Do It Better than Sara Lee

I fear that I might be setting a bad precedent here. First with the boxed brownie praise, and now I am going to confess another unrespectable crush from my childhood relationship with baked goods. I, dear reader(s), was mighty obsessed with Sara Lee pound cake. Truly. The cardboard label atop the buttery brick of a cake was held in place by a roll-up-roll-down aluminum frame, whose ridges I would ceremoniously pry up one by one until the cardboard top had been released from its holder, and I was free to dive into the cake. “Plunge” might be a more accurate verb since it better connotes the cake’s bulky thickness; Sara Lee never made a light and gracious pound cake.

I had to splurge for an egg beater--finally! It is necessary to have some sort of butter-whipping device, or a very strong and committed arm, to make this cake.

I must admit that I even had a favorite knife for cutting the cake. It was a mock-pearl-handled silver knife with brass screws and a serrated edge—it cut the cake into smooth, crumbs-intact slices. I used to spin circles on my family’s wooden bar stools, eating one thick slice after another with piles of Reddi Whipped Cream (oh, cringe again!) and strawberries if they were around. A few times, I tried broiling slices of pound cake with honey in our oven, but for some sugary reason the habit never caught on. In any case, that cake was the stuff of after-school dreams. Buttery as all hell and with a smooth crumb and a delightfully browned crust, I don’t mean to sing its praises so heartily, but my goodness, was it ever a mighty fine cake.

Good gracious. This crackled crust is the most delicious. I would slice it off and eat it alone were that not arguably an act of baking sacrilege.

Fast forward to the maturation of my taste buds, and you’ll see that I have come very far in my development of a properly discerning palate. Like brownies, however, pound cake has frequently lurked beneath my homebaking adult radar because I’ve had a hard time imagining the dessert in any form other than coffin-shaped and heavy as a brick. After making a few lemon pound cakes here and there, but not really liking them at all, I sort of forgot about pound cake. At my favorite cafe in Berkeley, I would always bypass the pound cake for a vegan cookie, a chocolate cupcake, or a few macaroons. Well, along came a recipe for cream cheese pound cake via Deb over at Smitten Kitchen, and I realized that it had been some years since I’d even attempted to recall the taste of such a cake. Suddenly those chocolate cupcakes I’d been meaning to make took a backseat. So did the lemon meringue pie, the pistachio-cherry chocolate squares, and the chocolate chip gingersnaps. I refreshed Deb’s pictures of the cake for days before I finally found a decent excuse (Lady Adventure Evening) to try out the recipe on some similarly food-inclined friends.

You can see at the bottom where the cake sunk a bit, but it didn't get gummy, just richer and more delicious.

Let me cut to the chase and tell you that there was not a crumb of disappointment. This pound cake tastes, looks, smells, and feels spectacular. It rose marvelously, and while it did sink a touch, I am convinced this was because my Bundt pan is ten cups when it should be 12, and so the cake did not have enough support. But the vanilla taste is smooth and inviting, the crumbs are velvety, and the cake is thick and buttery without being dense or gummy. What’s more, the addition of cream cheese makes a delightful crackled crust that is nearly impossible not to pick off and eat once the cake is out of the oven. This is a tremendous cake. I can only provide so much external feedback, because between my six friends and I, this cake for 12 was gone in two days. What’s worse is that this cake gets better with age, or sweeter anyway. I had a slice for breakfast with a heaping cup of coffee in the cake’s fortieth hour, and it was even more delicious that it had been straight out of the oven. Without further ado, I should present the recipe to you, with the suggestion to stick with the almond extract--overwhelming though I know it can be--and adapt as you see fit. I think it would be delicious with some crystallized ginger thrown in or eaten with some fresh berries. At ladies' night, we topped ours with mango, and if you were so inclined, I think a mango coulis would be good because you could get a spoonful of syrup with every bite. Seriously though, this cake is delicious plain, and with a twirl of honey and a handful of chopped almonds, you could have yourself a pretty impressive brunch contribution. Bake away and let me know what you think!

