apple pie cheesecake bars [and holiday nights with old friends]

Cranberry-cinnamon tea. 

I arrived home yesterday evening to an empty house, parents both out and about and Yusra off with friends. I didn't expect anything different, really, and so took my suitcase and backpack upstairs to a room that's been vacant for weeks, freshly cleaned for my arrival. After gracelessly dropping my things haphazardly in the space next to my bedside table, I put my hands on my hips and looked around, letting the breeze wafting in through the half-open window chill my bare arms, still adjusting to the new house. A deep sigh, closing my eyes for just a moment to let everything sink in, breathing out the stresses from a semester of constant work, and then back downstairs for a glass of water and, perhaps, a piece of fruit.

And it was then that I noticed that almost every inch of counter space was covered in gift baskets and fruit bowls, obligatory gifts from drug reps and secretaries at my father's office. [It's Christmas season, after all.]

And then I grinned.


As mundane and predictable as most of them are, full to the brim with boxes of stale pretzels and commercially-cloned milk chocolate truffles, the odd basket or two is full of delightful surprises. A small bottle of olive oil, caramels wrapped in colorful foil [the ones that only seem to make an appearance this time of year and virtually disappear from existence for the remaining eleven months], a wheel of chevre, a tin of cranberry-cinnamon tea.

I horde all of these for myself, naturally, as the rest of my family is content with the chocolate and crackers [which, admittedly, I enjoy quite a lot as well] and have little interest in odd teas and cheeses. It's bizarre, but it's the little things from gift baskets that really solidify this time of year. The end of a semester. A break from academics. A time to spend the day away in pajamas and a sweatshirt, lounged upon the sofa with a book, iPod plugged into Aine Minogue and Dean Martin, perhaps a mug of cranberry-cinnamon tea at hand.

And occasionally, a Christmas party or two.

Matt's parents graciously invited me to their home this evening for a small party, which was in and of itself one of the most delicious events I have ever attended. There is never a shortage of incredible food whenever Matt's family is involved, particularly when smoked brisket, turkey and cranberry, and the most diverse selection of homemade cookies are at one's fingertips.

When I was first told of the party, I immediately jumped at the opportunity to bake something as a thank-you, to which Matt's parents happily accepted. And so, for days I pondered about what would be worthy enough for individuals which such impeccable taste, and eventually decided on these: apple pie cheesecake bars, which I dedicate utterly and unconditionally to Matt's incredible family.

Apple Pie Cheesecake Bars
Adapted from The Girl Who Ate Everything.
Makes 24-32 bars.

For the crust, you'll need:

• 2 cups flour
• 1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
• 2 sticks butter, softened and cut into cubes

For the cheesecake layer, you'll need:

• 3 8-oz packages cream cheese, softened
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 3 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla

For the apple layer, you'll need:

• 3 large apples, peeled, cored, and cut into small cubes [Grannysmith, Gala, and Golden Delicious are ideal, or any combination of the three]
• 2 tbsp sugar
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg, or a few pinches of freshly grated nutmeg

For the streusel topping, you'll need:

• 1 cup flour
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup rolled oats
• 1 stick butter, softened

For the caramel, you'll need:

• 3/4 cup sugar
• 3/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup heavy cream

To prepare the bars:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and line a 9x13-inch pan with aluminum foil. Grease the bottom and sides of the foil. In the bowl of a food processor, combine flour and brown sugar. Add in butter and pulse until dough has the consistency of bread crumbs. Pour dough onto bottom of the pan and press evenly. Bake for 15 minutes, until golden brown. Do not turn off the oven.

While the crust is baking, prepare the cheesecake layer by beating cream cheese and 1 cup sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, 3-5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, until incorporated, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. Add vanilla. Pour the cheesecake filling onto the baked crust, spreading evenly with a spatula.

Toss the apples, 2 tbsp sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg together in a bowl. Spoon the apples evenly over top of the cheesecake filling.

In a large bowl, combine the flour, brown sugar, and oats and mix until well-blended. Using a pastry cutter or your hand, mix the butter into the flour mixture until crumbly. Sprinkle the streusel evenly on top of the apples. Bake the bars for 40-45 minutes, until cheesecake is set. Let bars cool to room temperature, and then refrigerate for at least 2 hours.


To prepare the caramel: 
In a medium saucepan over medium flame, whisk together sugar and water. Allow syrup to come to a boil, and then reduce to a simmer until the syrup reaches an amber color, 7-12 minutes. Watch the syrup closely as it will quickly burn after it has started to color. Once syrup reaches the correct color, slowly pour in the heavy cream, whisking constantly while doing so. The syrup will sizzle and foam up spectacularly, but will calm down soon after. Remove saucepan from the heat and continue whisking until mixture has reached the consistency of smooth caramel. Let caramel cool 15-20 minutes before using on the bars.


Once dessert has refrigerated for at least 2 hours, slice them into bars and arrange on a serving tray. Right before serving, drizzle a generous amount of caramel on top of the bars.

