{DBC} blueberry-lemon scones

I have to admit, I was rather pleased when I read this month's Daring Baker's Challenge recipe. Pleased and also amused, given my anglophilic tendencies as of late, most notably with the release of series 2 of BBC's incredible Sherlock.

[Of which I have gushed about more than enough in all manners of communication possible to a moderately technologically-inclined college student, so I will say nothing here. Except that it remains the best television series ever produced.]

It is not actually the 27th at the moment; in fact, it's the 22nd, but I'm amidst a rather lazy Sunday morning and so decided to take a break from Douglas Adams with a bit of blogging.

As it were, I'm sitting at my desk with headphones humming Rossini and a mug of steaming hot chocolate [a cup of milk heated with a tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, a few bittersweet chocolate chips, a splash of cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon, and a pinch of chili powder if I'm feeling particularly daring (which, today, I was not)], watching the first snow of 2012 drifting unassumingly onto car roofs and tree branches, and the whole image is picturesque in a wonderfully pretentious way. But I figure a bit of faux-class on a Sunday morning after a first week of classes was forgivable.

Well, first week for most - one day for me. I've lucked out somewhat this term with my schedule, which leaves me with Wednesdays and Fridays off from class. Had I not had a part-time job [which fills my vacant week days], it would be a dream. But given my habit of spending all of my free time on Amazon.com and fiendish bargain-hunting for clothes online, I'll keep the job. Nevertheless, it's not going to be as lax of a semester as I'd have liked, what with a full load of philosophy seminars and history courses in Spanish [and a course in financial mathematics which I am choosing to pretend does not actually exist]. So I've been trying to fit in as much Hitchhiker's Guide as possible before Avicenna, Aristotle, and Nagel become my literary constants.


It had been going somewhat well until I became distracted by Tina Fey's Bossypants.

Blueberry-Lemon Buttermilk Scones
Adapted from the January 2012 Daring Baker's Challenge
Recipe yields 8-12 scones, depending on the size.

For the scones, you'll need:

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 heaping tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 tbsp sugar
• 1/2 tsp lemon zest
• 8 tbsp butter, cold and cut into cubes
• 1/2 cup buttermilk
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 1 tbsp lemon juice
• 1 cup blueberries, either fresh or frozen

For the lemon glaze, you'll need:

• 3/4 cup confectioner's sugar, sifted
• 2 tbsp lemon juice

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Farhenheit and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, sugar, and lemon zest and mix thoroughly. Cut in butter with a pastry cutter or your hands [or do the entire thing in an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment] until crumbly.

In another small bowl, mix milk, buttermilk, and lemon juice until uniform. Make a well in the center of the flour mixture. Slowly pour about three-quarters of the milk mixture in the well, and knead the dough. If the dough is too try, add more of the milk. You may not need to use all of the liquid. Once dough is at the proper texture [it should come together, but should not be too sticky], gently add in the blueberries.

Using your hands, roll out biscuit-sized balls of dough and place on the baking sheet, three inches apart. Bake for 10-12 minutes, until tops are golden-brown. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 mins before transferring to a serving plate.

To prepare the glaze, stir confectioner's sugar and lemon juice until the mixture is smooth. The consistency should be thin, but not watery. Add more confectioner's sugar or lemon juice as necessary. Pour the glaze on top of the warm scones and serve immediately.

The DBC recipe as given was for plain scones/biscuits, but I altered the recipe to allow for buttermilk, lemon, and blueberries, and this is the recipe that I've typed up. The texture of these is unbelievable, and the glaze is such an amazing touch. It helps that I am absolutely enamored with scones - they are, in fact, carbohydrates in their most transcendental form - and so I had quite a lot of fun coming up with, what I hoped would be, a fantastic flavor combination. I also did a buttermilk version of my oatmeal-raisin scones from a few months ago, which we ate with a spread of cherry preserves.

The scones were made yesterday afternoon with the help of my darlings Matt and Kyana, who had come to our apartment for an afternoon of Sherlock series 2, which Matt had not seen in its entirety. It was all very posh and adorable, gathered around the coffee table with a basket of scones, an assortment of teas, some quality conversation and theorizing about Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson's incredible scripts, and Benedict Cumberbatch's unbelievably provocative voice serenading us with superhuman deductions.

[Did I say I was going to shut up about Sherlock? I should also have mentioned that I am an enormous hypocrite.]

If all goes as planned, the weekend of the 27th should be spent with my darling Nitya, who has graciously decided to make the long trek up to our apartment. I anticipate lots of baking and good food. Perhaps some quality television, even a trek downtown for used books. But the food is a given.

It's been a very fine start to 2012, I have to say.

{DBC} sans rival

I feel like it's been months since I've done a DBC. Which is, well, true, since I've missed the last two. I just did not have the copious amounts of time necessary to spend baking croissants and breads.

Not that November has been any less busy, but now that papers, end-of-term assignments, and thesis proposals are established and underway, a large part of my mind has been freed up for things totally unrelated to academics.

