Archive for the 'dessert' Category
This week needed to end with a wee ramekin of baked rice pudding, and some red wine, and a good book. If I had it my way all Sunday nights would wind down like this.
The week culminated in a dinner party at the home of a couple who purchased me at a silent auction at a fundraiser a year or so ago, and so wanting to pull off a fun evening, I made curried sweet potato, carrot, ginger & red lentil soup, prawns in fenugreek cream, and enlisted their help (there was an element of teaching in the evening) in assembling a large batch of the Nenshi family samosas. For the main course: Vij’s chicken curry, chana masala, roasted cauliflower, curried peas and paneer, spiced beef short ribs, homemade naan and marinated green beans. For dessert, vanilla & ginger crème brûlée (great recipe, but I cut the sugar in half and it was plenty sweet) with Tonka bean shortbread. There were leftovers, and so my family came for dinner tonight.
Rather than replicate the crème brûlée (I couldn’t face another 10 egg whites in the freezer) I recalled a recipe for individual baked rice puddings I had wanted to try. The method could not be more simple – set out as many ramekins as you want rice puddings (if you set them on a baking sheet lined with a silpat mat, they won’t slip around) and get out a bag of short-grain rice, some sugar and milk or cream and your measuring spoons.
Put a heaping tablespoon of short-grain (Arborio) rice, two teaspoons of sugar and a half cup of milk or cream (half & half or heavy – it’s up to you) in each ramekin. I had infused my cream with ginger already, which is to say I put it into a saucepan with a few slices of fresh ginger and turned up the heat until it was steaming. You could do this if you like. If so, strain out the ginger or pick out the slices with your fingers. (Don’t burn yourself.) These ramekins? Two for $1.25 at Dollarama.
The recipe says to grate a little nutmeg over each after adding the milk. I like this. But if you plan to pull off the pudding skin, you’ll lose much of the nutmeg, too. Next time I’ll grate it over the rice and sugar before pouring over the milk or cream. You could add a bit of vanilla, as well as or instead of. Or use brown sugar for a more caramelly rice pud. Flavour them however you like, really.
Bake them at 325°F for an hour. I love that you could bake one of these, or two, or ten, it doesn’t matter. If you have a cake or loaf baking, you could tuck a few into the oven alongside. They will puff up, then sink back down. The edges of the ramekins will wind up coated with caramelized milk.
Once they settle back, they will be warm and thick and sweet – at this point, the recipe instructs pulling off the golden rice pudding skin. This is like the dessert equivalent of pulling the skin off a roasted chicken and eating it yourself.
Add about a tablespoon (feel free to free-pour) of cream to each ramekin and stir it in; this will loosen it up a bit and make it far creamier. At this point you could stir in a few raisins, if you’re that type. Eat it warm or chill it, or chill it and then brûlée it – sprinkle a layer of sugar over and torch it or run it under the broiler until it caramelizes, then chill until it’s hard enough to crack a spoon through. You could conceivably have a stash of these single-serving puddings in the fridge, and brûlée one or two each night as needed. Apply directly to face; repeat.
I love too that you don’t need a recipe for these; I can imagine years down the road making these little rice puddings on autopilot, tucking them into the oven (or toaster oven) when dessert is called for. Or breakfast. Or a warm and comforting after-school snack.
While I have your attention – I was thinking we should have another get-together. The mother of all cookie exchanges! What do you think? A cookie party to follow the pie party?
I’m thinking Saturday the 10th. Save the date! Or at least a couple hours in the afternoon.
November 27 2011 | dessert | 41 Comments »
I thought you might like a pie. I actually made this for the pie party, and then again for something else, I think, or maybe I just made a mental note to. Walnuts make delicious pies – why should pecans get all the attention? And besides, maple and walnuts are a perfect ice cream pairing. With a filling you stir together in approximately two minutes, nut pies are as easy to make as pies get, and strangely satisfying to make in the fall. Like I’m channeling my inner squirrel.
If you’re a hard-core nuts and caramel fanatic you could make this a double whammy and top a slice with a scoop of maple walnut or butter pecan ice cream.
Maple Walnut Pecan Pie
Pastry for a single crust pie
Filling:
1 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup pure maple syrup
1/2 cup golden syrup (such as Roger’s or Lyle’s)
3 large eggs
1/4 cup butter, softened
1/4 tsp. salt
1 cups pecan halves, toasted
1 cups walnut halves, toasted
Line a pie plate with pastry and crimp the edges. In a medium bowl, stir together the brown sugar, maple syrup, golden syrup, eggs, butter and salt. (Don’t worry about getting all the lumps of butter out.) Scatter the pecans and walnuts over the bottom of the shell and pour the mixture overtop. Set on a rimmed baking sheet and bake at 350F for 50-60 minutes, until set. Cool completely before cutting.
