It all began in bulk...

My first biscotti was not enjoyed at the edge of a piazza in Italy, accompanied by a shot of dark espresso, nor did I have it at a cafe along Columbus in North Beach where the waiters get their kicks by showering patrons with compliments and exaggerated Italian charm. It wasn't made by a classmate's mother either, with technique taught by his/her nonna. My first biscotti was from the gourmet foods powerhouse that we all know and love -- Costco.

As a family of six, the only way to make anything last in the house was by buying in bulk, and we took full advantage of the super store. We bought pallets of Yoplait yogurt, boxes of pre-apportioned Quaker oatmeal pouches, jugs of orange juice, packs of contact lenses, and biscotti. They came in clear jars, individually wrapped but "Not to be resold." My mother loved them with International Foods Cafe Francais instant coffee, and so we bought these jumbo containers of cookies, sometimes dipped in chocolate, sometimes not.

I, on the other hand, was never a the biggest biscotti fan. I probably didn't like crunchy cookies at all when I was younger. Why work so hard for sweet little treat, when you could have a perfectly flaky croissant or melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate?? This recipe from Dorie for Chocolate Biscotti was inevitable, however, and I just decided to go for it this morning.

Jacque of Daisy Lane Cakes made this week's Tuesday's With Dorie selection and as with so many recipes of late, my initial ambivalence toward the key ingredient or type of pastry even, is replaced with genuine enthusiasm for the baked good. Crunchy, but not too crunchy; sweet, but nowhere near too sweet. These dipping cookies were so easy to demolish and then follow with another.

My dad arrives tomorrow from Taiwan for a little visit to check up on the kids. My mom isn't coming as the flight is a bit too long to bear for her, but with that canister of Cafe Francais, my dad will definitely be toting a bag of Dorie's biscotti.

A riff

It's been two-and-a-half years since my first Tuesday's With Dorie post, and after hell and high water -- or, work and too many social engagements -- keeping me from fulfilling my TWD obligations every now and again, I've been back on track and, finally, it is my turn to pick this week's recipe from Baking: From My Home to Yours.
Since I first read about an online baking group attempting a recipe from Dorie's tome of tried and true breads, cakes, pies, and puddings each week then writing about their results along with the rest of the group, I've wanted to be a part of it. I figured that it would encourage me to bake more often, and bake things that I wouldn't normally choose to bake myself for whatever reason. In these last couple of years, I've learned that the moment Swiss buttercream comes together is a wondrous event, crystallized ginger can be revived through steaming, rugelach may be my favorite pastry, and the freezer is every baker's friend -- all valuable lessons that will serve me well in this lifetime.
As a relative late-comer to the group, and not the most diligent blogger, there weren't too many recipes left to choose from, however, my pick of Oatmeal Nutmeg Scones could not be more appropriate. That this is a scone recipe already has my name all over it -- I've proclaimed my love for them. And my coworkers can attest that my preferred breakfast of champions is a bowl of doctored-up oatmeal. Nearly every weekday morning, I heat up a bowl of old-fashioned oats and water on medium power for five minutes, along with chopped dried apricot, cherry, and whatever nut I have on hand, then finish it off with a puddle of soy or almond milk and generous dashes of cinammon and nutmeg. Nutmeg, oh, nutmeg. Oatmeal just isn't the same with out you. I'm liberal with the spice anytime a Dorie recipe calls for it, and even when it doesn't. There's a reason why I love my Microplane so much, and it has a lot to do with grating whole nutmeg.
Another wonderful, ingredients straight-out-of-the-fridge quick bread recipe, these scones are perfect for mornings when you aim to please but are short on time. The dough was noticeably more wet than the Maple Cornmeal Biscuits from last week, so cutting them into triangles and transferring them to the baking sheet was a bit messy (flouring a dough-cutter before each cut helps), but the resulting product was tender, buttery, and aromatic. The oatmeal added some heft to the pastry, so a couple of these would definitely hold me over until lunchtime, and they were a satisfying vehicle for rich, Kerrygold butter and vibrant, apricot jam as well. Oatmeal, nutmeg, apricot jam? substitute the buttermilk for almond milk, throw a handful of nuts in the dough and I think I've got my new breakfast of champions...