Cream Cheese Pound Cake
By Way of Smitten Kitchen

Here I must implore to you get a baking thermometer. I recently discovered that my oven is a whole 25 degrees cooler than it should be. This will be the best six bucks that Target ever set you back if you're a committed baker. And if you're not a committed or ever a frequent baker, I still highly recommend one because it's made my relationship with my oven tons more harmonious.

1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, at room temperature
3 cups sugar
6 large eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract plus 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Lightly butter and flour a 12-cup Bundt pan.

2. Place the butter and cream cheese in a large bowl and beat with a mixer on medium speed until smooth. Add the sugar, increase the speed to high, and beat until light and airy, at least five minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition and scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula as needed. Add the vanilla, almond, then the flour and salt all at once. Beat just until incorporated.

3. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and even out the top with a rubber spatula or by shaking gently. Bake until the cake is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean, 1 1/4 hours.

4. Place the pan on a cake rack and cool for 20 minutes, then remove the cake from the pan and let it cool completely. Serve at room temperature.

Pudding Packet Revolution

I grew up baking brownies from a Duncan Hines box. I'm not certain I know anyone who really didn't, and I remember feeling revolutionized when they added pudding packets to the mix. I don't like to credit boxed mixes with having too much to do with my baking upbringing, but I reveled in measuring out my three-fourth cups of oil perfectly and cracking the single egg directly into the powdery center of my baking bowl. I think that the pudding packet is what gave me my taste for dense, fudgey brownies that have some structural integrity, but are most lovable for their profound, chocolate overload.

Ghiradelli 100% unsweetened chocolate, chopped for Cook's Illustrated batch

I'm not sure that brownies and I got off to the proper start through. I can claim an early love of the aforementioned DH pudding semi-masterpieces--though I wouldn't touch boxed brownies now unless you menaced me--but the first time I baked brownies from scratch was when I was going through my requisite vegan phase at Berkeley. What eventually became my go-to recipe impressed the hell out of me because until then, my vegan dessert staple had been a scoop (or several) of peanut butter, rolled in chocolate chips and coconut. I guess my brownie bar was set pretty low, and it wasn't until I started feeling serious about baking that I realized that my brownie repertoire was in dire need of some updating. I had always been scared to bake brownies from scratch, however, because their deliciousness is seriously embedded into my memories of childhood, and I was nervous to upset the nostalgia.

Cook's Illustrated final product--a touch underbaked, but cohesive, delicious squares

A good brownie, in my opinion, is the best inducer of childhood indulgence. It should be undeniably rich but not overly so, fudgey in the middle with a satisfyingly crisp outer shell. Crumbs should be manageably sticky, but not gummy, and I prefer a deep dark chocolate to the pale and milky sort that leads to a rather Play-Doh-tasting brownie. This may be a holdover from my vegan days, but I think that a cold glass of almond milk is a terrific accompaniment, since its nutty flavor cuts through the chocolate and brings out all that is deep and earthy about proper brownies.

Cook's Illustrated stacks--crackly shells with a soft, thick interior

In my quest to pinpoint exactly which brownie satisfies my demanding and indulgent need for baked goods, I narrowed down my recipe bloc to two contenders that have been beckoning to me for months now. The first is a product of Cook's Illustrated wiz Erica Bruce, and the recipe was published as the perfect response to our childhood need for decadence with simplicity. The second comes from the two fellows behind Brooklyn's inspiring (seriously, inspiring--their baked goods are so toothsome) Baked bakery in Red Hook.

Baked version--ungodly rich and so fudgey, underbaked in spite of an additional 20 minutes of oven time

The first three photos in this post are from the Cook's Illustrated recipe, which uses an amount of chocolate that is modest compared to the Baked brownie, and swaps out all-purpose flour for cake flour which reduces the granular feeling that can sometimes accompany baked goods that use quite a bit of white sugar. The CI version baked nearly to perfection, even though I have a tendency to underbake (I will readily eat an overbaked brownie, but the texture reminds me too much of dry, store-bought cake to be thoroughly enjoyable), and the taste and texture were everything I needed: crackled exterior, rich, fudgey middle, and with an expansive chocolate taste that made it nearly impossible to stop myself from eating four in a row. These brownies were ever better on the second day, and next time I make them, I think I will refrigerate the batter for a few hours before baking, to allow the egg to thoroughly absorb the dry ingredients and promote that fugdey taste that is so crucial. The Baked ones would have been delicious over ice cream, but alone, they were simply too rich for me (who thought this day would ever come!). The Baked brownie uses two types of chocolate and is absolutely, deliciously decadent, but I prefer the simplicity of the Cook's Illustrated brownie. I think with its incredibly deep chocolate profile, however, the Baked brownie would take a spice (such as smoked paprika) or a stripe of caramel nicely. Let me know if you try anything!