[Things aside from BBC television, anyway, which, as it were, I've finished all of save for Merlin, and even then weekly airings keep me from spending hours upon hours in front of the TV.  I've even had time to read actual literature and finally got around to finishing The Things They Carried (a four-year long endeavor, not because my capabilities of reading a 200-page novel are deficient, but because I've never just sat down and read it all the way through), which is a feat in and of itself and quite possibly my biggest intellectual accomplishment of the semester. Some might say I lead a sad existence. They would probably be right.]

But I saw this month's challenge and knew I had to participate. Not only was it something that didn't have yeast or gelatin in it, but was something I could finish up in one afternoon and looked gorgeous to boot.

Filipino Sans Rival, originally a French dessert comprised of layers of dacquoise and a rich buttercream frosting. Admittedly, Tommy and my version is pretty much the farthest thing from the traditional as you can get while still cheating your way by calling it a "Sans Rival," but it made for a really delicious dessert.

I'll give you the recipe for ours, but if you want to go the traditional route, omit the cocoa in the cake and chocolate in the buttercream, and use cashews instead of almonds.

Baking and Super Smash Bros seems to be the established norm whenever Tommy comes over for DBC. It makes we wish DBCs were a weekly occurrence, if it wouldn't mean that I would probably end up having to drop out of university.

Filipino "Sans Rival"
Adapted from the November Daring Baker's Challenge

For the dacquoise, you'll need:

• 10 egg whites, at room temperature
• 1 tsp cream of tartar
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup cocoa powder
• 2 cups almonds, finely ground

For the French buttercream, you'll need:

• 5 egg yolks, at room temperature
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup water
• 2 1/2 sticks [20 tbsp] butter, softened and cut into cubes
• 2 oz bittersweet chocolate, melted

To prepare the cake:
Preheat oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit and grease and flour four 9-inch pans (or two 9-inch pans, keeping in mind that you'll have to bake an additional two batches). Make sure you grease and flour them very well, as the dacquoise becomes quite sticky. Set aside.

In a clean and dry stainless steel bowl, whisk the egg whites on high speed until frothy, about two minutes. Sprinkle with cream of tartar. Gradually add sugar and cocoa powder, a couple of tablespoons at a time, until stiff peaks form, 7-10 minutes. Fold in 1 3/4 cups of the ground almonds, reserving about 1/4 cup to garnish. Divide the batter equally among the four pans (or divide half of the batter equally among the two pans, reserving the other half of the batter for when the first two cakes are done). Bake for 25-30 minutes, until set. Now is a good time to make the buttercream. Once cakes are down, allow the them to cool for a couple of minutes in the pan, but then overturn quite soon onto cooling racks.


To prepare the frosting:
Whisk the egg yolks on high speed in a large bowl until they've turned a pale yellow and have doubled in volume. In a medium saucepan, whisk the water and sugar over medium flame until a syrup has formed. The sugar should be a very pale amber color, but make sure to remove from the heat before it caramelizes. With the whisk still running on high speed, very carefully pour the syrup down the sides of the bowl. Continue beating on high until the mixture comes to room temperature, about 15 minutes. Still on high speed, add butter, one tablespoon at a time, until fully incorporated. Add in melted chocolate and whisk for another 30-60 minutes, until uniform. Refrigerate the buttercream for at least one hour before using, and whip it smooth before frosting.


To assemble the cake:
Place one layer of dacquoise on a serving plate. Frost the top with about 2 heaping tablespoons of the buttercream. Place a second layer on top and frost. Repeat with the remaining two layers. Using the remaining buttercream, frost the top and sides of the cake. Press the reserved ground almonds along the sides or top of the cake. Garnish with whole almonds, if desired.

I very much loved the look of this cake. Images flashed before my eyes bringing back memories, visions of small patisseries in Italy, with layers of homemade cakes piled high with thick, creamy frostings, imperfect in their presentation but beautiful in their simplicity, rustic in a very comforting, understated way.

Those are always the cakes that taste the best, after all.

I myself am not partial to meringue, for the most part, and really detest buttercream frostings, so I didn't have very high expectations for this cake. Not that I doubted it would be tasty; rather, I didn't expect to like it as much as Tommy or Noosh might. I was gravely [fortunately?] mistaken, and really just had to drive the thing over to Shea to give to Matt for fear that I would spend the rest of the afternoon and evening with my head in the fridge, cutting slices and eating them with a fork straight off of the serving plate.

It was tantalizingly good.

In fact, I so loved the soft, chewiness of the dacqouise that it was the inspiration for one of my Thanksgiving desserts [and a huge hit with the fam, so clearly dacquoise is the ticket].


And now, another month is gone, and there's only December standing between me and 2012. It's the point in the semester where I'm so, dangerously close to being done that making myself study for finals and finish up term papers is actually physically painful.

I just want to be home, snuggled up under covers, finishing up Assassins Creed: Revelations, and eating enough home-cooked meals to rival a bear preparing for hibernation. Is that too much to ask?

{DBC} truffles & bark

Chocolate remind me of Halloween. Images of brightly-colored Reeses's cups, funsized Three Musketeers, sacred Hershey's bars wrapped in familiar cocoa packaging, solid letters branding the front like book covers. Cold nights, vibrant costumes, kids laughing, screaming, "trick-or-treats" happily filling cul-de-sacs and windy neighborhood roads. Most of all, I remember Pikachu ears flapping against the top of my skull, one small hand clutching onto the familiar crooked tail, the other the handle of a flimsy, highlighter-orange plastic bag molded shamelessly into the face of a Jack-o-Lantern, all but bursting with excitement from the thought of sitting on the living room floor and sifting through the night's haul for the best finds [anything unwanted would go to Yusra, of course]. This was when I was about 7.