Oatmeal Nutmeg Scones
from Baking: From My Home to Yours by Dorie Greenspan

makes 12 scones

1 large egg
1/2 cup cold buttermilk
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/3 cups old-fashioned oats
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 stick plus 2 tablespoons(10 tablespoons) cold unstaled butter, cut into small pieces

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a bking sheet with parchment or a silicone mat.

Stir the egg and buttermilk together.

Whisk the flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and nutmeg together in a large bowl. Drop in the butter and, using your fingers, toss to coat the pieces of butter with flour. Quickly, working with your fingertips (my favorite method) or a pastry blender, cut and rub the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture is pebbly. You'll have pea-size pieces, pieces the size of oatmeal flakes and pieces the size of everything in between -- and that's just right.

Pour the egg and buttermilk mixture over the dry ingredients and stir with a fork just until the dough, which will be wet and sticky, comes together. Don't overdo it.

Still in the bowl, gently knead the dough by hand, or turn it with a rubber spatula 8 to 10 times. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and divide it in half. Working with one piece at a time, pat the dough into a rough circle that's about 5 inches in diameter, cut it into 6 wedges and place on the baking sheet. (At this point, the scones can be frozen on the baking sheet, then wrapped airtight. Don't defrost before baking -- just add about 2 minutes to the baking time.)

Bake for 20 to 22 minutes, or until their tops are golden and firmish. Transfer them to a rack and cool for 10 minutes before serving, or wait for the scones to cool to room temperature.

In a crunch

When you've just barely gotten back from an 11-day trip to Asia...
When your internal clock is operating somewhere between Pacific and Taiwan/Hong Kong time...
When you've slept 12 hours and feel like you could sleep 12 more...
When you need a little not-too-sweet, buttery breakfast treat and are already late for work...

Then this is the thing to bake.



I've been running on fumes for the last 48 hours. 58 if you count the flight back to Los Angeles, and you should because getting a crick in your neck as you sleep upright really isn't sleep at all, and 82 if you count the minimal slumber from the night before as we tried to make our last night in Hong Kong count (and staying out until 5 or 6am is normal there). Surprisingly, I haven't been suffering from being wide awake at 4am like I would always be when I was younger. In fact, I've been sleeping way too much -- exhibit A being today's sudden realization that it was 9:17am, I should be at work at 9:45, but I still had to make this week's Tuesday's With Dorie pick by Lindsay of A Little Something...Sweet!

But these Maple Cornmeal Biscuits require none of the room-temperature eggs/milk/butter fuss that other baking recipes do. I simply rolled out of bed, preheated the oven, measured out the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, salt, and baking soda, waited for the oven to come to 425 degrees, and did that last minute cutting-in of the cold butter and incorporating of the milk and maple syrup before plopping the dough on a cookie sheet. It really was the simplest recipe.

By the time the biscuits emerged from the oven, I was ready to go, and threw them in towel-lined basket as Dorie suggested they be eaten hot anyway. I got to work with the craggy, golden mounds still warm to the touch. With a quarter cup of maple syrup being the only sweetener in the recipe, the biscuits went perfectly with a bit of jam, though not at all necessary either. The cornmeal provided a wonderful texture and was another kick in the head as to its amazing properties in baked goods. Those lingering grains in the finish of a bite get me every time.

Butter love.

My family grew up with margarine. Imperial margarine to be specific. No -- there was one memory I have of Australian butter from a round, yellow, vintage-looking tin, but that was a very rare instance and more often than not it was a large, plastic tub with the crown emblem in the fridge. My parents were convinced that butter was devil spread (like so many other families in the 80s), so I adopted the same belief and was none the wiser probably until I started baking. Sure, there were pats of real butter wrapped in metallic foil when we went out to dinner, or at the continental breakfasts during our family trip to Europe in 4th grade, but still used sparingly lest we drop dead.