Classic Brownie
Cook's Illustrated

1¼ cups cake flour
½ teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon baking powder
6 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped fine
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, cut into six 1-inch pieces
2¼ cups sugar
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 325 degrees. Cut 18-inch length foil and fold lengthwise to 8-inch width. Fit a length of two of foil into a 13 by 9-inch baking dish, pushing it into corners and up sides of pan; allow excess to overhand pan edges. Spray foil-lined pan with nonstick cooking spray.

2. Whisk to combine flour, salt, and baking powder in medium bowl; set aside.

3. Melt chocolate and butter in large heatproof bowl set over saucepan of almost-simmering water, stirring occasionally, until smooth. When chocolate mixture is completely smooth, remove bowl from saucepan and gradually whisk in sugar. Add eggs on at a time, whisking after each addition until thoroughly combined. Whisk in vanilla. Add flour mixture in three additions, folding with rubber spatula until batter is completely smooth and homogeneous.

5. Transfer batter to prepared pan; using spatula, spread batter into corners of pan and smooth surface. Bake until toothpick inserted into center of brownies comes out with few moist crumbs attached, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on wire rack to room temperature, about 2 hours, then remove brownies from pan by lifting foil overhang. Cut and serve brownies, and keep remainders in the freezer to eat at your leisure.

Baked Brownie
From the folks at Baked bakery

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons dark unsweetened cocoa powder
11 ounces dark chocolate (60 to 72% cacao), coarsely chopped
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter the sides and bottom of a 9 x 13 glass or light-colored metal baking pan.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, salt, cocoa powder (and spices if you’re using them), r.

3. Put the chocolate, butter, and instant espresso powder in a large bowl and set it over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring occasionally, until the chocolate and butter are completely melted and smooth. Turn off the heat, but keep the bowl over the water and add the sugars. Whisk until completely combined, then remove the bowl from the pan. The mixture should be room temperature.

4. Add 3 eggs to the chocolate mixture and whisk until combined. Add the remaining eggs and whisk until combined. Add the vanilla and stir until combined. Do not overbeat the batter at this stage or your brownies will be cakey.

5. Sprinkle the flour mixture over the chocolate mixture. Using a spatula (not a whisk), fold the flour mixture into the chocolate until just a bit of the flour mixture is visible.

6. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake in the center of the oven for 30 minutes (I had to bake for 50, to no avail), rotating the pan halfway through the baking time, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out with a few moist crumbs sticking to it. Let the brownies cool completely, then cut them int osquares and serve.

The Gastronomical Me

The thing is that I am worried I won't have enough to share. For someone who has her fair share of things going on, I am concerned that the good words will fail to come, and this blog will lilt into an overly prose-y sinkhole. I will always try to get back to what I know, however, and forget the poetics of blog-writing so I can tell you straight up what I'm all about: Food.

Eating, cooking, occasionally foraging, but mostly baking, I have realized that food has become my lifeforce in the totally non-nutritional, non-science-y way. People, art, wanderlusting, and academics (my former full-time pursuits) still decidedly revolve around my newly created planet of food exploration, but my greatest joys have, for the past oh say lifetime, consistently come from the process of making food. I could get into the historical connections, hypothesize about rebelling against the microwave TV dinners of my childhood, or explain how much I like the ritual of preparing food, but I haven't yet figured out how to be charming enough for musings. I'll save the anecdotes for later on if you can just stick with me for a tick.

I hope for this to be a space of baking experiments, comparisons, learning, and critique, as I attempt to negotiate what it means to be a food blogger and find a way to avoid the drudgery of adult life with a real job.