Call the Baby Goat Midwife!

At the moment, I am a baby goat midwife and cuddle puddle collaborator in Maine. My main job on the farm is to be at the birthing ready while Dave and Jen “catch” the baby goats and free them from their newborn slime, then I rub, rub, rub their backs until the babes cough and sputter and look alive. Removing umbilical cords and treating future belly buttons with strong iodine is also under my purview, though it seems I’m not the best at that in spite of my most expert baby-petting skills. When the births are unattended, the mama goats will bite down hard on the babies’ ears to spark a nervous response and get their blood flowing; that’s essentially what I do, but with vigorous patting instead.

We try to attend all of the births since our intervention sometimes means their survival: for one thing since it’s crucial on a farm business not to lose any producing animals, and for another because everyone loves the goats (except Joe! He is a pest!). Two days ago, for instance, my new favorite little white goat tried to come out at a physically impossible birthing angle—hip first with the leg bent back. After hours of tremendous exertion, mama Snow White looked about ready to call it quits, so Jen jumped in to manually turn the baby goat the right way and make way for her and the two brothers who followed; if we hadn’t been there, it’s likely that the traffic jam would have killed some or all of the goats. Those are terribly high-stress moments for the animals and people both, but luckily the occasion for our intervention is rare. Even so, we try to stand by through all the births, which means many pen-watching all-nighters are in our future!

We also get to feed the babies, which is pretty much the sweetest, stickiest, and most adorable job. We lightly pasteurize all of the moms’ milk to avoid passing on any illnesses the farm might not know about, then three times per day we bottle-feed the babes from sanitized beer bottles filled with pudding-thick milk; it’s also our duty to pet them as much as possible during this time to encourage positive socialization. Goats are naturally social and super curious creatures, so what this translates to is the babies crawling all over us in a big fuzzy puddle while we try to rub them silly. So far we have 15 wee ones from seven mamas, and there are about 20 who’ve yet to give birth. Needless to say, we’ll soon be swimming in a herd of squawking baby Nubians, which is totally cool by me; it will be an absolute miracle if I end up goat-free at the end of the month.

This might be a baking blog and all, but I just wanted to share a little about what it is that I’m doing up in Maine again! After spending a super intensive season making cheese and learning more and more about milks and animals last year, I wanted to be up here to bookend the experience and help the farm start the spring. And while I have a lot of baking plans in store while I’m here (bourbon! rhubarb! coconut!), there will likely be a lot of baby goat realness thrown in along the way. So thanks for reading and supporting this adventure. I hope you accept payment in the form of baby animal photos and videos. Oh, and don't forget to click those photos in the middle to embiggen!

Blueberry Whoopie Pies with Lemon Cream Cheese Filling

Whoopie pies were strictly a summer treat when I was a kid. It sounds backwards, considering summer is the time for lighter, fresher fare—jumbleberry pavlova, anyone?—but summer was when my family made its annual, magical pilgrimage to Maine, and along with sleep-away camp and fireworks, whoopie pies were the quintessential New England privilege. Even as a tried-and-true popsicle kid, I couldn’t resist the whoopie pies with their deep black cookies and bright white ropes of filling two fingers thick, beckoning from the counter at Day’s General Store in Belgrade Lakes. I’d poke at the tops through the plastic wrap, and was indulged especially on afternoons when my mom needed a sugar-chomping partner in crime. More than two decades later, the enormous, classic whoopie pies at Day’s are as insistent as ever.

Much regional ink has been spilled as to the origin of whoopie pies—there’s a cute story about Amish farmers yelling “Whoopie!” whenever they discovered the treat in their lunch pails—and a few years ago the Maine legislature considered adopting the cake as its official state dessert, but relegated it instead to just the official state “treat” (blueberry pie made with Maine blueberries is the official “dessert”). On behalf of the Pennsylvania Dutch, Lancaster County also took up the cause, claiming the whoopie pie originated within the traditions of Amish families. Whatever its true origin, the whoopie pie has a special place in my heart as part of a beloved Maine history, so I was more than jazzed to make this blueberry version on the farm over the weekend—it's a sort of ode to welcome returns. Plus, with that pudgy mound of filling in the center, this makes for a perfectly Maine-ish and delicious pre-summer treat. Enjoy!

And if you're interested in following along as I play midwife to baby goats this spring, check here for photos and updates...or just scroll all the way down. How could I resist!?