When I started this baking hobby, so many cookbooks and recipes would emphasize the importance of using real butter instead of margarine, and being such a new hand at baking, I had to get it right and pressured my parents into springing for the forbidden nectar of dairy cows. Having it around the house now, I would steal a swipe of butter for my toast instead of Imperial (and even Brummel & Brown for awhile) -- that was the beginning of the end.
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Butter enthusiasm grew exponentially and arrived at its current level during my last trip to Paris. Of course, Paris, right?? There are few populations that take their butter more seriously than the French, and if we had Pascal Beillevaire or Bordier stateside, I'm sure we'd be fanatical too.

Shortbread has always been a favorite of mine because of the gloriously pronounced flavor of butter. There may be no better way to showcase a butter than with shortbread, in fact, and this recipe that Valerie of Une Gamine dans la Cuisine chose for this week's Tuesdays with Dorie assignment, did just that. Along with the zest of a lemon and especially with the addition of cornmeal, these cookies had an amazing texture and very addictive quality. I had included rosemary polenta cookies from Frances (one of my favorite restaurants in San Francisco) in my holiday assortment so I was already familiar with the magic that ground corn can work and knew that though such a simple recipe, it had amazing possibilities. Incorporating just a handful of ingredients, make sure you use a good quality butter (I used Plugra) and it will effortlessly render the shortbread astounding -- you won't be disappointed

Double my pleasure.

Strawberry and Rhubarb. A common pairing, seemingly age-old even, but not for me. Like so many other treats steeped in Americana, those of the strawberry-rhubarb variety never made it inside my home growing up. Our sandwiches were made with Oroweat Masters' Best seeded and nutty breads and always made a bee-line for the soda fountain when we stopped in to the family restaurant because we weren't allowed to keep it in the home. Instead, my mother encouraged the consumption of a new-fangled just-add-water-to-powder concoction at the time - Barleygreen, or a fermenting, yeasty drink whose curds would be recycled for the week until I don't even know when. On very rare occasions, Thrity Butter Pecan ice cream, Sara Lee cheesecake, or a Twinkie would appear, but as far as goods from an actual bakery went, unless it was a mango mousse cake from Sheng Kee (just sweet enough), I knew nothing of it.

Along comes my friend, or, rather, along goes my friend. My dear friend Liz decided a couple years ago to leave the sunny skies and congested streets of Los Angeles for green pastures (greener pastures being Sacramento), and as a farewell gesture, made her one of her favorites -- strawberry rhubarb pie. It was my first attempt with this flavor combination, not quite sure what it should taste like, and I never got to know it any better as off she went with the lattice-topped thing of beauty. Digging in to desserts before gifting them just isn't my thing, though time and time again, I wish it was.

This week's Tuesdays With Dorie pick by Sarah of teapots and cake stands could be considered my first official foray into strawberry-rhubarb desserts (because we all wonder, if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there, does it make a sound?), and having tasted it, I can vouch that it really did happen. And I loved it.

Crisps are magical things to begin with, and that this was a double crisp?? I'm going to have to change all my crisp recipes into double crisps now, because as much as I love naturally sweet, seasonal fruit, the oat-flour-butter-nut-spice amalgamation is my favorite part of a crisp, and I know I'm not alone. A top and bottom layer of crisp?! This may just be better than pie!! The crystallized ginger also added an unexpected perk that would go well with plums, pears, peach -- it has to be my new favorite dessert addition (and Dorie's trick of steaming aged, hardened ginger over simmering water is genius)!!

I'll see my incomparably hilarious, wonderfully self-deprecating, and now, amazingly happy friend soon, and when I do, this is the winner I'll be toting.

A new spin.

When does one decide on their preferred type of brownie?? As with chocolate chip cookies, most everyone has a certain standard for the best brownie ever, but there are innumerable riffs on the basic brownie that have become almost standard in themselves over the years. Fudgey, cakey, dense, light-as-a-feather, chocolate chips, nuts, chipotle, cinnamon, peanut butter swirls, peppermint, toffee bits, butterscotch chips, espresso, brown sugar, browned butter, and now -- what's this?! -- honey?? With all these possibilities, people have their favorites, but I can't see anyone ever denying a brownie because, after all, isn't it really all about the strong hit of chocolate?

