like to believe this Fresh Strawberry Cake can effortlessly hide any shortcomings I may have in front of the stove.

Fresh Strawberry Cake has a bright, natural flavor and rustic appearance. Fresh strawberries are quartered and pressed into the top of the batter, which gives the option to choose how many or few berries you would like. Whole wheat flour lends the cake a subtle nutty flavor that makes the bites without the berries positively delightful. This may be a simple cake, both in ingredients and appearance, but the flavor is quite remarkable and worth experiencing.

One Year Ago: No-Churn Blueberry Cheesecake Ice Cream and Strawberry Cream Cheese Pop Tarts
Two Years Ago: Minted Lime Licuado and Chocolate Raspberry Pots de Creme

Fresh Strawberry Cake

Yields 7-inch cake

4 tablespoons (57 grams) butter, softened
1/2 cup (112 grams) granulated sugar, plus extra for sprinkling
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste (or pure vanilla extract)
1/4 cup (30 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 cup (60 grams) whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (120 ml) milk
1/2 pound (225 grams) strawberries, hulled and quartered
Powdered sugar, for garnish

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Lightly grease a 7-inch cake pan.

In a large bowl, beat together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg and vanilla bean paste. Stir in the flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir in the milk. Pour batter into prepared pan and smooth evenly.

Press the strawberries cut side down into the batter, distributing them evenly throughout the cake (you can use more or less to taste). Sprinkle cake with roughly a tablespoon of granulated sugar. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until lightly golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool before slicing and serving.

Strawberry Charlotte

Kristin Rosenau — Sun, 05 May 2013 21:04:32 +0000

During the last week, I have been spending most of my time in the kitchen, mixing ingredients by hand and giving my oven a workout. Halfway through my two weeks off from work and school, it is a welcome break to spend time away from the everyday grind, a chance to relax and get my thoughts back in order. Though I like to imagine that I will be productive with my newly found time, the last week has proven otherwise, as reality TV shows and sleeping in have sucked away more time than I would like to admit.

Maybe it is okay to let myself be lazy every once in awhile.

With more time in the kitchen, I have been playing around with elaborate, multi-step desserts, including cakes. While I love a good layered cake, I could not decide on a flavor, arguing back and forth with myself between fruit and chocolate based cakes and fillings. While fruit is lovely, it had been so long since I cut my fork through a thick chocolate cake that the thought grew tempting.

Nevertheless, after a walk outdoors with the weather still settling into early spring, a chocolate cake suddenly seemed too heavy for this delicate time of year. With buds just forming on the bare tree limbs, a sweet, light fruit cake seemed to fit the bill. After a walk through the local market, with pounds of red, ruby strawberries on sale, the deal was sealed.

Charlotte cakes originated in France in the early nineteenth century. They traditionally involve fruit purees, sponge cake, and custards or whipped cream frosting. This particular Strawberry Charlotte is not quite as the original cake, but the spirit is just the same. Instead of layers of sponge cake, I used my favorite light vanilla cake recipe and used a strawberry mousse to fill it. Lined with ladyfingers, either homemade or store bought, the cake becomes quite the sight.

While I did not have one on hand, a white or red ribbon tied around the middle would add a gorgeous finishing touch.

This Strawberry Charlotte is a spring cake that is perfect for all of life's celebrations. Layers of light vanilla cake are filled with an airy strawberry mousse and fresh strawberries and topped off with a coating of whipped cream icing. The strawberry mousse is made from pureed strawberries, which gives the cake a bright fruit flavor. The cake is lined with ladyfingers and graced with whole, fresh strawberries making this a simple, but impressive cake to decorate.

Note: The strawberry mousse filling contains raw egg whites. If this is a problem because of pregnancy or small children, please use pasteurized eggs or a different recipe for the strawberry mousse filling.

One Year Ago: Honey Wheat Cake with Cream Cheese Icing
Two Years Ago: Malted Chocolate Chip Cookies

Strawberry Charlotte

Yields 7-inch cake

Vanilla Cake Layers
1/4 cup (1/2 stick or 57 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 cup (169 grams) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1/4 cup (59 ml) vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 3/4 cups (175 grams) cake flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (240 ml) milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C). Grease 2 7-inch cake pans and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vegetable oil and vanilla extract. Gradually add in the cake flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Mix in the milk, stirring until batter is uniform and smooth.

Divide batter evenly between prepared pans and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for at least 10 minutes before removing the cake and transferring the cake to a cooling rack to cool completely.