Blueberry Whoopie Pies

Adapted from the Food Network, of all places

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon fine salt

1/4 teaspoon baking soda

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

2/3 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 large egg

1/3 cup buttermilk

3/4 cup blueberries

1. Whisk the flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda in a medium bowl. Beat the butter, sugar and vanilla on medium-high speed in a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment until light and fluffy, about five minutes. Beat in the egg until combined, scraping down the bowl. Reduce the mixer speed to low and beat in the flour mixture and milk in three
alternating batches, starting and ending with the flour. Fold in the blueberries with a rubber spatula.

2. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper, then coat with cooking spray or lightly grease with butter. Use a tablespoon or small ice cream scoop to scoop mounds of batter onto the sheets, spacing them each about two inches apart. Chill the batter in the fridge (or outside if it’s real cold!) for at least a half-hour; this helps the cakes stay round and puffed.

3. Bake until the halves are lightly golden, rotating the pans halfway through, 10 to 12 minutes; be careful not to overbake. Let cool on the pans for five minutes, then transfer to a rack to cool completely.

Lemon Cream Cheese Filling

Adapted from Baked Explorations

If lemon isn't your thing, just omit the zest and juice to get a straight-up cream cheese filling. You could also go for orange or add a bit of maple syrup for a sort of pancake experience, but we did enjoy the lemon.

4 ounces cream cheese, softened

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Pinch salt

1 teaspoon lemon zest, optional

1 teaspoon lemon juice, optional

1. Beat the butter in or with an electric mixer until it is completely smooth, with no visible lumps. Add the cream cheese and beat until combined. Add the sifted confectioners’ sugar, vanilla, salt, and lemon zest and juice, if using. Beat until just smooth.

2. Turn half of the cooled cookies upside down (flat side facing up). Use an ice cream scoop or a tablespoon to drop a large dollop of filling onto the flat side of the cookie. Place another cookie, flat side down, on top of the filling. Press down slightly so that the filling spreads to the edges of the cookie.

3. Repeat until all the cookies are used. Put the whoopie pies in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes to firm up before serving. The whoopie pies will keep for up to three days, on a parchment-lined baking sheet covered with plastic wrap, in the refrigerator.

We'll be keeping them in the house until enough kids are born such that they can keep each other warm during the day and throughout the night. Until then: ridiculous indoor photos!

Applesauce Carrot Date Bundt Cake with Cream Cheese Glaze

The countdown to baby goats has begun. It seems that farms the world over have long since welcomed their lambs and kids, but my experience is that Maine is generally a month or two behind the times, considering its winter. The snow won’t melt until May, rhubarb and asparagus won’t peek out until June, and our baby goats are holding steady until...well, any second now, really. April finds me back here on the farm to finish what I started, that being helping goats knock hooves back in November in the name of springtime babies. I know things ‘round these parts have been a touch quiet as of late, but I hope to soon enough inundate you with photos of fluffy, tiny, tail-wagging kids. In the meantime, my final days down south(er) were a torrent of buddies, travel, and a rekindling of my lifelong love of Bundt cakes. There are a few more waiting in the wings, but this carrot cake is one of the handful of recipes that I’ve authored, so I’m pretty pumped to share it with you! It’s chock full of carrots and dates, and if nuts are your thing, well go ahead and add a cup of chopped pecans too. It might not be the quintessential seasonal dessert, but it’s perfectly delicious for sitting around waiting for kid goats and springtime to finally rear their heads.

Applesauce Carrot Date Bundt Cake

This makes a really tender cake. I enjoyed it best from the fridge with a mug of coffee, but still warm from the oven was mighty fine too. Serving carrot cake without cream cheese is practically sacrilege to many folks, including my main dude, but I prefer cinnamon and powdered sugar dusted on top. If you’re like that too, just sift a combo of the two with a pinch of salt over the cake; otherwise, get down with your cream cheesy self!

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoons baking powder

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground allspice

1 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

3 large eggs

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1/4 cup light brown sugar

1 cup unsweetened applesauce

2/3 cup safflower or vegetable oil

3 cups grated carrots

10 Medjool dates, pitted and chopped

1.  Grease and flour a 10-cup Bundt pan, and set oven to 350 degrees F. In a medium bowl, sift all the dry ingredients; set aside. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs with the sugars until fluffy and paler in color, about three or four minutes. (In my experience, this step is essential to getting the Bundt to crisp on the the outside, so don’t skimp.) Whisk in the applesauce and oil, followed by the carrots. Stir in the chopped dates, breaking them up with your fingers to spread them through the batter as much as you can.

2.  In two parts, mix the dry ingredients into the wet. Pour the batter into your prepared Bundt pan, and bake for about 45 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted into the middle comes out clean. Let cool in pan for 15 minutes, then turn out onto a cooling rack and allow cake to cool mostly or all the way before glazing. This is a moist cake and will keep for about three days at room temperature, longer in the fridge.