Chocolate reminds me of plane rides. When Yusra and I were much younger and utilized our immaturity to be as unimaginably figety and difficult as possible on long rides, mom would pacify us with treats of Toblerone. I was always fascinated by the shape of the thing, plucking of triangle after triangle, one by one, and savoring the taste as the chocolate melted in my mouth. Though it served as a distraction for only about half an hour before the sweet inevitably disappeared in our stomachs, the distraction gave my mom a good thirty minutes of peace. A small piece of heaven in a 14-hour flight, but heaven nevertheless. It wasn't until just a few years ago, admittedly, that I realized it was possible to purchase the stuff outside of the realm of Duty-Free shops and airport stalls, but the craving doesn't strike unless I know I'll be strapped into a too-small, too-cramped plane seat later. The first time I had it, I was probably 9, but I can't lie and say that I didn't pop into the Duty-Free while in Madrid earlier this summer for a quick fix before heading home.

Chocolate reminds me of family trips. My father loves driving for hours down long roads, through the mountains, across states. Whenever we used to visit Canada or NYC or Florida, we would drive. Taking a plane didn't seem to make sense for such a short ride; planes were for oceans, not roads. I never minded, though; losing oneself after the first few hours with nothing but one's own thoughts and the constant view of trees, mountains, small towns, and cloudy skies passing by. Cathartic, almost like an out-of-body experience. Dad wasn't one to stop to grab snacks, since he doesn't eat much anyway, but mom always made sure to pack a few Twix bars in her bag for him to munch on when sleepiness struck. Always Twix. Eventually, it became routine, just as constant as the trees, mountains, small towns, and cloudy skies. Though there's little time for family trips now, I'll sometimes reach into my bag when driving back to my apartment, expecting to find a Twix bar waiting.

Chocolate reminds me of a summer in Italy. Hiking through stone roads, surrounded by old Baroque architecture to the hilltops of Ragusa cities, seeking refuge from the glaring heat in cafes. Cups upon cups of gelato, in every flavor imaginable, from tiramisu to cioccolate negro to stracciatella. Most of all, I long for the taste of Modica chocolate, which must be the most exquisite chocolate I've ever eaten, grainy with its lack of cocoa butter, intense flavor bursting straight from the cacao beans, infused with lavendar, vanilla, chilli pepper. The taste stll lingers somewhere deep in my mind, but far enough away that I know I'll have to return to Modica to get it back.

Needless to say, I love chocolate. And so when this month's Daring Baker's Challenge turned out to be chocolate candy, I was more than thrilled. Tommy and I plotted for a while about how we would approach the challenge [we had to select two types of candies to make, one in the realm of bonbons and truffles and the  other, either chocolate or non-chocolate, of our choice].

White Chocolate Coconut-Pecan Truffles

You'll need:

• 1 3/4 cups [9 oz] white chocolate chips
• 1/4 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup ground pecans
• 2/3 cup toasted shredded coconut

Finely chop or grate the chocolate and place it in a heatproof bowl.  In a medium-sized saucepan over medium flame, heat cream until just about to boil. Quickly remove the cream and pour it over the chocolate. Stir the chocolate until it's smooth and melted. Add in the ground pecans and toasted coconut [if desired, reserve some of each for rolling later] and stir until uniform. Cover the top of the bowl loosely with clingwrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, until firm.

To roll the chocolate, scoop tablespoon-sized balls of chocolate with a spoon or melon scooper. Roll the chocolate in your palms to smooth the edges. Dip the chocolate in the reserved coconut flakes or pecans, if desired. Set chocolate balls on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and return to the fridge to chill completely. Once set, chocolate can be stored at room temperature in an airtight container.


Bittersweet Chocolate Bark

You'll need:

• 2 cups [12 oz] bittersweet chocolate
• toppings of choice; suggested:
• dried cherries, prunes, or raisins
• pretzels
• toffee bits
• butterscotch or peanut butter chips
• toasted pecans, walnuts, hazelnuts, cashews, chopped
• crushed coffee beans

Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. In a medium-sized saucepan over medium flame, heat chocolate until smooth and melted. Remove chocolate from the heat and pour onto the parchment paper. Smooth evenly with a knife. Sprinkle desired toppings evenly over the melted chocolate. Refrigerate chocolate until set, 2-3 hours. Either break or cut into pieces. Store at room temperature in an airtight container.

Bark jumped out at me immediately, because of the beautiful simplicity and almost guaranteed deliciousness of the stuff, but the other was trickier. In the end, though, truffles won out. They always make me think of Stockholm fashions, Parisian autumns, and Swiss train rides. Like enjoying chocolate in childlike innocence and bliss, behind a mask of elegance and an air of being grown-up. Almost sinful in its deception, but delicious enough not to matter in the least.

In other words, upon contemplation, it was a no-brainer as our second choice.

