From Sunday Suppers at Lucgues (Knopf)

Several Sundays ago what had been planned as a simple meal at home for Alfredo and me turned into an impromptu dinner party for six—a last-minute gathering calling for that additional flourish known as dessert. Time was limited, though, and so I turned to one of my favorite dessert-in-a-pinch options: clafoutis. Let’s start by addressing that name, which most people aren’t familiar with, and which always makes me feel like an ass when it comes out of my mouth (instead I usually describe it as “a French pancake/flan-like thing,” which does a better job of summing up what it’s all about). The other thing to know is that the dish originated in the southwestern region of France (Limousin, to be exact), and was created as a kind of baked pudding to showcase the region’s summer cherries. All of which is great, except I’ve never actually made it with cherries, in part because I’m such a fan of the variety made with apples. For years that’s been my clafoutis standard, and one I would probably not have deviated from, except for the fact that I happened upon this recipe for a cranberry-walnut version in Sunday Suppers at Lucques (a great cookbook, by the way, for anyone not familiar with it). Now I’m not a huge walnut fan (in their raw form they make the back of my throat itch), but I do love cranberries and thought the combination had a festive, holiday quality to it. So I decided to mix things up a bit and give it a whirl, though with a few small alterations—namely fresh cranberries instead of dried, and pecans instead of walnuts.

The results were wonderful, with the chewy, airy cake offset by the mellow tang of the cranberries and the satisfying crunch of the nuts. That sponge-y quality is one of the pleasures of any clafoutis, and it’s on vivid display here, with the texture recalling that of a thick crêpe (as opposed to the density of a traditional pancake, or the slippery quality of a flan). And during its forty-five minutes in the oven, the dish turns a beautiful shade of honey-brown and puffs up like a Dutch pancake, which means that despite the cake’s appealing chew, it’s feather light as well. Having said that, like a soufflé this high-flying quality dissipates quickly (as my photos reveal; one must shoot fast to capture this dish in all its puffed-up glory), but the good news is that it’s just as appealing when it flattens out a bit. In fact, when chilled the cake takes on a denser, more custard-like quality, which is delightful, particularly in the company of the nuts and cranberries. I cut into the leftovers the next morning for breakfast and I couldn’t stop myself from slicing just a little more, then a little more still.

And, as intimated earlier, it’s a breeze to assemble, with most of the ingredients likely already lurking in the cupboard. To start you assemble the batter, first heating the milk along with two tablespoons of butter then whisking the results into a previously combined mixture of a ½ cup of sugar, ¾ cup of all-purpose flour (sifted), and a ½ teaspoon of kosher salt. Once everything is combined, this is set aside and allowed to rest for an hour or so—plenty of time within which to toast the nuts (ten minutes on a cookie sheet in a 375˚ oven), then to coarsely chop them. I should mention that as someone who typically avoids cooking with nuts, I was unprepared for the warm, homey smell that within minutes overtook the kitchen—a scent that was nutty (of course), but also a little sweet, like baking cookies. This was my first hint that we were in for something special.

Once the batter has been given sufficient time to rest, pour it into a well buttered, ten-inch round baking dish (I like using a cast-iron skillet, for no other reason than it just looks so good), and scatter the ½ cup of cranberries and the chopped nuts on top. Forty-five minutes (or so) in a 375˚ oven is all it takes for the batter to take on a beautiful golden color, and to rise up out of its pan like a crown—just make sure there are no racks above the baking dish that might impede the clafoutis’ inflation.

The Lucques’ recipe suggests serving the dish with a dollop of whipped cream spiked with a little bourbon, though I prefer it without, letting the egg-y/fruity-y simplicity of the flavors take the spotlight without any distractions. (The whipped cream recipe is included below.) And in case you’re curious about that apple variety I mentioned at the outset, instructions for this are listed below, as well. Either way, this is a wonderful dessert—perfect for the colder months with the two varieties listed here, or for the warmer ones with fresh berries or those traditional Limousin cherries that started the whole thing.

