Walnut + Cream Cheese Cookie Sandwiches

It's 70 degrees and sunny in San Diego. I'm still shackled to my computer in DC working remotely, most unfortunately, but thank golly I'll be home snarfing fish tacos and wearing cut-offs before the day is through; southern California Christmas is sort of a terrifically fluorescent thing. My parents recently moved from the suburban home of my childhood to the San Diego neighborhood in which I would spend all my time were I ever to move back (so, never), and I am so excited to help them christen the place with leftover burritos and bloody marys and backyard sunbathing and general daughterly detritus.

In the meantime leading up to my sunny winter vacay, I've been doing shittons of holiday preparation and generally making enormous, annoying messes at my DC home. One such task was baking for the holiday party that I mentioned last week, and I wanted to share the second of three recipes that emerged from that frantic morning. If you're still seeking holiday baking inspiration or getting ready to fatten up yr family, look no further than these walnut cookie sandwiches. They appear a little unexciting or homely even, but these cookies are deceptively buttery and rich and basically all you need to have a pleasing holiday snack. I hope that you enjoy, and happy holidays from my kitchen to yours!

Walnut + Cream Cheese Cookie Sandwiches

Adapted from Kate Zuckerman via Lottie + Doof

I toasted the walnuts beforehand to make sure the cookies had enough nutty kick and also chilled the filling before making the sandwiches. Other than those changes, this is relatively untweaked.

Cookies

1 cup walnuts

2 1/2 cups flour, divided

1/2 teaspoon salt

8 ounces (two sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

3/4 cup sugar

1 egg, at room temperature

Cream Cheese Filling

4 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

1/2 cup powdered sugar

pinch of salt

1.  Heat the oven to 375 degrees F. Lay the walnuts out on a pan and roast for 10 - 12 minutes, until the nuts are slightly darkened and fragrant. Combine the walnuts and one tablespoon of the flour in a food processor and grind to a fine powder. In a dry bowl, whisk together the walnut powder, remaining flour and salt and set aside.

2.  Place the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment and beat on medium speed for one minute. (I don't have a stand mixer and did this with an egg beater.) Add the sugar and beat on medium high speed until the mixture becomes fluffy and lighter in color, six to eight minutes, stopping the mixer occasionally to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the egg and continue to beat until it is fully incorporated and the batter looks smooth and glossy, one to two minutes.

3.  Add the dry mixture to the butter mixture all at once, and using a rubber spatula, fold together a few times. With the mixer on low, mix the dough until thoroughly combined, one to two minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula and mix for another 30 seconds.

4.  Divide dough in half and using a rubber spatula, scrape the dough onto two pieces of plastic wrap. Form dough into two logs, about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap the logs fully in the plastic and refrigerate for two hours or overnight.

5.  Preheat the oven to 350° F and line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. Using a sharp knife, cut as many 1/8-1/4 inch slices from each log of dough as possible and place the cookies on prepared cookie sheets. Bake the cookies until golden brown and you smell the toasted walnuts and butter, 12 - 15 minutes. Allow the cookies to cool before proceeding with filling.

6.  To make the cream cheese filling, combine all ingredients in a bowl and beat with an electric mixer until the filling has increased in volume, lightened in color, and formed stiff peaks, four to five minutes. I then chilled the filling for about 20 minutes in order to get it to firm up. Mound a couple teaspoons of filling on half of the cookies and sandwich with the other half. Zuckerman recommends serving within five hours of filling so cookies don't lose their crunch. You can bake the cookies and store them in an airtight container for up to four days ahead, then fill them the day you plan to serve them.

Jammy Date and Fig Swirls

I've been on a cookie roll (ba dun ch!) the past week or so, thanks in no small part to Lottie + Doof's killer annual 12 days of cookies series on his blog. While I tend toward salty-sweet, chocolaty, coffee-y, and other darkly flavored cookies and baked goods, Tim has a lot of fruit-filled, unique flavors in his repertoire that are always intriguing. These cookies don't sound all that special on the Epicurious post where the recipe is originally from, but Tim's praise and photos made them seem like an amazing, modernized Fig Newton, and that they are! The cream cheese- and butter-dough has a light anise flavor that even my anise-averse pal thought delicious, and the fig and date purée bakes up into a deep, jammy filling that is so delicious both hot out the oven and cooled the next day.

Plus, these cookies are total stunners. I brought them to a holiday party at Ginger Root -- a local artisan boutique run by two awesome ladies where I also sell earrings -- and the plate of swirls got a lot of love, 'specially among the folks slinging back the punch while they shopped. Whether on your dessert table at home or scattered among designer wares, these cookies are appropriately holidayish and easy to love.

Jammy Date and Fig Swirls

Adapted from Gourmet via Lottie + Doof

The precision in the directions might seem fussy to some, but don't worry too much about being perfect -- the cookies will turn out lovely no matter what size your rectangles and rolls are.

1 cup packed soft dried figs (8 oz), stemmed and coarsely chopped

1 cup packed pitted dates (7 oz), trimmed and coarsely chopped

1/3 cup water

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons anise seeds, ground in an electric coffee/spice grinder

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, softened

4 oz cream cheese at room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 large egg yolk

1/4 cup large-granulated raw sugar

1.  Purée figs and dates with water and two tablespoons granulated sugar in a blender or food processor until almost smooth.  

