Chocolate Hamantaschen

What?  Purim already?  I know people who don't like Hamantaschen because they don't like poppy seeds especially, or prune filling,  or anything else reminiscent of the Jewish cookies of childhood.  Well, I do like  (love, even) poppy seeds and prunes and the like,  but I am sensitive to the needs of others.  So I offer you this very good recipe for Hamantaschen filled with CHOCOLATE.  I think everyone will be happy  now.  Try it, you'll like it!


CHOCOLATE HAMANTASCHEN

Forget poppy seeds, prunes, or apricots! Here, Haman’s Hat brims with bittersweet brownie filling and these cookies should NOT be saved for a Jewish, or any other, holiday

Makes 3 dozen cookies

Ingredients for Filling:

6 tablespoons (3 ounces) butter

4 ounces unsweetened chocolate

3/4 cups (5.25 ounces) granulated sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 large cold eggs

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 

Ingredients for Cookie Dough:

2 cups (9 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

8 tablespoons (4 ounces) unsalted butter, softened but not squishy

1 cup (7 ounces) sugar

1 large egg

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Equipment: 

Cookie sheets, lined with parchment paper

A 3-inch round cookie cutter

Make the filling: Melt butter with chocolate in a stainless steel bowl set in a wide skillet of almost simmering water.  Stir frequently until the mixture is melted and smooth.

Remove the bowl from the water. Stir in the sugar, vanilla and salt.  Add the eggs one at a time, stirring in the first until incorporated before adding the second.  Stir in the flour and beat with a spoon until the mixture is smooth and glossy and comes away from the sides of the pan, about one minute.  Scrape into a small bowl, cover and refrigerate until needed.

Make the cookie dough: Whisk the flour, baking powder and salt together thoroughly and set aside.

In a large bowl beat the butter and sugar with an electric mixer until light and fluffy, 3 to 4 minutes.  Beat in the egg and vanilla extract.  On low speed, beat in the flour just until incorporated. Form the dough into two flat patties.  Wrap and refrigerate the patties at least until firm enough to roll, but preferably several hours or overnight.

Preheat the oven to 350F.  Position racks in the upper and lower third of the oven.

Remove one of the patties from the refrigerator and let it sit until supple enough to roll but still quite firm.  It will continue to soften as you work.  Roll the dough between 2 pieces of wax paper or between heavy plastic sheets from a plastic bag to a thickness of 1/8 inch.  Turn the dough over once or twice while you are rolling it out to check for deep wrinkles; if necessary, peel off and smooth the paper over the dough before continuing to roll it.  When the dough is thin enough, peel off the top sheet of paper or plastic and keep it in front of you.  Invert the dough onto that sheet.  Cut cookies as close together as possible, dipping the edges of the cutter in flour as necessary to prevent sticking.  Press dough scraps together and set aside to reroll with scraps from the second patty.

Place cookies 1/2 inch apart on the prepared cookie sheets. Scoop and place a level teaspoonful of filling in the center of each cookie. Bring three sides of each cookie up to partially cover the filling.  Pinch the edges of the cookies well, to seal the corners.  Bake 12 minutes or until pale golden at the edges, rotating the cookie sheets from top to bottom and front to back half way through the baking. Repeat until all of the cookies are baked.

Slide the parchment liners onto cooling racks.  Cool the cookies completely before stacking or storing. 

Oh, and sorry, no photos today. I just now realized that it was Purim in the first place. 

What I Love About Genoise

I make genoise twice a year whether I like it or not.  I make it when I teach at Tante Marie’s Cooking School www.tantemarie.com because Mary Risley (Tante Marie) believes that all aspiring professional culinary students should be able to make genoise.    Despite its old school reputation, I do like genoise. And I agree with Mary, though I’m not sure working pastry chefs in this country actually make it very often. 

