Freedom from Fear of Pie Crusts

For a long time, I thought the world was split between bread people and pie people. Not bread and pie eaters, but bread and pie makers. Either you weren't scared of yeast and made bread or you weren't scared of the crust and made pie. I was a bread person, no question. I'd been baking bread since I was a teenager and laughed in the face of yeast fear.

Pie, on the other hand, scared me. It was the crust, of course. That delicate balance between flour and fat. How would I know when the butter was mixed in correctly? What if I put too much water in? What about the endless sticking and the attempts to put the sticky sad crust into a pie plate. By the time the crust was done, I was too stressed out to enjoy it.

So, I just didn't make pie. Occasionally I'd buy a supermarket crust for a quiche. But more often, I found alternatives for quiche and stuck with cookie crusts for pie.

I have Melissa Clark to thank for my conversion. Or maybe conversion isn't the right word. But I think I can safely say that I am no longer afraid of pie crusts, and I give Melissa Clark my gratitude. It was her perfect pie crust recipe in In the Kitchen with A Good Appetite that helped me face my fear and overcome it. Melissa's recipe was the start, but there were several other simple things that made this possible.

First, the chopper.


If you mix the flour and butter in a mini-chopper or food processor, you don't really have to think about pastry blenders or wonder about when the ingredients are mixed enough. A few whirls, and it's done. And when you add the cold water, a tablespoon at a time, it becomes clearly apparent when the dough is sticking together.


The second crucial piece is the plastic wrap.

I use this method when I bake biscotti--you spoon the wet and too soft batter onto a length of plastic wrap, which allows you to mold it into a shape that you can freeze until it's hard enough to work with. So it is with pie crust. You dump the messy, sticky mass of flour/butter/water onto the plastic wrap, and in moments, you have a nice round disk all ready to chill.

The last crucial item is the Silpat.

I used to try to roll out pie crusts on a cutting board, and it was frustration incarnate. But from the start of my getting-over-my-fear-of-pie-crust attempts, I realized I needed to change that. I put my Silpat on the dining room table, so there was room to work, with some flour handy nearby.

The marble rolling pin was a gift from my friend Derick 20 years ago. Why Derick decided he should send me a marble rolling pin in the mail from Boston to Eugene, Oregon, I have no idea, but 20 years have now passed, and while the rolling pin has lost its handles, it still works beautifully.

Because the dough is chilled, you can roll it out before it gets sticky. I put a bit of flour down on the Silpat, added a bit more as I was working and turned the dough over a few times. Rolling a pie crust out on a floured Silpat is not stressful, it turns out. Just when you wonder whether the dough is warming up, it's big enough for your pie. Voila.

This is maybe the fourth or fifth crust I've made since I discovered Melissa's recipe and the method documented here, and I've made 2 in the past 2 weeks! Unthinkable even a year ago.

Not that losing my fear of pie crusts is going to make me scared of yeast. I'm just going to have to widen my view of the world just a little bit, now that I am a person who can not only make bread, but also pie.

All-Butter Perfect Pie Crust
from Melissa Clark's In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite

Time: 15 minutes plus one hour's chilling

1 1/4cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

8-10 tablespoons unsalted butter, preferably a high-fat, European-style butter like Plugra, chilled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces (Clark's recipe calls for 10 tablespoons; my crusts have been plenty buttery with 8.)

2 to 5 tablespoons ice water (I seem to always need 5.)

1. In a food processor, briefly pulse together the flour and salt. Add butter and pulse until mixture forms chickpea-size pieces (3 to 5 one-second pulses). Add ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, and pulse until mixture is just moist enough to hold together.

2. Form dough into a ball, wrap with plastic and flatten into a disk. Refrigerate at least 1 hour before rolling out and baking.

Yield: One 9-inch single pie crust. Recipe can be doubled for a double crust; divide dough into two balls and form two disks before chilling.

Rhubarb Ginger "Downside Up" Oatmeal Cake

Much to my surprise, I discovered that in today's "Good Appetite" column, Melissa Clark writes about rhubarb upside-down cake. There must be rhubarb upside-down cake vibes going around in the universe because I made a similar cake just yesterday. I'd certainly think about making Melissa's cake at some point, but that will have to happen later. First, I want to make yesterday's cake again, if only so I can have a bigger piece of it. I brought it to a work gathering and looked on a little bit sadly as wedge after wedge was eaten by my colleagues, including the ones who proclaimed not to like rhubarb. I was selfless enough to take one piece home for Alex, but I left the rest there, and when I came in this morning, it was all gone. Sigh.