Strawberry Mousse
1 cup fresh, chopped strawberries
1 large egg white
1/4 cup (60 grams) granulated sugar
Pinch of salt

In a blender or food processor, process strawberries until smooth.

In a large bowl, beat the egg white until foamy. Gradually add the sugar and salt and continue beating for 5/7 minutes, or until soft peaks form. Add the strawberries and continue beating until stiff peaks form, about 3-5 minutes. Refrigerate the mousse until ready to assemble cake.

There will be leftovers. If you freeze the mousse, it turns into a light ice cream and is lovely to enjoy by the spoonful.

Whipped Cream Icing
1 cup (240 ml) heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a large bowl, whip together all ingredients until stiff peaks form. Chill the whipped cream until ready to assemble.

To assemble
1 pound (450 grams) fresh strawberries
25-30+ ladyfingers (savoiardi cookies)

On a serving plate, place the bottom layer of the cake. Cut a handful of strawberries into quarters and place them randomly over the surface. Spoon on the chilled strawberry mousse and place the cake in the freezer for 15-20 minutes (or longer) to stiffen the filling.

Place on the top layer of cake. Using an offset spatula, frost the cake on all sides with the whipped cream icing. Press the ladyfingers along the outside of the cake, spacing them evenly. Dot the top of the surface with the remaining fresh strawberries. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

Honey Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Kristin Rosenau — Thu, 02 May 2013 13:07:30 +0000

Spring is in the air, graduate school has wrapped up for the spring semester, and the wind carries the feeling of renewal. The next two weeks will be filled with more rest and leisure than I have had in the last four months combined—a welcome break to stretch my limbs and a chance to play around in the kitchen. Even though I have a summer of classes before me (and a graduation date looming on the horizon), the job hunt has already begun.

Reality can never quite escape me completely.

Each job application represents a new road, an unknown path, a concrete possibility in a world filled with dreams. Each application is a window into a potential future, a peak at what my life might become. Even though the process can be arduous, each time I hit the submit button, I take a deep breath as a bright future flashes before me. The moment is brief, but exhilarating. I take a second breath to calm myself down and remind myself not to get my hopes too high. While full of hope and opportunity, job applications can also bring about feelings of rejection and sorrow.

The trick is to keep your head held high, your feet facing forward, and to replace lost dreams with new possibilities. To add new roads to the map of life.

My job search has led me down interesting paths, as I send off applications to other states and cities I have never been. It feels a bit like fishing; I have cast my line and now I must hope the fish are biting. As I anxiously awaited replies (or a lack thereof) this weekend, I made a batch of cookies to calm my nerves. Baking has a way of bringing peace into my life, as I mix ingredients by hand and move slowly around the kitchen to make the moment last longer.

While these Honey Chocolate Chunk Cookies will not make time pass faster, they bring about a sweetness that makes the wait much more bearable.

Honey Chocolate Chunk Cookies have a coveted soft-baked texture that lasts for days. A classic chocolate chunk cookie batter has a few added tablespoons of honey, which lend a soft flavor and chewy nature to the cookies. The addition of whole wheat flour gives the cookies a nutty undertone. Fresh from the oven, warm with melted chocolate, these cookies are a sweet fantasy.

One Year Ago: Tiramisu Cake and Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies
Two Years Ago: Vanilla Pear Muffins and Chocolate Filled Buns

Honey Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Yields about 3 dozen cookies

8 tablespoons (1 stick or 113 grams) butter
1 cup (195 grams) dark brown sugar, packed
1 large egg
3 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cups (125 grams) all-purpose flour
3/4 cup (90 grams) whole wheat flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 ounces (170 grams) chocolate, roughly chopped

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C).

In a large bowl, beat together the butter and brown sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg, honey, and vanilla extract. Stir in the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Gently fold in the chocolate chunks. Refrigerate the cookie dough for 15-20 minutes, or until chilled. Do not skip this step. The cookies will spread out too much if the dough is warm or room temperature.

Drop cookies by the tablespoon onto a cookie sheet and bake for 8-10 minutes, or until lightly browned. Allow the cookies to rest on the cookie sheet for a few minutes to firm up before transferring to a cooling rack to cool completely.

