Roasted Strawberry Sorbet

Two weeks ago, my good friends Bekka and Jon visited Larriland Farm in Woodbine, Maryland to load up on you-pick strawberries. Last year they came home with probably 20 pounds of berries that deliciously overwhelmed the freezer and fridge, so this year I was sure to sign up for a share of their lode. The berries from last summer were enormous, blood red, and exactly what you’d want for an eating berry, but this year’s have been like small ruby jewels that are slightly sour and much more floral—perfect for cooking, in other words. Growing up I mostly ate strawberries in things, or specifically, slathered with whipped cream, drowned in heavy cream, macerated and saturating a shortcake that was also slathered with whipped cream—they’re a blank canvas for dairy products, y’all. But Lipitor is in my future and I’m reining in my wanton use of fat-full dairy, which leads me to this sorbet: it is amazing. 
 
Most of the sorbet recipes that I consulted consisted of just berries, sugar, and lemon juice, which is sort of plain, especially for one who is accustomed to the righteous richness of strawberries in things. So, taking a cue from 101cookbooks, I roasted the bejeezus out of these berries and then churned the results into my honestly new favorite frozen dessert. Roasting the berries seriously transforms their flavor, almost caramelizing them, and the extra "work" (it's so easy!) is totally worth it. Mom is still going to cram me with strawberries and cream when I go home, and I’m sure that I’ll eat a river of strawberries if the next ones that Jon and Bekka bring home are as far out as the ones from last summer, for now and maybe forever, this roasted strawberry sorbet is my jam.

 
Roasted Strawberry Sorbet

Taking a cue from Heidi Swanson's recipe for roasted strawberries

Heidi's original recipe is for just roasted strawberries, and she suggests pairing them with an array of sweet or savory foods (goat cheese and graham crackers!). The recipe below deviates from her original proportions quite a bit and leaves out the port wine she suggested. All this in the name of killer sorbet. If you're interested in her original, and you should be, check out her amazing book or feature over here.

Get Yr Roasted Strawberry Sorbet On

Yields about five cups sorbet

Two pounds (32 ounces) little strawberries, hulled, and halved if they're larger (trimmed, my berry weight came to 1 pound, 14 ounces)

1/4 cup pure maple syrup

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

2 tablespoons natural sugar

1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon balsamic vinegar, to your preference

1.  Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F. Hull your berries, halve if they're large, and toss with maple syrup, olive oil, and salt in a large bowl. Spread out in a single layer across two rimmed baking sheets or in casserole dishes; you want to use a receptacle that will reserve the juices! Rotating the pans halfway through, bake for 30 to 40 minutes, until the berry juices start to thicken; don't let them burn. Heidi counsels us to check the edges of the pan for tell-tale signs of imminent burning. 

2.  Remove berries from the oven. Working in batches, carefully pulverize the hot berries and syrup in a food processor or blender until totally smooth (my mixture did not need to be strained). Stir in the sugar and balsamic vinegar to taste, and chill puree in the fridge for at least three hours and ideally overnight.

3.  Churn the puree in an ice cream maker according to your manufacturer's instructions. This sorbet is the best eaten straight from the mixer or after firming up in the freezer for 20 minutes. If eating after the sorbet has spent a long period in the freezer, allow sorbet to sit out at room temperature for 15 minutes before scooping. Enjoy!

*Update:  If you don't have access to an ice cream maker, check out this post written by David Lebovitz explaining how to churn by hand. 

Raspberry Rhubarb Crostata

When I was approximately seven, my grandmother's tipsy humor had us in stitches when she took a jab at her sister (not present) during a game of Balderdash. The word in question sounded something like “pompelsnell,” and grandma joked that it was “the sound you make after eating Eloise’s rhubarb cobbler.” She was not wrong! This is both my first memory of snark and my first memory of rhubarb, which I seem to recall being stewed without sugar and slumping under a deflated layer of cooked oatmeal.* I have a friend now who has never had rhubarb because it was verboten at his dinner table as his grandfather had grown up in orphanage eating rhubarb pie every day, and another friend who avoids it because her parents used to boil rhubarb (without sugar!) and serve it alongside rutabagas -- so very World War II. I cannot imagine a more un-Tanglewood way to spend a meal. 