I have Food 52 to blame (or, really, credit) for this one as well. When I did a search for rhubarb, the first recipe that came up was the one for rhubarb curd (shortbread). The second was for rhubarb ginger downside up oatmeal cake. I was intrigued. I clicked. I baked.

I've never made a cake quite like this before. First, I don't think I've ever made an upside down cake. And I've never made one in a cast iron frying pan. I may have made a cake with oatmeal in it at some point, but the details are fuzzy. But, having done this once, I would do it again without hesitation. This is really an excellent cake.

First, you melt some butter in a cast iron (or other ovenproof) frying pan:

Once the butter is melted, you take it off the flame and spread a cup of brown sugar across the bottom:
On top of that goes a layer of rhubarb mixed with grated fresh ginger:


And on top of that goes the cake batter:


The cake batter process was interesting in and of itself. You mix rolled oats with boiling water and butter. You mix the dry ingredients in another bowl. When the oatmeal mixture has cooled, you add an egg, some vanilla and more sugar, and then mix in the dry ingredients.

The cake one way:


And the other:


There is little I would do differently. I might think about replacing the fresh ginger with crystallized ginger (or maybe not). I did replace 1/4 cup of all purpose with whole wheat pastry flour. But there's not much else to change. The slight taste of oatmeal is lovely with the rhubarb, reminiscent of a crumble. The cake was moist and flavorful, with a little zing from the ginger, some tart from the rhubarb, mellowed out by the oatmeal and the sweet cake. It really was just all around delicious. My only regret was that I hadn't brought some vanilla ice cream to eat with it. No, I take that back. My only real regret was that I didn't get a bigger piece. I'm not sure I could give it higher praise.

Rhubarb Ginger Downside-Up Cake
from thirshfeld at Food 52

For the rhubarb::

• 2 1/4 cups fresh rhubarb, 1/2 inch slices
• 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1/4 cup unsalted butter

For the oatmeal cake:

• 1/2 cup thick cut rolled oats
• 3/4 cups boiling water
• 1/4 cup unsalted butter, 1/4 inch cubes
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon salt

1. In a mixing bowl combine the oats with the boiling water. Add the1/4 cup of butter. Set aside to cool.


2. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Gently melt the butter in a 10 inch cast iron skillet. Remove it from the heat. Spread the brown sugar evenly across the bottom. In a large bowl mix the ginger and rhubarb. Spread the rhubarb evenly across the brown sugar. Set aside.


3. In the empty rhubarb bowl combine the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.


4. To the cooled oatmeal add the egg, both sugars, and vanilla. Mix to combine. Add the dry ingredients to the wet and mix until combined.


5. Spread the cake batter evenly across the top of the rhubarb. Place into the oven and bake for 30-40 minutes.


6. Remove from the oven when done and let cool for 5 minutes before inverting onto a cake plate. Let cool for 20 minutes before slicing.

8-10 slices

Coconut Macaroons

If you find yourself making things like rhubarb curd or the kind of ice cream that calls for custard, you will find yourself in possession of extra egg whites. Not that you were thinking of tossing them, but if that thought has ever crossed your mind, banish it immediately. Even if you are not the type to eat egg white omelets (as I am definitely not), there are many ways to use those egg whites. Put them in a little container, and if you fear that you will not use them up quickly, freeze them, with a note of how many there are.

David Lebovitz, the pastry chef, writer, blogger and author of that fabulous ice cream book, The Perfect Scoop, knows about the extra egg yolk conundrum. And on his site, he has a page called "Recipes to use up leftover egg whites." There are 15 recipes on that page, and I suspect all are wonderful, but I haven't been able to get past the first one I made--coconut macaroons. They are easy to make, delicious and addictive.

Lebovitz's original recipe calls for the macaroons to be dipped in chocolate. I am usually all for dipping things in chocolate. If there is a choice between chocolate and no chocolate, I almost always choose chocolate. However, in this case, I'm not so sure. The first time I made these, I brought them to a work gathering. Half were dipped in chocolate and the other half plain. To my surprise (because I have many chocolate loving colleagues), more people preferred the plain ones to the chocolate ones. The chocolate was distracting, almost, from the lovely coconut flavor. I've included his instructions for the chocolate dipping, but if you don't have the time or inclination (or are, heaven forfend, someone who doesn't like chocolate) know that these are fabulous just as they are.

The process is quick and easy. Basically, you dump all of the ingredients in a skillet and heat it up. Lebovitz says to cook until it begins to scorch, and I found that a little bit alarming the first time I made them, but it's pretty clear when they're done cooking. The ingredients are a sticky mass, and your kitchen will smell delightfully of coconut. At that point, once the batter is cool, you can refrigerate or freeze it to use at a later time. Otherwise, you put the batter onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment or a Silpat and bake.