Lime Curd Tart with Coconut Whipped Cream

Kristin Rosenau — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 16:41:59 +0000

Some people have a green thumb. To put it quite frankly, I am not one of them. While many gardeners can sow, weed, and prune a plant into flourishing perfection, I struggle to complete some of the more basic tasks, such as burying the seeds at the correct depth or finding the motivation to weed (perhaps a bit of laziness is also to blame). Even so, my plants have a tendency to wither despite regular watering. They gather the nasty little bugs whenever I want to keep a flower indoors, and my vegetable plants grow the smallest of produce at the end of the season.

I am become Death, the destroyer of plants.

Each spring the feeling of rebirth floats through the air, infecting me with a strong desire to kneel in the dirt and plant a garden. The eagerness to hold a handful of seeds makes me briefly forget my black thumb and the poor path my plants will soon travel down. When I lived at home with my parents, I would convince my mother to fill her garden with half a dozen varieties of vegetables. I convinced her that I would do the tending. I convinced her I would help them grow. Rarely, I am ashamed to admit, did I follow through on my deceitful promises. The plants would endure a hot sun, vagrant weeds, and abit of neglect. At the end of the season, we'd collect our micro-vegetables, telling ourselves that we would plant flowers next year instead.

As the temperature finally rose this weekend, I felt the familiar urge to dig around in the dirt and grow new life. The trees have not yet budded with leaves, but for the first time this year it felt like spring has arrived. Even though I know my planting ventures are destined to end poorly (just ask my basil plant from last summer), I cannot shake the optimism that this year might be different—that this year I could grow something beautiful.

Even if I will not be able to grow a flourishing plant, I can bake something beautiful. And really, that might be the most delicious in the end.

This Lime Curd Tart with Coconut Whipped Cream is an ode to spring, with bright green colors and bold new flavors. A lightly sweetened whole wheat tart crust is filled with a tart lime curd and swirled with spoonfuls of coconut whipped cream. Serve with a sprinkling of lime zest and another dollop of whipped cream to celebrate the arrival of sunshine and warmer weather.

One Year Ago: Ladyfingers
Two Years Ago: Blueberry Coffee Cake

Lime Curd Tart with Coconut Whipped Cream

Yields 10-inch round (or rectangular) tart

Lime Curd
1 cup (225 grams) granulated sugar
Zest from 2 limes
2 large eggs
1/2 cup (120 ml) freshly squeezed lime juice
4 tablespoons (58 grams) butter, cut into small squares

In a double boiler, combine the sugar and lemon zest. Mix together with your fingers until fragrant. Whisk in the eggs and lemon juice.

Whisking constantly, cook the mixture until it thickens, about 10-15 minutes (you should be able to make tracks in the mixture with your whisk). If the curd is not thick enough, continue stirring and cook for another 5 minutes. Remove from heat and allow it to cool for a few minutes before whisking in the butter until smooth.

Chill the curd in the refrigerator for 30 minutes or more before using.

Tart Crust
1 cup (125 grams) all-purpose flour
1 cup (120 grams) whole wheat flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (65 grams) powdered sugar
8 tablespoons (115 grams) cold butter, cubed
1 large egg
2-4 tablespoons ice water

In a large mixing bowl, mix together the flours, salt, and powdered sugar. Mix in the cubed butter (or cut in with a pastry blender or with your hands) until the dough resembles coarse sand. Mix in the egg and 2 tablespoons water. If the dough is still too dry to come together, add more water by the tablespoon until it does.

Press dough into a tart pan, taking care to keep the dough an even thickness. Stab the bottom several times with a fork so the dough will bake evenly in the oven. Refrigerate dough for 30 minutes to firm up before baking.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C).

Bake the tart shell for 15-18 minutes, or until it is lightly colored and the shell feels dry to the touch. Cool completely before filling.

To Assemble
1 cup coconut whipped cream (lightly sweetened whipped cream or even cool whip can be substituted)
Lime zest, for garnish

Spread lime curd evenly in the tart shell. Using a spoon, dollop the whipped cream randomly over the tart and swirl in with a butter knife. Garnish with lime zest, if desired.

Refrigerate in an airtight container until ready to serve. If desired, serve with an extra dollop of coconut whipped cream.

Blackberry Fool

Kristin Rosenau — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 12:49:52 +0000

The spring sun has struck me with an incurable fever. Even though snowflakes were falling from the sky just this morning, I long to shed my winter coat and find myself no longer craving the hearty soups and dishes of winter. My mind has begun spinning towards lighter fare and short sleeves. I have begun craving the sweetness of a ripe strawberry and the bold tartness of a stalk of rhubarb in vivid detail. If I shut my eyes tightly, with the sun streaking through the window late into the evening, I can almost pretend the world outside is green and ready to be planted with seeds of rebirth.