The problem with genoise is that Americans like super moist cake and genoise was never meant to be moist. The other problem is that, knowing that genoise is not meant to be moist, many chefs make it inedibly dry—which perpetuates the bad rep for genoise.  I don’t accept inedibly dry genoise.  I appreciate the usefulness of a cake that is dry enough to be soaked with flavorful liquids, but I pride myself on nibble-worthy genoise, one that soaks well but might not really need all of the usual primping, poking, soaking, and fussing that goes on in classical patisserie.

Meanwhile—and this is the part I love— the production of good genoise is an ode to technique, a paean to the details that make a difference.  I privately think it separates the women from the girls…

With only four ingredients plus salt and vanilla, you can mix up a genoise in less time than it takes to preheat the oven.  Simple right?  But if you don’t measure correctly (please buy a scale) or fold properly, or if you don’t know how to prevent tiny flour balls or a rubbery bottom layer, then sister you are cooked. 

To raise the stakes still higher, I like to use the smallest weight of flour possible.  This means that there can be no unnecessary moisture in the batter or the cake will sink in the center as it cools.  To that end I use clarified or browned butter or ghee—and I’ve even used olive oil.  And, the quantity of flour called for in the recipe is correct only for the type of flour called for.  If you use flour other than the unbleached all purpose flour called for, you may need to adjust the quantity of it to get my perfect cake. 

Here’s a preview of the chocolate genoise that I’ll make at Tante Marie’s Cooking School on the day after tomorrow, February 8^th.  I will use it to build a spectacular cake wrapped in a sheet of chocolate and filled with rummy bananas, bittersweet chocolate mousse, and whipped crème fraîche, and I’ll top it with chocolate ruffles. You can do something similar with your genoise, or you can just nibble the cake plain with your coffee! 

Or, you can click on the link above and sign up for the class.  Mary always leaves a few spaces open for the public.

ALICE’S  CHOCOLATE GENOISE

I urge you to use a scale for this recipe and check out the notes below for tips and greater understanding of what’s going on in the recipe.

Ingredients:

1.5 ounces (3 tablespoons) hot clarified unsalted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1.6 ounces (1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon sifted) unbleached all-purpose flour

1.2 ounces (3/8 cup unsifted) unsweetened cocoa powder (see notes)

4 large eggs

4.3 ounces (2/3 cup) sugar

1/8 teaspoon salt

Equipment:

8x2 inch round cake pan

Electric mixer with whisk attachment

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F with a rack in the lower third.  Line the bottom of the pan with parchment paper. Do not grease the sides of the pan.

Combine clarified butter and vanilla in a 4-cup stainless steel bowl and keep it hot until needed by setting it in a pan of almost simmering water.  Or put it in a microwave safe bowl and be prepared to zap it just before using it.

Whisk the flour and cocoa together thoroughly and sift it (or shake it through a sieve) three times and return it to the sifter/sieve and set aside.

In a stainless steel mixing bowl (I use my 5 quart Kitchen Aid mixer bowl) whisk the eggs, sugar, and salt to blend.  Set the bowl on a low flame and stir (sweeping the sides and bottom of the bowl constantly to prevent scrambling) just until the eggs are lukewarm to the touch.

Remove the eggs from the heat and beat them at high speed with an electric mixer until they have cooled, tripled in bulk, and have the texture of very softly whipped cream (a ribbon of batter should dissolve very slowly on the surface of the batter).

Sift about one-third of the flour mixture over the eggs.  Fold with a large rubber spatula until the flour is almost blended into the batter. Repeat with half of the remaining flour.  Fold in the last third of the flour.  Add about 1 cup of batter to the hot butter.  Fold until blended.  Scrape the buttery batter over the remaining batter and fold just until blended. Scrape the batter into the pan.

Bake until cake springs back when pressed gently with fingers, 25-30 minutes.   Set the pan on a rack to cool.