November 07 2011 | dessert | 14 Comments »
It’s birthday week around here – mine, Mike’s, my sister’s and my nephew’s, all within 6 days. Today we got together for dinner. On the menu: 21 day aged roast beef, Yorkshire pud, roasted veg and all that. For dessert, I dug up something that had jumped out as something Mike would love – apple cheesecake. The plain cheesecake from Canadian Living was his birthday cake of choice for years, and his favourite special-day breakfast has always been puffed apple pancakes or crepes with sautéed apples. This seemed like the perfect marriage of the two.
It had a simple press-in crust made with flour, sugar, butter and egg yolk. Mixed with my fingers and pressed into the bottom and a little up the sides of a springform pan, all rustic-like.
The cheesecake filling is easily mixed and poured overtop.
Then you thinly slice tart apples (I used Ambrosia) and toss them with sugar and cinnamon and spread them over the unbaked filling. Then bake the lot of it.
When it’s done it’ll be puffed and golden, but still a bit jiggly; it will firm up as it cools.
It needs some time to chill out, so make it in the morning if it’s destined for dinner.
Apple Pie Cheesecake
Adapted from Dainty Chef, with thanks to her cheesecake source, Pat Ryer
Crust:
1 cup flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg yolk (save the white)
1/2 cup butter, room temperature
Filling:
2 – 8 oz pkg. cream cheese, at room temperature
1/2 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
Topping:
1 large or 2 medium apples, thinly sliced (about 2 cups or so)
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp. cinnamon
To make the crust, combine all of the ingredients in a small bowl and blend with a fork, pastry cutter or your fingers until well blended – it will look like big, soft crumbs. Press into the bottom and about an inch up the sides of a buttered or sprayed springform pan.
To make the filling, beat the cream cheese and sugar until smooth and lump-free; add the eggs, one at a time, then the reserved egg white and vanilla. Pour into the pastry lined pan. Preheat the oven to 400F.
Thinly slice the apple(s) and toss with sugar and cinnamon to coat; scatter over the top of the cheesecake. Bake for 12 minutes, then reduce the heat to 375F and bake for another 30-35 minutes, until puffed and golden but slightly jiggly – it will firm up as it cools. Let cool in the pan, then refrigerate for a few hours, or overnight. Serves 12.
October 30 2011 | cake and dessert | 24 Comments »
I’ve always fancied myself a chocolate person, but I think I might really be a caramel person. And a pastry person – definitely a pastry person. Possibly both. Or all of the above. (This could explain why in the realm of body shapes in which most classify themselves as apples or pears, I’m starting to categorize myself as a snowman.) But oh, some things are worth it. I mean, look at this!
A tarte tatin – an inverted pie typically made with apples and a quick butter-sugar caramel started first in a skillet – is unlike any other fruit pie. Its bottom, having been baked as its top, is crisp and golden, saturated with caramel. This is what Danishes should look like. (In miniature, of course. Or at least the size of a salad plate rather than a dinner plate.)
The fruit is soft and caramelized, kept in halves or fanned out like these pears. With so many more varieties available at the market, it seemed the time to make one. It has been taking up a chunk of headspace since I saw it on Saveur.
It’s the last thing I made before leaving town for Toronto (yep, I’m there now! are you here too? Come see Sue and I at the Cookbook Store between 2 and 3 on Sunday!); my aunt was coming for dinner and I needed to pull together something quick and fancy-ish; it took under ten minutes to dump a chunk of butter and cup of sugar into a cast iron skillet and simmer it into caramel while peeling and coring (a small spoon works perfectly to scoop out the soft flesh) four ripe pears.
And fanning them out in the bottom of the pan. Kind of.
A chunk of thawed puff pastry took about ten seconds to roll out roughly as big as the skillet, then draped overtop. Regular pastry (enough for a single crust) would work just as well – next time I’ll try a hazelnut crust, I think. But I do love puff pastry in this particular placement – it allows you to wind up with something like this:
I really strongly urge you to give this a go, particularly if you are at all pie-phobic. There’s no need to line a plate with pastry, nor crimp the edge – the more haphazardly you put it together, the more rustic it looks, in fact. It’s one of those recipes that you make once, and then can just do, using apples, pears, peaches – bananas, even. Not that you’d ever want to stray from pears when they’re this good.
