Old-Fashioned Gingerbread

I'll just say it:  Chocolate has been surpassed by ginger as my unequivocal favorite ingredient to bake with. Maybe it's the winter doldrums, but dudes, these days it's all about flavors that punch you in the mouth. This recipe is for those of you fellow ginger fiends who love rib-sticking molasses baked goods and unabated intense flavors. The combination of molasses and stout beer seriously smacks, and while the cake is pictured here with a dusting of powdered sugar, I found it was even better when I swathed a slice in butter and sprinkled it with sea salt, serious as a heart attack.

Old-Fashioned Gingerbread

Adapted from Claudia Fleming of Gramercy Tavern

1 cup oatmeal or standard stout beer (I used Guinness, but I'd like to try Bell's Kalamazoo or something with a stronger flavor)

1 cup dark molasses (not blackstrap)

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

2 tablespoons ground ginger (I added an extra 1/2 teaspoon)

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Pinch of ground cardamom

3 large eggs

1 cup dark brown sugar

1 cup granulated white sugar

3/4 cup vegetable oil

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.  Generously butter bundt pan and dust with flour, knocking out excess.

2.  Bring stout and molasses to a boil in a medium to large saucepan.  Remove from heat and whisk in baking soda (mixture will bubble up some).  Let cool to room temperature.

3.  Sift flour, baking powder, and spices in a large bowl.  In a separate large bowl, whisk together eggs and sugars.  Whisk in oil, then molasses mixture.  Add liquids to flour mixture and whisk until just combined.

4.  Pour batter into bundt pan, and rap pan sharply on the counter a few times to eliminate air bubbles.  Bake in the center of the oven until a cake tester stuck into the cake comes out with just a few moist crumbs adhering, about 50 minutes.  Let cake cool for five to eight minutes, and then turn out onto cooling rack and let cool completely.  Serve dusted with powdered sugar and unsweetened whipped cream, or with unsalted butter and a smattering of salt on top.

*Some have said that this cake is best when made a day in advance.  I made mine the night before, and found it was ever-so-slightly more bitter the next day, which I was way into.

Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding

Last Saturday morning, I woke up with a head cold and a pudding hankering and decided that answering my craving would remedy my illness. Well it did, but not until I had navigated through a minefield of pudding recipes that called for everything from water baths and oven time to egg yolks and butter.  My favorite butterscotch pudding recipe takes 15 minutes to make and 30 to cool, yet I found one chocolate pudding recipe (highly rated at least) that called for seven hours of total preparation time and another that required two pots, a blender, and some baking—egads that's unreasonable. Thankfully, Smitten Kitchen had the answer, and this intense, chocolatey pudding emerged after 24 minutes of practically unattended cooking and one nap's worth of chill time in the fridge—a delicious, three-step cure to any cold.

Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
3 cups whole milk
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped (I used 60%, you could also do high-quality semi-sweet for more classic flavor)
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1.  Combine cornstarch, sugar, and salt in the top of a double boiler.  Slowly add the milk, whisking to make sure all of the dry ingredients are incorporated.  Place over gently simmering water, and stir occasionally, making sure to scrape the bottom and sides with a heat-proof spatula.  Use a whisk as necessary to prevent lumps.  After 15 to 20 minutes, mixture should be thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.  Add chocolate, and continue stirring for about four minutes until pudding is smooth and thickened.  Remove from heat and add vanilla.

2.  Strain pudding through a fine mesh sieve into a large bowl or measuring cup with a pour spout.  Discard lumps from strainer, and divide pudding between six bowls.

3.  Place plastic wrap directly atop pudding if you don't like pudding skins, or just over the bowl if you do.  Chill in the refrigerator for 30 minutes to an hour (mine was at a good, cool pudding temperature after an hour).  Pudding will keep, covered and refrigerated, for up to three days.

Classic Peanut Brittle

Recall:  Jurassic Park when the mosquitos are stuck in the amber.