2.  Whisk together flour, anise, baking powder and soda, and salt in a small bowl. Beat together butter, cream cheese, and remaining 1/2 cup granulated sugar in a large bowl with an electric mixer at moderate speed until pale and fluffy, about three minutes. Beat in vanilla and yolk until combined well. Add flour mixture and mix at low speed until just combined.

3.  Halve dough and form each half into a rectangle. Chill, wrapped in plastic wrap, until firm, about one hour.

4.  Roll out one piece of dough between two sheets of wax paper into a roughly nine- by seven-inch rectangle, about one-third-inch thick. Remove top sheet of wax paper and drop half of fig mixture by spoonfuls onto dough, then gently spread in an even layer, leaving a one-fourth-inch border around edges. Starting with a long side and using wax paper as an aid, roll up dough jelly-roll style into a log. Roll log in raw sugar to coat completely. Make another log in same manner. Chill logs, wrapped in wax paper, until firm, at least four hours, or well-wrapped up to three days.

5.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Cut logs crosswise into one-third-inch-thick slices and arrange slices about two inches apart on baking sheets that are lightly buttered or lined with parchment paper. Bake in batches in middle of oven until pale golden, 15 to 17 minutes, then transfer to racks to cool. (Tanglewood note: Gourmet recommends strongly that you bake only one sheet at a time in the exact center of the oven; I did this, but I don't really know how crucial it is.) Cookies will keep layered between parchment paper in an airtight container for up to one week.

Pumpkin Bourbon Ice Cream with Ginger Sandwich Cookies

Sometimes you just need a distraction. Or a new job. Or a pickleback and a bunch of bar snacks. Or maybe you’re feeling kitchen-freaky, like you didn’t expend enough energy on Thanksgiving and you desperately need to make something totally easy yet time-consuming in order to reset your maniacal, holiday-plotting ways. Got it; I can help with that last one. These li’l ice cream sandwiches were on my desserts shortlist for last week, but the burden of transporting a frozen ice cream canister in a packed car to Pittsburgh was such that I opted for a full pie arsenal instead. No matter. These sandwiches still have their place. They're a killer way to put pumpkin in its best and proper light—that is, with booze and lightly spiced.

This is the first Thanksgiving that I can think of where there was no pumpkin pie, which was definitely fine with me. The stuff has never been my favorite, playing umpteenth fiddle to whatever else is on the table, which this year was a veritable smorgasbord of delicious weirdo pies, but I do like pumpkin all the same. And I can’t resist how nice it feels to be baking and making with pumpkin in the fall—it’s ceremonial in a way. So give it a shot if you’ve got the means to make this ice cream. It’s subtle and creamy and a lovely way to pay homage to the last licks of autumn.

Pumpkin-Bourbon Ice Cream

Adapted from Karen DeMasco with logistical help from David Lebovitz

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 cinnamon stick

1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

5 large egg yolks

1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

2 to 3 tablespoons bourbon, or to taste

3/4 cup canned pumpkin puree (not pie filling)

1.  Make an ice bath by putting some ice and a little water in a large bowl and nesting a smaller bowl with capacity for two liters inside it. Set a mesh strainer over the top.

2.  In a medium saucepan, mix the milk, cream, sugar, ginger, cinnamon, cinnamon stick, nutmeg, and salt. Warm the mixture on low heat until the edges begin to foam.

3.  Whisk the egg yolks in a separate medium bowl. Whisking continuously, slowly pour about half of the milk mixture in a slow, steady stream into the egg yolks. Pour the yolks mixture back into the saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring the whole time and scraping the bottom of the pan with a rubber spatula to ensure nothing sticks. Continue cooking until mixture thickens enough to coat the spatula, between 160 and 170 degrees F if you're using a thermometer (but looks alone are good enough to judge!).

4.  Quickly pour the mixture through the strainer into the bowl that's settled in the ice bath. Discard the cinnamon stick. Mix in the brown sugar, stir for a bit to cool, cover with plastic, and refrigerate until well chilled, preferably overnight.

5.  When chilled, whisk in the vanilla, bourbon, and pumpkin puree. Taste, add more bourbon if you like, then strain the whole thing in a fine mesh strainer one more time to ensure that grainy pumpkin doesn't make it into the ice cream. Freeze in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. If storing in the freezer, place plastic wrap directly on top to prevent the formation of ice crystals. The liquor helps this ice cream stay creamier than most would, so ours has stuck around for three weeks and still tastes as smooth as it did on day one.

Ginger Sandwich Cookies

Follow this recipe, which has had a starring role in this kitchen since 2009.

I actually omitted the crystallized ginger this time around and increased the freshly grated ginger to a full three teaspoons to compensate. It was delicious!! 

1.  Once the cookies are cool, scoop 1/4 cup of pumpkin ice cream onto the back of one, sandwich it with another, and allow to firm up in the freezer for about 20 minutes. If storing longer than that, wrap in plastic wrap.

Four and Twenty Pies: Pumped for Thanksgiving

Original little sister output at Orphans Thanksgiving, 2008

This Slate article speaks many an awesome thing to writing your own Thanksgiving traditions. It's written by an author whose mother makes pies in a quantity of more than one pie per person. Experimental pies like pomegranate, Depression-era pies like vinegar, Thanksgiving classics that seem less popular, and family favorites like mocha crunch fill her tables (and overflow onto bookshelves), leading her kid to proudly declare the tradition a "grotesque" and "demented" extravaganza.