Cream Cheese Glaze

4 ounces cream cheese

1/2 cup powdered sugar, or more to taste, sifted

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Pinch salt

5 to 6 tablespoons milk

1.  Beat cream cheese in a medium bowl until smooth and fluffy. Beat in sugar, followed by vanilla, and mix until smooth. Add the milk a tablespoon or so at a time until you have a thick but pourable glaze. Taste for flavor. I prefer my glaze on the less sweet side, but you can always add more sugar and thin it with more water as needed. Pour frosting along the top of cake, and use a knife to nudge it over the edge and down the sides. Voila!

Hazelnut Molasses Sandwich Cookies with Chocolate Filling

This has been a pretty righteous month y’all. In spite of losing face, wallet, and phone, I’ve been having an absolutely necessary and excellent time freelancing and visiting buddies in DC. The city seems more vibrant than ever, thanks in no small part of course to the many exceptional folks who are organizing events and giving small businesses space to thrive. (Check out this baby recap of Emily Hilliard’s Pi[e] Day festivities for one such example!) And maybe you saw this on Facebook already, but DC’s city council just proposed an allowance that would give bakers and other food creators the ability to sell homemade goods to the public—if it passes, that’d be reason enough to move back.

At the moment, I’m still figuring out what’s next, but with a definite scheduled stop in Maine to help deliver baby goats and to hike that big ol’ mountain. And currently I’m resting my head in Philly, home to a few pretty sweet art exhibits and some of the best beer around (plus PRETZELS). But the wandering and the hubbub demand a return to basics—or well, deliciousness posing as basics—and this cookie recipe is more of a cathartic get-‘er-done thing than a big ol’ kitchen exertion; these felt good to make. Fairly fast and dead simple with a huge flavorful payoff, these cookies offered an eye in the storm of my roving. Slice, bake, fill, stack: a relieving and totally tasty way to chill out.

Hazelnut Molasses Sandwich Cookies
Adapted from Chewy Gooey Crispy Crunchy by Alice Medrich

Medrich says this recipe makes 100 cookies and 50 sandwich cookies, but I preferred the thicker ones and, with that in mind, would say it's more like 75 cookies and 32 sandwich cookies. Depends on how thin you slice your dough!

1/2 cup raw hazelnuts, skins on
1 2/3 all-purpose cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
Scant 3/4 cups granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon orange zest
1/4 cup unsulphured molasses
8 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped, for filling

1.  Place the nuts, flour, and baking soda in a food processor and run until the nuts are finely ground. Set aside. In a mixing bowl, combine the butter, sugar, salt, vanilla, and zest, and beat with a handheld or KitchenAid mixer until fluffy. On low speed, beat in half the flour mixture, followed by all of the molasses. Beat in the remaining flour until just blended.

2.  Shape the dough into a cylinder about 14 inches long and 1 3/4 inches in diameter. (I rolled mine along a stainless steel counter, but you can use a longer sheet of wax paper to aid you instead.) Wrap the dough tightly in wax paper or plastic for two to three hours, or until it's firm enough to slice.

3.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Position racks in the upper and lower thirds of oven. Slice dough log into quarter-inch rounds (Medrich recommends eighth-inch, but thicker was better for us), and place 1 1/2 inches apart on lined cookie sheets. Bake for seven to ten minutes (Medrich says ten to 12, but ours were done by eight), rotating pans halfway through. The cookies will puff up then settle down before they are done. Set the liners on a cooling rack, and cool all the way before stacking or storing.

4.  To fill, melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl set over simmering water. Spoon about one or two teaspoons of chocolate onto the underside of a cookie, then top with a same-sized cookie. Allow chocolate to set for about 15 minutes. Sandwich cookies will keep for one week in an airtight container.

Peanut Butter Honeycomb Pie and Pi(e) Day!

The first time I celebrated Pi(e) Day was as a sophomore at Berkeley in a hippie co-op full of math magicians and culinary geniuses—all pie, all day, and for some of the following day too. It was the most supreme and comforting display of nerdery, revived again in my recent life at the hands of DC's resident pie enthusiast. Every year—from her previous homes to here—Emily organizes a Pi(e) Day event, and the one she put together yesterday was a smorgasbord of sweet and savory, all heralding math, pie, and a fantastic local farm and education center that benefited from the cover cost. And boy was it ever delicious.