People go on about rhubarb being tart and sassy, but until recently, I really wouldn’t have known because my tendency was to sweeten the shit out of it, add strawberries, and bake it inside of buttery pastry dough. It is so good that way, but then my sister’s main dude made her a rhubarb-only birthday pie a couple of weeks ago -- the first pie he has ever made! -- and it was so tasty and new. Maybe Eloise was on the right track. I’m not quite interested in going bare-bones with the ‘barb yet, but having it on its own helped me divorce it from strawberries -- and right on time because I was growing bored of it that way and thinking I would just forget about rhubarb this season. But this tart is so good, and it will revive your rhubarb pie repertoire for certain. And if you’re looking for a spin on rhubarb that isn’t at all “pompelsnell,” well you should start right here. Now quick, quick! Get some rhubarb before it disappears until next season.

Raspberry Rhubarb Crostata

Spotted on Lottie + Doof, adapted from Karen Demasco in Bon Appetit

The only major change I made to this was swapping out the cornstarch in favor of tapioca starch. I once read that some people detect a gritty mouth feel when eating filling made with cornstarch. This has never been a problem for me, but

Crust

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour 

1/2 cup whole-wheat flour 

1 1/2 tablespoons sugar 

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt 

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cubed 

1 large egg

1 tablespoon whole milk

Filling

1/4 cup tapioca starch
4 cups 1/2″-thick slices rhubarb (about 1 1/4 lb.)
6 oz. fresh raspberries
2/3 cup sugar
1 large egg, beaten
Raw sugar
Sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream (for serving)

1.  For crust:  Pulse flours, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor to blend. Drop cubed butter over the top, and pulse a few times until butter is the size of peas. In a separate bowl, whisk milk and egg to combine, then pulse into the flour-butter mixture until it creates moist crumbs. Dump mixture into a shallow bowl, and quickly press into a ball with your hands; flatten into a thick disk. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least 1 1/2 hours and up to two days. 

2.  For filling:  Mix tapioca starch and 3 tablespoons water in a small bowl to dissolve; set aside. Combine rhubarb, raspberries, and sugar in a large, heavy saucepan. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until sugar is dissolved and fruit starts releasing its juices, about four minutes. Stir in tapioca mixture and bring to a boil; rhubarb slices will still be in tact. Transfer to a bowl and chill filling until cool, about 30 minutes.

3.  For crostata:  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Roll out dough on floured parchment to a 12-inch diameter; brush with beaten egg. Mound filling in the center, then spread out evenly, leaving a 1 1/2-inch border. Gently fold edges of dough over filling, pleating as needed; brush border with egg and sprinkle with raw sugar. Slide parchment paper onto a large rimmed baking sheet and bake until crust is golden brown, about 45 minutes. You might choose to line pan with aluminum foil as well to catch seeping juices. Transfer crostata to a baking rack, and serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream if so desired. Will keep covered for a few days, but truly is best eaten the day of or from the fridge.

* Well, my mom, sister, and I all have a different memory about this night. Sister insists that it was a mincemeat pie and that Eloise made them all the time. My mother is certain that it was pumpkin pie. They both say that it was Thanksgiving, which means that my memory of it being rhubarb is likely wrong, and my memory of it being cobbler even more so, but still! The point is that this crostata will never cause anyone to ridicule you during Balderdash.

Blackberry Chili Syrup with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

I made this ice cream two weeks ago to share with Joey’s family after he blew everyone’s socks off at the performance of his composition. We all went back to his house at the conclusion, and family from here and North Carolina sat around eating dessert and drinking wine and whiskey while Joey chatted about his impending move to Solitude, New England and played us another song on his marimba (it was not wholly unlike a more clothed version of the nights that defined my co-op experienced in college). Joey convinced me that his family does not like “hot,” though he loves it, so Tory and I sat in the corner draining the jar of spicy blackberry sauce and concocting other ways to use it (with bourbon! in oatmeal! on cheesecake!) and wondering whether one could subsist on spicy blackberry sauce alone.

