Honey Panna Cotta with Olive Oil and Pine Nuts

There’s a newish restaurant in Baltimore that you have to visit. It’s called Bottega, a BYOB 20-seater with a northern Italian menu, and the first time I ate there, the one-man kitchen had run dry of about a third of the menu. In my mind, that was an excellent rather than a bummer situation. The ingredients, their farmers, the food, and the service are special, and I don’t think that anything communicates that quite so well or confidently as does abiding by smallness. There’s a lot to be said for enoughness and the choice to be out when you’re out. Like, you have zero uncertainty about the quality of the entirety of your offerings, and your efforts are so intentional and so focused, that a disappointed diner isn’t possible. Smallness—as opposed to the rote production that characterizes its opposite—could be the trick to the sort of success I keep experiencing at Bottega.

Simplicity might be the other side of the smallness coin—Bottega has that too—and it was the restaurant’s simplest dessert that was one of the best finishers I’ve had in seriously forever. They’re currently offering a ginger-lemon panna cotta, infused with both flavors only barely, and it was purely, completely delicious—unmuddled. Set just a skosh more than pudding and a million miles south of jello, panna cotta is a straightforward cream dessert that is disarmingly good. Weirdly good. When we ate there last week, I’d been considering baking some fussy tarts and fancy cakes for fun this weekend, but Bottega’s panna cotta righted my course and all. So, inspired by Bottega's general excellence and specific deliciousness, here’s a panna cotta riff with a pretty tasty honey profile, complemented by olive oil, salt, and pine nuts if you so choose. It’s small, simple, and delicious—there’s not much else you need.

(OH. And if you find yourself in Baltimore, totally please go to Bottega. My favorite savory dishes have been the venison pappardelle and the speck with stracciatella; literally everything has been good.)

Honey Panna Cotta

Adapted from Alice Medrich’s Pure Dessert

Makes about 8 servings

Use the best dairy and honey to be found, y’all. I mean, we always say that, but since there are so few parts to this dessert, it’s especially excellent to use your favorites since every ingredient is discernible. Medrich cautions us to measure granulated gelatin very carefully, since even a hair too much could wrestle the panna cotta into jello territory.

3 sheets sheet gelatin OR 2 1/2 teaspoons granulated gelatin

1 1/4 cups cold whole milk

3 cups heavy cream

1/3 cup mild, delicious honey

1/4 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

Honey, olive oil, salt, and toasted pine nuts for garnish

1.  Pour the milk into a small bowl. Sprinkle the gelatin over the top, don’t stir, and let soften for about ten minutes.

2. In a medium saucepan, heat the cream, honey, and salt until steaming, but but not boiling; stir a few times to ensure it does not scorch. Remove the cream from heat, add the milk and gelatin to the pot, and whisk vigorously to dissolve the gelatin.

3. Set a large bowl with a spout over a larger bowl filled with ice and a bit of water. Pour the hot cream mixture into the spouted bowl, and allow it to cool to 50 degrees F. Divide the cream mixture between your ramekins or jars, cover with plastic wrap, and allow to set for at least four hours, preferably overnight.

4. When ready to serve, top your panna cotta with a spoonful of honey, a drizzle of olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt, and a couple of pine nuts. Panna cottas will keep, covered in the fridge, for about a week.

Caramellow Chiffon Pie (Or New Moon Pie)

Y’all, I know it’s tardy to just now be slip-sliding into the New Year, but last year was a rocky one. I ended 2013 in the red: down two friendships, one relationship, and one job for which I had blindly relocated from a beloved city to a new (though admittedly excellent) one. While the start of the year covered me in citrus and the warmth of home, then hopscotched me back to Maine for a little bit of baby goat midwifery, the latter half of 2013 cascaded into an extremely challenging and dispiriting plane.

After an egregious though arguably appropriate amount of drinking my feelings and binge-watching The Good Wife—Alicia Florrick’s wintry color palette is just so good—I think I’m starting to emerge. Or, at least, Hulu is out of episodes and it’s time to get going on this new year. And while I’ve no idea as to the sorts of challenges or excellence that 2014 will pose, I can say that I’m planning to 1.) Stop lying, and 2.) Start following through—with a PMA and a fresh-ass smile on my face. So in the name of resoluteness and the beginnings brought about—blessedly—by every new year and every day spent free of television, allow me a word about this pie.