Ingredients:
—1 cup plus 2 tbs whole milk
—2 tbs plus 1 tsp unsalted butter
—3 extra-large eggs
—1/2 cup plus 2 tsp granulated sugar
—3/4 cup all-purpose flour, sifted
—1/2 tsp kosher salt
—3/4 cup walnuts (I swapped out the walnuts for pecans)
—1/2 cup dried cranberries (I swapped out the dried for fresh)
—1 cup heavy cream (for optional topping)
—1½ tsp bourbon (for optional topping)

Note: For an apple version of the above, swap out the walnuts and cranberries for the following:
—4 tbsp butter
—4 tart apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
—1/2 cup plus 2 tsp sugar
—2 to 3 tbs brandy
—Ground cinnamon to taste

Directions:
—Heat the milk and 2 tbs butter in a small saucepan over medium heat until warm but not hot.
—In a large bowl, whisk the eggs together. Whisk in ½ cup sugar, the flour, and the salt. Add the warm milk, whisking well to incorporate completely. Let the batter rest 1 hour at room temperature.
—Preheat oven to 375˚.
—Spread the walnuts (or pecans) on a baking sheet and toast about 10 minutes, until they’re golden brown and smell nutty. When the nuts have cooled, chop them coarsely.
—Butter a 10-inch round or oval baking dish (TRG note: a cast-iron skillet is fine) with the 1 tsp butter. (You can also make six individual clafoutis if you like.) Sprinkle the remaining 2 tsp sugar in the dish, and tip to coat the bottom and the sides (TRG note: you might need a little more sugar to do this). Pour the batter into the dish. Scatter the nuts and cranberries on top (most of them will sink). Bake about 45 minutes, until the clafoutis puffs up and turns golden brown.
—While the clafoutis finishes baking, whip the cream and bourbon to soft peaks (if using).
—Serve the clafoutis directly from the baking dish, with the whipped cream on the side, if desired.

Directions for the apple version:
—Follow the directions above, up to the point that the batter is assembled and resting.
—Melt the 4 tbs of butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the apples, ½ cup sugar, and the brandy, and cook until apples are glazed and heated through, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat.
—Proceed with the original recipe as written above, substituting the cranberries and walnuts for the sautéed apples.

Makes eight servings

The post 12/12/13 • CRANBERRY-WALNUT-CLAFOUTIS appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From the Wed., Aug. 21st edition of The New York Times

This past weekend got off to a sweet start with a visit to Briermere Farm in Riverhead, NY, a farm stand on the north fork of Long Island with a well-deserved reputation for turning out some of the East End’s very best pies, as well as for having one of the largest pie selections anywhere. On the day we visited I counted 27 varieties displayed in several large cases, including one case that I estimate to be about 6 feet high and that was filled to the top with different fruit pies. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the experience of standing in front of that many pies, but it can take your breath away… at least it did me. And, not surprisingly, it also made choosing just one pie a difficult process. So after multiple false starts (and some frustration from the growing line of patrons behind us) we finally decided on two: a strawberry pie, and a raspberry cream variety, and at the last minute threw in a still-warm-from-the-oven blueberry muffin and a cinnamon roll for good measure. But Briermere isn’t just about baked goods—they’re also a farm stand in the classic sense, which this time of year means a bounty of locally grown fruits and vegetables to choose from. So in addition to those pies and other goodies, we left laden down with tomatoes, avocados, nectarines (the best I’ve had all summer!), several types of greens, and two pints of figs that, though small (and, it must be said, probably not local), were perfectly ripe and wonderfully sweet.

Under any circumstances those figs were something I would have had a hard time passing up, though the fact that I was haunted by the fig and almond cake recipe I’d seen in The Times a week earlier meant that I was buying with a definite purpose in mind. In other words, despite having already committed to the purchase of two pies, there would also be a freshly baked cake in our weekend lineup. That’s a lot of dessert even by my glutinous standards, but it proved the perfect antidote to a cloudy Labor Day weekend, when neither the sun, nor the rain, ever actually made much of an appearance.

Aside from the pleasure of cooking with figs at the very height of their season, one of the things that appealed to me most about the Times’ cake recipe (which I’ve reproduced for you here) is that it paired the fruit with a batter infused with freshly ground almonds and almond extract. I’m a fan of almonds in almost any form, but in the context of baking, something truly miraculous happens with them, perfuming the various other ingredients with a whiff of the exotic. That’s certainly the case here, though those freshly ground almonds also lend the cake a rustic, crunchy texture that’s a nice counterpoint to the floral character offered by the extract. And all of those qualities offer the perfect counterpoint to the subtle, yet concentrated flavor of the fruit. As such, it makes for a not-too-sweet cake that works as well at breakfast time as it does for a low-key dessert.