Suzy of Suzy Homemaker chose Honey Nut Brownies for this week's Tuesday's With Dorie recipe, and in all honestly, the name had no appeal to me initially. Is this going to be like chocolatey Honey Nut Cheerios?, I wondered. What's the deal with honey in a brownie?? I was proven wrong.


Though I'm more a fan of brownies on the dense side, I still cannot stay away from a cakey brownie, especially not a good one, and with the substitution of whole wheat pastry flour, I didn't have to. The flour switch may have made the brownies a little too cake-like, but the flavor was definitely marvelous. Anyone passing by the kitchen at work had to steal a sliver even after they had already polished off two pieces because the smell was so intoxicating. It must have been the honey (or Lyle's Golden Syrup as I didn't quite have enough honey so I made another little substitution) because I don't believe I've ever made a brownie whose smell permeated through rooms and minds like that one did.

Needless to say, that brownie had a pretty short lifespan. Most of the office couldn't resist its charms and they made quick work of it. Though the brownie didn't linger, I'll have to re-use the honey trick on another recipe and see what results that yields. A chewy, nut-studded, honey-scented chocolatey square...ohhh, the rapture!

An honest muffin.

Growing up in a household of four children, shopping trips to Costco were a given and an occasion to which my siblings and I always anticipated with excitement. My dad wouldn't always let us tag along, for fear we'd load the cart up with cookies, candy, and pastries galore, I'm sure, but the opportunities arose every once in awhile, and usually with only one kid at a time. We stocked up on such quality products as Kirkland Signature toilet paper, Nature's Valley granola bars, pallets of Yoplait yogurt, gallons of Minute Maid orange juice, and, of course, mens' briefs. Sometimes a tray of croissants would show up on the kitchen table when we came home from school (Costco croissants -- my, how far we've come...), but other times, it would be an assortment of mini-muffins. You know the ones -- chocolate chip, double chocolate, bran, blueberry, and my favorite, lemon poppy seed, packaged in fives with clear cellophane. They were perfect for throwing in our sack lunches, and we did. I can only hope I didn't devour them all myself, or in one sitting, though I wouldn't put it past my fifth grade self (kids must burn a lot of calories in P.E., right??)

I can't recall having been as big a fan of lemon poppy seed than when they came five to a pack. Given today's normal varieties of muffins, I feel a magnetic pull towards sour cream coffee cake muffins or the spiced options and lemon poppy seed is often shafted. This week, however, our Tuesdays With Dorie assignment was for my beloved mini variety, only in full size form and with the optional additional of jam that I took full advantage of, as chosen by Betsy of A Cup Of Sweetness.

Despite my early fondness for the lightly scented lemon muffin with poppy seeds suspended throughout, this was my first attempt at baking them. The two-bowl wonder of a recipe really could not be any more simple. I threw the dry ingredients together, then the wet, combined, and off into the oven they went in less than ten minutes. Half of them got the star treatment with a belly of raspberry jam, but that additional dimension wasn't all that necessary. It's an honest muffin. Straight-forward. Despite the raspberry jam and lemon glaze, you know that at its heart, it's just a lemony muffin with the perfect proportion of poppy seeds. And I love Bonne Maman raspberry jam, but I don't need to search for it in every bite -- the cake is just so good alone. With or without the bells and whistles, if I were to wake up to it every morning, life couldn't possibly be so bad.

Dreary skies and coffee cake.

I love a good coffee cake. It's such a simple baked good, but when confronted with a slice, I know few people that would refuse it -- especially with a cup of coffee.
It doesn't matter whats mixed into the batter. Exotic fruits, fragrant spices, a chocolate swirl -- as long as it has some buttery streusel on top, I'm all over it.

This week's Tuesday's With Dorie choice of Cardamom Crumb Cake by Jill of Jill's Blog was one that I especially couldn't pass up. It wasn't until the last few years that I really tasted what cardamom was like, and I've loved it ever since. Nearly anytime a recipe calls for cinnamon, I always try to add a tiny bit of cardamom and freshly grated nutmeg. It's such a distinct taste, and relatively accessible in my opinion, but it appears on menus and in baked goods so rarely!

I didn't have orange on hand so I ended up using lemon, but I think it was still appropriate. Despite the butter content of this cake, the citrus made it so light. And combined with the sugary streusel, I didn't quite want to have just one piece.