It had the potential to fail—caramel! soft ball stage! scalded milk!—but turned out totally excellent. I mean really. I’m calling it a caramellow chiffon, though you could also call it butterscotch chiffon, or caramel cloud, or frankly a new moon pie since it looks like a full-on lunar situation. It’s a technique that I learned at Woodberry Kitchen: a thin layer of graham cracker crust, filled with a caramel pudding that has been fluffed with fresh whipped marshmallow, then topped with whipped cream and crushed candy. I mean, it tastes like milky-sweet caramel clouds, and you should trust me on this considering the aforementioned decision to baseline at Honesty. In any case, the recipe requires several pots and steps, in addition to a few hours chillage in the fridge, but it’s a breeze to make—particularly if you take a moment to read through the directions twice and get all set up before you ignite your burner. But have at it! You deserve a new moon pie to go along with your new year, even if you started it on time two weeks ago. And of course, I’m wishing all my buds and readers and nonreaders a spiritually healthful and prosperous new year!

Caramellow Chiffon Pie
I used a ten-inch cake pan, which made a pie that was two inches tall. I recommend a smaller pan for a taller slice—get some height to 'er! And don't feel limited by the crust or topping options: chocolate or gingersnap crust could be excellent, as would topping the whipped cream with caramel. It will also work to fold the marshmallow into cooled pudding: the structure would allow you to fold in some ribbons of caramel of toffee sauce for a marbled effect. Go nuts!

For Crust

9 whole graham crackers, broken up

¼ cup light brown sugar

¼ teaspoon flaky sea salt

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1.  Make the crust: preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Grind crackers, sugar, and salt in a food processor until fine. With motor running, pour in melted butter, and run until all crumbs are evenly moistened. Press onto bottom of 8-, 9-, or 10-inch springform cake pan with removable bottom. Bake for 13 to 15 minutes, until crust is fragrant and golden brown. Set aside.

For Caramel Pudding
Pudding portion adapted from Melissa Clark

3 cups heavy cream

1 ½ cups whole milk

150 g. dark brown sugar

5 grams fine-grain sea salt

1/3 cup water

4 large egg yolks

1 large whole egg

12 grams cornstarch

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

1.  Make the pudding:  In a small pot, bring cream and milk to a simmer. Cover to keep warm. In a smallish-medium pot, bring brown sugar, water, and salt to a boil. Cook over medium-low, stirring occasionally to keep mixture from scorching, until it reaches 240 degrees on a candy thermometer, about eight minutes. The mixture should be a deep brown color and smell nutty and caramelized.

2.  Immediately whisk cream mixture into brown sugar to stop the cooking. The mixture will seize. Bring to a boil over low, whisking constantly, and cook until smooth.

3.  In a small bowl, whisk together egg yolks, egg and cornstarch. Slowly pour a ladleful of hot cream mixture into the egg mixture, whisking constantly so the eggs don’t curdle. Slowly pour egg mixture into the pot with the cream, whisking all the while. Cook over low for another two to four minutes, until thickened. It’s fine if the mixture comes to a simmer.

4. Pour mixture through a fine-mesh strainer into a large, wide bowl and whisk in butter until smooth. Set aside.

For Marshmallow

13 grams gelatin

113 grams very cold water

200 grams granulated sugar

113 grams Lyle’s golden or light corn syrup

6 grams fine-grain salt

Softly whipped cream, for topping

Crushed graham crackers, crushed Health bar, or some other tasty goodness, for topping

1.  Make marshmallow:  Add water and gelatin to the bowl of a mixer, and let bloom for at least ten minutes. Then, in a medium pot, add sugar, corn syrup, and enough water to moisten the sugar—a third of a cup will probably do.

2.  Over medium heat, stir sugar mixture with a fork until the sugar is dissolved, then cease stirring and allow mixture to come to the softball stage, 236 to 240 degrees. Pour hot syrup over gelatin, then use the whisk attachment on low for a few minutes until mixture is foamy. Ratchet up the speed and whisk on high until the marshmallow has formed medium-soft peaks, about six to eight more minutes—be careful not to overwhip, lest the mixture get too stiff.

3.  Assemble:  Working quickly, fold marshmallow and six grams of salt into the warm pudding, making sure that the filling is evenly mixed and uniform in color. Pour filling into cake round, and allow to set for at least four hours. When ready to serve, run a small knife around edge of pan to loosen springform ring. Then run your serving knife under hot, hot water, dry, make one cut, then wet, dry, and cut again. Top with whipped cream and smooshed graham crackers or candy as desired.