Spaghetti pie, chocolate hazelnut tarts, salty caramel chocolate pie, hot 'n' spicy chili pie, butterscotch meringue: I arrived totally starving and left completely wired and with a head full of ideas for new recipes and collaborations. The gals from The Runcible Spoon were there sharing a sweet craft and their latest beautiful zine (breakfast themed!), and Emily and Elizabeth's lovely pie book had a li'l cameo too. Most of my conversations with strangers ended up being about people's personal pursuits, and it was so nice to spend one of these last few days in DC hearing about—and eating!—all the creative projects that folks are working on. 

I ended up bringing four offerings to the event, three tried-and-true classics and one new recipe: labneh tart with sesame brittle, Floriole's chocolate ganache meringue tart, super tangy lemon tart, and this big ol' beastly peanut butter honeycomb pie. I only had the chance to run a piece of honeycomb through the smears of filling and crust left on the pie plate, but that was enough to know that I'll definitely be making this again. Creamy and rich, this pie hails from one of my very favorite pastry chefs who has never done me wrong. Kim Boyce knows what's up, and this ode to insanity brings out the very best in sweet, salty, crunchy, and creamy contrasts. Just don't wait until Pi(e) Day next year to make it. And, of course, a big thanks goes out to all the people who worked so hard to make DC's Pi(e) Day such a stellar and inspiring event—y'all keep this city alive!

Peanut Butter Honeycomb Pie

Adapted from Kim Boyce for Bon Appétit

I only made a few tweaks to this: upped the nutmeg, swapped the powdered sugar for cornstarch because I was concerned about it setting, omitted the salted peanuts she calls for in the end. It was a big hit at Pi(e) Day and not nearly as annoying to make as it seems! You need to allot two or three hours to set the custard, but all the individual pieces come together in about a half hour or so.

Crust
9 full-size graham crackers, broken up
1/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg (bumped this up to 1/4 teaspoon)
6 tablespoons butter, melted 

Filling
8 large egg yolks
12 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise (or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract)
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup creamy peanut butter (natural is fine!)
1 teaspoon cornstarch, sifted
1/2 teaspoon flaky sea salt

Honeycomb
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 tablespoons corn syrup
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon baking soda, sifted
 
Chocolate Glaze
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate (do not exceed 61% cacao), chopped
2 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1. Make the crust:  Preheat oven to 325. Finely grind graham crackers, sugar, salt, and nutmeg in a food processor.Transfer crumb mixture to a medium bowl. Add butter and stir to blend. Use bottom and sides of a measuring cup to pack crumbs onto bottom and up sides of 9-inch pie pan. Bake until golden brown, about 15 minutes. Let cool.

2.  Make the filling: Mix yolks and six tablespoons of sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment (or you can use a handheld mixer). Beat at high speed until ribbons form, stopping once to scrape down sides of bowl, about two minutes.

3.  Combine milk and remaining six tablespoons sugar in a large saucepan; scrape in seeds from vanilla bean and add bean to pan. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, stirring to dissolve sugar. Remove bean. With mixer running, gradually add hot milk mixture to yolk mixture. Scrape mixture back into pan. Clean bowl. Whisking constantly, bring custard to a boil over medium heat. Remove pan from heat and whisk vigorously for one minute. Return custard to mixing bowl and beat on high speed until cool, about four minutes. Mix in butter, one tablespoon at a time. Add peanut butter, cornstarch, and salt; beat to blend. Scrape filling into cooled crust; smooth top. Chill until set, two to three hours.

4.  Make honeycomb: Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil. Combine sugar, corn syrup, honey, and 1/4 cup water in a heavy, deep saucepan. Stir over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat to high and bring to a boil. Once boiling, cook without stirring, occasionally swirling pan and brushing down sides with a wet pastry brush, until sugar turns pale amber, about seven or eight minutes. Working quickly, remove pan from heat and add baking soda (mixture will foam up dramatically), and whisk quickly just to combine. Immediately pour candy over prepared sheet (do not spread out). Let stand undisturbed until cool, about 20 minutes. Hit candy in several places with the handle of a knife to crack into pieces

5.  Make glaze and assemble:  Once pie is set and cool, stir chocolate and butter in a small heat-proof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water until melted and smooth. Drizzle some of the chocolate glaze over the peanut butter filling, then pile pieces of honeycomb on top, then drizzle remaining chocolate glaze over the honeycomb. This pie is a beast to cut with the honeycomb on top, so if you’re worried about slice presentation, just drizzle the chocolate on the pie, and top each slice with honeycomb and more chocolate. Finally, I only used about half the honeycomb. The rest we are dipping in chocolate and snackin’ on!