There's really nothing pie-like about these, save that I made them with apples and it's currently autumn, but the name has a rather nice ring to it. Plus, with his face muffled in my shoulder in an enormous, snuggly hug, Matt mumbled that they tasted like apple pie wrapped in a cheesecake. The contented grin on his face when he pulled away and dove into his second bite was inspiration enough for the title.

Matt's mother was thrilled, Matt's father thought they were delicious, the other guests loved them, and my heart soared. More than anything, I wanted to give back a small bit of the kindness Matt and his family have shown me for over a decade.

Hopefully this was a little victory, but above all, a big thank you.

"Dining with one’s friends and beloved family is certainly one of life’s primal and most innocent delights, one that is both soul-satisfying and eternal"
Julia Child

caramel apple pie

I’m quite sure that pretty soon, my iPod will only have the ability to play the same 20-odd songs, as I’ve been listening to nothing but Cole Porter, Margaret Whiting, and Radical Face on loop for the past few weeks. Not that I would complain if this were to become reality soon, since the three are perfect to listen to while strolling outside under falling leaves and welcomed sunshine.

Yesterday was spent primarily with MattMatt, as the two of us rarely get to see each other one-on-one, and it was hugely pleasant. Pumpkin pancakes and peach cake for brunch at Tommy’s, as well seeing an old friend from high school who came down for the weekend. A spontaneous drive out to the downtown mall soon followed, which made for a lovely afternoon sipping coffees, browsing dusty bookshelves in used bookshops, and searching for the perfect menswear blazer at Urban Outfitters. Though I came home empty-handed in the department of androgynous outerwear, a purse heavy with new (used) books and some quality conversation in the living room with David Tennant staring us down with a raised eyebrow was more than enough.

Now my only wish is that I had enough time to just sit on piles of pillows and blankets and read the day away. And also that my apartment had a fireplace crackling with warm flames, filling the living room with the smells of earthy cocoa and roasted walnuts.

Perhaps my next investment will be a bigger bookshelf.

I love strolling downtown at this time of year; early fall, before the leaves have had the chance to wither away and it’s still just warm enough to eat lunch outside wearing a wool scarf and sweater.

Nevertheless, today was a day to spend inside, curled up on the couch in an oversized sweatshirt catching up on work and oodles and oodles of Merlin.

And, of course, at the end of a perfect weekend, it’s only appropriate to put a basket of mountain-fresh apples to good use. 

Caramel Apple Pie
Adapted from If You Give a Girl a Cookie and Tartine


For the crust, you'll need:

• 3 cups plus 2 tbsp flour
• 2 sticks butter, cold and cut into cubes
• 1 tsp salt
• 2/3 cup cold water

For the filling, you'll need:

• 5 cups of baking apples [about 6 medium or 5 large; Golden Delicious, Jonagold, or Winesaps work splendidly, or any combination thereof], cored and sliced
• 1 stick butter
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1 1/2 tbsp flour
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• a few shakes of nutmeg

To prepare the filling:
In a large saucepan, melt butter and brown sugar over medium-low flame. Add in sliced apples, increase heat to medium-high, and cook the apples in the sauce until softened, about 15 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat, sprinkle flour and spices over the apples, and turn them over to coat until the flour dissolves. Let cool while preparing the pie crust.


To prepare the crust:
In a food processor, pulse the flour, butter, and salt the consistency is that of peas. Slowly pour in the water until the dough comes together [you may not need to use all of the water]. Divide the dough in half, cover in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.


To assemble the pie:
Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Grease a 9-inch pie pan. Roll each ball of dough out wide enough to cover the base of pan. Place one on the base. Using a fork, poke holes into the bottom and sides of the crust. Gently scoop the apples and caramel sauce into the pan and spread evenly. Lay the second sheet of dough on top of the apples, pinching the top and bottom crusts to seal. Make a slit or two on the top crust.

Bake pie for about 25 minutes. Lower oven temperature to 350 degrees and bake for an additional 25-30 minutes. Allow pie to cool for at least 30 minutes before slicing. Serve with sweetened cream or vanilla ice cream.

I’d like to make a confession: I’m really not that keen on apple pie. At all, really. I know, I know, as if it’s bad enough I’ve forgone all non-BBC television, I’ve now basically rejected all of the basic tenets of our great country.

But this one is pretty good. I mean, it’s no cherry Bakewell tart, but Noosh and Tommy loved it, and the flaky crust is to die for. The apples really benefit from bathing in brown sugar and butter, as obviously expected, and cooking them beforehand prevents the crust from becoming soggy. The end result is a beautifully golden, crunchy, autumn-y pie.

Would have been divine with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, but good company and quality television will make do just as well.

Then I'll pretend it is my bed
I'll jump in very quick
And pile their leaves up over me
For covers soft and thick

[short and sweet] sea salted chocolate-caramel shortbread bars

You know, an unexpected earthquake and hurricane really liven things up during an otherwise dull first week of term.

