Blood Orange Tart with Salted Caramel

I remember thinking about marriage a lot before I turned 20. I suppose that it could have either been a Herculean feat or a total delusion since I was living in a half-naked co-op in Berkeley and I had a long-distance boyfriend at the time, but my obsessive plotting dissipated once I left for France and got knocked down a couple of life ladder rungs. I never regained the ideas that I had about marriage—though the handful of heteronormative design blogs that I read aren't doing much to help me form a realistic conception of healthy relationships—and until recently it didn't have a real place in my life. Now a few of my most favorite friends are married or planning weddings, and I find myself learning something about relationships each time I hear a new story or listen to a stranger give a toast to my friends.

And so this weekend found me celebrating the upcoming wedding of my dear friends Ruben and Joaquin, who are getting married in November as all of their adoring friends (what seems like thousands!) root them on in Dia de los Muertos style. I made three desserts for the evening, including this blood orange tart with salted caramel, and even though everyone seemed to love the food, it was totally forgettable compared to the toasts that had people blubbering and the dancing that ensued. I shouldn't sell this dessert short though: The tart is a great reprieve from and celebration of winter, and the bitter orange goes perfectly with the salted caramel. Please don't stick around long enough to see me turn that into a metaphor, just go make this and congratulate yourself for having so many friends with real and inspiring relationships. 

Blood Orange Tart with Salted Caramel Sauce

Adapted from Zoe Nathan via Lottie + Doof

Per L + D's suggestion, I used a different caramel than the one Nathan suggested, and I ultimately decided on a different crust recipe as well. I tried Nathan's crust when I made the tart early in the week, and my method may be at fault here, but I found it to be too dry and difficult to work with. When I made this again for the party, I swapped in my favorite all-butter crust recipe and upped the sugar to match the level that Nathan used. It was much more to my liking!

Blood Orange Tart

One-half recipe all-butter crust (recipe and directions over here!) with 2 TBSP total sugar

8 to 10 medium blood oranges, about 7 ounces each (I used 8)

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, thinly sliced

1 large egg yolk mixed with two tablespoons of water

3 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 tablespoon raw sugar for dusting the crust

1.  Once you've made your pastry and it has chilled in the fridge for 30 minutes, roll it out on a lightly floured surface into an 11-inch circle. Transfer the pastry to a sheet of parchment paper on the back of a cookie sheet and let chill while you prepare the oranges, or at least 15 minutes. The oranges actually took me exactly 45 minutes to prep, so you could put your crust in the fridge, start prepping the oranges, take a break to roll out the crust, then carry on with the recipe.

2.  Peel your oranges and keep them intact as much as possible. Using a very sharp knife, gently slice the pith off of the outsides of all. Pick your two most intact and beautifully colored oranges and slice them crosswise into thin rounds.  Set aside. Set up a sieve over a bowl and carefully segment your remaining oranges, slicing between the pith to extract just the pieces of fruit. You'll need a generous cup of slices. Gently shake the slices to remove excess juice; save the juice for a different use.

3.  Leaving a two-inch border of crust all around, arrange the orange segments on the pastry. Sprinkle two tablespoons of granulated sugar and sliced tablespoon of butter over the top. Fold edges of pastry over the fruit, pleating as you go and leaving most of the fruit uncovered. Use a pastry brush to spread egg wash on the crust, and sprinkle with the raw sugar. Finally, arrange the orange circles over the top and sprinkle with the remaining tablespoon of granulated sugar. Freeze tart for at least four hours, preferably overnight.

4.  Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Bake tart on the back of the cookie sheet directly from the freezer for one hour and 15 minutes, until the crust is deep brown and the fruit is bubbling. You may want to put some foil on the rack below the tart to catch any drips. Allow to cool on cookie sheet for a half-hour, then remove to a cooling rack and allow to cool completely. Meanwhile, make the caramel!

Deep Dark Salted Caramel

1 cup granulated sugar

6 tablespoons salted butter (or unsalted + 1/4 teaspoon sea salt), cut into one-inch pieces

1/2 cup heavy whipping cream

1.  Pour the sugar into a three-quart pot set over medium-high heat and allow the sugar to melt, whisking occasionally to ensure even cooking. Once sugar is melted, continue to cook until it turns a deep copper color (I like to push caramel to the edge of burnt; go lighter if you don't). With the heat still on, add the butter and whisk like crazy, then whisk in the cream until you have a smooth sauce. Turn the heat off and enjoy! Leftovers will keep in the fridge for awhile!

Olly Oxen Free: In-House Restaurant!

Clicky to enlarge to readable proportions!

Amid all of the bellyaching baking and sweet tooth pursuits is my fairly new secret cafe endeavor in DC. Olly Oxen Free was borne out of an ambition to anticipate what it might be like to start a food joint some day, and although it's still in its babyhood -- especially in terms of frequency -- this in-house cafe has already been a huge source of education for me. It seems tremendously difficult to come up with new, creative food ideas all of the time, and the first thing I've learned is to always be open to inspiration and to experiment as much as possible. February 13 will mark just the second installment of Olly Oxen Free, although this is at least the tenth menu that I've created for it, and I could not be more excited to get started. The last iteration focused on timing, and this time I'm going to work harder on the ambiance and improving the balance of flavors and proportions -- though I admit that this menu tends toward the rich. I hope that Olly Oxen Free one days leads to collaborations and a new feeling to my community here, but for now I'm really enjoying the anticipation and how this project keeps me on my creative toes! 