Tip of the iceberg, Kickasserole 2011

Her excessive baking is definitely something that I admire and aspire to, but it's the author's reverent yet light-hearted treatment of the Plotz family tradition that really gets me. I mentioned it in a previous Thanksgiving post, but the holiday has become one of my favorites since I started celebrating my own way. Currently Thanksgiving week involves an outrageous pre-Thanksgiving vegetarian smorgasbord in DC called Kickasserole and an abundant meat- and booze-filled "Orphans Thanksgiving" with my sister in Pittsburgh. Both days defy what could be considered a reasonable amount of food, although we've yet to hit the Plotz family's 20-pie stride.  

One of three obliterated pie shelves from this year's Kickasserole

Tomorrow's Orphans Thanksgiving dessert menu consists of six pies and tarts, some of which have been featured on this blog before: quince and biscuit pie, pecan frangipane with cranberry, four nuts caramel, lemon meringue, pear hazelnut crumb, and maple buttermilk. The extravagance is sure to be major and the hangovers total, and I totally can't effing wait; full-tilt friends and food and the promise of coming back next year is the best part about my Thanksgiving celebrations.

Simple Apple Tart (For Your Thanksgiving Consideration)

It's officially getting down to the second most wonderful time of the year. As a young'n I sort of dreaded Thanksgiving: it was soccer tournaments in Vegas, college midterms, and too much turkey as my family came to terms with my now defunct vegetarianism. The holiday never really connoted family either; Fourth of July and Christmas did that and they still do. So three Thanksgivings ago I spread my little wings and went to Pittsburgh to be with my sister and the other "orphans" who couldn't or wouldn't make it home to carve turkeys and eat sweet potato casserole with 'mallows. That year was one of the finest Thanksgivings I've yet to experience, as I buckled down to make six pies while my sister roasted a turkey and made Brussels sprouts so buttery that they could stop your heart (and nearly did two years later, but everyone is fine). It ended with me and two pals breaking into a high-society party, downing a lot of Grey Goose, and ultimately punching each other in the face -- perfect.

And now I love Thanksgiving. It's not that I really hated going home or didn't appreciate the fantastic spread that my mom and dad put together every year, it's just that I've loved writing my own traditions with my sister and our friends. Thanksgiving season is now a two-fold celebration: the first is Kickasserole, our now annual pre-Thanksgiving for friends in DC on the Saturday before folks head for home. Last year saw 45 people arrive with everything from vegan apple pie doughnuts to seitan steaks to the absolutely most decadent macaroni and cheese you'd ever hope to meet. This year we've invited twice as many people, and our community Google doc is showing freeze-distilled applejack, beer soup (vegan!), sweet potato gratin, pumpkin-bourbon ice cream, and my first home brew -- a little IPA that's chugging away under the sink right now. And three days later I'll head out to Pittsburgh for the best of all Thanksgiving celebrations with friends, football, a keg, Gooskis, and a round of Celebrity that I excitedly await every single year.

All that to say that as you're preparing for your own Thanksgiving celebrations and writing your own traditions, think about bringing something ever so slightly new to share! Pumpkin pie ain't for everyone, and it really truly ain't for me, so it's recipes like this apple tart that are what I'm looking for this time of year. It's simple as all hell to make, comes together in no time once you have the crust prepared, and it's light and a little sweet -- a super good finish to a heavy, boozy, sports- and friends-filled meal.

Simple Apple Tart
Adapted from Alice Waters

Crust
Recipe for one crust, any kind you like. I used the second rye pie dough left over from this recipe, but there is also this rye crust and this all-butter pastry, both of which are excellent options. Alice Waters's original recipe calls for an all-butter pastry, but rye is so sweet and nice -- give it a shot if you're able.

Filling + Glaze
2 pounds tart, firm apple, any variety; peeled, cored, and cut into quarter-inch slices (save the peels and cores!)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
5 tablespoons granulated sugar + 1/2 cup granulated sugar for glaze

1.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out your chilled dough into a 14-inch circle. Gently place into a 9-inch tart pan, or, if making a free-form galette, transfer round to the back of a cookie sheet lined with parchment.

2. Tightly overlap apples all the way to edges if using a pan, or with a two-inch border of crust if making a galette. The size of your apple slices will determine your apple placement. My slices were fairly large so concentric circles weren't possible. I did two simple rows down the middle, then filled in the sides with slices that were cut in half. Fold dough over apples and pleat at intervals.

3.  Brush melted butter all over apples and dough, and sprinkle dough with two tablespoons sugar. Sprinkle remaining three tablespoons of sugar over the apples themselves. Bake in center of oven until apples are soft with dark edges and crust has turned deep golden brown. Rotate every 15 minutes to prevent burning; tart will take about 45 minutes to an hour to bake.

4. Meanwhile make the glaze. Put all of your apple cores and peels and the remaining half-cup of sugar in a pot, add just enough water to cover, and simmer for 30 minutes. Strain syrup. When tart is finished, remove to a cooling rack for at least 15 minutes, then brush the tart with apple glaze and serve.