Though, admittedly, I didn't realize the earthquake was actually an earthquake until making it to Starbucks and finding myself amongst noisy chatter concerning the coming of the apocalypse. I just thought it was, you know, construction. Not to mention the irony of Hurricane Irene hitting this weekend [by irony I mean the name; as if I didn't already have Sherlock on the brain 20 hours a day, it somehow finds a way to permeate every aspect of my existence]. Life is full of unexpected surprises, I suppose.

Anyway, first week is over, and I'm heading home for the weekend. On my way back, I'll be making a pit-stop in the city to visit Brinay and bring her a [not-so-surprise] treat for her birthday this weekend. Sea salted chocolate-caramel shortbread bars. I asked Brinay a few days ago what she would want if I, hypothetically of course, happened to bake her something for the occasion. All she said to me was "chocolate," but that was more than enough.

I happened across a recipe for chocolate dulce de leche bars on the interweb, but altered the recipe to my own tastes. Mainly with the addition of sea salt on top. Chocolate is wonderful for its versatility, and I wanted to try something new. Chili powder was an option as well, though I think that's best suited for a dessert a little...grander. A mousse or cake, perhaps. But birthday bars? Nah. For these, I kept 'em short, sweet, and just a little bit salty.

Sea Salted Chocolate-Caramel Shortbread Bars
Adapted from Nutmeg Nanny

For the shortbread crust, you'll need:

• 1 stick unsalted butter, softened
• 1/3 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla
• pinch of salt
• 3/4 cup flour
• 1/4 cup almond meal
• 1/4 cup ground pecans

For the chocolate-caramel topping, you'll need:

• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 14-oz can dulce de leche
• 4 egg yolks
• 4 oz semisweet chocolate, chopped
• approximately 1/2 tsp sea salt, to sprinkle

Preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit and line and grease an 8x8-inch square pan. To prepare the crust, beat butter, sugar, and vanilla until smooth and fluffy. Add in flour, almond meal, pecans, and salt, and mix until the dough comes together. Press dough evenly onto the base of the pan. Bake for 13-15 minutes, until crust is golden-brown. Let cool at least 30 minutes.

To prepare the chocolate topping, simmer heavy cream and dulce de leche in a medium-sized saucepan over medium heat. Whisk mixture until dulce de leche is completely melted. In a separate bowl, whisk egg yolks. Slowly pour about 1/4 cup of the hot caramel mixture into the egg yolks, while still whisking, to temper them. Pour the hot egg yolk mixture back into the saucepan, and mix until the chocolate begins to thicken. Continue whisking at a simmer for 4-5 minutes, until mixture is thick enough to resemble pudding. Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the chocolate.

Let the chocolate mixture cool 10-15 minutes before pouring on top of the cooled crust. Chill the bars, uncovered, for an hour. Sprinkle the sea salt evenly over top of the chocolate, and then return the bars to the fridge and chill for another two hours before slicing. Store bars in the fridge for up to 3 days.

These are quite delicious. The topping is soft, almost the consistency of a dense mousse, and each bite melts in your mouth in the most pleasant way. You want to use a very small amount of sea salt on top, since sea salt itself has such an intense depth of flavor. Just a hint is enough to make you think there's something more than just chocolate, but hardly enough to make you realize it until you lick your lips and taste traces of saltiness left behind.

A new dimension to ordinary chocolate bars. One I'm hoping Brinay will enjoy when I see her in a few hours.


As for the semester, I'm anticipating a busy one. I've already been confronted with more reading than I expected having to do on a week-to-week basis, none of which I'm too excited about. Still, not having class on Fridays helps.

And I mean, if one of your required readings is a biography of Leonardo da Vinci, it can't be all bad. I anticipate many days of tea, scones, and art history in my future.

beginnings, endings, and mugs of butterbeer

I never realized how much my life revolves around books. And not even reading them, to be honest. Just the mere presence of them. Filling the air with thousands of stories. Invisible, like spirits wandering aimlessly until someone happens to stumble upon one. And then it becomes a part of that person forever, if they care enough.

I'm always reading something. More often than not, the material of choice is a cookbook. Not for the recipes, though, but for the vignettes, for the short stories that give me a fleeting glimpse into the life of someone who loves gastronomy as much as I do, or into their tales of travel across the world with memories in the form of babka or millefeuille. Lately, I've been revisiting Conan Doyle short stories [when I'm obsessed with something, it invades all aspects of my life, and yes, I have seen the entirety of Sherlock about 4 times at this point], reading ones that I'd read when I was much younger and others that I'd never bothered to explore.

And if I'm lucky, I'll happen upon a novel that I get lost in.

You know the feeling: like the story was written for no one but you, making you believe you're actually there, feeling attached to each and every character, letting them become part of you as much as you're a part of them.