Today my friend Guy expressed similar enthusiasm about his ideal diet staple when he said that his ice cream maker has revolutionized his eating habits. He claims to pulverize everything in a blender, chill it, and churn it, and while I’m sure he didn’t mean salad, he most certainly meant cantaloupe, mint, and cayenne pepper, pecans and cardamom, and any number of combinations that could convince most to disavow themselves of solid foods; there was talk of creamy cashew ice cream being next. My ice cream approach has worked in the other direction—start standard but pair with something plucky—and while this week’s recipe may seem vanilla at the start, it is totally delicious and doubly so with this spicy blackberry sauce. 

Blackberry Chili Syrup

Inspired by 101 Cookbooks

Makes about two cups

This syrup is quite hot! A teaspoon poured into seltzer gave me the sneezes, but gobs on top of ice cream were perfectly tempered. I’ve also mixed this with bourbon and seltzer, eaten it with yogurt and granola, mixed it with salad dressing, and poured it on a cookie. It mellows out in the fridge a bit, but why would you want it to? Hello, year-round staple.

3 dried aji cereza or guajillo peppers (If you can find them, the aji cereza peppers are the way to go since they're already fruity and fragrant. I've seen them at the bodega down the street and at Whole Foods.)

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1 cup natural sugar

1 1/2 cups water

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

4.5 ounces fresh or frozen blackberries

1.  Trim the stems from the peppers and tear them into pieces; add peppers along with their seeds to a medium saucepan with the sugars, water, and lemon juice. Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, and, stirring regularly, continue boiling until the mixture reduces to about two cups of syrup, 20 to 30 minutes.

2.  Add the frozen berries to the boiling pot, and cook for an addition few minutes, no longer than five.  Remove from heat, and carefully puree the syrup, either with a hand blender, regular blender, or food processor (I used the later). Strain the syrup through a fine-mesh sieve, and store in the fridge in covered jars. It should keep for several weeks.


Vanilla Bean Ice Cream

Adapted from David Lebovitz

1 cup whole milk

3/4 cup natural sugar

A pinch of salt

1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

2 cups heavy cream

5 large egg yolks

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1.  In a medium saucepan, heat the milk, sugar, and salt over low. Scrape the vanilla beans into the pan, toss the pod in, and continue cooking until mixture is warm. Turn off the stove, cover, and let steep for one hour.

2.  Set up an ice bath by placing a medium bowl in a larger bowl filled partially with ice and water. Add the cream to the medium bowl, and set a strainer over the top. In a separate bowl, mix the egg yolks and set aside.

3.  Reheat the milk mixture in the saucepan over low, and slowly pour some of the warmed milk into the egg yolks to temper them, whisking all the while. Add the tempered yolks and milk back to the saucepan, and continue cooking mixture over low, stirring and scraping the bottom with a heat-resistant spatula the whole time. When custard is thick enough to coat the spatula—six to ten minutes usually—remove from heat and strain into the cold cream, discarding the vanilla pod. Stir the mixture until it’s cool, then add the vanilla extract.

4.  Cover and chill overnight, then process according to your ice cream maker’s directions.Once the ice cream reaches your desired consistency (I usually put mine in the freezer for an additional hour or two), scoop it out and cover with heaping spoonfuls of the blackberry chili syrup!

Whole-Wheat Shortbread Cookies

Tonight! The gifted musician who is my fella is premiering a composition that he wrote for marimba, string quintet, and chorus. He has literally worked his fingers to their blistering bones to write this piece, which was inspired by the water-themed African folk songs that he and his classmates studied this semester. Joey was tapped by his school to be one of two student composers debuting original work at this evening's performance, and I'm bursting at the seams with excitement for him. In the past year, he has somehow managed to learn and excel at playing marimba (with four mallets!) and learned how to use composition software that makes everything sound like a video game, and which will undoubtedly translate into some seriously beautiful and bewitching music; his future is all kinds of bright and shiny.