It’s a lovely combination of qualities made even more so by the ease with which the cake is assembled. To start you grind a cup of raw almonds with a ¼ cup of sugar in a food processor until it’s coarse and powdery—sort of the consistency of wet sand. To this you add a ¼ cup of all-purpose flour, and small amounts each of baking powder, cinnamon, and salt. In a separate bowl whisk together three eggs, half a stick of melted butter, 2 tablespoons of honey, and ½ teaspoon of the aforementioned almond extract. Once combined, add this to the almond mixture until just incorporated and pour into a well-buttered pan. All that remains is to stem and slice your figs in half (12 should be sufficient, though if you’re using small sized ones as I did here you’ll need to increase the number to 20 or so), lay them cut side up across the surface of the batter, sprinkle with a few tablespoons of sugar, and slide into a 375˚ oven for thirty minutes. Almost immediately the batter begins to rise around the sliced fruit, with the juice and sugar ultimately combining to create a a shimmering glaze across the golden surface of the finished cake.

As tempting as it is to slice into the cake as soon as it exits the oven, it’s best to allow some time for it to cool down, as it will likely fall apart if you move in too soon. That being said, this is a cake best enjoyed the day it’s made, when the nutty crumb still retains a maximum of moisture. In fact, it’s that damp, grainy texture that’s one of the highlights here. Serve each slice with a dollop of whipped cream if you wish, but in my book this is one of those desserts that’s at its best when allowed to shine all on its own, without any embellishments.

Ingredients:
—4 tbs butter, melted, plus more for greasing pan
—1 cup natural raw almonds (not blanched)
—1/4 cup sugar, plus 2 tbs for sprinkling
—1/4 cup all-purpose flour
—1/2 tsp baking powder
—1/8 tsp cinnamon
—1/8 tsp salt
—3 eggs, beaten
—2 tbs honey
—1/2 tsp almond extract
—12 to 14 ripe figs (more if small)

Special equipment:
—A 9-inch fluted tart pan or pie pan.

Directions:
—Heat oven to 375˚.
—Butter a 9-inch fluted tart pan or pie pan; set aside.
—Put almonds and ¼ cup sugar in a food processor and grind to a coarse powder. Add flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt; pulse to combine.
—In a mixing bowl, whisk together eggs, melted butter, honey, and almond extract. Add almond mixture and beat for a minute until batter is just combined. Pour batter into a pan.
—Remove stem from each fig and cut in half. Arrange fig halves cut-side up over the batter. Sprinkle figs with sugar and bake for 30 minutes, until golden outside and dry at center when probed with a cake tester. Cool before serving.

8 servings

The post 09/03/13 • FIG AND ALMOND CAKE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.

From season 12 of America’s Test Kitchen (click here to view the recipe) 

At its best, eating can be a kind of adventure—a chance to put your comfort level on the line and experience something that will either have you running for the safety of the nearest ham sandwich, or that can turn your life just a little upside down. That’s something I first discovered many decades ago, when as a kid my mom added a bit of tarragon and red wine vinegar to my poached eggs (still one of my favorite combos), and later when I traveled to France as a sixteen year-old high school student and was introduced to escargots. Still, this past Sunday I was reminded of the unexpected twists and turns a seemingly simple meal can hold, when the promise of a lobster roll and something described to me as “fried tuna nuggets” found us pulling out of our driveway in East Hampton for the short ride to Montauk. It bears mentioning that we were hungry—increasingly so as we neared our destination (I was particularly fixated on those tuna nuggets . . . still am, in fact)—so this was not one of those occasions when we were heading off to eat just because it was a little cloudy and we couldn’t think of anything better to do. That’s important because it puts a certain context around what followed, which is that we got about halfway to our destination (Amagansett, to be exact), when the day took an unexpected turn.