I've been working full-time these days [as in, not interning, at least until the final week of July], and consequently have been spending the majority of my days in the basement of the Special Collections building. I work in Digital Curation Services, which sounds both more impressive and less boring than it actually is. Not that I don't love my job, because I do; as far as part-time jobs for undergraduate students goes, it's brilliant. And occasionally, incredibly rewarding.

Presumably, I digitize things. Specifically, books, manuscripts, photos, documents, letters, maps, pamphlets, and the like. I use technology worth thousands upon thousands of dollars, a number of different computer programs, and cataloging technique to digitize printed text. In a way, it's ironic. But a testament to a changing world, and the importance of preserving the past.

I enjoy it.

For the most part, I digitize things that often have me wondering why on earth I'm digitizing them at all. Like documents about azaleas for professors in the biology department. And I'm sure that, you know, such things are important, but after the 1000th page on azalea anatomy, it does get tiresome. But sometimes I'll get lucky, and I'll be given something special. Leonardo da Vinci manuscripts written in his beautiful mirror-script. First-run copies of Huck Finn. An original copy of the Declaration of Independence. Civil War diaries written by a soldier in 1862 [my first project, actually]. My current project is a copy of Kim, by Rudyard Kipling, from 1901. Fourteen hours and counting, yet slowly but surely, it's getting done.

Despite the fear of sounding cliche and sappy, these are things that bring me back to reality. An old reality, but a reality nonetheless. That things happened, stories were written, and these are the ways we remember them.

And during my one-hour lunch break, I head toward the second floor of the adjacent library, into the McGregor room. Since it's summer hours, it's almost always completely vacant, save for a few students on laptops scattered amongst the armchairs and wooden tables spread haphazardly across the carpet. Walking in through the tall wooden doors, it's like finding yourself in a library from the Victorian era [or the Hogwarts Library, quite fittingly]. It's the perfect atmosphere to read, sitting cozily with nothing but the welcomed scent of old books and candle wax to distract you, and I've made it a habit to go straight there when I have free time. I've missed it, to be honest, having a book to look forward to. During the year, there's enough going on that I don't realize what I'm missing out on. Over the summer, I've got some time to make up for it.


I read a lot as a child. I always had my nose in a book. I often wonder what ever happened to that drive. I suppose it got lost in the pages of chemistry textbooks and required reading novels from high school. A pity, really. But much of my childhood was marked by books. When I think of Pakistan, one of the first things to come to mind [besides the obvious memories of the scents of chicken tikka and fresh-baked naan] are Great Illustrated Classics. My uncles would take me to the biggest bookstores in Karachi so I could fill my arms with piles of the novels, and I'd spend my days distracting myself from the heat with pages from those books. At home, it was the Saddle Club, fueling my love of horseback riding [which I did for about 2 years before allergies shot that dream indefinitely]. Later, Nancy Drew and the Boxcar Children, the Lost Tales of Merlin, The Giver, Anderson and Grimm Fairy Tales. Anything and everything that would appeal to an elementary-schooler.

But nothing defined my childhood, both literary and otherwise, quite like Harry Potter.

Homemade Butterbeer
Adapted from my own experimentation, in the style of a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Minus the threat of bodily harm.
Serves 6-8; this is a very heavy recipe

[Disclaimer #1: this recipe is, obviously, not the same as the one served at the park. The park's version is actually made without any dairy whatsoever, whereas this one is nothing but. It also lacks any sort of 'butterscotch flavoring,' because such products creep me out like the Bloody Baron at a Halloween party. Nevertheless, the flavor is all there, and it gives one a similar feeling of being warmed up from the inside out, in the most pleasant way. My version is slightly salty, because upon first read, I imagined butterbeer to have a comforting, salty-sweet quality about it. I like to think that Mrs. Rowling would approve.]

[Disclaimer #2: this recipe is pretty brilliant.]


You'll need:

• scant 1 cup sugar
• 3/4 tsp salt
• 5 tbsp butter
• scant 2/3 cup heavy cream
• 4 cups milk
• 1 tsp vanilla 

In a medium-sized saucepan over medium heat, melt sugar until it turns a light amber color, about 5 minutes. Whisk constantly. Toss in salt. Add in butter all at once, and continue whisking until blended. Remove pan from heat and slowly pour in heavy cream in a steady stream, still whisking vigorously. Once blended as a uniform sauce, set aside.

In a large saucepan, heat milk on medium heat. Pour in vanilla and stir. Allow milk to heat until it begins to simmer slightly, and then pour in the caramel. Stir until blended, and once the mixture is at desired temperature [warm or slightly hot], shut off the heat. Using either a whisk or an immersion blender, whisk milk until light and frothy. Pour into glasses and serve immediately.

ACCIO BUTTERBEER.