Hoosier Mama's Caramel–Apple Cider Pie

“I suggest that pie is too elemental to be trendy. Trends fade, but simple, seasonal food made from good ingredients should not.” Thus prefaces pastry chef and author Paula Haney in The Hoosier Mama Book of Pie—one of the most thoughtful and well put together baking books I’ve beheld in a long time. To call it a baking book seems insufficient though. It’s more like a guide that nudges readers to reconsider their tempo in the kitchen and their relationship to ingredients, and it’s obviously first and foremost a damn fine collection of pie recipes. Haney leads you through dough, rolling (pound it out first!), and crimping to sourcing and filling, explaining the reasons behind her shop’s techniques and tweaks with a seriously trustworthy tone and obvious expertise: she speaks, and we want to listen.

Chefs have written many a fantastic books for the home cook, but they sometimes have trouble translating scale and method appropriately, or they dumb down necessary information to make it “easier” on us dudes at home. The Hoosier Mama Book of Pie—judging from the four recipes I’ve made—doesn’t make these kinds of concessions, and there’s no reason to expect that your pies at home won’t turn out every ounce as awesome as her pies in Chicago. In any case, in observance of fall and my recent stumble upon a Maryland apple farm that offers unpasteurized cider, this caramel apple cider pie seems like the most fitting offering. And if it doesn’t ring your bell, there’s plenty in the book that will: Fat Elvis Pie, Jeffersonville Maple-Pecan Pie, French Onion Soup Pie—so much fall and wintry goodness abounds.

I didn’t change much with the apple cider pie: used a rye pie dough for the crust since it was handy and exchanged a quarter of the sugar for light brown since sour cream with brown sugar is an age-old Nye family comfort dessert. I doubt I improved it at all with the tweaks, but that’s the fun of baking on your time. In the end, it’s a tangy, salty-sweet paean to fall, with the added bonus of being based on a Lottie + Doof recipe. Get to it!

Caramel–Apple Cider Pie

Adapted from The Hoosier Mama Book of Pie, by Paula Haney

Yields one nine-inch pie!

This recipe makes more caramel than you’ll need, but it is fall after all—drizzle that stuff all over them apples.

1 single-crust, blind-baked all-butter pie dough (see here or here for my favorites)

2 cups (493 grams) fresh apple cider

1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar

½ cup (121 grams) full-fat sour cream

½ teaspoon (1.5 grams) kosher salt

4 large eggs (200 grams)

1 Tablespoon (18 grams) Calvados or other apple brandy

1 Tablespoon (11 grams) apple cider vinegar

1 teaspoon (5 grams) vanilla paste

¼ cup (50 grams) caramel (recipe follows; I used about twice this amount to get the coverage I wanted)

1.  Pour the apple cider into a one-quart saucepan and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat, and simmer until the cider is reduced to one-quarter cup, ten to 15 minutes. Set aside to cool.

2.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Place your baked pie shell on a baking sheet and set aside. In a medium bowl, whisk the sugar, sour cream, and salt to combine. Crack the eggs in a small bowl and fork to combine. Whisk the eggs into the sugar mixture in three additions, mixing well after each round. Stir the Calvados, cider vinegar, and vanilla into the reduced apple cider. Pour this into the egg mixture and whisk well to combine.

3.  Pour the filling into your pie shell and bake for 40 to 45 minutes until the edges of the filling are slightly puffed. Haney says here to gently shake the pie: it should move as one piece. If the center jiggles on its own, return the pie to the oven for five to ten minutes. The top of the pie will be very shiny when set.

4.  Cool to room temperature, and prepare the caramel while you wait. Once both the pie and caramel are cool, pour one-quarter cup (or more) of caramel over the top of the pie. Spread it to the edges with the back of a spoon or an offset spatula. Chill pie in the fridge for at least two hours before serving; use a clean, dry knife to make smooth, even cuts. The finished pie can be stored in the fridge for two to three days.

Caramel

Adapted from TheHoosier Mama Book of Pie, by Paula Haney

The set-up for this caramel is somewhat involved, but it makes a correct and excellent sauce, so don’t be dissuaded!

½ cup plus two Tablespoons (126 grams) granulated sugar

½ cup (116 grams) heavy cream, at room temperature

pinch of kosher salt

1.  Fill a medium, heat-proof bowl a quarter of the way with ice. Add cold water just until the ice floats, and set aside. Place a fine-mesh strainer over a second medium, heat-proof bowl. Set aside.

2.  Place the sugar in a one-quart, heavy saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat without stirring until the sugar melts around the edges of the saucepan, about two minutes. Gently stir with a rubber spatula, then turn down the heat to medium and continue to cook until the sugar melts in the middle. Stir until all of the sugar is melted and has turned medium amber.