The reason for this change? The sighting of Animal Rescue Fund’s (aka ARF) new van—an air-conditioned motor home used to drive various of their cats and dogs around to different locations, and an opportunity for those people who might not be sufficiently motivated to travel to the organization’s headquarters (arrow directed at self here) to be introduced to some of the animals in need of homes. Okay, more context: for the past several months Alfredo and I have been discussing the possibility of getting another dog—an addition to our family we’ve gone back and forth about how to best make a reality. Option one was to go with the breeder in Sag Harbor where we purchased our current four year-old lab, Sid, as well as our first two dogs (extraordinary animals all, it must be said). And option two was to go with a rescue—an appealing scenario both because we know how many great pets there are out there just desperate for homes, and because some of our favorite dogs have been rescues. Still, we’re crazy in love with our boy, Sid, just as we’ve been with Lulu and Stanley who came before him, and so we decided to go our usual, time-tested route. But several weeks ago when we went to visit the litter (adorable, needless to say) we were introduced to the puppys’ father—an arresting specimen that weighed in at a whopping 115 lbs. Let me repeat that: 115 lbs! People, for those of you who do not live with animals, that’s a lot of dog under the most forgiving of circumstances. In a New York City apartment, however, it’s downright intimidating. And so we backed out of our commitment, figuring that the moment just wasn’t right to increase our numbers.

Which is pretty much where we’d left things when we passed that ARF van on Sunday. So while a new dog had been on our collective brain, it was a little surprising that given our destination (food!), our mood (hungry!), and the fact that we’d tabled the puppy idea for the moment, when our friend Dennis asked if we should turn around and have a look inside the van we’d just passed, the answer from both Alfredo and me was an immediate and unanimous yes! And so we did, and among the eight or so dogs held in the van’s tiny cages was a 2 year old lab mix puppy by the name of Foxy (now changed to Lily), who’d been brought north from a kill center in North Carolina. She was sweet and mellow and a little sad, and when we introduced her to Sid in ARF’s gated dog run an hour or so later they got along great. By that point, of course, the idea of leaving her behind was out-of-the-question, so we impulsively decided to bring her home with us—in other words, no tuna nuggets, but a delicious (if funky smelling) new addition to the family instead. Ironically, it was the same day we’d been scheduled to pick up that new puppy from the breeder.

I’m not quite sure how all of the above relates to this week’s recipe for peach cake, other than to say that like Lily, it’s a confection with just the right amount of sweetness (tempered by a hint of almond extract). I also can’t imagine a more fitting way to celebrate her arrival than with a slice of this intensely summery dessert, or to calm my rattled nerves when she takes a leak on the living room carpet (as she did on the night of her arrival). It’s a recipe I recently stumbled upon while scanning the America’s Test Kitchen website, and it immediately jumped out at me for several reasons. For one thing I love peaches, but like most of us rarely have the experience I’m looking for when I bite into one—namely a firmness of flesh, an intensity of bright peach flavor, and a stream of sticky juice dribbling down my chin. The ATK recipe takes into consideration all of these potential shortcomings by suggesting the addition of several tablespoons of peach schnapps, something that goes a long way to ensuring that even a sub-par peach tastes peak-of-season fresh. (Of course, if you’re lucky enough to have scored a few pounds of peaches that are as sweet and juicy as you might want, then there’s no need to bother with the schnapps.)

And then there’s the fact that I’m a big fan of fruit-based cakes. Maybe I’ve just eaten too much pie over the years, but for me there’s simply no contest between a fruit mixture encased within a cake’s dense, juice-moistened crumb, and one surrounded by a plain old pastry shell. Of course, a cake such as the one described above can have one major drawback—the fruit can cause the crumb to tilt from moist to soggy. But here, too, ATK has offered a solution, one that involves first baking a portion of the peaches (along with some schnapps, some sugar, and a little lemon juice) in a 425° oven for 25 minutes or so, or until the released juices begin to caramelize. This step reduces the amount of moisture present in the peaches, cutting down on both potential sogginess and the possibility that the weight of the fruit will cause it to sink to the bottom of the pan during baking. But to take things one step further, ATK also suggests sprinkling the baked (and cooled) peaches with a 1/3 cup of panko bread crumbs (crushed in a zip-lock bag with a rolling pin), an addition that will help to absorb any remaining juices that might further weigh things down or gum things up. (Alternately you can also use standard, unseasoned breadcrumbs, but the thickness and jagged quality of the panko crumbs—used in Japanese dishes like tempura—make it particularly effective here.)

And so I set to work, slicing the peaches into wedges, then dividing them into two groups. The first (24 to be precise) was to be used for the cake’s topping, and these I tossed with some of the schnapps, the sugar, and the lemon juice, and set aside (despite the promising fragrance of my 2 1/2 pounds of peaches, a taste-test revealed they were noticeably short on that peak-of-summer flavor I was looking for, thus the schnapps was called into play). And the remaining wedges (sliced in half) I baked as described above for later use as the cake’s center layer. As for the cake’s all-important batter, I whisked the eggs with the various types of sugars (brown and granulated), then slowly added a stick of melted (and cooled) butter, before introducing the sour cream, the vanilla, and the almond extract. These last three additions are important ones, as the sour cream gives the crumb a tight, almost flan-like quality that also injects the cake with a subtle tanginess, while the extracts (especially the almond) imbue each mouthful with a hint of perfumed complexity.

