Risen, sans raisins.

Yeasted breads were the bane of my existence for the first 11 years that I was turning butter, flour, sugar, and eggs into something palatable. After being struck by the baking bug at age 15 and being gifted a respectable assortment of pans and miscellaneous baking accessories, the first cookbook that I added to our household's collection (which included several volumes from Fu Pei Mei, matriarch of the Chinese broadcast television cooking shows, and a 3-ring bound Better Homes & Gardens New Cookbook) was the Pillsbury Healthy Baking book, purchased at Barnes & Noble in Fremont, CA, probably passing time after Saturday Chinese school. I could imagine the stern look of disapproval on my parents' face if I had purchased a full-price, full-fat book of cakes, cookies, and other confections, so this one, with the blazing "Bargain Books" sticker, "healthy" keyword, and oat-studded loaf on the cover was a safer bet.
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After successfully trying out a few quick breads, the next logical step was a real bread. A bread leavened with yeast. Being so diligent about following directions, I probably did everything as instructed by the recipe, however, when it came time for the honey oat dough to rise, it just didn't. All afternoon, the loosely formed dough just stayed the same shape, same volume. I knew my house was cold, but really?! No rise, whatsoever?? I finally decided to turn on the heater and set it in front of the vent. At that point, it may have risen a tiny bit and perhaps a skin had formed and hardened from the heat. Still, I persevered and decided to take a chance and send it to the oven. I was really hoping to peek into the oven halfway through its baking time and see the loaf loftily rising over the edge of the pan, but no such luck, and by the time the recipe suggested to take the loaf from the oven, it was still the same sad, oblong shape. Of course I had to taste the thing, and it wasn't half bad! Unfortunately, it was also hard as a rock.
There was another unsuccessful attempt with pizza dough a couple years ago (pita bread ended up being the vehicle for squash blossoms and asiago), but last year, my failures still vivid in my mind but somehow not affecting my resolve, I make a leap with challah bread. This time I made use of the space heater in my room (it being the smallest confined space in the fourplex, thus keeping in the warm air), propped my bowl of dough off the ground, and just waited. The challah turned out beautifully. It was magic.

That experience spawned subsequent tries at bread loafs, buns, and croissants, all of which employed the bringing-the-dough-into-the-bedroom technique and all of which were successful. This time of year, however -= when my butter needs only sit on the counter for half an hour to soften instead of the usual 3 hours -- the dough has been a-rising without an additional artificial push, so this week's Tuesday's With Dorie selection of Raisin Swirl Bread by Susan of Food. Baby. was a very welcome choice. Unfortunately, I actually let the dough rise for too long as I was waiting for other baked goods to finish in the oven, and it was gaining much more height than desired. Still I threw it in the oven, just happy it wasn't a leaden mess, but it did grow bigger than its britches and emerged with tumors and keloids and a nice tan. Though not the most photogenic loaf, it had fluffy and pillowy innards, a firm crust, and was perfumed by freshly grated nutmeg. I neglected to add the raisins before I rolled up the dough, so it became cinnamon swirl bread with a very mild sweetness. Next time I'll probably increase the cinnamon, but it was perfect in taste and texture in every other way. Eaten straight from the loaf, it's the kind of bread that you could eat 3/4 of before realizing what you've done. Toasted and buttered with a cup of tea, you're thankful for life's simple pleasures.

The taste of early summer.

There may not be a more perfect dessert for this time of year than the tender shortcakes, chosen by Cathleen of The Tortefeasor for this week's Tuesday's With Dorie pick. The farmer's market is overflowing with every berry you can think of (and some you had no idea about -- tayberries?! what are those??) and the scone-like texture of these buttery shortcakes could not be a more perfect base for sweet and succulent berries topped with a dollop (or huge cloud) of fresh whipped cream.
The shortcakes are much like cream biscuits with a slightly craggy, crisp crust, and dense crumb -- tender would actually be the most apt adjective for them -- and come together so quickly. It's a brilliant dinner party dessert because the dough (which is already tossed together in minutes) can be made ahead of time and frozen, then popped straight into the oven. The oven is turned up pretty high, but the shortcakes don't actually bake that long so your guests won't be sweltering in the kitchen. Assembly is a breeze and voila! You're ready to thoroughly please a room full of people.

The biscuit can be the backdrop for so many other flavors and I intend on testing many (ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, lime zest, orange) and changing up the fruit filling appropriately. i have no doubt that this recipe will not just be filed away in my arsenal, but will show up in the recipe boxes of my children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. That could be the greatest compliment there is.

A new zest.