At your convenience (the cake can be warm or completely cool), run a small spatula around the inside of the pan, pressing against the sides of the pan to avoid tearing the cake.  Invert the pan to remove the cake and peel off the parchment liner.  Turn the cake right side up to finish cooling. The cake should be completely cool before filling, frosting or storing.  The cake may be wrapped airtight and stored at room temperature for 2 days, or frozen up to 3 months.

NOTES

Cocoa Powder? I like Scharffen Berger Natural Cocoa Powder.  You can use a Dutch process cocoa if you prefer it.

Flour balls in your genoise? These are prevented by whisking the cocoa and flour together and then sifting the mixture a few times before sifting it into the batter, as described in the recipe.  For plain genoise, (without cocoa) whisk 2 or 3 tablespoons of the sugar from the recipe into the flour before sifting several times.  Interspersing the grains of flour with either cocoa or a little sugar plus fluffing and aerating the mixture separates the grains of flour (to prevent clumping) and makes it easier to fold it into the egg foam without deflating it.

Rubbery bottoms on your genoise?  This is prevented by folding a little of the batter into hot butter before folding everything together, as decribed in the recipe.

Awkward folding? If your mixer bowl is tall and narrow (like Kitchenaid mixer bowls), you might want to transfer the egg foam into a larger wider bowl to make it easier to fold in the flour and butter.

Carrot Improv

After enjoying Mourad’s Lahlou’s carrot soup with its fresh carrot juice and vanilla (see my last post, Where Ideas Come From),  I decided to try a little riff.  Instead of his touch of curry, I used a very small amount of fresh ginger, nutmeg, and citrus zest.  I cooked the carrots in water, puréed them and reheated the puree briefly with fresh carrot and orange juices and a couple drops of vanilla.  The resulting soup had a clean, bright, fresh carrot flavor from that last minute addition of raw juice, and because I used very little fat and no cream at all in the soup. It was compellingly carrot-sweet but not too sweet and the drops of vanilla added a very subtle savory note. It seemed a bit more like a light spring soup than a rich winter dish.  I did not keep track of everything perfectly, since I was just fooling around (and rather hungry) so you will have to make do with my notes.

CARROT AND CITRUS SOUP

In a covered heavy bottom saucepan over medium to low heat, soften in a little olive oil or butter, without browning:  ½ sliced onion, two peeled garlic cloves, about ½ teaspoon grated ginger, and a sprinkling of salt.  Stir from time to time. Add about 3 cups sliced carrots, cover and cook for another 5 to 10 minutes without browning. 

Add 2-3 cups water, more salt, and a strip of orange zest removed with a vegetable peeler (about 3 inches long and ½ inch wide). Cover and simmer until the carrots are tender, about 30 minutes.  Fish out and discard the zest.  Use a slotted spoon to transfer the vegetables to food processor and process them until smooth, adding liquid from the pot gradually. Scrape the mixture back into the pot. Add about 2/3 cup fresh carrot juice, the grated zest of about 1/4 of the orange, juice of half of the orange, a pinch or two of nutmeg and white pepper, and a drop or two of vanilla extract.  Reheat the soup, thinning it with a little water if necessary. Correct salt and seasonings (including zest and orange juice) to taste.  Serve hot.

I think the recipe made 3-4 cups.  It was good and I ate most of it up myself without measuring the yield—and I forgot to snap a photo until it was pretty much too late.  Such is the nature of hunger for carrot soup on a Sunday afternoon.   Mint leaves or cilantro would have been a lovely garnish, and maybe a dab of crème fraiche…but again, too late.

I liked it enough to make again.

Why are there so many carrot posts on this blog? I really don’t know.

Where Ideas Come From

I love cooking from other chefs’ recipes. I follow a recipe closely the first time because I want to taste what the chef was thinking and tasting.  I’m also curious about the recipe writing (this is an occupational hazard).   If there is something unusual about the technique or use of ingredients, I want to learn from it rather than assuming that my usual way of doing something will be better or just as good. I think cooks who pride themselves on never following a recipe exactly sometimes miss out on some spectacular outcomes and amazing nuances, but that’s another post for another day. 