Maple Buttermilk Pie with Rye Crust

Being from a region of the country wholly nonproximate to the South, I hadn't even heard of buttermilk pie until a few months ago. Bobbie with her sweet tooth was, naturally, responsible for the curiosity after she told me about chess pie, of which I was also unaware but by which I'm now equally intrigued. The two are related, and both seem to be the type of dessert that was made with whatever the ladies of the day had handy in their kitchens. As it were, Crafty Bastards left us with a fair amount of unused buttermilk, and this pie was a perfect cool-weather solution on a weekend saturated with the most excellent visitors.

For the skeptics and the west coasters, buttermilk pie comes out of the oven with a lightly caramelized top and a sweet, thick, custardy inside. The maple in this version -- that I gather is nontraditional -- complemented the caramelization, and the whole thing tasted a bit like tangy dulce de leche. It's a little ugly and a little stunning and wholly deserving of your leftover (or new!) buttermilk.

Maple Buttermilk Pie with Rye Crust
Adapted from 101Cookbooks

Crust
Makes enough for one double-crust or two single-crust pies.
I doubled the salt and added sugar. How predictable!

Scant 2/3 cup rye flour (75 g.)
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1.5 teaspoons granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
8 oz. (two sticks) unsalted butter, very cold and cut into half-inch pieces
1/4 to 1/2 cup very cold beer (!!!) or water, or slightly more (amount will depend on the weather; I used 1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon beer)

1. Put the flours, sugar, and sea salt in the bowl of your food processor (or in a bowl if you don't have a processor). Pulse once to mix and sprinkle with little cubes of butter. Using short pulses (or a pastry blender), mix the butter into the flour until the crumbs range in size from large peas to oatmeal.

2. Turn the flour mixture out into a large shallow bowl. Drizzle 1/4 cup of the liquid over the flour-butter mix and cut through it with a rubber spatula to blend. If the mixture still looks dry, add more liquid one tablespoon at a time until it's pretty shaggy and holds cohesive when you squeeze it together. Divide dough into two equal pieces, wrap each in plastic wrap, flatten slightly, and refrigerate for at least one hour before rolling.

3. If you only need one crust for now, triple wrap the second in plastic and freeze for up to a week. Or! Make two pies. Rye crust is delicious with just about any filling. You could also halve the recipe, or check the archives for a different crust if you can't halve weights.

Filling
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 tablespoons golden brown sugar
6 egg yolks
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup real maple syrup (pref. grade B)
2 cups buttermilk (pref. whole fat)
1 teaspoon vanilla
scant 1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
large-grain sugar for sprinkling

1. Preheat oven to 375 F with a rack in the bottom third. Roll out one hunk of the pie dough hunks on a lightly floured surface into a 12-inch round. Guide it into a 9-inch pie dish, and trim the crust so that there is a one-inch overhang. Tuck the overhang under itself, then flute it with your fingers or crimp with a fork. Prick the bottom of the crust with a fork a bunch of times. Line the bottom and sides with one large piece of parchment or buttered foil and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake for 20 minutes, remove the weights and parchment, and bake for 10 minutes more until golden. Allow crust to cool as long as possible.

2.  Now mix the filling! In a large bowl, whisk the lemon zest, brown sugar, yolks, and flour until mixture is free of lumps. Slowly add the maple syrup, whisking, then the buttermilk, vanilla, and sea salt.

3. Dial the oven down to 325 F. Put cooled crust (or cooled-ish) on baking pan lined with foil, and pour the mixture into the shell. Bake until filling is somewhat firm around the edges and set in the center, about one hour. Filling will puff up like a crazy souffle then deflate as it cools. Allow pie to cool on a rack, sprinkle with large-grain sugar, and enjoy! Ours was finish in 24 hours, but we did leave it covered on the counter to great success during that time. If you're keeping it out for longer than a day, cover with plastic and put in the fridge.

Tarts by Tarts at the Crafty Bastards Fair!

Photo by Emily!

Hot damn, blog blackout. Last I wrote, I was in the thick of summer and hardly baking a lick because of the swampy outdoors and sweltering indoors. It was a rollicking good summer with trips to Maine, California, and Pittsburgh and time spent in Baltimore, but fall is the g.d. best and what better way to kick it off than with a new business adventure!

Only the essentials y'all 

In July, some amazing ladies and a wonderful fella moved into our house in DC, and one of these gals happens to be a killer baker with a pie forte. And in September, the Washington City Paper announced that this year's ginormous Crafty Bastards Arts and Crafts Fair would feature an "indie food market." Kismet! In years past, Crafty Bastards hasn't had much food, particularly not much local and independent food, so we quick-quick planned and wrote our application to represent. Thus was born Tarts by Tarts, our bakery ode to butter, bourbon, and New England.

 Doughnuts stuffed with dulce de leche, savory apple tart, chocolate cookies, and apple-apple butter tartlets

Following nightly prep of business cards bunting, the day before the fair had us up and at 'em early with a breakfast of fried green tomato croque mesdames (holler!) and a last-minute grocery trip to purchase deep-fry oil and a boatload of sugar. Twenty-two hours of baking, two hours of sleep, and 15 pounds of flour later, we had churned out dulce-de-leche-stuffed doughnuts, apple cider doughnuts, chocolate- and vanilla-glazed buttermilk cake doughnuts, molasses gingerbread, pumpkin whoopie pies, a savory apple-onion-gruyere tart, double chocolate cookies, vegan iced oatmeal cookies, apple tartlets, honey walnut tartlets, and plum hazelnut tartlets—about 200 individual baked goods all told.