When the first book came out, I was 7 years old. Hated it. I found it boring and dull, and it escaped my thoughts for a while. Then, when I was 9, I picked it up again. And loved it. Drank up each word as though I had been traveling through a desert for months. And from then on, I eagerly awaited each new book in the series. At age 11, I was truly disappointed not to have received a letter inviting me to Hogwarts. [Not going to lie, I still dream about it.] I had mom drive me to Barnes and Noble each summer a new book was released, waiting in line and all but bursting with excitement at 11:59pm, surrounded by others with the exact same thing on their mind. Having thoughtful, philosophical discussions about Potter morality, religion, and politics with not only friends, but teachers throughout high school. Feeling my heart break throughout the final few books, as if the characters were people I knew and loved.

And really, they were. They are. I've grown up with them. We've all grown up with them. They're a phenomenon. Whether or not you enjoy the books [though, in my mind, if you haven't read them or liked them, you're not a real person], you can't deny that they've changed the world. They've made kids read. They've kept those kids reading well beyond their youth, into adulthood. A decade of books. An incredible series. Perfectly constructed. I know the Potterverse [that's Potter universe, for those of you not in the know] like the back of my hand. It's in my mind. Every winding street of Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. The towering spires of Hogwarts Castle. The depths of the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest. Even when I had schoolwork to occupy my life, I made time for Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And I'm not embarrassed to admit it because I know the same holds true for every other fan. One of the highlights of my second year of university was drinking a mug of Butterbeer at the footsteps of the Three Broomsticks, and purchasing a wand from Ollivander's.

I was 19 years old.

And I felt like I was 9 again.

And I loved every second of it.

Tomorrow night will be bittersweet. I'm sad to see the series come to an end, like millions of others who grew up with the books like me, but I can't think of a better way to end almost 13 years of an incredible series. I've always thought that 19 is a useless age, and I still do. Nothing changes, there's no excitement like one that accompanies turning 18 [though, I don't smoke or gamble anyway, so there wasn't too much excitement there aside from being able to sign my own legal documents], or turning 20 and leaving teen years behind.

But this feels like closure. It'll be turning 20 years old having completed a milestone.  It'll be saying goodbye to a best friend, one who has really affected me in an enormous way, and one that I will sob to leave. But it's served it's purpose, and perhaps this is the best way to say goodbye. It's made me genuinely want to read. It's given me something to love. It's made me laugh, it's made me cry, and it's made me learn. It really has been the series of our generation, and in a world that has been plagued by change, it was like a source of stability. Comfort and beauty for a 10 year old with the backdrop of 9/11, too young to understand the depths of the tragedy, but old enough to revel in the escape via Platform 9 and 3/4. And a similar comfort for a 17 year old, starting college with all the fears of the future, but with the Hogwarts Express to take her away for a little while.

And, perhaps, 100 years from now, someone else will be digitizing these books, preserving their pages in a changing world. But you know what? This reality was ours. And even if my childhood ends tomorrow night as I sit in the theater, dark mark on my arm, Ravenclaw scarf around my neck, and wand behind my ear, I've still got the pages to turn back to when I'm feeling nostalgic.



[Besides, it's only a matter of time until Pottermore is released. Yes, it is on my calendar. And yes, I will most likely dress up for the event. As always.]

salted caramel bread pudding

In my head I pictured it as a nice daytrip to the city, catching up with an old friend, gracefully strolling through art museums, admiring the gorgeous weather and scenery, eating some quality meals over quality conversations, and a pleasant drive home.



...Then again, when does anything ever go as planned?

Yesterday Noosh and I took a roadtrip to DC to see Kevin, whom I haven't seen since his visit last September [if you will recall the bread pudding and apple pie that were both epically conquered within 24 hours.] Dropped the car off on the outskirts of the city, took the metro in, and made it just in time for the three of us to grab some lunch at Capital Brewery. And by 'just in time' I mean about an hour and a half after the fact, since Kevin's phone lied misinformed us about the hours of operation of a few locations.

But it was a delicious lunch just the same. Even if they did leave the sauerkraut off of my Reuben [to which I remember Kevin and Noosh asking me if it was really a pity at all that they forewent the fermented cabbage, but I happen to enjoy sauerkraut very well, thank you very much]. Would recommend for sure, if you're ever in the area.

After lunch we strolled through the city for a bit, catching up on life [I distinctly remember telling Kevin beforehand that I'll be leaving the country, but he seemed to disagree], and mid-afternoon met up with Cory and Daniel [who had driven up for the day, after sleeping in until almost 11], at the National Gallery for the Chester Dale: Impressionism to Modernism, Nam June Paik, and Canaletto and his Rivals on Venice exhibitions. [The Venice exhibit was truly breathtaking, but all three were phenomenal.]

I should also mention that I had been carrying a 16-oz baguette in my purse for the grand majority of the day, including our museum visit. Also an unopened box of light brown sugar, but that was less of an issue since it was wrapped in a plastic bag. But I was pretty positive that museum security was going to kindly request that I discard the baguette, since, I mean who in their right mind carries an unopened, enormous loaf of French bread in their bag? 

Well, I got in just fine. So that's a tip for any of you who want to visit a museum and are worried about them taking your bread away from you: it's totally chill. Does make me wonder, though, what other oddities they must see on a regular basis...

