Pepe's Cafe Key Lime Pie

Last week was rife with kitchen mishaps. If you follow this blog on Facebook, you'll know that I baked a pocked and overly eggy shaker lemon tart whose cloying, stringy filling was reminiscent of mop 'n' glo—mop head and all, really. I also had two nasty run-ins with the mandoline slicer and am currently operating at 60% finger capacity on my right hand. My worst kitchen moments occur when I'm rushing or distracted or both. On the ill-fated shaker lemon day, my momma was seeking a lesson on using the scanner and I was trying to wrap up some photos before losing the light, and whether or not the recipe was destined to fail, I did it no favors by rushing through to do three things at once. It's a merit badge reminder that I seem to lose every now and then.

But obviously, since this post features the most delicious Key lime pie in my family's memory bank, I got my groove back later in the week. And what finally slowed me down was Molly O'Neill's fascinating article on the story of Key lime pie. Convinced that sweetened condensed milk is a strange modern additive, O'Neill travels down to Florida to learn about the pie's history and original ingredients. There she meets David L. Sloan, a baker, former cruise ship director, and ghost wrangler, as well as the foremost Key lime pie authority.

Years previous, Sloan had discovered in a ghostly mansion a recipe handwritten by the pie's fabled inventor, "Aunt Sally," and he has continued to research the pie in all its iterations. The story is spliced with the history of sweetened condensed milk, and its inclusion in the pie is indisputable, Sloan asserts. Throughout the article he hints to twists and preferences that make this pie a family's own—cream or meringue topping, cookie or graham cracker crust, bacon or cardamom mixed in—but the invariable main filling ingredients are sweetened condensed milk, Key lime juice, and eggs. What follows is one of Sloan's favorite classic recipes, courtesy of Florida's Pepe's Cafe, and whether you take it in sum or consider it a blank canvas, it's a dang delicious way to treat your Key limes. Just be sure not to rush.

Key Lime Pie
Adapted from Pepe's Cafe, via Bon Appétit

I have access to California Key limes here, which I gather are greener and less complex than Florida Key limes. Mexico Key limes abound as well, and they look more like their Floridian counterparts, but I didn't come across them until after I'd made this. Just getcher hands on whatever Key limes you have, because this pie is outright excellent.

For the crust
1 1/2 cups pulverized graham crackers (from twelve 2 1/4" x 4 3/4" crackers, i.e., full-size grahams)
1/4 cup sugar (this could be reduced by half; do so if you're not that into super sweet)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Hearty pinch fine-grain sea salt
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1.  Arrange the rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, mix the ground crackers, sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Drizzle on the butter, and toss with a fork until evenly moistened. Press crumbly mixture along the bottom and up the sides of a nine-inch pie plate (I had extra; made a good ice cream topping).

2.  Bake until crust set and golden brown, about ten minutes. Set aside to cool while you make the filling.

For the filling
2 large egg whites
4 large egg yolks
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup fresh squeezed Key lime juice

To serve
1 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons powdered sugar

1.  Beat the egg whites in a medium bowl until they've formed stiff peaks, but aren't yet glossy. Set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and sweetened condensed milk. Add the lime juice and whisk until combined. Fold in one-third of the egg whites to lighten the mixture, then fold in the rest until evenly combined.

2.  Pour the filling into the graham shell, spreading evenly along the top. Bake until just set in the center, about 20 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely, then refrigerate for at least two hours before serving. To serve, I found it was easiest to run my very sharp knife under hot water and dry it before each cut. The warm knife sliced well, and the whole thing served up totally intact—much cleaner than I thought it would.

3.  When ready to serve, beat the heavy cream and sugar until soft peaks form. Top each slice with a dollop of whipped cream, or mound it in the center of the whole pie if you're going to eat the entire thing and prefer that presentation. Pie keeps best without the whipped cream atop and will last for about three days covered in the fridge.