Happily, there is nothing complex about the cake’s assembly—a process that involves pouring half of the batter into a 9-inch springform pan (sprayed liberally with vegetable spray), then smoothing it with an offset spatula. Next comes the previously baked and breadcrumb-coated peach chunks, which are spread across (and gently pressed into) the surface of the batter, followed by the remainder of the batter still held within your mixing bowl. And on top of all this are layered those 24 peach slices, arranged in a fan-like pattern across the surface of the cake (use a few of the smaller slices to fill in the center), which are then sprinkled with 3 tablespoons of sugar moistened with a little more of that almond extract.

Probably the biggest challenge is allowing the cake the 2 to 3 hours it needs to cool completely after emerging from its 60 minutes in the oven—something you’ll be hard-pressed to do when you smell the fruity/almond-y fragrance filling your kitchen, or when you catch sight of the glorious, sunrise colored palette of the cake itself. For the record, I jumped the gun with the example you see at the top of the page (which explains its less than picture-perfect shape), so if you care about such things, lock the kitchen door and don’t come back until the timer dings. Either way, however, you can expect something special at the end of your fork: the ultimate taste of summer.
 
Ingredients:
—2½ lbs peaches (about 5), pitted and cut into 1/2-inch thick wedges
—5 tbs peach schnapps (or peach liqueur). Note: omit if using peak-of-season, farm-fresh peaches
—4 tsp lemon juice
—6 tbs plus 1/3 cup granulated sugar
—1 cup all-purpose flour
—1¼ tsp baking powder
—3/4 tsp salt
—1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
—2 large eggs
—8 tbs unsalted butter, melted and cooled
—1/4 cup sour cream
—1½ tsp vanilla extract
—1/4 tsp plus 1/8 tsp almond extract
—1/3 cup panko bread crumbs, finely crushed (or unseasoned breadcrumbs)

Directions:
—Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 425 degrees. Line rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and spray with vegetable oil spray. Gently toss 24 peach wedges with 2 tablespoons schnapps, 2 teaspoons lemon juice, and 1 tablespoon granulated sugar in bowl; set aside.
—Cut remaining peach wedges crosswise into thirds. Gently toss chunks with remaining 3 tablespoons schnapps, remaining 2 teaspoons lemon juice, and 2 tablespoons granulated sugar in bowl. Spread peach chunks in single layer on prepared sheet and bake until exuded juices begin to thicken and caramelize at edges of sheet, 20 to 25 minutes. Transfer sheet to wire rack and let peaches cool to room temperature, about 30 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees.
—Spray 9-inch spring-form pan with vegetable oil spray. Whisk flour, baking powder, and salt together in bowl. Whisk brown sugar, 1/3 cup granulated sugar, and eggs together in second bowl until thick and homogeneous, about 45 seconds. Slowly whisk in butter until combined. Add sour cream, vanilla, and ¼ teaspoon almond extract; whisk until combined. Add flour mixture and whisk until just combined.
—Transfer half of batter to prepared pan; using offset spatula, spread batter evenly to pan edges and smooth surface. Sprinkle crushed breadcrumbs evenly over cooled peach chunks and gently toss to coat. Arrange peach chunks on batter in even layer, gently pressing peaches into batter. Gently spread remaining batter over peach chunks and smooth top. Arrange reserved peach wedges, slightly overlapped, in ring over surface of cake, placing smaller wedges in center. Stir together remaining 3 tablespoons granulated sugar and remaining 1/8 teaspoon almond extract in small bowl until sugar is moistened. Sprinkle sugar mixture evenly over top of cake.
—Bake until center of cake is set and toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, 50 to 60 minutes. Transfer pan to wire rack; cool 5 minutes. Run paring knife around sides of cake to loosen. Remove cake from pan and let cool completely, 2 to 3 hours. Cut into wedges and serve.
 
Serves 8 to 10

The post 08/09/12 • PIECE O’ (PEACH) CAKE appeared first on THE RECIPE GRINDER.