Ever since we moved offices nearly a year ago, a world of eating options was opened up to my office mates and me. Now I'm a pretty religious brown-bagger, but having a selection of midday snacks available to me instead of solely the Fred Segal cafe (no joke), is a welcome luxury. We have one of the better gas station mini-marts as a neighbor, solid breads and viennoiserie across the street, and chocolate covered raisins by weight around the way. Our favorite mid-afternoon snack, however, is the controversial fruit cart, and there are quite a few to be found within a two block radius. I looked at their rainbow umbrella shaded carts with suspicion for some time, but after awhile, the chili powder, salt, and lime juice laced fruit was something that piqued my interest. My coworkers were already major converts, so by the time I had tried my first sliver of coconut, a little sour, a little spicy, I was very late to the party. I normally eschew the customary melons and cucumber, so my preferred fruit vendor, Eduardo, fills the bag up with mango, pineapple, and my beloved coconut. When he opens up a fresh coconut for me, he usually offers me the coconut water in a little baggie for later too. We've even started an informal baked goods for fruit exchange between the two of us -- a swap I'm more than happy to take part in despite the cautionary tales of pesticide use (I give him far more cookies and slices of cake than I take fruit).

So, it was with great pleasure that I participated in this week's Tuesday's with Dorie selection by Carmen of Carmen Cooks -- Coconut Tea Cake. The lime was an addition that I didn't think twice about. The two flavors just go together perfectly and reminded me that I still need to try my hand at the coconut-lime cookies that my cousin hauled across the country from CookieBar.

I normally rub lemon zest in my sugar, but it was a nice change to see the brilliant green of Persian limes dotting the white landscape of the sugar bowl, and embedded in the golden crumbs. The flavor of the finished cake was reminiscent of all things summer, naturally, but was smooth and subtle. It was unmistakably a coconut-lime cake, but nothing about it was cloying or tart. And, appropriately enough, it paired beautifully with tea. Though the recipe only called for half a stick of butter for the entire Bundt cake, the cup of coconut milk (and I used light coconut milk) added some fat so, although the cake wasn't nearly as moist as other Bundt cakes, it was just moist enough and held a tight crumb.

The foundation of this cake really is so versatile and it may become a new canvas for me to play with. Lime has proven itself to be fantastic -- so chili powder and salt, anyone??

A (slightly) tart tart.

I was never a Mathlete. I don't work out algorithms in my spare time. I did just fine in geometry sophomore year of high school, but it was not at all a favorite class of mine. And yet, I look forward to Pi Day every year. That isn't to say that I have a history of celebrating 3.14. In fact, with St. Patrick's Day so close to Pi Day and my love for Irish Soda Bread running deep (the American style -- sweet, raisin studded, and caraway seed flecked), I feel like the date always sneaks up on me, but I always at least think about it. Luckily, Rachelle from Mommy? I'm Hungry! chose the Soft Chocolate and Raspberry Tart for this week's Tuesday's With Dorie selection. Now, I know a tart isn't exactly a pie, but a smooth filling, sometimes with embedded fruit, cradled in a buttery crust -- sounds like kin to me!

I find rolling out pie dough to be therapeutic. Using just enough elbow grease to coax a solid mass into a delicate round is deeply satisfying, and when it eases right into the pie plate, I feel like it's draping a child in a warm blanket.

This tart dough is not at all like that.

It comes together so easily, though, and was absolutely perfect for my schedule this week. The Cuisinart brought it together so quickly, and then pressing the curds into the tart pan was a breeze. Off it went into the freezer, and when it came time to bake the crust, I didn't even have to get out the pie weights to keep it from shrinking. The flaky crust is the highlight of pie for me, but combined with almond meal, this particular tart crust was something to look forward to as well.

The chocolate ganache filling was actually the most frustrating part of the assembling, at no fault of the recipe. It calls for bittersweet chocolate as well as milk chocolate, and as I almost always bake with bittersweet and semi-sweet, I only had Guittard milk chocolate chips on hand. No matter that it's in chip form, right? No. So, so wrong.

There are melting directions right on the packaging of the chips, but after heating the chocolates over a double boiler on the stove, the bittersweet chocolate melted into ribbons, but there were still clumps of chips that refused to ooze into submission. It was the strangest thing. And then I just gave up and stuck the chocolate into the microwave for 35 seconds. Nope. Still the same clumpage. I added another 20 seconds and then it was burnt. Whoops. On the second attempt I decided to forego the milk chocolate and went back to my trusty semi-sweet Callebaut. The ganache came together so easily this time, of course, and off into the oven it went. I did have to add about 10 minutes to the recommended baking time, however.