Like bark, I love truffles for their diversity. There is an endless combination of flavors that one can utilize with truffles, but for some reason, the combination of white chocolate [which I'm normally rather opposed to because I think it tastes like plastic coated in artifical sugar], toasted coconut, and pecans jumped out at me. I suggested it to Tommy, who was absolutely for the idea, and so he walked over after I got home from work [he now lives in the apartment complex right behind mine, which means that weight gain from baking dates seems inevitable] and we got to cooking.

 

We were quite pleased to find that these desserts are effortlessly simple and extremely quick to prepare; probably no more than 20 minutes were spent prepping the candy, and the bulk of our time was spent watching the second episode of Sherlock [we figure that it'll be during the September challenge that Tommy finishes up the series] while waiting for the candy to set. And then, of course, taste-testing the end results, which were mouthwateringly good.

But I expected little else. It is chocolate, after all. And after a lifetime of delicious memories, it wasn't about to fail me.

{DBC} frasiers and [im]perfectionism

Time flies by far too quickly for my liking. Individual days seem to drag on forever, but weeks vanish in the blink of an eye.

Disconcerting. Somewhat.

The moral of the story is that I'm not looking forward to having to be a real person. I'm very much enjoying student life, and not so much the thought of applying for internships. And jobs. And financial insecurity. And bills. And no longer having free time to watch inordinate amounts of Sherlock, Doctor Who, and others in what my Netflix profile has dubbed "Suspenseful British TV Shows".

Daring Bakers' Challenges, fun and exciting as they are, are more or less constant reminders of this rather unfavorable phenomenon. I feel like as soon as I submit one, I'm already writing up a post for the next. Only 12 challenges in a year, and we've finished seven. Frightening!

But I digress. I'll not be depressing.

I like to imagine that this is endearing in a 4-year-old-attempting-to-do-something-overly-sophisticated kind of way. Like long-division.

Though, I was pretty bummed to have missed last month's challenge - baklava - because it was so unexpectedly exciting. This month we've returned to the land of custard-like layered desserts with frasiers. I, of course, don't mind the custard; in fact, I adore custards.

It's more the layering bit that irks me.

Not that it's not pretty. Or scrumptious.

Just that I'm not very good at it.

And my perfectionist tendencies instill in me a feeling of self-loathing every time I unravel them.

Practice makes perfect!

[I just...need to practice...]

Fraisiers are lovely little French desserts [they would be] consisting of sponge cakes layered with custard and sliced fruit, topped with almond paste.

Delicious, in other words.

I had Tommy over to help me out, as per always, and we had a phenomenal time. He actually came over two consecutive evenings, since the dessert requires a bit of refrigeration and we both work full-time, so we spent one prepping the cake and custard and the second layering, cooking dinner, and eating while chatting over A Study in Pink [my plan is for this obsession of mine to permeate into everyone else's life, like a hugely entertaining breed of mold (also less horrifying than this poor analogy would suggest)].

As for the recipe, I'll just copy and paste. It is pretty long and elaborate, and doing absolutely nothing mentally stimulating for the past 4 weeks has left me rather lazy.

Frasiers
Adapted from the Daring Bakers' July Challenge

Basic Chiffon Cake:

Ingredients:

• 1 cup + 2 tablespoons (270 ml) (5½ oz/155 gm) all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon (5 ml) (4 gm) baking powder
• 3/4 cups (180 ml) (6 oz /170 gm) sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon (2½ ml) (1½ gm) salt, preferably kosher
• 1/4 cup (2 fl oz/60 ml) vegetable oil
• 3 large egg yolks
• ⅓ cup + 1 tablespoon (3.17 fl oz/95 ml) water
• 1 teaspoon (5 ml) pure vanilla extract
• 3/4 teaspoon (3¾ ml) (3 gm) lemon zest, grated
• 5 large egg whites
• ¼ teaspoon (1¼ ml) (1 gm) cream of tartar

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to moderate 325°F (160°C/gas mark 3).
2. Line the bottom of an 8-inch (20 cm) spring form pan with parchment paper. Do not grease the sides of the pan.
3. In a large mixing bowl, stir together the flour and baking powder. Add in all but 3 tablespoons (45 ml.) of sugar, and all of the salt. Stir to combine.
4. In a small bowl combine the oil, egg yolks, water, vanilla and lemon zest. Whisk thoroughly.
5. Combine with the dry ingredients and mix thoroughly for about one minute, or until very smooth.
6. Put the egg whites into a stand mixer, and beat on medium speed using a whisk attachment on a medium speed, until frothy. Add cream of tartar and beat on a medium speed until the whites hold soft peaks. Slowly add the remaining sugar and beat on a medium-high speed until the whites hold firm and form shiny peaks.
7. Using a grease free rubber spatula, scoop about ⅓ of the whites into the yolk mixture and fold in gently. Gently fold in the remaining whites just until combined.
8. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 45 to 55 minutes or until toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.
9. Removed the cake from the oven and allow to cool in the pan on a wire rack.
10. To unmold, run a knife around the sides to loosen the cake from the pan and remove the spring form sides. Invert the cake and peel off the parchment paper. Refrigerate for up to four days.