Oh, and if you're local and interested in attending, shoot me an email! So far the guest list is lookin' real nice.

Butterscotch Pots de Crème

Thursday as it may be, I still feel as if I only just arrived home from my roisterous weekend in New York. Most of my California dearest live in Brooklyn now, concentrated all easy-like within a few train stops of one another, so I try to visit as often as possible since it's a quick WiFi-powered bus ride away. This trip was especially fun because one of my closest friends from DC was in town visiting her (and our!) friends, so we friend-melded at a karaoke joint in the East Village on our last night there. En Vogue, Dolly Parton, Erasure, Patti Smith, and a few musicals later, and it was 5:00 a.m. and I had lost my voice, developed a crush on an Australian girl, and perfected a karaoke body roll. The night was preceded with a couple of gallery openings, interjected with besties and a lamb burger dinner (be it told: worst vegetarian ever, right here), and bookended by couch-cuddling sessions, so clearly it was a trip fueled by excellence.

With so much fun and distraction all around, I've been having a hard time focusing on baking and other pursuits, but Jason and I had words about creativity and temperament over the weekend, and I feel more energized to keep on keepin' on. So, continuing  the sequence on this blog of rich dairy desserts, I present thee with butterscotch pots de crème. The original called for some wacky sugars that I can never find, so I did my best to substitute and this turned out to be the most insanely rich dessert. It was like eating cold velvet. I might even say it's too rich for my taste, which is weird because I like to eat cheese melted in butter, but some house guests and my pal Bobbie said these pots de crème were spot-on and delicious. I can at least vouch for the flavor being unreal. Please let me know what you think!

Butterscotch Pots de Crème

Adapted from Gourmet via Orangette

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

6 tablespoons muscovado sugar (I used sucanat)

1/4 tablespoon sea salt

6 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons demerara (I used turbinado)

4 large egg yolks

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1.  Set oven rack in direct center and preheat oven to 300 degrees F.  In a small heavy saucepan, combine the cream, muscovado sugar, and sea salt. Cook over medium-high until cream barely simmers and sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat.

2.  In a large, light-colored saucepan, cook the demerara and water over medium-low heat until it bubbles and turns dark golden brown, five to ten minutes (Molly's recipe called for five minutes. I did mine for seven and thought it could have stood to caramelize much more). Remove from heat, and slowly pour in the cream mixture, whisking all the while.

3.  Meanwhile, heat a bunch of tap water.  Then, in a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks and vanilla. Add hot cream mixture in a thin stream, whisking all the while. Set a fine mesh strainer over a clean glass measuring cup and pour the mixture through. Skim off any foam.

4.  Divide custard between four 4-ounce ramekins (I had enough to make five actually). Seal each with a piece of foil. Line a deep, large casserole dish with a dishtowel, and arrange the ramekins on top so that they are not touching. Put the dish into the center of the oven, and then fill the dish with the hot water until it comes halfway up the side. Bake for 40 minutes, or until the sides of the custard are set and the middle still jiggles when shaken.

5.  Remove ramekins to a cooling rack and allow them to come to room temperature. They'll set as they cool. Touch a piece of plastic wrap to the top of each and then refrigerate until cold, a few hours. These will keep covered for a day or two in the fridge, but are best eaten on the same day.

Bourbon Ice Cream

I've been sitting on this bourbon ice cream recipe for a minute, partly because it seems to have made its way around the blogs already, but mostly because the end of 2010 was both a blinding rush of parties and a stultifying burrito fog. Back in California, I baked little, ate lots, vegetated myself into a Law & Order SVU fugue state, and generally dismissed any and all responsibility, save for a sisterly pact to ruin Mom's winning streak in Hearts:  Holidays well done! 

And now I'm back in the emotionally un-regressive land that is my east coast home, ready to kick my creative projects into gear, although not so ready that I'm blogging a spanking-new recipe. All the same, this bourbon ice cream is totally golden, and whether you're snowed-in or not, it's winter-appropriate and delightfully boozy. If you're unsure of ice cream in the winter, I can say with conviction that this recipe in particular makes a killer affogato too.

I hope that it's not too late to wish you a solid New Year! Thanks so much for reading along with me. I hope to share many more delicious projects with you this year!

Bourbon Ice Cream

Adapted from Bon Appetit via Lottie + Doof

2 cups heavy whipping cream

2 cups half-and-half

1/2 cup nonfat dry milk powder (I skipped this, but it would add more creamy if you left it!)

6 large egg yolks

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup dark brown sugar, packed

1/4 teaspoon coarse kosher salt

7 tablespoons bourbon (original called for five; I used Woodford Reserve)

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1.  Bring cream, half-and-half, and milk powder to simmer over medium-high heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan until powder dissolves. Remove from heat.

2.  Combine egg yolks, sugars, and coarse salt in a large bowl; whisk until thick and blended. Slowly pour hot cream into egg mixture, whisking all the while. Return egg and cream mixture to the pan, and stir over medium-low heat until the the custard thickens enough to leave a trail on the back of a spoon when you draw your finger across it and the temperature registers 175 to 178 degrees F., about three minutes. Remove from heat, and mix in bourbon and vanilla.

3.  Cover custard and refrigerate, stirring occasionally until cold, at least three hours. Process in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. Cover and freeze until solid, about six hours. Will keep for a week or too!