Most people I know who actively seek out peanut brittle are older, probably verging on elderly (not you Mom!).  The recipes I've seen are almost always family recipes passed down from a sweet-toothed grandparent, and I realized the other day that I hadn't even had brittle since I was a little kid and my own grandparents were zipping around.  When Joey told me his granddad is enamored of the stuff too, well I turned to the blogs to figure out how to make it so we could hostess-gift it on our trip to North Carolina.  What I ended up with though looked like crumbly drywall and tasted exactly like ocean sand—probably the result of the two unholy tablespoons of salt the recipe blithely called for.

Twirls of brittle instead of blocks!

I've never had much luck with desserts needing caramelization, making everything from inedible sugary concrete to butterscotch pudding that didn't taste a lick like butterscotch.  So like everyone before me, I turned to a classic (Mom) for help, and that classic recommended another classic (The Joy of Cooking), the recipe from which my mother very patiently read to me over the phone, and then reread it frantically, but no less patiently, when I called her on speakerphone 30 minutes later with butter all over my hands, not sure what to do next.  Also she just scanned and emailed it to me.  Moms, brittle, and sweet-toothed grandparents—obviously in cahoots for a classically delicious reason. 

Classic Peanut Brittle

Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

2 cups sugar

1 cup golden syrup (available at lots of cooking stores, or corn syrup)

1/2 cup water

1/4 cup cream of tartar

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups peanuts, toasted

1 teaspoon vanilla

1. Oil a cookie sheet and set aside.

2.  Bring the sugar, syrup, water, and cream of tartar to a boil in a medium, heavy saucepan.  Stir until sugar is dissolved, washing down the sides of the pan with a pastry brush dipped in water.  Place a warmed candy thermometer in the pan, raise the heat, and heat without stirring to 265 degrees F (the hard ball stage).

3.  Remove from heat, and quickly stir in the butter and baking soda with a wooden spoon.  Return to stove and heat without stirring to 300 degrees F (hard crack stage). Add the peanuts with a silicone spatula until well-coated with the syrup.

4.  Remove from heat and quickly stir in vanilla.  Pour out onto an oiled cookie sheet, spread flat with the rubber spatula, and let stand for about three minutes until cool enough to handle gently.  Loosen the mixture with an offset spatula, and wearing buttered plastic bags as gloves (!!!), pull and stretch the brittle by lifting it with the spatula and pulling it with your gloved hands until it is very thin.  Let cool completely.  Break into small pieces, and store between layers of waxed paper.

Flashback: Triple Ginger Cookies

A smattering of ginger sugar on top

Remember these crackle-topped, chewy cookies with three kinds of ginger? I made them again last night, this time with three twists of cracked black pepper, which you could round up to one-quarter teaspoon. Verdict: Still delicious, still awesome.

Apple Cobbler with Cheddar Cheese Biscuits

Naked braeburns, awaiting sugary alchemy

Holy smokes, am I ever excited that cheese exists and that it goes into baked goods. Apologies to my meat- and dairy-disavowing friends and all, first with the constant butter, then with the bacon, and now (again) with the cheddar—I am just totally not cutting you pals a break. It's hard though! When tangy, sharp, crispy genius in the form of cheddar-apple baked goods exists in great creative abundance, who am I to turn my back?

Shifting of tectonic biscuit plates?

I have to be completely honest here and tell you that though I love all cheese in baked goods, this recipe left me wanting. We just had bacon-feta-scallion scones that were over the moon, and there was an amazing apple pie with cheddar cheese crust a little while ago, but for this cobbler, I wanted the cheese and apple flavors to be more integrated than they were. Joey adored this though, and the empty pan sitting in my sink is testament to its goodness, but I'm in search of something blatantly cheesier. Now if only I could figure out a good way to make brie pie...

I'll trade you a brie pie...

Apple Cobbler with Cheddar Cheese Biscuits

Adapted from Rustic Fruit Desserts

I found the biscuits to be a little too doughy, so unless you're a diehard bread fan, you might want to reduce the size of the biscuits a bit and cook the extra dough on a baking sheet. Or instead of making nine large biscuits, you could make a bunch of smaller ones.