After this composition endeavor, Joey heads to to Vermont with his band (link to old songs) for a year of intensive writing and recording, punctuated by extensive touring. Obviously I will be sending them baked goods all the while. These cookies—a solid airmail possibility—were recently featured on my all-time favorite food blog, and they are a total snap to make. While Lottie + Doof finished his with sugar alone, I thought the coffee-sugar combo nicely complemented the sturdy wheat flavor, and the cookies topped with cinnamon tasted just like buñuelos. Joey, I see you your bright future and raise you a buttery one!  

Whole-Wheat Shortbread Cookies

Adapted from Lottie + Doof

Makes about 70 one-inch cookies

Obviously this recipe calls for a scale, something that I highly recommend purchasing.  They save time, dishes, and ingredients—seriously one of the best $25 you can spend for your kitchen!

10.5 ounces all-purpose flour

5.5 ounces whole-wheat flour

4.75 ounces cornstarch

16 ounces high-fat butter (Plurga is recommended), at cool room temperature

4.75 ounces natural sugar

1 teaspoon salt

Superfine sugar, superfine coffee grinds, and ground cinnamon, for dusting

1.  Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

2.  Combine the flours and cornstarch in a medium bowl and set aside. In a large bowl, cream the butter, sugar, and salt with an electric mixer (or KitchenAid with the paddle attachment) until fluffy, about three minutes. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and combine, but be careful not to overmix. (I did the last bits of combining with cold hands and a rubber spatula since I’m paranoid about my oft overzealous electric mixer.)

3.  On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to a quarter-inch thick and cut into desired shapes (Tim used a two-inch cutter; I used a one-inch inverted glass); you may reroll and cut scraps. Arrange one inch apart on cookie sheets and bake for 10 to 15 minutes until edges have browned. Let cool on sheets for two minutes, then dust with sugar or your desired sugar mix (ratios follow). Store in an airtight container once cookies are totally cool. They’ll last a couple of days!

For coffee topping:  Combine 1/4 cup of sugar with 1 scant tablespoon superfinely ground coffee, or to taste.

For cinnamon topping:  Combine 1/4 cup sugar with 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, or to taste.

Aunt Sassy (Pistachio) Cake with Honey Vanilla Buttercream

Sometimes it feels irrelevant to write a baking blog. I always wonder whether this is not the totally wrong forum for me to write about being distraught with the government, or forlorn that Joey is moving to Vermont, or sad about my job, which forever bites the big one. Those things are all true, but then there is this glorious, delicious cake and the trouble of connecting it to Jon Kyl’s fake facts, Obama’s squirmy backbone, or the utter weirdness of an impending long-distance relationship; it’s so much smoother to connect baked goods to weekends and perpetual good times. Maybe I ought to thank my luck for the latitude afforded by the jokey truism that a blog-writer’s biggest audience is herself.

Joey's hand action shot! They can't all be winners.

So the government stinks tremendously, Joey is leaving, and my job is an endless bummer, but this cake is like eating airy, pistachio angel food cake swathed in magic frosting that rights ills and boosts moods! I made it for Ruben and Joaquin’s full-of-love engagement party, and initially I felt ill-equipped to describe how super good it is (the recipe gets all the credit!), and then my Alice Medrich cookie rampage clouded my cake-blogging motivations. But this cake—every bit as delicious as the ingredients tell you—is much, much easier to make than it seems and totally relevant to whatever is going on in your life, be it wishing some smarts into the government of celebrating the wonderful folks in your life.