3. Turn the heat down to low, and immediately pour in a small addition of cream, whisking all the while. Add the rest of the cream in four additions, whisking constantly. The caramel should appear ropy at first, then form a thick sauce.

4.  Remove pan from heat and dip the bottom into the bowl of ice water to cease the cooking, being sure not to splash any water into the sauce. Remove from ice bath, and whisk in the salt. Then pour through the strainer into your heatproof bowl, and dip once more into the ice bath. Whisk occasionally until cool, assemble your pie, and use the leftovers on your apples!

Blueberry Hand Pies

Fruit + sugar + thickener + pastry. This isn’t a recipe, per se, so much as a technique; some of the best ones are. The blueberries around Baltimore are incredible right now—plums too. Raspberries, grapes, and ground cherries keep popping up, and it’s been a delicious season for white peaches and nectarines as well. You can make fah-ncy pop tarts out of any of this stuff by cooking a small amount of fruit into pie filling and then stuffing your favorite pastry with it. Rye pastry, rye pastry with beer, frissage’d buttery goodness, the food processor method, even a lard-based or cream cheese dough would work here: this is a pie for people who love crusts. And if you’re inclined toward blueberries, the filling outlined below is a super delicious way to go: strictly blueberries, sugar, salt, and thickener, there’s no lemon or vanilla to complicate flavors; it would work for any fruit. Here, the result is unbelievably berryish. Plop some hearty spoonfuls of cooled filling onto the pastry of your choice, seal, pinch, egg wash, toss with sugar, bake, and there you have it. Summer in an unfussy, buttery envelope.

Assembly

1 full recipe pastry (rye pastry below)

Fruit filling (blueberry below)

Egg wash + large-grain sugar

1.  Preheat oven to 400, and line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. Divide pastry in two, and roll out into long rectangles, about an eighth-inch thick. Working with one at a time, cut each half into an even number of smaller rectangles or squares; these are the tops and bottoms of your hand pie. I made six giant pies, but you could make little square pockets or stamp out round ones too.

2. Place your bottoms on the cookie sheet, line the edges of each piece with egg wash, then spoon your cooled filling into the middle. I used a little more than a quarter-cup of filling per hand pie. Top each piece with its matching pastry, then press down the edges to seal; use a knife or rotary cutter to trim up the edges before pinching decoratively. Egg wash the tops, coat with large-grain sugar, poke some holes or slits in the top, and chill in the fridge or freezer while you assemble round two.

3. Make sure both sets of pies are very cool before baking; about 30 minutes in the freezer should do it. Pop them into your screamin’ hot oven, and bake for about ten to 12 minutes, until pastry is golden and filling is bubbling out the top or around the edges. Cool, and enjoy! Best if eaten within one day.

Rye Pastry

Adapted from Kim Boyce, Good to the Grain

For rye dough

1 cup rye flour

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 tablespoon sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 ½ sticks (6 ounces) cold unsalted butter

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

Ice water

1.  Sift the flours, sugar, and salt into a large bowl, dumping any grains that remain in the sifter back into the bowl. Cut the butter into half-inch pieces and add to the mixture. Rub the butter between your fingers to break it into smaller bits, until the butter ranges in size from hazelnuts to peas; work quickly!

2.  Add the vinegar and eight tablespoons of ice water to the mixture, using a rubber spatula or your hands to cut the liquid through the dry ingredients. The dough should come together as one shaggy lump. Squeeze it together to see if a ball forms, and if it’s too dry, add more water one tablespoon at a time until dough comes together. Pile the dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap, sprinkle with a few dots of water, wrap, and refrigerate for at least an hour or overnight.

3.   (This next bit is a tad technical, but folding and rolling the dough like this creates seriously flaky layers of pastry.) Unwrap the dough on a floured surface and pat it into square. Roll it out to a rectangle that’s roughly 8 ½ by 11 inches. The dough will be crumbly, but fear not! It will come together. For the first turn, fold the dough in thirds like a letter; the seam should be on the left. Rotate the dough so that the seam is at the top and parallel to your body, and roll out into an 8 ½ by 11 rectangle again. Fold and roll again, and repeat the process for a third, final time. Wrap the dough in plastic and chill for another hour at least, until ready to use.