Pastry Cream Filling:

Ingredients:

• 1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) whole milk
• 1/2 teaspoon (2½ ml) pure vanilla extract
• 1/8 teaspoon (1/2 ml) (¼ gm) salt, preferably kosher
• 2 tablespoons (30 ml) (10 gm)cornstarch
• 1/4 cup (60 ml) (2 oz/55 gm) sugar
• 1 large egg
• 2 tablespoons (30 ml) (1 oz/30 gm) unsalted butter
• 3/4 teaspoon (3¾ ml) (4 gm) gelatin
• 1/2 tablespoon (7½ ml) water
• 1 cup (8 fl oz/250 ml) heavy cream

Directions:

1. Pour the milk, vanilla, and salt into a heavy sauce pan. Place over medium-high heat and scald, bringing it to a near boiling point. Stir occasionally.
2. Meanwhile, in a stand mixer add the cornstarch and sugar. Whisk to combine
3. Add the eggs to the sugar and cornstarch and whisk until smooth.
4. When the milk is ready, gently and slowly while the stand mixer is whisking, pour the heated milk down the side of the bowl into the egg mixture.
5. Pour the mixture back into the warm pot and continue to cook over a medium heat until the custard is thick, just about to boil and coats the back of a spoon.
6. Remove from heat and pass through a fine mesh sieve into a large mixing bowl. Allow to cool for ten minutes stirring occasionally.
7. Cut the butter into four pieces and whisk into the pastry cream a piece at a time until smooth.
8. Cover the cream with plastic wrap, pressing the plastic wrap onto the top of the cream to prevent a skin from forming. Chill in the refrigerator for up to five days.
9. In a small dish, sprinkle the gelatin over the water and let stand for a few minutes to soften.
10. Put two inches (55 mm) of water into a small sauce pan and bring to a simmer over a medium heat.
11. Measure 1/4 cup (2 oz/60 ml) of the chilled pastry cream into a small stainless steel bowl that will sit across the sauce pan with the simmering water, without touching the water.
12. Heat the cream until it is 120 F (48.8 C). Add the gelatin and whisk until smooth. Remove from the water bath, and whisk the remaining cold pastry cream in to incorporate in two batches.
13. In a stand mixer, fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the cream until it holds medium-stiff peaks. Immediately fold the whipped cream into the pastry cream with a rubber spatula.

Simple Syrup:

You may choose to flavor the syrup. One way is to use flavored sugar (for example: apple cider sugar, orange sugar, or vanilla sugar) or to stir in 1-2 teaspoons of flavored extract. You may also infuse with herbs or spices, if desired or add four tablespoons (60 ml) of fruit juice or liqueur while the syrup is cooling.

Ingredients:

• 1/3 cup (2⅔ fl oz/80 ml) (2⅔ oz/75 gm) of sugar, flavored or white
• 1/3 cup (2⅔ fl oz/80 ml) of water

Directions:

1. Combine the water and sugar in a medium saucepan.
2. Bring the mixture to a boil and let the sugar dissolve. Stirring is not necessary, but will not harm the syrup.
3. Remove the syrup from the heat and cool slightly.
4. Transfer syrup to a lidded container or jar that can be stored in the refrigerator. Simple syrup can be stored for up to one month.

Fraisier Assembly:

Components:

• 1 baked 8 inch (20 cm) chiffon cake
• 1 recipe pastry cream filling
• ⅓ cup (80 ml) simple syrup or flavored syrup
• 2 lbs (900 g) strawberries
• confectioners’ sugar for dusting
• ½ cup (120 ml) (5 oz/140 gm) almond paste

Directions:

1. Line the sides of a 8-inch (20 cm) spring form pan with plastic wrap. Do not line the bottom of the pan.
2. Cut the cake in half horizontally to form two layers.
3. Fit the bottom layer into the prepared spring form pan. Moisten the layer evenly with the simple syrup. When the cake has absorbed enough syrup to resemble a squishy sponge, you have enough.
4. Hull and slice in half enough strawberries to arrange around the sides of the cake pan. Place the cut side of the strawberry against the sides of the pan, point side up forming a ring.
5. Pipe cream in-between strawberries and a thin layer across the top of the cake.
6. Hull and quarter your remaining strawberries and place them in the middle of the cake. Cover the strawberries and entirely with the all but 1 tbsp. (15 ml) of the pastry cream.
7. Place the second cake layer on top and moisten with the simple syrup.
8. Lightly dust a work surface with confectioners' sugar and roll out the almond paste to a 10-inch (25 cm) round 1/16 inch (1.5 mm) thick. Spread the remaining 1 tablespoon (15 ml) of pastry cream on the top of the cake and cover with the round of almond paste.
9. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours.
10. To serve release the sides of the spring form pan and peel away the plastic wrap.
11. Serve immediately or store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Despite the aesthetic imperfections, it was mouthwateringly good.

And now I'm determined to master the art of layered desserts.

...Eventually.

In other news, Friday is my last day interning. Bittersweet goodbyes.

I'm also out of food, again. Deciding whether or not laziness will outweigh my need for dinner. Raw cookie dough is always an option. And tomatoes. It's a wonder I'm still alive.

{DBC} marquise on meringue

It's not actually the 27th quite yet; in fact, it's only the 16th. But since I won't be in the country then, this month's DBC was completed ahead of time, and I've written up this post early to submit on the 27th [Valencia time].