Aunt Sassy Cake with Honey Buttercream

Adapted (barely) from Baked Explorations

I don't own any 8-inch cake pans so I attempted to proportion this recipe to fit my 6-inch cake pans instead. Using this awesome website, I learned I'd have to make 60% of the original recipe to do so, but I can't do that kind of math so I stuck to the original proportions but used my small pans and made six cupcakes with the leftover batter. It actually turned out great because the layers were towering and there were cupcakes for sampling. Also, this is a long recipe, but it's uncomplicated and totally worth the labor.

Pistachio Cake

1 cup shelled, unsalted pistachios (plus more for garnish, below)

2 1/2 cups cake flour

3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 teaspoon salt 

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup vegetable shortening (I used Spectrum brand)

1 3/4 cups granulated sugar

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1 large egg

1 1/2 cups ice water

3 large egg whites, at room temperature

1/4 tsp. cream of tartar

Honey Vanilla Buttercream

1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1/3 cup heavy cream

1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, soft but not warm, cut into small pieces

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

3 tablespoons honey

Garnish

1/2 cup pistachios

1 tablespoon sugar

Make the Cake Layers

1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Butter three 8-inch (I used 6-inch) round cake pans, line them with parchment, butter the parchment, flour it too, and tap out the excess flour. (F'real. My layers did not stick at all, so I'm not about to tell you that this step is overkill.)

2.  In the bowl of a food processor, process just one cup of the pistachios until they are coarsely chopped. Transfer two tablespoons of the nuts to a large bowl, and then process the rest into a powder, but not a dust. Stir the pistachio powder into the large bowl with the coarse nuts. Sift the flours, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in the large bowl. Dump anything left in the sifter into the bowl; stir.

3.  In a large bowl, beat the butter and shortening on medium until creamy, three to four minutes. Add the sugar and vanilla and beat about three more minutes until fluffy. Add the egg and beat until just combined. Turn your egg beater or mixer on low, and add the flour mixture to the bowl in three parts, alternating with the ice water, and beginning and ending with the flour. The mixer should be on low for each addition, and flip it to medium for a few seconds until ingredients are incorporated; scrape bowl before each new addition.

4.  In a medium bowl, beat the egg whites and cream of tartar on low until soft peaks form, but don't overwhip; gently fold whites into the batter using a rubber spatula. Divide the batter among the prepared pans and smooth the tops. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes (my six-inch pans still took 40) until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let cakes cool in their pans for 20 minutes before removing them; allow to cool completely and then remove the parchment paper. At this point, I triple-wrapped my layers in plastic wrap for froze them for two days, which I've been led to believe makes frosting delicate cake layers terrifically easy. 

Make the Frosting

1.  In a medium saucepan, whisk the sugar and flour together. Add the milk and cream and cook over medium heat (I cooked on low because I have a gas range), whisking occasionally until the mixture comes to a boil and thickens, ten to 15 minutes.

2.  Transfer the mixture to a cold bowl and beat with a mixer on high speed until cool, about seven to nine minutes. Press some bags of frozen berries to the sides of the bowl to speed up the process. Reduce the speed to low and add the butter, mixing all the way. Increase the speed to medium-high and beat until frosting is light and fluffy, about two minutes.

3.  Add the vanilla and honey and continue mixing to combine. If the frosting is too soft, put the bowl in the fridge to chill, then beat it again until it's the right consistency. (I had to put mine in the fridge for 20 minutes.)

Assemble the Cake

1.  Crush the remaining 1/2 cup pistachios with 1 tablespoon of sugar in your food processor; don't go too fine.

2.  Level the tops of your cake layers (easier if they're frozen). Place on on your plate, and smooth 1 1/4 cups frosting on top. Add the next leveled layer and the same amount of frosting, then the third layer. Spread a very thin layer over the top and sides and put in the fridge for 15 minutes if you can (this is the crumb coat and helps tamp down loose crumbs), then spread the rest of the frosting on. Garnish the cake with the crushed pistachios, and refrigerate for 15 minutes to firm up. The cookbook recommends letting the cake come to room temperature for two hours before serving; I think we did incidentally, but it's not so fussy of a cake that you have to. Keeps for three days in a cake saver at room temperature.