Mine were in for exactly 18 minutes, but I didn't check on them, as I probably should have as they are a bit over brown. Still, they are chewy and coconuty and delicious, and if there is a better way to use leftover egg whites, it might be a while before I find out!

Note: This recipe calls for 1/4 cup flour. Though I am not a Passover expert, I would assume that if you replaced the flour with matzoh meal, they could be a wonderful and welcome Passover treat. (These will chase the memories of macaroons from a can out of your mind posthaste.)

Coconut Macaroons (with optional chocolate)
Adapted from David Lebovitz

4 large egg whites
1¼ cups sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon honey
2½ cups unsweetened coconut
¼ cup flour
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
2 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

In a large skillet, mix together the egg whites, sugar, salt, honey, coconut and flour.

Heat over low-to-moderate heat on the stovetop, stirring constantly, scraping the bottom as you stir.

When the mixture just begins to scorch at the bottom, remove from heat and stir in the vanilla. Transfer to a bowl to cool to room temperature.

(At this point, the mixture can be chilled for up to one week, or frozen for up to two months.)

When ready to bake, line a baking sheet with parchment paper or silicone baking mat and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Form the dough into 1 1/2-inch mounds with your fingers evenly spaced on the baking sheet. Bake for 18-20 minutes, until deep golden brown. Cool completely.

To dip the macaroons in chocolate, melt the chocolate in a clean, dry bowl set over a pan of simmering water (or in a microwave.) Line a baking sheet with plastic wrap. Dip the bottoms of each cookie in the chocolate and set the cookies on the baking sheet. Refrigerate 5-10 minutes, until the chocolate is set.

Approx. 30 cookies

Rhubarb Roundup 2011

Every year, I do a rhubarb recipe roundup post. This year's was prompted by, as always, the sight of my massive rhubarb plant outside my kitchen window. Then, there was an email from my colleague Nancy Eckert, she of the chicken-drawing talent, that said "Rhubarb Curd just might be my most favorite food of the moment. It is heavenly." That got me thinking about other rhubarb delights I haven't tried yet (since my experience with rhubarb curd is only a few days old). And then, there was a message in my inbox this morning from Deb at Smitten Kitchen with news of her new post on Rhubarb Streusel Muffins. And I knew that the time had come to do a rhubarb roundup (as I have done in 2009 and 2010 both). I'm going to arrange the various recipes according to type, in an attempt to be useful to those who want to use rhubarb in a particular way in addition to those who just want to make a rhubarb-something and won't know til the right recipe appears. I will also indicate those I've actually made as opposed to those I've just drooled over longingly.

The Sauce-y

First, my first, best and favorite rhubarb recipe of longstanding, the astonishingly delicious (and very easy to make) Rhubarb-Ginger Jam.

I've also had my eye on this lovely rhubarb sauce from Tea and Cookies.

Molly at Orangette recommends this rhubarb with white wine and vanilla bean.

The Cake-y

I'm very tempted by this big-crumb coffee cake, originally from Melissa Clark's column in the NYT, written up by Deb at Smitten Kitchen.

I also have my eye on this homey-looking rhubarb cake. (This blogger made--and praised--Marion Cunningham's Fresh Ginger Cake, which is how I discovered the blog.)

There's also Darina Allen's Country Rhubarb Cake, first written about in the New York Times and then adapted by Luisa at The Wednesday Chef.

These are not exactly cake, but I wasn't sure where to put them. Knowing how good everything else from Good to the Grain has been, I'm even more eager to try these rustic rhubarb tarts.

The Crumble-y

Here we have Molly at Orangette's Rhubarb Crumble.

Not to be confused with Deb at Smitten Kitchen's Strawberry-Rhubarb Crumble

This tasty rhubarb cobbler was originally from Smitten Kitchen, but I made and enjoyed it last year as well, and wrote about it in last year's Rhubarb Roundup

I also made Sweet Mary's rhubarb-oatmeal bars, also delicious.

The Fancy

I haven't yet embarked on any kind of fancier recipe involving rhubarb, but should the occasion present itself, I'd certainly think about one of these.

Rhubarb Meringue Tart, from Tamasin Day-Lewis by way of Orangette

Rhubarb and Ginger Brioche Bread Puddings, also from Tamasin Day-Lewis by way of Epicurious

One of the beauties of the month of May is that good rhubarb recipes are as plentiful as the rain drops that will not stop falling on our heads. We may be in the midst of a stretch of gray skies and wet days, but at least there is a lot of rhubarb to eat until the sun comes out again.