Moving on, I visited Tommy earlier today for our monthly DBC bake-date, and had a lovely time creating this month's challenge: chocolate marquise on meringue.

Chocolate marquise is a French dessert akin to a souffle, though much more dense, consisting of whipped cream folded with egg yolks and a chocolate base sauce. The challenge for this month was to create a marquise and serve it atop torched meringue, and to offset some of the sweetness of the meringue and richness of the chocolate marquise, Tommy and I opted for a mixed berry compote.

[This is one of those desserts for which you'll have to undo the top button of your jeans.]

The actual challenge recipe seems somewhat daunting, since there are so many parts to it, but it's pretty simple over all. I'll give you the recipes for the marquise and the meringue [both of which are a quarter of the full quantity], and as for sauces, you can use any you'd like. The given sauce was a tequila caramel sauce, but I thought caramel might have been too heavy. So instead, we went with a mixed berry compote. Tommy had also suggested white chocolate sauce, and fudge or any other sort of berry sauce would work just as well. It's your prerogative.

Chocolate Marquise on Meringue
Adapted from the May Daring Baker's Challenge
Yields 6 2x2-inch cubes

 For the chocolate base, you'll need:

• 3 oz bittersweet chocolate (about 70% cocoa)
• 1/3 cup plus 2 tsp heavy cream
• 1/8 tsp salt
• 1/4 tsp cayenne
• 1 tbsp agave syrup
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 tbsp Dutch-processed cocoa powder
• dash freshly ground black pepper
• 1/2 tbsp butter, softened

For the chocolate marquise, you'll need:

• 3 large egg yolks
• 1 large egg
• 2 tbsp plus 2 tsp sugar
• 1 tbsp plus 1 tsp water
• chocolate base, barely warm
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1/2 cup Dutch-processed cocoa powder

For the meringue, you'll need:

• 3 large egg whites
• 1/2 cup minus 1 tbsp sugar
• 1/4 tsp vanilla
• pinch of cream of tartar

To prepare the chocolate base:
Heat whipping cream and chocolate in a microwave-safe bowl for 30 seconds. Remove and stir the chocolate until it melts. If need be, heat for an additional 10 seconds, but be careful not to over heat. Stir in remaining ingredients and set aside.



To prepare the chocolate marquise:
Line a small loaf pan with parchment paper and set aside. Beat egg yolks and egg on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, 10-15 minutes. When the eggs are getting close to finishing, make a sugar syrup by combining the sugar and water in a small saucepan. Bring the syrup to a boil, and then reduce heat and cook for an additional 45-60 seconds. Lower the mixer speed and quickly pour the sugar syrup into the eggs. Increase mixer speed to high and beat until the bowl is cool to the touch, at least 8-10 minutes. Lower the speed to medium, and pour the cooled chocolate base into the egg mixture and mix until just combined, about 1 minute.

Meanwhile, whip the heavy cream until soft peaks form. Fold 1/3 of the whipped cream into the chocolate mixture to lighten the batter, and then fold in the remaining cream, being careful not to deflate the mixture. Pour the marquise into the prepared pan and cover the top [directly touching the marquise] with plastic wrap, making sure that no air bubbles are trapped underneath. Put in the freezer and chill for 3-4 hours [if possible, 6-8 is ideal], until marquise is firm.



To prepare the meringue [do this when ready to plate]:
Preheat the broiler in your oven. Beat egg whites, sugar, and vanilla on high speed until soft peaks form, 5-7 minutes. Add in cream of tartar and beat until stiff peaks form. Gently scoop a generous amount of meringue onto a heat-proof plate. Stick the plate under the broiler, watching it carefully, until the top of the meringue turns a golden brown. This will happen very quickly, so it's important to keep a close eye on the meringue. Remove from the broiler and allow the meringue to cool for at least 5 minutes.



To assemble the marquise on meringue:
When ready to plate, remove the marquise from the freezer. While it's still hard, remove it from the pan by pulling on the parchment 'handles' or by flipping it over onto another piece of parchment.

Cut it into cubes and allow the cubes to sit in the fridge to thaw slowly, about 10 minutes. Once softened, roll the cubes in the cocoa powder. These will start to melt almost immediately, so make sure the plated meringue is on hand. Arrange the marquise on top of the meringue [but handle as little as possible, as these can get very messy] and drizzle with sauce or compote. Place the plated marquise in the fridge and wait until they've softened completely before serving.

In all honesty, the quartered recipe only called for 1/16 tsp of cayenne pepper, but Tommy accidentally added 1/4 tsp [following the original quantity]. Needless to say, I loved the extra heat in the chocolate, so I've kept the 1/4 tsp measurement. But if you're more sensitive to heat, then by all means reduce the quantity. I wouldn't suggest omitting it completely, because it gives the marquise a very intriguing depth of flavor that is far too unique to forgo. We also broiled the meringue rather than torching it, because (1) we didn't have a blowtorch on hand, and (2) we wanted to give the meringue a more even tan. It worked out just as well.

Ours also turned out somewhat messier than it should have...because we waited approximately 2 hours for the marquise to freeze instead of the minimum 3. In future, if I prepare this, I will probably allow it to freeze for the full 8 hours simply for ease of cutting and handling. But the 2 were more than enough for us, and it was still amazingly decadent.

