Dulce de Leche

A few years ago, I stumbled across a recipe for making your own dulce de leche at home. I had just tried the sweet treat for the first time when Mike surprised me with a WMD (Wafel of Massive Deliciousness) from Wafels & Dinges – back when they only had one truck! After barely recovering from the blow that was finding out their spekuloos spread was not available in the United States*, I was happy to find I could, if nothing else, recreate that deliciousness of oozing caramel.

And then my eyes came across this line, “Be sure to frequently check the water level: the can should be covered by water at all times and the pot should never be allowed to boil dry, otherwise the can may explode.”

Um, explode?

I had a vision of working in our little kitchen, with two cans of scalding sweetened condensed milk suddenly exploding, covering the ceilings and walls, Mike walking in the door from work, and fire raging from the stovetop with me in my pink apron screaming for our non-existant fire extinguisher. Now that I think of it, there probably wouldn’t have been a fire. But the thought was terrifying enough for me to never, ever think about making the treat again.

Fast forward a few years, as that very same image played in my mind as I agreed to test a recipe for dulce de leche. The biggest pot I had only held four quarts of water, which seemed like an incredibly small amount to me, so I borrowed one of Mike’s homebrewing pots for the afternoon. I placed the two tiny cans on the bottom of the pot and then proceeded to cover them with fourteen quarts of water, a sight that was almost as ridiculous as my vision of exploding cans and dulche de leche covered walls.

The good news: the pot did not boil dry and the cans did not explode. In fact, the water level barely dipped below the original level. The bad news: having homemade dulce de leche on hand can be dangerous for other reasons.

*It is now! Most grocery stores now carry this brand and Wafels & Dinges now sells their own version.

Fig & Lemon Jam

There are many things I enjoy about my job, but above all else, I love the time spent developing, testing, and photographing recipes.  My love for this process began right here on this little blog and continues to be an unmatched source of inspiration to me.

Besides armloads of dirty dishes, the only other downfall to my work is the not insignificant amount of food leftover in my half-size refrigerator.  For instance, last week I had a pound of black mission figs, slightly bruised and far from perfect, remaining from a project earlier in the week.  Each time I opened the refrigerator door, I wondered how to best utilize the fruit.  Pie?  Cake?  Crumble?  I couldn’t make up my mind - so many options! - until one morning when I realized I only had until the end of the day until the figs would rot.

Given my fading window of opportunity, I stopping tricking myself into believing I had hours to bake a pie or cake from scratch or that I was hosting a large dinner party where people could dig their spoons into the warm crumble.  So, jam was the answer I had been looking for all along!  Minimal ingredients and time in the kitchen ensured the figs were properly showcased, without sacrificing time I just did not have in the day.

Martha's Apple Butter

When cool fall days arrive here in Manhattan, I instinctively begin to miss home.  The smell of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves make me homesick for weekends I spent baking with my mother and nights when my father would slowly mull apple cider on the stove top.

Perhaps what I miss most about being home in Virginia are the people - family and friends.  Besides feeling nostalgic for my own family and food, I miss the community.

My parents talk about our neighbors as very close friends - our conversations include updates on all the neighborhood children, pets, and get-togethers.  A community that considers each other family and are quick to offer a helping hand.

Meanwhile,  as I juggle grocery bags and dig in my purse for the keys, my neighbors walk quickly past without even so much as a hello.

Cherry Jam with Lemon Pepper Shortbread

Confession: I am 24 years old and I only began to enjoy the simple sweetness of cherries one month ago.

I realize this fact may startle most of you.

My previous stance against cherries, I realized, was purely based on my experience with the jarred varietal of cherry - the ones found so promisingly perched on top of a child's ice cream sundae or floating at the bottom of a Shirley Temple.

Thinking back, we never really used cherries in any recipes in pastry school.  Even when we received shipment upon shipment of these bright red beauties at the restaurant, as the other pastry cooks sampled by the handful, I resisted and dutifully returned to my cutting board.

But then, in a moment of true weakness, as I perused the farmer's market, I was greeted by a mound of cherries.  As my camera captured their beauty, they seemed to beckon for me - try just one.

Into my mouth, I popped the most juicy, sweet little cherry.  I am forever converted.

I brought home a quart of the beauties and began thinking of how I might want to prepare them.

My first thought, obviously, was a steaming, fruity pie.  But, between long work hours and some one's distaste of fruit desserts, pies, unfortunately, go to waste around here.

So, instead, I began thinking about what flavors I would want to pair with the cherries.  While keeping the cherries as the star of the show, I decided something with a crunchy, freshness - maybe even spiciness - would be wonderful for a summer day.

While mulling over how to achieve these accompanying flavors, I began creating a simple, sweet cherry jam.

Maybe it was the homey, unmistakable scent of the sugar caramelizing with fruit that instantly pointed me in the direction of a buttery shortbread as the perfect base for this summer jam.

With the addition of bright lemon zest, freshly milled black pepper and a sprinkling of turbinado sugar, the shortbread emerged from the oven a perfect match with the sweet cherry jam.

Upon assembling and tasting my creation, from the very first bite, the soft, sweet cherry jam paired seamlessly with the crunchy, buttery shortbread, instantly brightened by the lemon zest.

As the flavors lingered on my tongue, lazily melting away, the smooth, spiciness of the black pepper appeared, creating just enough heat to balance the sweetness of all the other components.

Orange Tian

Earlier this year, in my never ending quest to find new recipes and challenges in the kitchen, I joined the Daring Baker's team.  The team is comprised with food bloggers, with widely-varying skill levels, from all over the world.

This is how it works: after being approved as a Daring Baker, you are given a recipe assignment on the first day of the month.  You then have until the posting date, the last Saturday in that month, to create, photograph and write about that month's challenge.  All of the Daring Bakers post their work on the same, set date.

The 2010 March Daring Baker’s challenge was hosted by Jennifer of Chocolate Shavings. She chose Orange Tian as the challenge for this month, a dessert based on a recipe from Alain Ducasse’s Cooking School in Paris.

I was excited to begin my very first Daring Baker's challenge.  I had never heard of a 'tian', but the recipe came from one of the best chefs in the world.  And, let's be honest, what's not to love about caramel-soaked citrus with whipped cream and a sweet cookie?

The only modification I made to the recipe was using blood orange and red grapefruit segments, in addition to the suggested orange segments, for the fruit on top of the tian.  I just adore that combination of citrus fruit.

The visual results were not quite as I had hoped.  The whipped cream did not stabilize quite enough and therefore was unable to hold the weight of the citrus segments without collapsing a bit.

But, the taste was wonderful!  Light, creamy and just the right touch of sweetness.

Meyer Lemon Curd

We are officially in those tough few weeks between the dead of winter and seeing the first sprouts of green life appear again on the bare tree branches.

The sky is overcast, giving off a slight mist and making it especially difficult to chose which thickness of coat is appropriate for the commute to the office.

I miss the sunshine on my face.

Wednesday's weather was particularly sullen; I longed to be laying on a beach somewhere with a margarita in my hand.

After a frustrating morning at the office, I decided to escape on my lunch hour to the Whole Foods.  Holding a pineapple was about as close as I was going to get to paradise today.

And then I saw a small barrel of sunshine.  Or at least, something that was so blindingly yellow that, in my depressed mood, it might as well have been the sunshine.

I was drawn in.  A slight squeeze gave way to the flesh, just a bit, of these beautiful, juicy, tender meyer lemons.

I stood in awe.  And then I bought a pound of them.

After much thought and consideration, I concluded the best use of these delightful fruits would be to make them into a sweet Meyer lemon curd.

Curd.  What an awful name.