Grapefruit Olive Oil Snacking Cake

Just a few months after graduating from university, I high-tailed it for the east coast along with one of my best college buddies. My reasons were lousy—I was blinded by love!—but they ended up being a fortuitous mistake. Courtney and I replied to a Craigslist housing ad titled, "Ahoy, Future Housemateys," from which we met Bobbie and Katie J., and I ended up making some of my life's greatest friends. DC has been so strangely magnetic the past few years, in fact, that California was difficult to miss unless my folks sent a box of avocados my way or the weather at Christmas was shorty shorts–appropriate.

To be totally fair though, my going to California was a rarity—a strictly holiday occasion. And then, in my ranging young adulthood, I've found myself at home in San Diego for an entire three weeks and going on the final fourth. It was high-time to spend some valuable moments with my folks, both of whom have so much to teach that's impossible to learn on the other side of the country. So here I am: welding and soldering with Dad, getting jewelry-making feedback and sewing help from Mom, learning the long-term relationship virtues of nitpicking and pretending not to know your partner in public. It's been great! The totally unexpected added bonus on being home has been the pounds upon pounds of citrus foisted upon us by neighbors. White grapefruit, California Key limes, regular ol' limes, Meyer lemons, oranges galore—basically all the fixings to finally make this—are overflowing from the fruit basket on our counter. Since my folks don't themselves eat a lot of plain citrus, I've been baking a bunch of fruity desserts to hand right back to the neighbors. And for the first time in a long time, California actually feels like home and I'm not looking an iota forward to leaving again. Ceaseless citrus can have that effect.

Grapefruit Olive Oil Cake
Adapted from Melissa Clark

Melissa Clark's original recipe is for a blood orange cake, but our neighbors don't grow those! As you'll read in the instructions below, I topped our cake with a layer of pithless grapefruit slices, which is why it looks custardy in the center; they sank and were delicious that way. Our grapefruit was also pretty bitter, and we all enjoyed that about the cake, but you can leave out the chunks of fruit if you're concerned about the bitterness, or just be sure to use sweeter grapefruit.

Zest from two large grapefruits, white or pink or ruby red
Scant 1 cup granulated sugar
Juice of one-half grapefruit
About 1/2 cup plain yogurt
3 large eggs
2/3 cup olive oil, the fruitier the better
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
3 tablespoons granulated sugar, for top

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 10-inch cake round with olive oil. Grate zest from both grapefruits and place in a bowl with sugar. Using your fingers, rub ingredients together until zest is evenly distributed in sugar and the oils are released.

2.  Halve a grapefruit and squeeze one-half of it into a measuring cup to yield about one-quarter cup juice. Set aside. If your grapefruit is sweet, slice the pith and peel off of the second grapefruit, following the curve of the fruit, so that nothing but grapefruit flesh is visible; cut the ends off and slice grapefruit into quarter-inch rounds. Set aside. Keep in mind that bitter fruit will yield bitter bites, which is a-okay by my family, but not be your audience’s fave. You can skip the fruit altogether if you’re so inclined, but those juicy fruit pockets are nice. Beauty of being the baker? It’s your prerogative.

3.  Back to the grapefruit juice: fill rest of measuring cup with yogurt until you have two-thirds cup of liquid altogether. Pour mixture into bowl with sugar and whisk well. Whisk in eggs. Whisk in oil well.

4.  In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Gently whisk dry ingredients into wet ones. Scrape batter into pan and smooth top, then sprinkle with a tablespoon of sugar. Top with a single layer of grapefruit slices, followed by the remaining two tablespoons of sugar.

5.  Bake cake for 30 to 40 minutes, or until it is golden and a toothpick inserted into center comes out free of batter (note that some fruit may cling to cake tester). Cool on a rack for ten minutes, then unmold and cool to room temperature right-side up. Dust with powdered sugar or top with some whipped cream if that’s your thang. Cake will keep covered at room temperature for a few days!

Chocolate Hazelnut Meringue Icebox Cake (The Beast)

Yo, you know I love a good icebox cake. They are one of the best ways to celebrate: leave whipped cream sandwiched between cake or cookie layers in the fridge for long enough, and it becomes a thick buttery frosting (without the butter!). This meringue cake, nicknamed “The Beast” by its creator for the challenge of cutting it, is definitely better off from some refrigerator timeout. After an overnight stint in the icebox, the meringue and cream meld and stabilize, but there is no loss of crunch, texture, or flavor like you might expect; plus, it’s really not that tough to cut after a proper cooling. Better said: take this baby for a spin!