Filling

8 large apples, peeled, cored, cut into 1/4-inch slices

1 cup packed brown sugar, light or dark, your preference

3 tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Juice of one lemon

1/4 cup unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Biscuits

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon sugar + 1 more tablespoon for tops of biscuits

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt (you might find this in need of more salt)

2 cups (4 ounces) extra-sharp cheddar cheese

1 1/3 cups cold buttermilk

1.  Position a rack in the lower third of the oven, and preheat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.  Gently toss apples, sugar, cornstarch, salt, cinnamon, and lemon juice in a bowl, then spread in a buttered, square, three-quart baking dish.  Dapple the apples (bah!) with the pats of butter, cover with foil, and place on the lower oven rack to let apples begin cooking while you make biscuits.

2.  To make the biscuits, mix all the dry ingredients (just one TBSP. sugar) in a bowl, add cheddar, and stir gently.  Make a well in the center, and slowly add buttermilk.  Fold in with a rubber spatula until dough is completely mixed and you have a doughy, but shaggy ball.  If need be, add more buttermilk, one tablespoon at a time until the dough is pliable, but not too sticky.

3.  Take apples out of oven and remove foil.  Using 1/4-cup proportions, add rounds of dough to tops of apples, distributing evenly.  You should have 9 biscuits.  Sprinkle the remaining tablespoon of sugar atop the biscuits and return to the oven (foil removed).  Bake for about 40 minutes, until apples are soft and biscuits are golden.

Bacon-Feta-Scallion Scones

Basic creamy scones (with vanilla bean sugar), from which this savory recipe was created

Happy new year!  I'm all shiny and new from my ten-day vacation in California that consisted almost entirely of tacos, burritos, avocados, Fat Tire, fresh-squeezed orange juice, Yahtzee, the beach, and of course my family.  After a long post-high school life of thinking I'd never move back to San Diego, ten days and too much sunshine has nearly unwound this of my most certain certainties.  If only we hadn't actually picked the oranges that made the orange juice, or if the cactus out back hadn't skyrocketed to 25 unholy, California feet tall, well then maybe I'd feel more like taking DC's bitter-cold hand than like falling blessedly back into my mother's avocado-stained kitchen where produce means something and tacos happen.

Bacon-feta-scallion scones!

My sister spent much of her time in San Diego clad in a green onesie making terrariums and with tacos in her mouth.  My mom mercilessly teased my aunt's dog, added immodest pats of butter to each of her already buttery scones (on three mornings total), and squealed at my dad during Chinese checkers.  From our kitchen window, my dad used his 22 to shoot squirrels that he had attracted to his vantage point with peanut butter and pomegranates, and later he also squealed at my mom during Chinese checkers.  With family like this, breakfast is all the more important because it's the best reason (besides orange juice) to get everyone to sit together for two hours and read the sports pages while we wait for it to be time to eat burritos.

Bacon-Feta-Scallion Scones

Recipe influenced by Karen DeMasco's The Craft of Baking

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon + 1/2 teaspoon baking powder*

1 teaspoon sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup feta, or other creamy cheese
6 tablespoons chilled, unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch pieces 
4 slices of bacon (or less or more), chopped and cooked to your preference

3 scallions (or more), chopped small
1 cup heavy cream

1.  Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.

2.  Sift flour, baking power, sugar, and salt into a medium bowl.  Mix in feta or other cheese.  Quickly cut in butter with a pastry blender or two knives until mixture resembles coarse meal with some large buttery lumps in it.  Add the bacon and scallions, but don't mix just yet.  Gently stir in heavy cream with a rubber spatula or fork until mixture begins to form a dough, about 30 seconds.

3.  Transfer mixture to a floured surface and knead for about ten seconds until the dry flour bits and everything comes together as a (sticky) dough ball.  Form scones by pressing dough into a very lightly floured 8" x 8" square pan.  Cut into eight wedges (cut square in half diagonally, then each half into four equal, if slightly misshapen, triangles).  Scoop triangles out of pan and place onto baking sheet.  You could also use a round cake pan and cut the wedges like slices of cake or pie.

4.  Bake scone wedges for 20 minutes, or until tops are golden brown.  Cool for ten minutes.

*Sorry pals, just realized this said 1 teaspoon instead of 1/2.  This portion has been updated.