So I didn't.

Quite the pair.

Here we are in Los Angeles, enjoying warm weather and blue skies with a little over a week until Thanksgiving. I was in New York just a couple weeks ago enjoying the biting breezes and investing in a earmuff-headband thing from Uniqlo because, well, it was necessary (and adorable), and it was beginning to feel a lot like Christmas. I was lucky enough to have missed the 90+ degree heat wave, but aside from some decorations up at the Grove, one would have no idea that the holidays are just around the corner.

I purposely drive on Third Street through Hancock Park sometimes just to admire the turning leaves on trees lining the street of homes reminiscent of what I'd see in a romantic comedy set during the holidays. Sixth Street is an even better drive -- those colorful leaves even blow up and trail behind cars as you make the turns on the windy stretch. when I lived on the west side, my journey to work always included a segment on Barrington before it turned into McLaughlin, and it always felt like a suburban East Coast fall in those few moments.

Thankfully, I also have desserts to bring about the warmth and fuzziness of the season, so this week's pick by the sisters (and sister-in-law) Celestial Confections was especially welcome. I've never actually baked anything with cranberry before, and only made cranberry sauce from the fresh berries for the first time last year, but there really is no better time than now to test out a recipe.

A galette is a crostata is a free-form pie, so it comes with Dorie's buttery, flaky, amazingly delicious dough that I rave about time and time again. Just that would be enough (my co-worker could probably make a dinner with the crust cookies I make with the scraps), but the cranberry-ginger-lime filling has a brightness that makes you forget the gloom and doom of the season and rings in the holidays, too. The cranberry could have been a fine filling to the galette by itself (albeit one-dimensional), but the addition of the ginger and lime zest/juice provided a kick that suddenly made the pastry more interesting. My one minor grip with the final product is that it expanded much more than I expected -- though I didn't keep it out of the fridge long before I sent it to the oven, perhaps a post-assembly chill or freeze would be good to maintain the cute, compact shape of the galette after it having been baked.

The galette was undoubtedly a rustic looking thing, but it was met with rave reviews all around. Cranberry and lime have been known to be good friends with vodka, but with a hint of ginger in a rich crust, I think I'll stick with bourbon and devour this instead.

An old friend.

There wasn't any question that I would be making this week's pick for Tuesday's With Dorie by by Emily of Sandmuffin. Dorie's All-American, All-Delicious Apple Pie is just that -- delicious. This wouldn't be my first time making it (it made an appearance at Thanksgiving a couple years back, and another time just because), but an excuse to fill my kitchen with the aroma of fall and loved ones' stomachs with toothsome apples and flaky pie crust was very much welcome. Yes, I was an "old hand" at this one, and then I realized I may have blogged about this recipe before, too, back when I was a more diligently keeping this up.

And here it was. Nearly two years ago I had experienced the revelation that apple pie can, indeed, be fantastic, and today, I'm still maintaining that position. This time, I chose Mutsus, Granny Smith, and a few Arkansas black apples. I hadn't baked with the Arkansas black before, and because they're so small, I can't imagine making an entire pie from them (the peeling and coring would be endless!), but they are such a distinct variety from the mealy ones that color the produce section of your conventional grocery store. And they're gorgeous -- it's the apple I imagine Snow White to have been been poisoned by, unable to resist the allure of its oxblood, semi-matte finish.

I've had a couple more years of pie dough rolling under my belt now, and the crust definitely draped over the mound of raw apples in a more attractive way (though as the volume of the apples decreased as they were baked, the crust caved a bit too), but there were also some less-than-sweet apples in the mix. I think next time I'll reintroduce the tsugaru apples and omit the Granny Smith standby.

I can't wait for apple pie leftovers. If I recall correctly, the flavor was even better on the second day. I may even lay some cheddar over that slice. Dessert for breakfast? Absolutely.

Back in the saddle.