But don’t get the wrong idea about me and Valentine’s Day. This cake, while surely befitting a sweetheart, did not come about in an homage to today. There ain’t a single thing that’s disagreeable about romance (give me more romance!), but I relish the blogging community much for its commitment to creativity, and that all seems to disappear in the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day. All of my favorite DIY sites are suddenly posting links to mass-produced “him and her” gifts to purchase, and whether it’s an effort to monetize or a need to keep up with What The People Want, the buy-it-now attitude behind Valentine’s Day is counter to these sites’ everyday goals. Maybe we can all find some relief and inspiration in food blogs today instead: they often emphasize creativity and taking risks—both elements of a real romantic gesture, no?

Getting back to what’s really important here: this cake is totally delicious and totally nuts. You will love it, and it will love you right back without asking for a single thing.

Chocolate Hazelnut Meringue Icebox Cake
Adapted from Daniel Jasso for Food & Wine

A few notes: if you're short on space or nervous about cutting into this cake, consider making a bunch of two-inch cookies instead of eight-inch layers. You could stack two cookies with cream in the middle and on top, and they'd be single-serving. Either way, this is definitely a dessert to make the day before you intend to eat it. The meringue takes several hours to bake and cool, and then the whole thing goes into the fridge. The recipe counsels us to cut with a serrated knife, but I found the nicest slices came about after I stabbed straight through the top of the cake with a butcher knife.

I didn't change much here: just reduced the amounts of sugar and chocolate ever so slightly. Is that sacrilege? The original calls for six ounces of each chocolate, but that seemed just a bit too rich for my family. The final product certainly didn't suffer!

7 ounces hazelnuts (about 1 1/2 cups)
6 large egg whites, at room temperature
Pinch of salt
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar (original calls for 1 1/2)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
5 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped fine
5 ounces bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled
3 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup powdered sugar
Chocolate shavings for garnish

1.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line two very large or three regular baking sheets with parchment paper. Trace three eight-inch circles across the parchment. (I had to use three medium sheets, so one circle on each sheet.)

2.  Spread the hazelnuts on a baking sheet or in a pie pan and toast for 12 to 14 minutes, until browned. Close hot hazelnuts into a non-terry-cloth towel, allow to steam for five or so minutes, then rub to remove the skins; don’t worry if some of the skins are still on. Chop the nuts fairly small, but don’t powder them.. Lower the oven temperature to 225 degrees F.

3.  In the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with the whisk, beat the egg whites with the salt at medium-high speed until soft peaks form. Gradually beat in the granulated sugar at high speed until stiff and glossy. Beat in the vanilla and almond extracts. Fold in the hazelnuts and chocolate chips. Pour the melted chocolate down the side of the bowl and gently fold in until the meringue is lightly marbled.

4.  Divide the meringue evenly between the three drawn circles; spread evenly. Bake for two hours and 30 minutes, until crisp; rotate the pans halfway through baking. Turn off the oven, prop oven door open, and let the meringues cool completely. (I propped a wooden spoon against the “light-on” switch to keep it off and the door open.)

5.  In the bowl of the standing mixer, beat the cream with the confectioners' sugar until firm. Remove the cooled meringues from the parchment paper. Spread the whipped cream between the layers and stack them. Refrigerate or freeze the cake overnight. Cut into wedges and serve at room temperature. Garnish with chocolate shavings before serving.

Gérard's Mustard Tart with Olive Oil Crust

Ever since my sister and I nearly killed our dad with butter five years ago, I try to lay off the baked goods around my folks. Turns out that creamy Brussels sprouts, cake, pie, and steak do not a healthy ticker make, so we do our best to leave the bad (aherm, good) shit at home when hanging with mom and dad. We need to work on roughage ‘round these parts, and if that means slapping some vegetables into a barely eggy, cheeseless tart, then so be it.
 