Saveur instructs the baker to remove excess juices with a turkey baster and reduce them further in a small saucepan. I did not bother to read the whole recipe, and am just reading that part now. I didn’t find the juices to be overly so, and didn’t mind the caramelly puddles, but I do recommend gently inverting the pan onto a plate to avoid a backsplash.
Cast Iron Pear Tarte Tatin
1 chunk of frozen puff pastry, or pastry for a single crust pie
Filling:
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup butter
a squeeze of lemon juice (about 1 Tbsp.)
2 lb. firm pears, peeled, cored, and halved lengthwise (about 4 pears)
Preheat the oven to 425°. Put the sugar and butter into a heavy cast iron skillet with a squeeze of lemon and cook over medium-high heat for about 5 minutes, stirring until it turns deep golden. Remove from the heat.
To fan the pears, place core-side down on a cutting board and cut into 4 lengthwise slices, leaving the pointy end attached. Arrange cut side up in the pan, fanning them slightly, and placing them close together (fruit shrinks as it cooks).
Roll the pastry out until it’s about as big (or a little bigger) than the skillet; cover the pears and tuck the edge in around them. Cut a few slits in the top and bake for 20-25 minutes, until golden.
Carefully invert the tarte tatin onto a plate while it’s still warm.
October 12 2011 | dessert | 17 Comments »
I love when you have a friend who goes grape picking in the Okanagan and brings you back a box of tight bunches of Coronation grapes, some with twisty vines still attached. If this hasn’t recently happened to you, sorry.
Or… perhaps we should arrange a field trip to the Okanagan?
So I have this box of Coronation grapes – the seedless version of Concords, those dusty indigo blue grapes that pop out of their skins and have far more flavour than the lacklustre green and pale purple ones you see year-round at the grocery store. They’re great for eating, but they also make delicious other things, like cakes and focaccia and chutney and jelly, which is actually a snap to make.
And it tastes surprisingly like the grape jelly of my childhood – not a whole lot more sophisticated.
To make Grape Jelly: simmer 1 1/2 lb Concord or Coronation grapes with 3 Tbsp. lemon juice for about 10 minutes, until the grapes pop; strain through a sieve and return the grape juice to the pan with 1 cup sugar. Bring the mixture to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes, until the jam reaches 220?F on a candy thermometer. Cool and refrigerate for up to a month.
That’s it. It’s thicker than jelly, but I’m not sure I’d call it jam, as all the solids have been strained out. Preserves, perhaps? I love the purpleness of it, especially when spreading on toast or filling little tartlet cups lined with white cheddar pastry. Seemed like a good idea.
Concord Grape Jelly Tarts or Hand Pies
1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 cup butter, chilled and cut into pieces
1/4 cup shortening, chilled and cut into pieces
1/2-1 cup grated old white cheddar or 1/4 cup ground hazelnuts or pecans
2-4 Tbsp. ice-cold water
Grape jelly/preserves, for filling
Make the pastry: in a large bowl or the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, sugar and salt. Add the butter, shortening and cheese or hazelnuts and use a fork, pastry blender, wire whisk or the “pulse” motion of the food processor to blend the mixture until it resembles coarse meal, with lumps of fat no bigger than a pea.
Drizzle the minimum amount of water over the mixture and stir until the dough comes together, adding a little more a bit at a time if you need it. Gather the dough into a ball, flatten it into a disc, wrap it in plastic and chill for at least half an hour, or freeze for up to 6 months if you want a head start on things.
To fill, roll the pastry out on a lightly floured surface about 1/4-inch thick; cut into rounds with a cookie cutter or glass rim. Fit into mini muffin tins, pressing up the sides, and fill with a spoonful of jam, filling it only about halfway. If you like, cut the scraps into little shapes to place on top of the jam.
Alternatively, make little hand pies (aka turnovers) by putting a spoonful of jam in the middle of each round, brushing the edge with a little beaten egg or milk, and folding it over, turnover-style. Press the edge closed with a fork to seal, and poke the top with a fork. Transfer to a parchment-lined baking sheet.
Either way, bake in a preheated 400F oven for 20-25 minutes, until golden. Remove from the pan while still warm. Makes lots.
September 27 2011 | dessert and preserves | 19 Comments »
« Prev - Next »