Emily, tartin' it up

And we sold out! After a rewarding though rainy and freezing four hours, Tarts by Tarts sold its last cookie and packed its many bags for home where hot toddies were flowing and nap time was calling. The marathon baking and fair had me tiptoeing the precipice of insanity, but in the end we had a bang-up time and are really looking forward to plotting our next appearance. Doughnut cart? Farmstand? Pop-up bakeshops? Thanks to everyone who came out to support, or helped us out with tents, cars, 3:00 a.m. company, and more! We're only just getting 'Tarted (hah).

Apricot Blackberry Tart with Rye Crust

Warning y'all, I'm in a Law & Order SVU k-hole. It comes after an abnormally demanding couple of days at my job and just before the onslaught of six straight 17-hour work days i.e., my organization's annual conference. I'm spending my last few hours of respite thinking about pie and cocktails and watching a ten-year-old sociopath terrorize a father played by Agent Cooper. Joey and I (but mostly I) had a bad habit of watching probably six episodes of SVU at a time until Joey moved to Argyle and left me here to watch SVU on my ownsome while feeding a fear of our basement (total serial killer hideout!).  

Well and so this tart. Joey successfully unleashed me from SVU's stranglehold last weekend when he came down to DC for a quick, two-night visit. We traipsed from one quadrant of DC to another, exclusively for gluttonous, double dinners and cocktails, and especially for ramen (at Toki Underground -- you have to go!) and for friends (they are the best!). And suddenly it was 2 a.m. on Saturday night when I realized that I hadn't baked the second of two of these tarts yet and that Joey was leaving at the crack of Sunday dawn. So we slept some, baked the tart, ate it, and kissed faretheewell until next time. But before Joey got on his train, he did declare this tart to be "it," and I think it almost worked magic in getting him to come back forever.

And anyway, this recipe makes two jammy, flaky, sweet, and tart tarts in what Kimberly Boyce calls a crust made “sweet and milky” by the use of rye flour. She recommends the tart dough for any fruit, particularly apricots and boysenberries together, and while my farmers market is woefully short on boysenberries, we have an abundance of blackberries and soon enough plums. Pears too. And I am officially hooked on Boyce’s palate. I mean, after her rhubarb tarts, whole-wheat chocolate chip cookies, iced oatmeal cookies, honey amaranth cookies, multigrain pear pancakes, quinoa cookies, and ginger peach muffins, I sorta already was. Definitely pick up a copy of her cookbook. It will blow your mind.

Apricot Blackberry Tart with Rye Crust                 

Adapted from Kim Boyce’s recipe for Apricot Boysenberry Tart

Makes two tarts

Boyce's recipe calls for homemade jam so I cut back the amount used since I was suspicious of how sweet commercial jam would be. I've noted below where my take strays from hers.

For rye dough
1 cup rye flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 ½ sticks cold unsalted butter
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
Ice water

1.  Sift the flours, sugar, and salt into a large bowl, dumping any grains that remain in the sifter back into the bowl. Cut the butter into half-inch pieces and add to the mixture. Rub the butter between your fingers to break it into smaller bits, until the butter ranges in size from hazelnuts to peas; work quickly!

2.  Add the vinegar and eight tablespoons of ice water to the mixture, using a rubber spatula or your hands to cut the liquid through the dry ingredients. The dough should come together as one shaggy lump. Squeeze it together to see if a ball forms, and if it’s too dry, add more water one tablespoon at a time until dough comes together. Pile the dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap, sprinkle with a few dots of water, wrap, and refrigerate for at least an hour or overnight.

3.   (This next bit is a tad technical, but folding and rolling the dough like this creates seriously flaky layers of pastry.) Unwrap the dough on a floured surface and pat it into square. Roll it out to a rectangle that’s roughly 8 ½ by 11 inches. The dough will be crumbly, but fear not! It will come together. For the first turn, fold the dough in thirds like a letter; the seam should be on the left. Rotate the dough so that the seam is at the top and parallel to your body, and roll out into an 8 ½ by 11 rectangle again. Fold and roll again, and repeat the process for a third, final time. Wrap the dough in plastic and chill for another hour.

For filling and finishing

1 ¼ cup apricot jam (suspecting sweetness, I cut this back to 1 cup total)

2 pounds ripe apricots

2 to 4 tablespoons sugar, depending on sweetness of fruit

1 ½ cups boysenberries (I used blackberries)

1 egg

¼ cup raw sugar

½ teaspoon cinnamon

1.  Cut the apricots in half, discard the pits, and toss the halves into a large bowl. Add the sugar and toss to coat. Gently stir 1/2 cup of jam into apricots; each piece of fruit should be lightly coated with jam.  In a separate bowl, toss the berries with another ¼ cup of jam, careful to keep the berries whole.

2.  To shape dough, divide it in half and keep the second half in the fridge while you work. Roll your dough on a lightly floured surface into a 15-inch circle. Transfer the circle to the back of a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper.