Dorie Greenspan, of whom I didn’t realize a full-fledged admiration until recently, shared this tart over on Bon Appétit and in Around My French Table a few years ago. She winds a fancy-free yarn about its French provenance and mentions that it’s an autumn take on a summer tart made with tomatoes (definitely making that one come July). Fancy-free, but not butter-free, so we made this with a dad-safe olive oil press-in crust instead; it’s probably not actually healthier, but it felt mighty fine to eat. In the end, the whole she-bang tasted, for some reason, like chicken noodle soup, and in this blustery San Diego weather (har har), that makes it just the roughage ticket.

 
Gérard's Mustard Tart
Adapted from Dorie Greenspan, by way of Bon Appétempt

This easy olive oil press-in crust ended up tasting like a delicious cracker, which suited this tart just great. Add some chopped herbs or cracked pepper if you're looking for an extra kick! Another added benefit of this crust is that it cuts the make time down by a couple hours: just mix the dough and go. As for the filling, I really liked it, but would have loved it had I caramelized or browned the veggies over the stove instead of steaming. I've included browning instructions below for those who suspect they'd prefer it that way too.

For olive oil press-in crust
1 1/2 cups all-purpose or pastry flour
Heaping 1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/3 cup olive oil
3 to 4 tablespoons cold milk or water

1. Combine all the dry ingredients in a medium bowl. Pour olive oil and first three tablespoons of milk in, and whisk with a fork until mixture is evenly blended and somewhat moist. If need be, add an extra tablespoon or two of milk to get moist, crumbly consistency.

2.  Press dough crumbles into a 9-inch tart pan, using a metal measuring cup to ensure even edges that are flat against the bottom and sides. Pop into the fridge while you prepare the filling.

For filling
3 thin carrots, trimmed and peeled
3 thin leeks, white and light green parts only, cut lengthwise in half and washed
2 rosemary or thyme sprigs
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons crème fraîche or heavy cream (I used light sour cream)
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard, or to taste
2 tablespoons grainy mustard, preferably French, or to taste
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper, optional
Sea salt and white pepper, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper

1.  Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with a silicone baking mat or parchment paper.

2.  Cut the carrots and leeks into slender bâtons or sticks: First cut the carrots lengthwise in half, then place the halves cut side down on the cutting board and cut crosswise in half or cut into chunks about three inches long. Cut the pieces into 1/ 8- to 1/4-inch-thick matchsticks. Cut the leeks in the same way. (Make sure that they’re really only about three inches long, otherwise the veggies are difficult to spoke.)

3.  Fit a steamer basket into a saucepan. Pour in enough water to come almost up to the steamer, cover, and bring to a boil. Drop the carrots, leeks, and one rosemary or thyme sprig into the basket, cover, and steam until the vegetables are tender enough to be pierced easily with the tip of a knife, 10 to 15 minutes. Drain the vegetables and pat them dry; discard the rosemary sprig.

Alternately: Saute the carrots and leeks over medium-high heat in a large pan coated with olive oil. If you go this route, do your best to keep the leek layers together; cook the vegetables until they start to brown, about 12 minutes; and add the chopped herb sprig to the filling instead of the steamer basket. I’ll cook it this way next time.

4.  In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs together with the crème fraîche or heavy cream. Add the mustards, season with salt and white pepper, and cayenne if you’re using—mustard has a tendency to be salty, so proceed accordingly—and whisk to blend. Taste and see if you want to add a little more of one or the other mustards.

5.  Put the tart pan on the lined baking sheet and pour the filling into the unbaked crust. Arrange the vegetables in and over the filling, pushing them down into the filling as needed; I used all my carrots but had extra leeks, even though I really crammed ‘em in there. Top with the remaining rosemary or thyme sprig, and give the vegetables a sprinkling of salt and a couple cracks of black pepper.

6.  Bake the tart for about 30 minutes, or until it is uniformly puffed and lightly browned here and there, and a knife inserted into the center of the custard comes out clean. I ran mine under the broiler for about 30 seconds at the end, just to give it a bit deeper of a browning. Transfer the tart to a cooling rack and let it rest for five minutes before removing the sides of the pan. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature. Will keep for three to four days, covered in the fridge.