As for next month's challenge...there is almost a guarantee that I will not be participating. However, I promised Tommy I would send him the challenge if he's interested in whatever is selected for June. If he likes it, he has offered to prepare it, in which case I'll update with the challenge post on the 27th and give all credit to him for participating for me.

And as long as it's not something I've been dying to make, I think I can handle a month without baking.

It might even be a welcome break.

[I anticipate suffering withdrawal symptoms two weeks from now.]

{DBC} maple mousse-filled almond cupcakes with cream cheese frosting

I am not the biggest fan of splatter films. Mainly because of the unnecessary amount of disturbing gore.

Do I care how many ways the directors of Resident Evil can hack and slash away at their poor, defenseless protagonists?

Do I really want to sit down and agree to watch a marathon of Scream films on my own volition?

Does it interest me how many of my irrational fears Saw is able to play on and give me nightmares for days?

Not in the least.

Ironic, given how much Assassin's Creed I've played this semester, but that's besides the point.

So you can imagine my unwillingness to watch Zombieland back when it had just been released. You can also imagine how persuasive my cousins and sister can be.


Truth be told, despite the gore, it was a sweet movie. Bizarrely profound, too, for a zombie flick.

Rule #32: Enjoy the little things.

Now, I'm not really one for proverbs, particularly cheesy ones that appear in pop culture as a sad excuse for contemporary philosophy. But I'm also a cheesy person, at heart, and some of them strike in me a chord that resonates more than it probably should.

But I loved that line.

Loved it for its simplicity, its accuracy, its innocent optimism.

Loved it for the juxtaposition of a group of nondescript individuals trying to survive in a world falling apart around them, with sheer determination and will to survive solely in order to finally enjoy a Twinkie.



...I could do without the Twinkie, but the sentiment remains the same.

It has been a long month, to be honest. I've been ready for it to be over since week one. It just felt like swimming in an endless sea of work, papers, studying, stress, with no lifeboat in sight to guide me back to shore. But upon reflection, it wasn't bad at all. Heard some phenomenal news from a friend, visited a few other dear friends who I hadn't seen in months, strolled through grounds on quiet, breezy evenings, got a few new clients for henna, played an obscene amount of video games that would probably shame a college male, and baked.

Baked cupcakes, again, if you can believe. The April Daring Baker's Challenge was a maple mousse serve in an edible container. At first I thought, chocolate cups, of course. But chocolate and maple? Sugar overkill. So that idea was shot.

For a minute I was stressed out. Heart pounding, mind racing, eyes darting across cookbook pages to try to determine what on earth I could do instead. Bacon cups were definitely an option, and were actually recommended in the challenge recipe. But...expensive, since I would have purchased turkey bacon, and would have needed quite a lot of it.

And then it hit me: almond. I love almond and maple together. But I didn't want to make a nut crust out of almonds and almond flour, because I speculated that it wouldn't have held up well. So instead, I [with tons and tons of help from Tommy and Noosh, as always!] went with an almond cupcake, hollowed out some of the inside cake, piped it with maple mousse, topped with a neutral cream cheese frosting, and warm, crispy turkey bacon.

[Yes, I was skeptical at first too, with the bacon, but really? It's delicious. Just...delicious.]

Maple Mousse
Adapted from the April Daring Baker's Challenge

You'll need:

• 8 oz pure maple syrup
• 4 egg yolks
• 1 package [1 tbsp] unflavored gelatin
• 1 1/2 cups heavy whipping cream

In a medium saucepan over medium-high flame, bring maple syrup to a boil then remove from heat. In a separate bowl, whisk egg yolks. Pour in some of the hot maple syrup into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, to temper the eggs. Pour the egg yolks back into the saucepan and whisk thoroughly.

In a separate bowl, pour 1/4 cup of the heavy cream and sprinkle gelatin on top. Let sit for 5 minutes, then heat for 45 seconds in the microwave (in increments of 10-15 seconds) until gelatin dissolves completely. Whisk the gelatin mixture into the maple syrup mixture and set aside.

Whisk maple syrup mixture occasionally for an hour, or until the mixture has the consistency of an unbeaten raw egg white.

Whip the remaining heavy cream until stiff peaks form. Stir 1/4 of the whipped cream into the maple syrup to lighten the syrup. Fold in the remaining cream. Refrigerate for at least an hour to set.

Remove from fridge and divide mousse equally among serving dishes. Keep chilled until serving.

Almond Cupcakes with Cream Cheese Frosting
Adapted from Sugarplum Musings and Cathy's Kitchen Journey
Makes 24 cupcakes

For the cupcakes, you'll need:

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup almond flour
• 1 tbsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 3/4 cup [1 1/2 sticks] butter, at room temperature
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 tsps almond extract
• 1 cup milk
• 5 egg whites, at room temperature

For the cream cheese frosting, you'll need:

• 1 8-oz package of cream cheese, softened
• 1/2 stick butter, softened
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and line a cupcake pan with papers.

In a large bowl, beat butter on medium speed until fluffy. Gradually add in sugar, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Add in extracts. In a separate bowl, combine flour, almond flour, baking powder, and salt. Alternate adding the flour mixture and milk to the butter mixture, beginning and ending with flour. Mix until just combined. Set aside.