Once I taste a dish, ideas come even (especially?) if the dish is fantastic.   It’s not always about improving a recipe, but about using something learned from it to do something else. Sometimes a recipe creates a spark that flies pretty far from the original fire. 

When I made carrot soup from Mourad Lahlou’s Mourad: New Moroccan, I was intrigued that the carrots were cooked in carrot juice instead of stock and each serving was garnished with fresh citrus.

The soup was lovely.  I started to imagine a new carrot soup with raw carrot juice added at the very end to capture both the bright flavor of raw and the lower and mellower notes from the cooked carrots.  Then I drifted to carrot sorbet made from a combination of cooked carrots and raw juice.  And now I thinking about a carrot duet: a smooth creamy carrot ice cream to serve next to a scoop of icy carrot sorbet.  Wait for it...

Meanwhile, a salad from Paula Wolfert’s Couscous and Other Good Food From Morocco inspired this  seductive dessert, which will appear in my own upcoming book, Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts (coming May 2012 from Artisan Books).

FRAGRANT ORANGES WITH ICE CREAM, ALMONDS, AND DATES

From Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts (Artisan 2012)

Scoops of creamy vanilla ice cream and icy mango sorbet in a pool of juicy scented orange segments with sticky dates, toasted almonds, and a fragrant top note of cinnamon. Serves 6

Ingredients:

8 oranges

1/4 teaspoon orange blossom water, or to taste

6 small scoops vanilla ice cream

6 small scoops mango or orange sorbet

12 plump dates, pitted and quartered

1/3 cup (1.5 ounces) chopped toasted almonds or toasted slivered almonds

A cinnamon stick (optional)

Equipment:

Microplane zester (optional)

Up to 1 day before serving, prepare the oranges: Suprime 6 of the oranges or simply peel and slice them, reserving the juices. Pick out any seeds and collect all of the juices and the segments or slices in a bowl.

To serve, taste the juice and adjust the orange flower water if necessary. Divide the oranges and juices evenly among six serving bowls. Nestle a small scoop of ice cream and a small scoop of sorbet in the center of each bowl. Distribute the quartered dates around the ice cream and sprinkle each dessert with the chopped almonds. Grate a little bit of the cinnamon stick over each bowl with a microplane zester, if desired, and serve immediately.

Crabby When Wrong

“I may be wrong but” is one of the ways I preface a statement when I really think I'm right but trying not to be too obnoxious.  Which is probably fairly obnoxious…

For years I’ve cooked Dungeness crabs in plain boiling water, no spices (horrors) and no salt.  The crabs are always stunningly delicious and sweet.  Divine really. But meanwhile my fishmonger, Paul Johnson (owner of Monterey Fish and author of 2008 IACP Cookbook of The Year, Fish Forever) insists that lots of salt in the water is really important.  I’ve been nagged by cognitive dissonance—I think Paul is fantastic AND I think my boiled crabs are fantastic.  I finally decided to test.  I bought two crabs—lets not tell Paul that all of the crabs at Monterey Fish were spoken for on the day I woke up with this bee in bonnet, and so I had to buy them across town... 

I boiled two big pots of water.  Into one pot I measured exactly ¼ cup of sea salt for each gallon of water, so you (or Paul) couldn’t say I didn’t do it exactly right. 

I took photos of the pots of boiling water and the crabs, so that when I turned out to be right, I could post the story with photos. 

The crab cooked in unsalted water was divine, just as I thought. 

But the crab cooked in salted water was a little bit more divine. 

Okay.  Okay. 

I’m posting anyway. 

Sinfully Easy

Everyone needs a sinfully easy dessert list.  What would be on yours?