3.  To assemble tart, smear ¼ cup of jam (I halved this and used two tablespoons) across the crust. Pile on half the apricots and half the blackberries, tucking berries into the nooks. Working from the edges, fold the crust into the center, pleating as needed; there should be about three inches of crust showing.  Using the same procedure, make the second tart.  Freeze both tarts for at least an hour.

4.  Meanwhile preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Whisk your egg with a splash of water until no streaks remain, and brush the tops of crusts with it.  Mix the cinnamon and sugar in a small bowl, and toss it generously and evenly over both tarts. Bake tarts for 60 to 70 minutes, rotating pan halfway through, until crust is deep golden brown and filling is bubbling. If you only want to make one, keep the second unbaked tart wrapped in the freezer for up to one month.

Summer Peach Pie

Summer, y'all. The season sticks around like molasses in the mid-Atlantic, but the produce disappears from week to week. My farmer said on Saturday that the window for apricots is going to be three weeks this year, and sour cherries were around for just two, so we had best be on our pit fruits wits! In the meantime, there's work to skip and quarries to swim, and two weeks ago I went way up north to visit Joey in his new tiny town of Argyle, New York, just a heartbeat away from the Adirondacks and around the corner from a killing of farmstand doughnuts.

There was also the blow-out bulgogi BBQ curated by my whipsmart, hilarious, and visiting big sister, and in the past two weeks there has been a series of roaring summer storms that have ripped through the city while we watch from the porch with beers like how our mom does. The dance parties have been supremely sweaty and the karaoke extra romantic, and every weekend someone is rattling off the names of beaches to infiltrate (side note: dudes, let's go). By the time fall rolls around (in like, December), I'm usually so tired of summer that I could just spit, but this year has felt a little more urgent, a little more important.

I'm not trying to get sick of summer anytime soon, which brings us back to pit fruit. And this peach pie. And last weekend when we sat in the kitchen hungover watching the Kennedys miniseries (it's just the worst!), and it was all I could do to make three fruit pies and pay homage to summer in my inside, Sunday way too. Guys, this pie is so rad, and you have to make it. 

Summer Peach Pie

Blind baking fruit pies is awesome because it prevents the bottom crust from getting soggy. You don't have to do it, but I totally love that there is a way to guarantee crispy crust on both sides. If you don't want to go to the trouble, put the bottom dough in unbaked, fill it, top it with the top crust, freeze for 45 minutes, then do the egg wash, and bake away as directed below.

1 recipe all-butter flaky pie dough (instructions and ingredients over here!)

4 pounds ripe peaches

1/3 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

2  tablespoons tapioca flour or cornstarch

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, cut into little pieces

2 tablespoons raw sugar

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1.  After your pie crust has done its requisite one-hour stint in the fridge, preheat your oven to 425 degrees. Roll out one-half of the crust to a 12-inch circle, and fit into a nine-inch standard pie pan. Trim the overhang to a half-inch all around, fold the edges of the dough under, and crimp. Place a piece of foil shiny side down onto the crust, fill with pie weights or dried beans, and bake for 25 minutes. Remove foil and bake for five to ten minutes more, until crust is lightly golden brown; let crust cool while you carry on. Turn oven down to 375 degrees for the pie.

2.  Meanwhile, blanch and peel your peaches. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cut an X into the bottom of each peach, and boil three or four at a time for 15 seconds (if your peaches aren't utterly ripe, you may need to go to 20 or 25 to more easily remove the skins; test one peach to find out). With a slotted spoon, remove peaches to a big bowl. Continue to blanch peaches in rounds, bringing water to a full boil between each set. Then, starting at the Xs, press, slide, and peel the fuzzy skins off; cut peeled peaches into one-inch slices and toss into a large bowl.

3.  Mix the sugar and vanilla into the peaches and allow to macerate for about 30 minutes. Drain a little of the resulting peach juice into a small bowl, and whisk the tapioca flour into it to dissolve. Then toss the flour and juice back into the bowl of peaches; stir to combine. 

4.  Mound your filling into the baked bottom pie crust. Roll out the top crust to a 12-inch circle, and follow these instructions if you want to make a lattice top. Since the bottom crust is baked, you'll need to tuck the edges of the lattice strips under themselves instead of under the lip of the bottom crust; no big deal! Mix the cinnamon and sugar together in a little bowl, whisk the egg to oblivion and brush the top of your crust with it, then cover it with the cinnamon and sugar mixture. Put pie on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, and bake for one hour, or until filling is bubbling and crust is deep golden brown.

Roasted Strawberry Sorbet

Two weeks ago, my good friends Bekka and Jon visited Larriland Farm in Woodbine, Maryland to load up on you-pick strawberries. Last year they came home with probably 20 pounds of berries that deliciously overwhelmed the freezer and fridge, so this year I was sure to sign up for a share of their lode. The berries from last summer were enormous, blood red, and exactly what you’d want for an eating berry, but this year’s have been like small ruby jewels that are slightly sour and much more floral—perfect for cooking, in other words. Growing up I mostly ate strawberries in things, or specifically, slathered with whipped cream, drowned in heavy cream, macerated and saturating a shortcake that was also slathered with whipped cream—they’re a blank canvas for dairy products, y’all. But Lipitor is in my future and I’m reining in my wanton use of fat-full dairy, which leads me to this sorbet: it is amazing. 
 