Anyway, spent a few hours there before heading back to Kevin's apartment to make dinner. Because it seems as though whenever Kevin and I are in the same vicinity, cooking a meal is inevitable. Which I am more than happy about.

Canaletto, Santa Maria della Salute and the Entrance to the Grand Canal, looking East
1744 
[not my image]

A delicious dinner of bak choy, kalbi with radishes, Cantonese tomatoes and eggs, sauteed drumsticks, and chicken gizzards. Everyone pitched in, either prepping, cooking, dish-washing, clearing the table, what-have-you, so it was a very lovely little dinner party.

Can I just say, though, that only for you, Kev, would I try a chicken gizzard. And I must say, the taste was just fine. The texture I abhorred, with a burning passion. But at least that's something else to cross of my list, eh? [Even if I plan on never letting one touch my plate again.]

the spread, in terrible lighting

Kev put me in charge of dessert, as per usual, and so I went with another bread pudding [seems to be a tradition to bake bread pudding alongside our meals? sure]: salted caramel bread pudding, to be precise. Really, all I was thinking was thank the lord I can take this poor, abused loaf of bread out of my purse.

Salted Caramel Bread Pudding
Adapted from The Comfort of Cooking

You'll need:

• 1 (16-oz) loaf unsliced French bread
• 2 cups milk
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 2 eggs, lightly beaten
• 1 cup raisins
• 1/2 cup salted caramel sauce [homemade or store-bought]

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and line a baking sheet with aluminum foil. Using a serrated knife, slice bread into 1-inch cubes. Spread bread evenly across baking sheet and bake for 12 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine milk, brown sugar, vanilla, eggs, and raisins. Toss toasted bread in the milk mixture until well mixed. Cover bowl and chill for at least 45 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Gently pour soaked bread into a greased casserole dish, cover the top with aluminum foil, and bake for 20 minutes. Uncover  and bake for an additional 10 minutes, until pudding is set. 

Pour caramel sauce into a bowl and heat for 30 seconds, or until warm. Serve with bread pudding.

The pudding is delicious. I wish I had had some more of my things over to photograph with, but Kev's gorgeous D7000 was fun enough to play with. After we thoroughly demolished the entirety of the bread pudding and salted caramel sauce, Noosh very kindly did the dishes as Cory and I played Fruit Ninja, and then the four of us [sans Kev] decided to go out for a midnight crepe run [because we needed more food after that feast, obviously] at Crepeaway. Also definitely recommend, if you're in the area [and they stay open until 4 am, I believe.]

Enjoyed some crepes, chatted some more, realized it was nearing 12:30 and we should probably head back to the metro station if we intended to leave DC that night morning, said our goodbyes, hopped on the metro, and drove home. Definitely one of the most painful late-night drives of my life, and I can hardly remember what happened between me parking the car and waking up at 1 pm this morning.

Save that it was one of the best daytrips that I can remember.

Edit: The very sweet hostess of Sweet as Sugar Cookies, Lisa, has invited me to participate in her Sweets for a Saturday with this recipe post. Thanks so much, Lisa! I'm truly honored. :)

homemade samoas

I'm a judgmental person.

Not in a particularly pretentious way; I just form highly scrutinized opinions about people based on their often poorly executed life choices.

It's not like I can help it, either. It just...happens. Instinctual. Out of my control.

Not that you have anything to worry about, I assure you.

Unless you happen to fall into the above category.

In which case I'll metaphorically shake my head in disappointment and pity. Or literally. Either one.

Just this sort of thing happens whenever I enter or observe any sort of competition. Whether it be an essay submission for publication in a journal, a graphic design contest,  American Idol, fighting against a good friend in Super Smash Bros Brawl, what have you. This weekend, it happened to be a bake-off.

I'm not a very competitive person by nature, particularly when it comes to academics [to each his own; read: I don't care how well or poorly you do as long as I have access to caffeine and a comfortable sofa in which to study my butt off], but I can't say the same holds true if you hand me a video game controller or a spatula.

I feel the need to prove myself.

And when that happens, things get ugly.

To my dismay, this weekend's competition was not in my favor. The bake-off was held earlier today, and I must say some of my competitors were very skilled. Noosh was by my side the entire time, as only the best of best friends would, so the blow wasn't too hard-hit when I didn't hear my name called to the podium.

But now I'm just being melodramatic.

I actually wasn't too bummed about it, mainly because I felt as though some of the more skilled competitors (particularly one girl who baked an almond torte layered with a balsamic raspberry reduction and topped with a white chocolate mousse, a cake which I regret not having begged a recipe for) were overlooked completely by some less...well...

*ahem*

Let's just say, my cynical judging of others came in full force today when I witnessed nothing but cupcake pops, Oreo truffles, 7-layer-bars, and other desserts even your middle-school-aged younger brother could recreate if he had access to some butter, flour, sugar, and the most popular recipe submissions on Tastespotting.