I shall never take for granted the arrival of spring again.

Craving a feeling, person, or place brings out a yearning in our heads all the way down to our toes. When our heart's desire is out of reach, we find a way to bring it closer through hope and longing and daydreams. These wishes, both small and large, sustain us as we wait for our cravings to be sated. They sustain us until our cravings come to pass.

I am craving spring. I am craving green grass, the smell of new growth, the touch of a warm sidewalk, the sweetness of a beautiful, red ripe strawberry. The hunger grows daily. As the sun sets later each evening, my appetite becomes insufferable. Knowing warmer weather will be around the corner keeps my spirit up as I dream of the long walks I will take once this winter is done.

Soon, soon, soon.

A "fool" is a traditional English fruit dish originating in the sixteenth century. The dessert was most commonly made with gooseberries, but a variety of fruits from raspberries to apples can be used its place. The three main ingredients to a fool are pureed fruit, whipped cream, and a sprinkling of sugar. For this Blackberry Fool, I used fresh blackberries with whipped cream and a seedless blackberry jam.

This may be a more modern take on a traditional dessert, but the result is the same—delight. Feel free to try out other berries with matching flavors of jam, such as blueberries or strawberries, to play around with flavors and preferences.

Blackberry Fool is a light, sweet ending to a spring or summer meal. Seedless blackberry jam is folded into whipped cream and layered into a glass with fresh blackberries. The contrast between the sweet bite of the berries and the smooth quality of the whipped cream makes the dessert simple, yet elegant. This traditional English dessert can be served for a small dinner party or an evening that calls for something special.

One Year Ago: Homemade Mascarpone
Two Years Ago: Strawberry Milk and Raspberry Swirled Chocolate Chunk Ice Cream

Blackberry Fool

Yields 4 servings, depending on size

1 1/2 cups (12 ounces or 355 ml) cold heavy whipping cream*
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup seedless blackberry jam
6 ounces (170 grams) fresh blackberries
Fresh mint leaves, for garnish

In a large mixing bowl, beat together the cold whipping cream and powdered sugar until soft peaks form. Stir in the vanilla extract. Swirl in the blackberry jam.

Divide the blackberry cream between serving glasses and layer with fresh blackberries. Garnish with a sprig of mint on top. Serve immediately (or store for up to 1 day in the refrigerator).

* Alternatively, you can use one recipe of this coconut whipped cream or use 2 cups of cool whip instead of making your own whipped cream. If you choose to do so, eliminate the whipped cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla and use the substitute whipped cream instead.

Sunflower Seed Bread

Kristin Rosenau — Sun, 21 Apr 2013 12:31:19 +0000

I think of myself as a practical person, as someone with a realistic outlook towards life. I partake in the activities that society says I should be doing: finishing my degree, paying the bills, going to bed at a reasonable hour, and making frequent trips to the gym (even when I do not want to go). I do these things because they are practical and sensible. I structure my life around all of these sense-making activities to the point where I need the occasional reminder that it is okay to be impractical once in awhile. To be reminded that every one of my actions does not need useful purpose.

To be reminded that doing something wild can be freeing.

As a result of my practical ways, I rarely spend money on things that I do not need. While I would call myself frugal, my mother would refer to me as cheap. Reluctantly, I agree that may be the proper title. I can count on one hand the items I bought myself in the last couple years that did not have a specific purpose (that were, in all honesty, just for fun). I save my money for a trip around the world, for a rainy day, for an adventure of the kind that appears when I close my eyes to daydream. I save it for a day that is not today.

And I wonder, will that day be tomorrow? Will that day ever come at all?

When I came across the old Chinese proverb—When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a lily with the other—it was a gentle push, a voice to remind me that beauty may not clothe or feed me, but it nourishes another part of me that can easily be forgotten—my soul. Have I become so rooted in practical behavior that I have forgotten that it is okay to stray from that norm? I want to believe I have not; I have to believe that it cannot be true. At the same time, I worry my actions say otherwise. When was the last time I bought a handful of flowers to enjoy in a vase in the light of the setting sun? When was the last time I purchased a silly game to play to remind myself to relax? When was the last time I ran away for a weekend because it was finally right for me to open my eyes and turn my daydreams into a reality? It is time to start.

I have my loaf of bread. I have a hundred loaves of bread. Now all I need to find is a lily.