In a clean, dry, stainless steal bowl, whisk egg whites until stiff peak forms. Mix 1/3 of the egg whites into the cupcake batter, to lighten the batter. Gently fold in remaining egg whites.

Divide batter equally among cupcake papers, filling each paper about 3/4 of the way full. Bake for 20 minutes, until tops are golden brown. Let cool in pan for at least 10 minutes before removing.


To prepare the cream cheese frosting, beat cream cheese, butter, and vanilla on medium-high speed until fluffy. Reduce speed to low and add in confectioner's sugar. Mix until smooth, and refrigerate until using.


To assemble cupcakes, remove a small cone from the center of each cooled cupcake. Put the mousse inside of a piping bag or ziplock bag with a hole cut out of the corner. Pipe mousse into the cut-out centers of each cupcake, filling them generously. Frost with the cream cheese frosting. Serve immediately, or refrigerate until serving.

Yes, some months are longer than others, and yes, sometimes the stress feels like it'll never end, but if you only remember to enjoy the little things, it's never as bad as you think.

...I think finals are in a week.

{DBC} vanilla panna cotta with balsamic strawberry compote

...is it time to go to Spain yet?

[hello midterm season goodbye social life]

Another Daring Baker's Challenge! I can't believe it's already been a month since the last one. Admittedly, I was nervous about it, particularly since both this and the previous one lie in the realm of mousse-like custards, and I wasn't totally satisfied with the last one. This time, though, we're taking a trip to one of my favorite countries, Italia.

Panna cotta, originally from the northern region of Piemonte, is a custard-like dessert of milk, cream, sugar, and gelatin. When chilled, the gelatin causes the custard to set into the shape of whatever bowl it's poured into, and thus can be turned over onto a plate or served as is in the bowl. Often, panna cotta is eaten with berries, fruit coulis, or any sort of of dessert sauce.

Gah, just hearing the name makes me want to hop on a plane and go back to Italy.

For this month's DBC, we had to prepare a panna cotta of some sort with Florentine cookies [the recipe for which I will post up separately]. I decided to go with a classic vanilla panna cotta topped with a tart, balsamic strawberry compote. I prepared the panna cotta on Friday, allowed it to set in the refrigerator overnight, and had Tommy over [as always!] on Saturday to help with the compote and the Florentine cookies.

The panna cotta recipe given for the challenge used 3 parts heavy cream and 1 part whole milk, but I didn't have enough whole milk on hand so substituted with 1 part half and half. The given recipe also used a combination of honey and granulated sugar, but I wanted to cut the sweetness a bit so used only granulated sugar. It's a pretty versatile dish, though, so feel free to play around with it. Just make sure to keep the appropriate ratios in mind!

Vanilla Panna Cotta
Adapted from epicurious

You'll need:

• 1/4 cup cold water
• .25 oz [about 2.5 tsp] unflavored gelatin powder
• 2 cups whipping cream
• 1 cup half & half
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla

Pour 1/4 cup cold water into a small bowl. Sprinkle gelatin over top of water and let stand for about 15 minutes, until the gelatin softens. Heat water in the microwave in 15-second intervals until gelatin dissolves. Set aside.

Combine whipping cream and sugar in a medium saucepan over medium heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Remove pan from the heat and stir in vanilla and gelatin. Divide custard mixture into ramekins. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and chill until set, at least 6 hours and up to one day.

To unmold panna cotta, dip ramekin in a bowl of hot water for about 20 seconds. Invert ramekin onto a serving plate, gently shaking and tapping the sides of the ramekin to loosen the panna cotta. Top with desired sauce and serve immediately.
However, panna cotta can be served in ramekins without unmolding. Just top with desired sauce before serving.

Balsamic Strawberry Compote
Adapted from savory sweet life

You'll need:

• 1 pound [about 2 cups] chopped strawberries
• 2 tbsp sugar
• 1 1/2 tbsp balsamic vinegar

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, cook strawberries, sugar, and balsamic vinegar for about 10 minutes. The sauce is done when it can coat the back of a spoon. Remove from heat. Let cool to room temperature before pouring on the panna cotta.

we had a pretty epic feast this afternoon.

The consistency of the panna cotta is beautiful: silky smooth and bursting with vanilla flavor. The compote is also a delicious contrast; the acidity of the balsamic strawberries plays off the delicacy of the panna cotta well. I checked out some of the other bakers' desserts and they are absolutely stunning! Mine leave much to be desired in comparison, but the others have given me inspiration. Be sure to creep on tastespotting and foodgawker in the upcoming few days, as I'm sure each will be flooded with images of some gorgeous panna cotta.

In other news, a combination of watching Tangled for the fifth time and finishing ACII has left me in a very Italian mood. Not that the former really took place in Italy, but the kingdom dance always makes me feel as though I'm perusing Sicily. Plus, all the snippets of Italian [most often cursing, but nevertheless] in ACII has made me want to retake the language.

[The cursing is unrelated here. Sort of. I can't help it that cursing sounds so much more emphatic when it's done in Italian.]

Anyway, my point is, I need to get me on a plane to Italia ASAP.

Ciò che si mangia con gusto non fa mai male.