Once slightly cooled, the tart sliced up beautifully. I was afraid that as a "soft" tart, once sliced the filling would just seep out into the pan, but it held its shape and exposed lovely nubs of mildly tart fresh raspberries (it is only March, even if this is Los Angeles). The tart is really like a flourless chocolate cake sitting in a slightly nutty crust, and who can deny the luxuriousness of smooth chocolate and cream against the tongue??

Raspberry and chocolate isn't my favorite flavor combination, but plenty of people seem to love it and that's just wonderful. Pi Day was a success, and what good is baking, if not for the enjoyment of others?

A pleasant surprise.

Once again, I love being apart of the Tuesdays With Dorie baking group because I'm forced - nay, politely encouraged by a set of very, very reasonable stipulations - to try recipes I wouldn't normally consider. Honey Wheat Cookies. The name alone doesn't illicit any excitement from me and I've overlooked this page every time I've ever thumbed through the book, but this week, Michelle of Flourchild had the pick of the litter, and as I haven't been able to participate in TWD as often as I would have liked earlier in the month, the honey wheat cookies would have to be baked.

Still unenthused by this week's assignment, I went out to get myself some wheat germ. I had my choice of raw or toasted wheat germ, but after deliberating about the prices and differences in taste, I went with the raw wheat germ. For an ingredient I figured I would rarely use, I decided it made more sense just to go with the cheaper option!

The dough, though easy to throw together, seemed too soft before being sent to the fridge to chill, but it ended up being fine to work with when rolling into balls before their coating of wheat germ. I tried to stick to the 10-12 minute baking window, but the cookies seemed far too soft and I ended up baking them for closer to 18 minutes, or until they were a deep golden color. I let them set up on the baking sheet for several minutes as they appeared to be too soft to transfer after just one or two, but the timing still yielded a soft, chewy cookie as intended.

The honey was a very apparent flavor, but the wheat germ added an aroma that neither I nor my friends could identify. It reminded us all of something, but we couldn't exactly place it. And with its light flavor, soft texture, and diminutive size, one cookie quickly became five, especially among my coworkers. It's definitely the kind of cookie that you have and think, "Well, that was alright..." but before you know it, you've polished off ten. Clearly, it was much better than "alright".

My fridge is happily stocked with wheat germ now, and I have every intention of using it regularly. It can be familiar bedfellows with the flax seeds, oat bran, and amaranth I've been incorporating regularly into my baking, yielding breadstuffs with allure I would have never imagined. It feels so good to be wrong.

A formidable opponent.

Last week, the public had the rare opportunity of purchasing and enjoying Dorie Greenspan's own baked goods at a pop-up cookie boutique, CookieBar, temporarily opened by Dorie and her son, Josh, at an Upper East Side hair salon. As a Tuesday's With Dorie baker, as soon as I heard this news, I was already plotting ways I'd be able to get a hold of these cookies. Week after week (and in between too), our kitchens turn out cookies, cakes, and pies that were a product of her vision, not sure if they were accurately executed or not -- an opportunity to try these recipes as they were meant to be tasted was not to be missed and I wasn't about to let a span of 3,000 miles stand in my way. Luckily, Cousin Albert decided he'd be coming back out West for Chinese New Year and I easily convinced him to leave his East Village bubble to procure some of Dorie's cookies for me (after all, we are a family of food lovers). After reports via Twitter of selling out of the cookies on days one and two, Albert was able to get uptown early enough (and on a blizzardy day enough) to secure the full assortment of the cookie shop's offerings for the end of our Lunar New Year meal.

It just so happened that Kaitlin of Kait's Plate chose Dorie's Best Chocolate Chip Cookie for this week's assignment, which was among the selections that Albert hauled across the country. It was all working out to be the perfect opportunity to see if my interpretations of her recipes bore any resemblance to the real thing.

...and they did!! Visually, they were definitely kin. Dark edges, paler center, mottled with tiny bittersweet chocolate specks in addition to larger chunks. They were an absolute hit at work and though I've relied on the now infamous NY Times chocolate chip cookie for some time now, I think there's room for more than one on my go-to pedestal. In all honestly, I actually preferred my cookies to the CookieBar chocolate chip cookie, but it wasn't really a fair fight. There's something about three-day old cookies that can't quite measure up to the crisp exterior, yielding center, and buttery goodness of nearly fresh cookies -- imagine that! I did also have the sables and coconut lime cookies though, which were so good that I am now going to have to replicate them this weekend. Dorie and son are actually looking for a permanent space in Manhattan, and when it does, I'll be back for My Best Chocolate Chip Cookies vs. My Best Chocolate Chip cookies, round 2!

Get thee here. Now.