Sunflower Seed Bread is a hearty, whole grain loaf that makes a filling accompaniment to a meal. The bread is dotted with roasted sunflower seeds and flax seeds, which gives it a nutty taste and unique texture. As a quick bread, it does not deal with the fuss that can come with yeast, making it a quick loaf to bake before a meal. While I preferred the bread with a thick layer of strawberry jam, a spread of butter and honey or a side of gravy would do it justice.

One Year Ago Mai Tai & Hawaii
Two Years Ago: Snow Cones

Sunflower Seed Bread
Adapted from Tate's Bake Shop Cookbook

Yields 1 loaf

2 cups (250 grams) all-purpose flour
2 cups (240 grams) whole wheat flour
3/4 cup (100 grams) roasted & salted sunflower seeds, plus extra for sprinkling
1/4 cup (40 grams) flax seeds, plus extra for sprinkling
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1/4 cup (85 grams) honey
4 tablespoons (57 grams) butter, melted
1 1/2 cups (355 ml) milk

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flours, seeds, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

In a medium mixing bowl, stir together the eggs, honey, melted butter, and milk until uniform. Add to the flour mixture and stir until the flour is just incorporated.

Place into a lightly greased loaf pan, sprinkle with additional seeds, and bake for 50-60 minutes, or until browned and the crust makes a hollow sound when tapped. Cool in the pan for at least 10 minutes before removing to cool completely.

Serve with butter and honey, a spread of jam, or a side of gravy.

Almond Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies {Gluten-Free}

Kristin Rosenau — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 03:17:46 +0000

Everyone, it seems, is on an endless search to find the perfect chocolate chip cookie. Crunchy or soft, chewy or melt-in-your-mouth, each person has a personal preference with a set of criteria to match. There is a reason why there are twelve million hits when you search for the "best chocolate chip cookies"—like a soul mate, we all want to find "the one." While the back of the Nestlé Tollhouse chocolate chip package and the New York Times' cookie recipe are among the top, most popular contenders, my cookie preferences fall into a much different camp.

Have you found your perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe?

My mother's homemade cookies consisted of store-bought frozen cookie dough, already packaged to go from bag to baking sheet without needing a single utensil. To be fair, she did make her daughters cookies from scratch occasionally, but the frozen cookies are the ones we remember and hold in our hearts. When my sister and I head home over long weekends or holidays, she always has a package in the freezer waiting for us. It does not matter that I am a proficient baker and could make a batch of cookies with my eyes closed, these are the cookies I look forward to most. Nostalgia has a sneaky way of suppressing any qualms I may have about store-bought baked goods.

Truthfully, I believe the qualities of the cookies we grow up with are the same as the cookies we prefer once when we grow older. My grandmother makes delightfully crunchy cookies that baptize the kitchen table with cookie crumbs each time a bite is taken. My dad loves these cookies, calling them "milk dunkers." My sister and I make help to make a further case for this claim.

When I set out to make a batch of cookies last weekend, I did not intend to create my boyfriend's perfect chocolate chip cookie, but somehow it happened. I had almond butter in the cupboard and, inspired by these flourless peanut butter cookies, I played around with a few ingredients. The batter is a bit oily from the almond butter, but the nut oil crafts the most delightfully chewy cookie once it bakes. After stealing two straight from the oven, my boyfriend asked me what was in them, astonished at how unexpectedly perfect he found them. When I told them they were gluten-free, he refused to believe me, claiming the texture was too similar to a traditional chocolate chip cookie.

He ate six more before the day came to an end. I have already purposely filed this recipe away for the future.

Almond Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies are fantastically chewy and, shockingly, gluten-free. Almond butter forms the base of the cookies, though it adds only a subtle flavor (if any) to the final product. While sugar sweetens the cookies, a pinch of salt really helps to bring out a contrast of flavors. I prefer to use miniature chocolate chips because they provide a little chocolate to every bite, but larger chocolate chips will work just as well. These cookies are something special, trust me.

Two Years Ago: Lemon Thins

Almond Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies {Gluten-Free}

Yields about 16 cookies

1 cup (250 grams) creamy almond butter
2/3 cup (150 grams) sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup (60 grams) miniature chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (180 degrees C).

In a medium mixing bowl, mix together the almond butter and sugar. Mix in the egg, vanilla, baking soda, and salt until evenly combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.

Drop cookies by the tablespoon onto a baking sheet and bake for 10-12 minutes. Cool on the baking sheet for at least 5-10 minutes before moving to a cooling rack to cool completely (the cookies will be very fragile and need to set-up before they can be moved).