I was invited to a dinner party set for the day after I would return from a trip. When I offered to bring dessert my hosts were okay with that. When I said it would be something super quick and easy, they were okay with that too.  I made Bittersweet Chocolate Soufflés and EVERYONE was extremely okay with that! The soufflés—always effortlessly impressive—were fantastic, even though the oven was accidentally turned off during the first half of the baking. Talk about sinfully easy and forgiving!

The recipe is from my book, Bittersweet, but you’ll find loads more sinfully easy desserts in a new book coming this May:

 Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts: Quicker Smarter Recipes by Alice Medrich.

Sinfully Easy is loaded with recipes that don’t require baking and plenty of easy ideas for dessert that—unlike the chocolate soufflé—actually sound like they are quick and easy.  You’ll find fun things to do with vanilla ice cream or fresh cheeses or strawberries; modern fruit desserts, new granitas, ice creams made without an ice cream machine, creamy dreamy puddings etc. But you will also find recipes— for soufflés and tarts and pies and even a torte or two— that you might not expect in a book meant for cooks in a hurry, cooks with small kitchens, beginners, or self proclaimed bake-ophobes, not to mention great cooks who just don't like to make dessert!  

I know I’m stubborn.  I am certain that if people knew how easy it is to make say, sour cream Soufflés laced with chocolate, or a chocolate tweed torte, or a lemon or blueberry tart, they would add it to their personal “Sinfully Easy” dessert list along with all of the more obvious things. The recipes in Sinfully Easy are simple but clear and complete enough so that anyone can be successful making them, and none require a rolling pin, pastry brush, loads of counter space, or a million steps.  No rocket science, just great desserts.  I revised and streamlined some favorite recipes too: Did you know that you could make a classic Queen of Sheba Torte in one bowl without separating the eggs? Did you know that you could mix a delicious plain vanilla butter cake, or Fresh Ginger Gingerbread, or even an incredibly buttery spicy Linzer Torte in a food processor?  I do and you can.

Sinfully Easy Delicious Desserts comes out in May.  Meanwhile try the chocolate soufflés that I made while jet lagged and add them to your sinfully easy dessert list.

BITTERSWEET CHOCOLATE SOUFFLES

Adapted from Bittersweet: Recipes and Tales from a Life in Chocolate

Ingredients:

Butter and sugar for the ramekins

8 ounces bittersweet 70% chocolate

1 tablespoon (.5 ounce) unsalted butter

1/3 cup milk

3 large eggs, separated, at room temperature

1 large egg white, at room temperature

1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar

1/3 cup (2.3 ounces) sugar

Lightly sweetened whipped cream, whipped crème fraiche, or a combination

Special Equipment:

Seven to eight 4-5 oz ramekins

If you are baking the soufflés right away, position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 375 degrees. Butter the ramekins lightly but thoroughly and coat them with sugar (see tip).

Place chocolate, butter, and milk in a large stainless steel bowl set in a wide skillet of barely simmering water. Stir until the chocolate is melted and the mixture is smooth.  Remove the bowl from the water bath and whisk in the egg yolks. (Don’t worry if the mixture stiffens slightly or is less than perfectly smooth at this point). Set aside.

Beat the egg whites and cream of tartar in a clean dry mixer bowl at medium speed until soft peaks form when the beaters are lifted. Gradually sprinkle in the sugar and continue to beat, at high speed, until egg whites are stiff but not dry. Fold 1/4 of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture to lighten it and then fold in the remaining egg whites. 

Divide the mixture evenly among the prepared ramekins, filling each 3/4 or more full. (Soufflés may be prepared to this point, covered, and refrigerated up to two days. Bake directly from the refrigerator)

Place the soufflés on a cookie sheet. Bake until they rise and crack on top and a wooden skewer plunged into the center emerges slightly moist and gooey, 14-16 minutes.  Remove from the oven, sieve a little powdered sugar over the top and serve the soufflés immediately. Pass a bowl of whipped cream to top the soufflés.

Serves 7 to 8.