But I suppose it was worth the four hours of my life that I will never get back, since Noosh and I are now able to cross one more dessert off of our list.

Homemade Samoas
Adapted from Once Upon a Plate

For the shortbread cookie, you'll need:

• 1 cup [2 sticks] butter, softened
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 cups flour
• 1/4 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp vanilla
• up to 2 tbsp of whole milk

For the topping, you'll need:

• 3 cups shredded coconut (sweetened or unsweetened)
• 12 ounces good quality chewy caramels
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 3 tbsp milk
• 8 oz chocolate (semisweet if using sweetened coconut, milk if using unsweetened)

To prepare cookies, preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

Cream butter and sugar on medium speed until pale and fluffy. Mix in flour, baking soda, and salt on low speed. Add in vanilla, and add in small quantities of milk until dough comes together without being sticky (you may not need all 2 tbsp of milk). Add in a bit of extra flour if the dough seems too sticky. Gather dough together into a ball, cover in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Roll dough out onto a floured surface until it is just about 1/4 inch thick. Using a 1.5 to 2-inch cookie cutter, cut out circles of dough. Make a smaller hole in the center (I use the end of a small, round piping tip). Lay cookies evenly on lined cookie sheet and bake for 10-12 minutes, until bottoms are lightly golden brown around the edges. Cool the cookies on the baking sheet for about 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack and let cool completely.


To prepare the topping, preheat oven to 300 degrees and line a 12-inch tray with aluminum foil. Toast shredded coconut for 15-20 minutes, until lightly golden brown, to release its flavor. Cool on a baking sheet, stirring occasionally.

Meanwhile, in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, begin melting the caramels with the milk and salt. Stir continuously until the mixture is smooth. Remove pan from heat and stir in the cooled coconut.

Using a spatula or knife, spread the coconut-caramel mixture on top of the cooled cookies. If caramel begins to firm up, reheat until it is soft and spreadable once again.

While the topping sets up, melt the chocolate in a small bowl, either in the microwave or over the stove using the double-broiler method. Dip the base of each cookie into the melted chocolate and place on a sheet of parchment paper. Transfer all remaining chocolate to a piping bag or ziplock bag with a corner snipped off, and drizzle the finished cookies with chocolate.

Store cookies in an airtight container. Cookies stay fresh for up to 3 days.

We made three batches and ended up with...hundreds of cookies. Literally. We still have so many left over, which I suppose is good news for all of our friends. Nevertheless, despite taking hours to make [6, to be precise], Noosh and I had a blast blowing off work to bake these.

And even though the competition didn't exactly end in my favor, I had an amazing time with Noosh, raising money for a good cause, tasting and critiquing other girls' desserts (because if you can't let your prissy, elitist, competitive side shine through during a bake-off, when can you?), and chatting with supportive friends who came by to visit and omnom.

And even though these weren't an "official" winner, these cookies are gold.

[Could be why I saved quite a few of the leftovers for myself, but you didn't hear that from me.]

creme brulee cupcakes

I love chess.

The tactics, the suspense, the passion for sacrifice, the need to always be two steps ahead of your opponent.

But most of all, I love how humbling of a game it is.

Weird, right? But it's true.

You see your opponent's bishop close in on your cornered king, and your stomach drops as you realize that it's all over. But instead of fighting it, you tip your king over in a show of grace and humility, accepting defeat as an homage to your opponent's skill.

And then you shake hands, part ways, and promise yourself you won't lose the next one.

I love chess because humble defeat is what happens to me every time I make a resolution. Humble defeat in the form of eating a cupcake.

No sugar for 80 days? Well, one [read: two] days won't kill me.

And it was delicious so, in my eyes, totally justified.

Wait a hot sec, did she just say a cupcake was delicious?

Yes, in fact. It was delicious. This isn't to say I love cupcakes now or anything, but I suppose some can be tasty.

These were made for my good friend, Daniel, who turns 20 tomorrow. His favorite dessert is creme brulee, and since I couldn't very well transport 6 ramekins via car for 20 miles, I settled on a cupcake variation. Caramel cupcake, topped with a cream cheese frosting, and decorated with sugar shards. Deliciously moist and perfectly sweet.

Creme Brulee Cupcakes
Adapted from Creative Loafing
Makes 12 cupcakes


For the caramel cupcakes, you'll need:

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• pinch of salt
• 1 stick of butter, at room temperature
• 1 cup plus 2 tbsp light brown sugar
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp buttermilk

For the cream cheese frosting, you'll need:

• 1 8-oz package of cream cheese, at room temperature
• 1 stick of butter, at room temperature
• 1/2 cup shortening
• 2 cups confectioner's sugar
• 1/2 tsp vanilla

For the sugar shards, you'll need:

• 1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup water

Preheat oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit and line a cupcake pan with papers.