Most of the sorbet recipes that I consulted consisted of just berries, sugar, and lemon juice, which is sort of plain, especially for one who is accustomed to the righteous richness of strawberries in things. So, taking a cue from 101cookbooks, I roasted the bejeezus out of these berries and then churned the results into my honestly new favorite frozen dessert. Roasting the berries seriously transforms their flavor, almost caramelizing them, and the extra "work" (it's so easy!) is totally worth it. Mom is still going to cram me with strawberries and cream when I go home, and I’m sure that I’ll eat a river of strawberries if the next ones that Jon and Bekka bring home are as far out as the ones from last summer, for now and maybe forever, this roasted strawberry sorbet is my jam.

 
Roasted Strawberry Sorbet

Taking a cue from Heidi Swanson's recipe for roasted strawberries

Heidi's original recipe is for just roasted strawberries, and she suggests pairing them with an array of sweet or savory foods (goat cheese and graham crackers!). The recipe below deviates from her original proportions quite a bit and leaves out the port wine she suggested. All this in the name of killer sorbet. If you're interested in her original, and you should be, check out her amazing book or feature over here.

Get Yr Roasted Strawberry Sorbet On

Yields about five cups sorbet

Two pounds (32 ounces) little strawberries, hulled, and halved if they're larger (trimmed, my berry weight came to 1 pound, 14 ounces)

1/4 cup pure maple syrup

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

2 tablespoons natural sugar

1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon balsamic vinegar, to your preference

1.  Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F. Hull your berries, halve if they're large, and toss with maple syrup, olive oil, and salt in a large bowl. Spread out in a single layer across two rimmed baking sheets or in casserole dishes; you want to use a receptacle that will reserve the juices! Rotating the pans halfway through, bake for 30 to 40 minutes, until the berry juices start to thicken; don't let them burn. Heidi counsels us to check the edges of the pan for tell-tale signs of imminent burning. 

2.  Remove berries from the oven. Working in batches, carefully pulverize the hot berries and syrup in a food processor or blender until totally smooth (my mixture did not need to be strained). Stir in the sugar and balsamic vinegar to taste, and chill puree in the fridge for at least three hours and ideally overnight.

3.  Churn the puree in an ice cream maker according to your manufacturer's instructions. This sorbet is the best eaten straight from the mixer or after firming up in the freezer for 20 minutes. If eating after the sorbet has spent a long period in the freezer, allow sorbet to sit out at room temperature for 15 minutes before scooping. Enjoy!

*Update:  If you don't have access to an ice cream maker, check out this post written by David Lebovitz explaining how to churn by hand. 

Raspberry Rhubarb Crostata

When I was approximately seven, my grandmother's tipsy humor had us in stitches when she took a jab at her sister (not present) during a game of Balderdash. The word in question sounded something like “pompelsnell,” and grandma joked that it was “the sound you make after eating Eloise’s rhubarb cobbler.” She was not wrong! This is both my first memory of snark and my first memory of rhubarb, which I seem to recall being stewed without sugar and slumping under a deflated layer of cooked oatmeal.* I have a friend now who has never had rhubarb because it was verboten at his dinner table as his grandfather had grown up in orphanage eating rhubarb pie every day, and another friend who avoids it because her parents used to boil rhubarb (without sugar!) and serve it alongside rutabagas -- so very World War II. I cannot imagine a more un-Tanglewood way to spend a meal. 

People go on about rhubarb being tart and sassy, but until recently, I really wouldn’t have known because my tendency was to sweeten the shit out of it, add strawberries, and bake it inside of buttery pastry dough. It is so good that way, but then my sister’s main dude made her a rhubarb-only birthday pie a couple of weeks ago -- the first pie he has ever made! -- and it was so tasty and new. Maybe Eloise was on the right track. I’m not quite interested in going bare-bones with the ‘barb yet, but having it on its own helped me divorce it from strawberries -- and right on time because I was growing bored of it that way and thinking I would just forget about rhubarb this season. But this tart is so good, and it will revive your rhubarb pie repertoire for certain. And if you’re looking for a spin on rhubarb that isn’t at all “pompelsnell,” well you should start right here. Now quick, quick! Get some rhubarb before it disappears until next season.

Raspberry Rhubarb Crostata

Spotted on Lottie + Doof, adapted from Karen Demasco in Bon Appetit

The only major change I made to this was swapping out the cornstarch in favor of tapioca starch. I once read that some people detect a gritty mouth feel when eating filling made with cornstarch. This has never been a problem for me, but

Crust

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour 

1/2 cup whole-wheat flour 

1 1/2 tablespoons sugar 

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt 

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cubed 

1 large egg

1 tablespoon whole milk

Filling

1/4 cup tapioca starch
4 cups 1/2″-thick slices rhubarb (about 1 1/4 lb.)
6 oz. fresh raspberries
2/3 cup sugar
1 large egg, beaten
Raw sugar
Sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream (for serving)

1.  For crust:  Pulse flours, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor to blend. Drop cubed butter over the top, and pulse a few times until butter is the size of peas. In a separate bowl, whisk milk and egg to combine, then pulse into the flour-butter mixture until it creates moist crumbs. Dump mixture into a shallow bowl, and quickly press into a ball with your hands; flatten into a thick disk. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 1 1/2 hours and up to two days. 