Tip: The best way to sugar the cups is to butter all of them first, then add a couple tablespoons (a handful) of sugar to one ramekin. Shake and turn the ramekin sideways and then rotate it until coated.  Pour excess sugar into the next cup, tapping it to dislodge loose sugar.  Repeat with the remaining ramekins.  Add more sugar if necessary.

Poached Eggs Hold The Vinegar

I do love poached eggs. I eat one almost every day for weeks on end before I decide to take a break, and after a while I start up all over again. I eat them plain on whole grain or levain toast year round with or without asparagus in spring, tomatoes and basil in summer, and wild mushrooms in fall.

I also love vinegar. My vinaigrette errs on the tangy side but I’m okay with that.

Though I love it, I never ever add vinegar to egg poaching water! Here’s how I see it:

The usual problem with eggs is that the whites often end up too firm or tough by the time the yolks are ready. This is because egg whites are mostly protein, and protein starts to set (coagulate) as soon it meets heat. Yolks cook slower to begin with, and even more slowly when they are surrounded by their whites. Adding vinegar to poaching water makes the whites firm even faster to prevent them from dispersing in the water. But that extra firmness comes with a slightly grainy texture and an odd flavor. I want my poached eggs with lovely tender yolks and whites. So I say, hold the vinegar.

With or without vinegar, a little bit of each egg white always floats alway from the yolk and it may look a little messy at first, but most of it stays cuddled up with its own yolk as the egg cooks. When you lift the egg from the water, just trim any minor ragged edges between the edge of the spoon and the side of the pan and voilà! A shapely oval poached egg without vinegar or even swirling the water into a whirlpool.

I poach eggs in a wide shallow pan rather than a deep saucepan and I turn the heat off under the pan as soon as the eggs are in the water. The fresher the egg, the more it holds it’s shape: I love a fresh farm egg, but ordinary supermarket eggs also work quite nicely.

Should you want the taste of good vinegar on your eggs, by all means drizzle a little over them after they are cooked. That way you can have your perfect tender poached eggs and your vinegar too.

POACHED EGGS MY WAY

Perfect poaching is harder to write about than it is to execute. Poach one or two eggs for yourself in a small skillet for a few days running until you get the hang of it, and fine-tune the timing to your taste. You’ll learn to gauge doneness how tender and quivery the whites look when you lift the egg from the water. You can always change your mind mid-lift; just lower the egg back in the pan for another 30 seconds or so.

Here’s what you need:

Eggs

Toast

A skillet and cover: 8-inch for 1 – 3 eggs or 12-inch for 4 – 10 eggs

A large slotted spoon with generous-sized holes

A clean folded tea towel or a couple folded paper towels

Here's what to do:

Fill the skillet with at least 1-¼ inches of water and bring it to a simmer.

If you are nervous, you can start with training wheels and break all of the eggs into separate cups before you start. (Soon you won’t need the cups.)

When the water is simmering crack one egg (or pick up one of the “training” cups). Starting at the 12 o’clock position over the pan: hold the egg very close to the surface of the water before letting it slip in. Don’t drop the eggs from a height—this is not a parachute jump or Liberace at the piano. Moving clockwise without delay, continue adding eggs to the water. The last egg or eggs can go in the center of the pan if necessary. The eggs may seem as though they are not holding shape, but don’t panic. When all of the eggs are in the water, turn the burner off and cover the pan. Leave the lid slightly ajar if the skillet is filled to brimming; otherwise, cover it completely.

Three to 4 minutes after adding the first egg, slip the slotted spoon under it and trim any ragged edges by pressing the edge of the spoon against the side of the skillet. Lift the egg from the water and nestle the spoon into the folded towel to absorb excess water; tilt the spoon into the towel to coax even more water from the egg (because nobody likes watery eggs) before sliding the egg onto a piece of toast. Continue clockwise, trimming, lifting, blotting, and setting the eggs on toast. The last egg out should be the last egg in. That’s all!

Want to see a photo? Check out my post From February 27, 2011.