I've missed you. Heat waves and overwhelming commitments shouldn't be an excuse, but it's the truth. I admit, I did make time to bake birthday cakes and birthday treats, but I might as well be chained to those at this point -- there's no way around it. But, the weather has turned rainy and chilly, if only for this half of the week, and it's enough to be the kick in the pants I need to start baking for Tuesdays With Dorie again, and what could be more seasonal than a variation on pumpkin pie?? Things have finally settled down, and with Janell of Mortensen Family Memoirs choosing Caramel Pumpkin Pie, I have a feeling it's going to be a spectacular holiday season.

It's been awhile since I've made a pie, and was over the moon that this was my welcome-back recipe, but it's been so long that I was almost unsure when making the dough for the crust -- Was it wet enough? Too wet? What happened last time it was too dry? Everything worked out in the end with enough pinching and kneading (not the most ideal method, but it came together), and luckily holidays beget pies so I look forward to crust-making becoming second nature once again.

The crust was baked and cooled, and then came the tricky part -- making the caramel. Sugar was cooked in a skillet on the stove until it took on a mahogany color (difficult to gauge with a black-bottomed, non-stick skillet) and smoking, with heavy cream and butter then added to it. I got the mahogany color and the melted sugar was smoking ever so slightly, but it seems it had just gone over the edge and there became a hint burnt caramel flavor.

After it cooled, it was mixed into the pumpkin and spice mixture (no appliances necessary - hurrah!), poured into the pan. I realized at this point that perhaps a deep dish pie plate wasn't the way to go for this recipe. My love of crust runs deeps, so a deep dish pie with it's greater crust-to-filling ratio has my heart and it's a reflex to grab that pie plate every time. When I poured the filling into the par-baked crust, however, it only barely hit halfway up the pan. There was nothing I could do at this point, so off into the oven it went, spending about 10 minutes longer in there than projected.

I refrigerated the pie overnight, and in the morning, upon examining my sleigh bed of a pie with its large sloping headboard, I decided a whipped cream topping would be the way to go. I added some Maker's Mark to the cream as I hadn't added any rum to the filling as suggested, and covered the surface with the fluffy, white blanket, letting it reach the rim of the crust. Its secondary purpose was mellowing the burnt caramel flavor of the pumpkin, which wasn't bad at all, in my opinion, and did add a certain depth to the delicious (but sometimes one-note)taste of pumpkin. I'd be interested in making the pie again and taking the caramel off before it turns mahogany and seeing which pie I prefer.


So here begins another holiday baking season. I'm hoping it won't be completely overwhelming and leave me no time to blog, but it will surely be infinitely satisfying.

Not quite love.

Espresso and chocolate are a marriage made in heaven, but a combination that I don't find myself gravitating towards often. Perhaps that it is such a ubiquitous pairing that anytime I find them together, I ask myself, "Okay - what else is there?" Seasonal fruit will trump coffee-chocolate every time, as will herbs and honey. Salted caramel and brown butter for the win, unless they're combined with espresso and chocolate, and in that case, the coffee-cocoa characteristics are forgiven. The addition of espresso or coffee to enhance the chocolatiness of a chocolate cake doesn't count (I support it emphatically), so aside from mocha macarons (which are usually pretty good at any patisserie), and the "tiramisu" I had at a recent Michael Voltaggio pop-up dinner(a soy/coffee/chocolate/mascarpone, panna-cotta-and-dippin'-dot revelation), I'll pass.

I was hoping that this week's Tuesday's with Dorie selection by Donna of Life's Too Short Not To Eat Dessert First would be another exception to the rule (and it was a perfectly good cookie!!), but not one I'll revisit unless specifically requested. My prejudices aside, it's a wonderful recipe because, save for the 2 hour chilling period, it is so quick and easy to throw together with minimal clean-up and effort. Portioning is a breeze, no hand-rolling necessary, and though the squares could have used a post-cutting chill in the refrigerator to firm up the dough a little more (the dough got soft just from cutting time), they kept their shape pretty well. They won't win any beauty pageants, but I think that'd suit them just fine -- they prefer the simplicity of a casual coffee over a highbrow afternoon tea anyway.

The height of Summer.

I've been so neglectful of this here blog. I've been baking up a storm since June, but for many, many reasons (first camping trips, weddings, out-of-town guests, even more baking, etc.), I haven't gotten to the whole blogging part of this endeavor. It's a little bit essential.