The intersection at Robertson and Beverly in West Hollywood is one I try to avoid at all costs during the work day, especially the unprotected left turning south on Robertson -- you'll be there for days during rush hour! After the sun sets, however, the cross street is a different creature. The writers at the Coffee Bean move on to a bar, the furniture showrooms close up for the day, women haul the spoils of their successful shopping day back home and the area becomes a shadow if its daytime self. And on the southwest corner of Robertson, just north of Beverly a pristine, glowing treasure sits -- and it is a treasure, with it's skillfully prepared dishes, affable service, and not-quite-discovered location. Like with your favorite band, you talk it up to everyone you meet who will listen, but don't want to them to "sell-out" with their new found fame either, only I want that for Petrossian and its chef, French-born Ben Bailly of Joël Robuchon culinary lineage because it's just too good to be kept a secret.

My first experience with Petrossian -- and possibly my introduction into the world of caviar -- was at their New York outpost maybe five years ago. The dining room was nearly empty but we still had a wonderful time gingerly scooping beluga caviar using mother-of-pearl spoons onto blinis decorated with all the accoutrements, accompanied by champagne and vodka. It was a divine afternoon of which I did not have to foot the bill because I probably wouldn't have had the fortune to enjoy it otherwise. That level of indulgence was what I associated the Petrossian Boutique & Cafe in West Hollywood with -- and they do offer the same fantastic caviar -- but, until I saw Jo's amazing food porn at MyLastBite, I hadn't realized it was so much more accessible. Though it is included on the menu and in various dishes, caviar neophytes need not be deterred. There are plenty of other caviar-less options, but it's quite possible that after a bite of the hand-cut steak tartare, cut through with a layer of caviar, you will be a convert.

So on a brisk January evening, my group of girls coordinated with my sister's visit for my first Petrossian WeHo experience (the rest of my family had already come for brunch the month before). We started off with the smoked salmon rillette on toast that reminded us something our friend Susan would serve in her home, and that is a fantastic compliment. It had a delicate flavor, especially for salmon, and it felt familiar and intimate, inviting us back for more with each bite. It was followed by the foie gras salad, which I would probably never be compelled to order, but the photos and positive response to the dish nudged me in the right direction so we gave it a shot, and I'm so glad we did. The chopped green beans mixed with toasted walnut and black truffle vinaigrette complimented the smooth, rich foie gras terrine perfectly. We dug into the dish for more, but it wasn't for just the terrine or just the green beans -- it was for the composed bite because the salad, shot through with a hint of acid, was such a well-suited balance to the creamy foie gras.



Another favorite of ours was the black truffle mac 'n cheese. A seemingly simple dish to make, I've had a couple that are gummy, congealed, or completely overpowered by competing flavors, and this was none of those things. Orrecchiete is a favorite pasta variety of mine for its chewy texture and it didn't fail me this time either as its crevices cradled the bacon studded sauce with each "little ear". Shaved truffles are a welcome addition to any dish and you will never find me declining some, but the sauce was so rich and aromatic that had they not been there, I wouldn't have been the least bit disappointed.

I am still dreaming about the steak frites that we had nearly three weeks ago. The frites were my kind of thickness with a wonderfully crisp shell and still meaty interior. What started out as a sample of the dish because I was already so full became a gorge on fries and meat, generously swathed in the peppercorn sauce before reaching my mouth. I have been a big fan of the steak frites at Church & State downtown, and their béarnaise was my favorite for a good part of last year, but suddenly, the sauce accompanying the steak, sweet with balsamic vinegar and shallot confit, has shot to the top and I don't know what can compete. I'm not even a condiment girl when it comes to fries (there's just no need for ketchup!), but the frites just about became a vehicle for more sauce.

Of course we were beyond full, but being the gluttons that we are, we still ordered a trio of desserts for the table -- the vanilla panna cotta with white peach espuma, Sicilian pistachio crème brulée, and chocolate moelleux (a chocolate muffin-like-cake with a liquid center. By the generosity of Chef Ben Bailly, those three desserts became five and we all shifted our eyes at each when they arrived at the table, in disbelief that we could finish it all, but good call, Chef -- we demolished them all. I have an affinity for all things pistachio so the crème brulée with a caramelized top of the perfect thickness I could not get enough of, but the panna cotta was so smooth and had such a silken texture that I must have had the one closest to me all by myself.

To be surrounded by the company I was with is always pleasure enough, but bite after bite sent us into gastronomic bliss. I haven't even mentioned that we had a no-pork-fish-foie-gras-or-miscellaneous-animal-parts eater as well as a friend with a seafood allergy and we were all sublimely contented. We didn't even scratched the surface of the menu -- the short rib raviolo, foie gras crème brulée, and seared duck breast await, though I don't know how we'll get past the foie gras salad, Napoleon tartare, or steak frites, but I reluctantly hope to see the rest of city's food lovers there the next time, and the next, and the next.