2.  For filling:  Mix tapioca starch and 3 tablespoons water in a small bowl to dissolve; set aside. Combine rhubarb, raspberries, and sugar in a large, heavy saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until sugar is dissolved and fruit starts releasing its juices, about four minutes. Stir in tapioca mixture and bring to a boil; rhubarb slices will still be in tact. Transfer to a bowl and chill filling until cool, about 30 minutes.

3.  For crostata:  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Roll out dough on floured parchment to a 12-inch diameter; brush with beaten egg. Mound filling in the center, then spread out evenly, leaving a 1 1/2-inch border. Gently fold edges of dough over filling, pleating as needed; brush border with egg and sprinkle with raw sugar. Slide parchment paper onto a large rimmed baking sheet and bake until crust is golden brown, about 45 minutes. You might choose to line pan with aluminum foil as well to catch seeping juices. Transfer crostata to a baking rack, and serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream if so desired. Will keep covered for a few days, but truly is best eaten the day of or from the fridge.

* Well, my mom, sister, and I all have a different memory about this night. Sister insists that it was a mincemeat pie and that Eloise made them all the time. My mother is certain that it was pumpkin pie. They both say that it was Thanksgiving, which means that my memory of it being rhubarb is likely wrong, and my memory of it being cobbler even more so, but still! The point is that this crostata will never cause anyone to ridicule you during Balderdash.

Blackberry Chili Syrup with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

I made this ice cream two weeks ago to share with Joey’s family after he blew everyone’s socks off at the performance of his composition. We all went back to his house at the conclusion, and family from here and North Carolina sat around eating dessert and drinking wine and whiskey while Joey chatted about his impending move to Solitude, New England and played us another song on his marimba (it was not wholly unlike a more clothed version of the nights that defined my co-op experienced in college). Joey convinced me that his family does not like “hot,” though he loves it, so Tory and I sat in the corner draining the jar of spicy blackberry sauce and concocting other ways to use it (with bourbon! in oatmeal! on cheesecake!) and wondering whether one could subsist on spicy blackberry sauce alone.

Today my friend Guy expressed similar enthusiasm about his ideal diet staple when he said that his ice cream maker has revolutionized his eating habits. He claims to pulverize everything in a blender, chill it, and churn it, and while I’m sure he didn’t mean salad, he most certainly meant cantaloupe, mint, and cayenne pepper, pecans and cardamom, and any number of combinations that could convince most to disavow themselves of solid foods; there was talk of creamy cashew ice cream being next. My ice cream approach has worked in the other direction—start standard but pair with something plucky—and while this week’s recipe may seem vanilla at the start, it is totally delicious and doubly so with this spicy blackberry sauce. 

Blackberry Chili Syrup

Inspired by 101 Cookbooks

Makes about two cups

This syrup is quite hot! A teaspoon poured into seltzer gave me the sneezes, but gobs on top of ice cream were perfectly tempered. I’ve also mixed this with bourbon and seltzer, eaten it with yogurt and granola, mixed it with salad dressing, and poured it on a cookie. It mellows out in the fridge a bit, but why would you want it to? Hello, year-round staple.

3 dried aji cereza or guajillo peppers (If you can find them, the aji cereza peppers are the way to go since they're already fruity and fragrant. I've seen them at the bodega down the street and at Whole Foods.)

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1 cup natural sugar

1 1/2 cups water

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

4.5 ounces fresh or frozen blackberries

1.  Trim the stems from the peppers and tear them into pieces; add peppers along with their seeds to a medium saucepan with the sugars, water, and lemon juice. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, and, stirring regularly, continue boiling until the mixture reduces to about two cups of syrup, 20 to 30 minutes.

2.  Add the frozen berries to the boiling pot, and cook for an addition few minutes, no longer than five.  Remove from heat, and carefully puree the syrup, either with a hand blender, regular blender, or food processor (I used the later). Strain the syrup through a fine-mesh sieve, and store in the fridge in covered jars. It should keep for several weeks.


Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

Adapted from David Lebovitz

1 cup whole milk

3/4 cup natural sugar

A pinch of salt

1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

2 cups heavy cream

5 large egg yolks

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1.  In a medium saucepan, heat the milk, sugar, and salt over low. Scrape the vanilla beans into the pan, toss the pod in, and continue cooking until mixture is warm. Turn off the stove, cover, and let steep for one hour.

2.  Set up an ice bath by placing a medium bowl in a larger bowl filled partially with ice and water. Add the cream to the medium bowl, and set a strainer over the top. In a separate bowl, mix the egg yolks and set aside.

3.  Reheat the milk mixture in the saucepan over low, and slowly pour some of the warmed milk into the egg yolks to temper them, whisking all the while. Add the tempered yolks and milk back to the saucepan, and continue cooking mixture over low, stirring and scraping the bottom with a heat-resistant spatula the whole time. When custard is thick enough to coat the spatula—six to ten minutes usually—remove from heat and strain into the cold cream, discarding the vanilla pod. Stir the mixture until it’s cool, then add the vanilla extract.

4.  Cover and chill overnight, then process according to your ice cream maker’s directions.Once the ice cream reaches your desired consistency (I usually put mine in the freezer for an additional hour or two), scoop it out and cover with heaping spoonfuls of the blackberry chili syrup!