And here we are, nearing the end of August, Angelenos already in despair that summer is coming to a close (though, we should all know Indian Summer is just getting started). Just walk into any farmers' market and you'll know that we're still in the thick of warm weather. Stone fruits abound and the "last ____ of the season!" signs are still nowhere to be seen. Rachel of sweet tarte chose this week's Tuesdays With Dorie recipe and I have to admit, I love it when the recipes chosen are absolutely befitting the season, as was the case this week. I just so happened to have a couple rapidly ripening peaches on hand and into Dorie's Crunchy and Custardy Peach Tart they went.

It's been a hectic time, still, and the crust was a godsend. Without having to wait for the dough to chill, the almond-flour crust was simply patted into the tart pan and frozen overnight. In the morning, I didn't have to get out the designated pie weight beans and just popped it into the preheated oven for a partial bake. The next day, my super-ripe peaches were fanned into the crust, a custard quickly assembled and coaxed in between fruit segments and the pan was returned to the oven until the filling set, with a light shower of almondy streusel midway through the bake time.

Although the streusel didn't stay remain crisp throughout the day, the almonds were still a welcome textural contrast to the soft peach and custard. The seasonality of the fruit really shone through as each bite was remarkably sweet with the natural sugar of the peach and not from the addition of refined sugar. The custard was a perfect complement to the roasted drupe, and also the crumbliness of the nut-blend crust. The crust was buttery and caramely and would make such a delicious cookie on its own, but all of the components just enhanced its partners. Any stone fruit and even pears or figs would perform wonderfully against the same custard and crust, so in a few weeks time, I'll be excited to showcase their splendors against the same base. This is the new chameleon of the kitchen.

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!

...by any other name...

I am a faulted human being, but if nothing else, I try to be a woman of my word. Albeit, I have my slip-ups too, but more often than not, if I commit to something, I'll make it happen. Whether I'm having dinner with a friend but dead tired, or being dragged to an event that I have even less desire to attend than when I first reluctantly said I would, if I said, "Yes", you can trust that I'll come through.

Last week, when Teanna of Spork and Foon tweeted an apology to all the Tuesdays With Dorie bakers for this week's choice of Mrs. Vogel's Scherben, I immediately decided I would definitely participate and responded so. There it was. Written in stone.

And then I found out it required deep-frying.

My heart sank. I have avoided deep-frying for as long as I have been cooking. Even if the recipe sounds like heaven realized, I will mentally drool about it and then file it away until...never. That Ad Hoc fried chicken recipe that I've dreamed of having ever since I heard about their Fried Chicken Mondays nearly two years ago -- that will never be made. Taiwanese breakfast crullers that are a crazy weakness of mine -- I'll have to keep driving to the San Gabriel Valley for them, because they're sure as hell not going to be fried up in my home! I've imagined oil sputtering all over the place, getting multiple burns, and then having to dispose that glut of oil!! Not excited.

But, like I said, it was written in stone, so I sucked up all my qualms and started making the dough. The preparation is terribly simple and uses only one bowl!! (That little detail almost made up for the deep-frying.) This morning, I heated up the canola oil as instructed and dropped in the strips of dough. Amazingly, this recipe is not only simple to assemble, but cooks so quickly as well! The strips emerged in every which shape, but that was to be expected and soon, the job was done.

The scherben were a hit in the office, but it wasn't received as such. To my Guatemalan right-hand man, they were corbatas -- a taste of his youth and the reason behind a wistful, adolescent grin. To my Armenian co-worker who spent several years of her childhood in Italy, they were chiacchiere. It brought back memories of her mother in the kitchen, warm pastry puffs at the ready week after week. Though traditionally, both confections incorporate different ingredients in their composition than these scherben, the scherben were close enough to their recollections that making them was worth even oil-disposal inconvenience.

Aside from the frying smell permeating through the kitchen and living room and uncertainty in how I would get rid of the used oil, the process was incredibly painless. I can't believe I have avoided frying for so long! I'm not in any hurry to fire up another pot of canola oil, but suddenly, those recipes that I've filed away for "never" have been re-filed for "sometime".