Blueberry Filling

1 pound blueberries

2 ounces granulated sugar, or half honey, half sugar

.5 ounces cornstarch or tapioca starch

healthy pinch salt

1.  Whisk all your dries in a bowl, making sure the cornstarch is well blended. Toss the berries and dries in a wide, shallow pot, and cook over the highest heat, stirring all the while. The mixture will be dry at first, but in just a few minutes, the juices will start flowing and the filling will turn dark, beautiful purple. Continue cooking until filling boils, then boil for two to three minutes, until the opacity and smell of the cornstarch dissipate; you shouldn’t be able to taste it at all. Pour the filling out into a dish, press plastic to the top to prevent a skin, and cool in your fridge for about an hour or two.

Black Fruit Tart: Figs, Grapes, and Blackberries

Years ago, there was one particular tree in my Berkeley neighborhood that dripped with Black Mission figs all throughout the summer. Its proximate sidewalk was littered with sweet, rotting fruit—this was prior to the agricultural foraging maps that are all up on the internet now—and every walk or bike ride braked for a figgy snack. It was cherished excess.

When I finally moved out east, I was sorely disappointed to learn that figs are somewhat of a rarity ‘round these parts, and good figs are even more of a wonder. But a few weeks ago, our oyster shucker and resident knower of things was explaining an island off the coast of Maryland where an acquaintance is growing a whole orchard of four heritage fig breeds. This mythical person infrequently gives cuttings to compelling Baltimore folks, apparently. And a few days ago, our barista brought in a bucket of the most beautiful, tiny, yellow and purple figs foraged from my neighborhood (BUT WHERE?!). So maybe the figs aren’t so plenteous as be sidewalk litter, but they’re here.

Originally plotted to be a breezy peach and blueberry pie, this tart happened when my market proffered black seedless grapes, blackberries, and Celeste figs all on the same table. So rich that it’s almost savory, this is a bitter chocolate and red wine tart, or a sitting outside at 3:00 a.m. talking with your roommate and not missing California tart. A west coast dessert with a dark and jammy east coast edge. The rich fruit combination won’t be for everyone, but the fruit + jam technique will work to showcase whatever your summer has on hand, be it nectarines and blueberries, plums and currants, peaches and more peaches, or your long-lost favorite fruit. The method, inspired by Kim Boyce, is also here with an apricot blackberry tart, and here, with an apricot sugar plum tart.

Black Fruit Tart

Makes two

1 full recipe pastry dough (below)

24 to 30 figs, stemmed and halved if small, quartered if large

1 cup blackberries

1 cup black seedless grapes, whole

1/2 cup + 2 tablespoons black currant jam

4 tablespoons sugar

pinch salt

1 egg + milk + large-grain sugar for finishing

1. Divide your pastry in two, and work with one piece at a time. Roll out your dough to two 15-inch circles; trim rough edges. Slide onto the back of two parchment-lined sheet trays and chill while you prepare your filling.

2. Add your washed and cut fruit to a large bowl, and toss with two tablespoons of jam, your sugar, and salt.

3. Smear a quarter-cup of jam across each pastry round, one at a time, and evenly divide and arrange the fruit in a circle, leaving a two- to three-inch border of crust. It’s okay to freewheel it here: the piled look is just fine. Fold the edges of your crust up, pleating as you go, then freeze for about a half-hour to rechill your dough.

4.  Meanwhile preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Whisk your egg with a splash of milk until no streaks remain, and brush the top of your crust with it. Toss your large-grain sugar generously and evenly over the tart crust and center. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, rotating pans halfway through, until crust is deep golden brown and filling is bubbling. Can serve hot out of the oven or cooled to room temperature!

Pastry Dough

From Apt. 2B Baking Co. and I Made That!

12 ounces pastry flour

1/2 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt

8 ounces (two sticks) very cold butter

4 to 6 ounces ice water

1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

1.  On a clean counter, dump your flour and salt; mix it around with a bench scraper. Chop one stick of butter into quarters, and cut it into the flour with your bench scraper. When butter is about the size of lima beans, cut in the second stick, pulling, folding, and tossing with the bench scraper as you go, until the butter is about the size of quarters. Add the vinegar to the ice water.

2. Using your fingers, flick the water onto the butter-flour mixture, gently folding with the bench scraper all the while. You have added enough water once the mixture holds together when squeezed; it should still be very shaggy.

3. Next, push the butter into the flour. Using the heel of your palm, push a small section of the dough down and away from you; this creates long layers of butter in your dough, which translates to long flaky layers in your crust. Use your bench scraper to scrape up the smear, and put it a bowl. Repeat until all the dough has been smeared and you have a bowlful of long, buttery layers. Push these into one mass, divide in half, wrap each in plastic, flatten into disks, and chill at least two hours, or better yet overnight.