To prepare cupcakes, cream butter and brown sugar on medium speed until pale and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, followed by vanilla. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add flour mixture to sugar mixture in batches, alternating with buttermilk. Mix until just incorporated.

Divide batter evenly among paper cups, about 3/4 of the way full. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until golden brown and a toothpick comes out clean. Let cool completely before frosting.

To prepare the cream cheese frosting, cream cream cheese, butter, and shortening on medium speed until fluffy. Lower speed and slowly add in confectioner's sugar. Add vanilla and increase mixer speed to medium and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Refrigerate frosting until using.

To prepare sugar shards, line a 12-inch tray with aluminum foil and grease lightly with butter. In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, heat sugar and water. Stir until sugar dissolves, then remove spoon. Continue mixing by swirling the pan (do not stir), allowing sugar water to come to a boil. Once the sugar turns a pale yellow color, watch diligently; it will begin to dark relatively quickly. Continue swirling until sugar turns a golden brown color. Immediately pour sugar onto greased pan, swirling the pan so the sugar spreads out evenly. Allow sugar to harden completely before using, at least 2 hours. Once set, break sugar apart and form shards of different shapes and sizes.

To assemble cupcakes, frost the tops of each cupcakes with a generous amount of cream cheese frosting. Take a few different-sized shards and stick them on top of the cupcakes, making sure to pierce the cakes to maintain stability. If not serving immediately, store cupcakes in the refrigerator. Cupcakes will last up to 3 days in the fridge.

I'm home for the weekend, and spent a good portion of the day visiting friends in the city [after a wonderful brunch with Nitya]. Picked up Daniel and Cory and drove them over to Ellewood Cafe to meet up with Matt and Chelsea. It was nice, sitting in Ellewood Cafe, catching up with old friends, cappuccino in hand and cupcakes on the table. Like a scene from a movie. Complete with snark and insults flying from all mouths.

Just the way I love it.

As for my defeat this weekend?

Well, I don't plan on losing the next one.

salted caramel brownies

Caramel.

this is not caramel

I have very mixed feelings about caramel. On the one hand, it can be absolutely delicious. Warm, silky smooth, seeping into brownies and cakes and making them moist and scrumptious. On the other hand, the hardened, tough, chewy caramel found in cheap chocolates makes me want to puke is not so tasty. I've also had bad experiences making caramel in the past. Clumps up, hardens too much, becomes chunky, burns. It's a tough endeavor.

this is caramel

But I think I would have to put salted caramel at the top of my list of "things-I-would-pour-into-a-glass-and-take-shots-of." It's actually one of the most delicious things I've ever tasted. Actually. Ever. EVER. The contradiction of flavors, of sweet and salty, light and rich, is incredible on your tastebuds. Just makes you happy from the inside out.

It's been a tough couple of days lately, for a number of reasons. Seeing the end of a very long week approach, I knew I had to do something to lighten things up a bit. So I baked, of course. Salted caramel brownies. Warm, delicious, comforting, perfect.

Now, I used the same brownie recipe found in my cream cheese swirled brownies post. It has yet to fail me. In this one, though, I omitted the coffee (coffee AND caramel seemed a bit too much), and threw in some chopped walnuts. I will give you the amazingly delicious salted caramel recipe here though.

Salted Caramel Sauce
Adapted from Delishhh.

You'll need:

• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1 tsp salt
• 6 tbsp butter
• 2/3 cup heavy cream

In a medium saucepan, heat sugar on medium heat until it begins to melt, whisking constantly, until sugar turns a bright amber color. This will take about 5 minutes. It's alright if it forms clumps. Whisk in salt. Toss in butter all at once and whisk until blended. Remove saucepan from heat and slowly pour in heavy cream, whisking constantly and vigorously. Whisk until the sauce is smooth. It's alright if there are a few, small clumps. Let caramel sauce cool for 10-15 minutes before using in brownies.

Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350 degrees and line and grease a 9x13-inch pan. Prepare brownie batter as directed. Pour half of the prepared brownie batter into the pan and spread evenly. Using a spoon, pour about 1/4 cup of salted caramel evenly over the brownie batter. Pour the remaining brownie batter on top. Pour another 1/4 cup of salted caramel evenly over the top of the brownies. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until set. Let cool completely before serving and cutting. Reheat remaining salted caramel for 10-15 seconds to warm up and pour over the cooled brownies before serving.

Caramel sauce stays good for up to one month covered at room temperature, three months refrigerated.

These were delicious. I actually ate an entire brownie, despite my relatively good attempts at low-carbing. And had rationality not hit me, I literally would have taken a ladle to the saucepan of caramel sauce. Not sure I would have regretted it, either. 

Half of these went to Ali as a belated birthday present, and the other half went to my dear friend Nayaab. I do hope both enjoyed them! 

You know, sometimes a little sugar is okay to pick you back up, I think.

Si sta
come d'autunno
sugli alberi
le foglie
-Giuseppe Ungaretti

(Feels like
those leaves
on branches
in autumn)