Marion Cunningham's Fresh Ginger Cake

This cake, I realized as I was making it on Sunday, carries on my tradition of making plain cakes, those delicious though not decadent and, sad to say, not particularly attractive cakes. (Plain cake number one on this blog was this Lemon Cornmeal Cake and plain cake number two was the Blueberry Buttermilk Cake.) Plain they may be, but I think of them as plain in a stalwart, upstanding kind of way. Just because they are plain does not mean they are not delicious.

This ginger cake is actually very similar to the Fresh Ginger Muffins that Molly posted about on Orangette a few months ago. The process is exactly the same--the cake has a bit more sugar than the muffins and is supposed to have cake flour in it, but otherwise, the ingredients are the same as well. And the process is also interesting in that Cunningham uses ginger in a way I've never used it before. You take chunks of ginger, skin and all, and whirl them around in a food processor or mini chopper until they are chopped to bits. Then, you add a bit of sugar and heat it on the stove until the sugar melts, leaving you with a sticky, lovely smelling mess, to which you add lemon zest. This is what gives the cake its lovely gingery-lemony flavor.

The wonderful thing that I realized is how excellent this cake--delicious enough on its own-- would be as a base for other things. Cunningham suggests serving it with sliced mango and whipped cream. (Yum.) I made it specifically to go with the Rhubarb Curd (Double Yum.) But I can also imagine a ginger-lemon blueberry cake, to name one. (Minus the ginger, this recipe is already quite similar to the blueberry buttermilk cake linked above.) Despite the plainness of this cake, it's moist and light and very flavorful. I can already see it becoming a regular in my repertoire! Meanwhile, it might be the slightest bit more photogenic if the rhubarb curd wasn't exactly the same color, but you can't have everything!

Fresh Ginger Cake

(adapted from Marion Cunningham's The Breakfast Book)

Makes two 8" cakes

Ingredients:
1/4 cup ginger, unpeeled, cut into large chunks
1 cup sugar
3 tablespoons lemon zest with a little white pith (I used the zest from 2 1/2 lemons.)
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
2 eggs
1 cup buttermilk
2 cups cake flour (I used all-purpose)
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking soda

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter the cake pans.

Cut the unpeeled ginger root into large chunks. Put the ginger into a food processor and process until it is in tiny pieces; alternatively, mince by hand. Put the ginger and ¼ cup sugar in a small skillet and cook over medium heat, stirring, until the sugar has melted and the mixture is warm (this takes only a minute or two). Set aside to cool. Zest the lemon and add it to the cooled ginger mixture. (Cunningham says to do this in a food processor; if you have a Microplane-type grater, there's no need.)

Put the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer (or, a mixing bowl, if you plan to use handheld beaters or mix by hand). Beat the butter for a second or two; slowly add the remaining 3/4 cup sugar, and beat until smooth. Add the eggs, and beat well. Stir in the buttermilk, and beat until blended. Add the flour, salt, and baking soda, and beat just until smooth. Add the ginger-lemon mixture and mix well.

Spoon the batter into the buttered cake pans. Bake for 25 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool the pans for 5 minutes, then turn out onto racks until completely cooled.

Whole Wheat Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

On Friday night, Kim Boyce won the James Beard award for Best Baking and Dessert cookbook for Good to the Grain, her cookbook on baking with whole grains. Boyce is a former pastry chef as well as the mother of small children, and her interest is not just in making things healthier but in taking advantage of the different flavors and properties of different whole grains. Her book has chapters on oats, corn and whole wheat but also on spelt, amaranth and teff, to name a few. (I've never baked with teff, but it's used in the Ethiopian bread called injera.)

Despite their use of whole grains, these are not lo-cal, low sugar or low fat recipes. Boyce was, after all, a pastry chef. But they are thoughtful recipes and almost always delicious. I've made three or four things from the book already (and have several others bookmarked), but the one recipe I've returned to multiple times is her whole wheat chocolate chip cookie recipe. While chocolate chip cookies (much as I like them) are not usually my standby cookie recipe (that would be one kind or another of oatmeal), this recipe might challenge that--or, if I'm honest, is challenging it already, given how many times I've made these in the past few months.

I've made a few changes to Boyce's original recipe. One is that I cut it in half. The original recipe--2 sticks of butter, 2 cups of sugar, 8 ounces of chocolate and all--makes 20 large cookies. As a person who likes to eat cookies and also doesn't want to later regret eating said cookies, I prefer to make smaller cookies. My half recipe makes about 30 small cookies, ones you can eat (relatively) without guilt. The other thing I did in this version was to replace 2 tablespoons of butter with peanut butter. This was less for health reasons than that it seemed like a slight peanut undertone might go well with these, and it does. (If you skip the peanut butter, use a full stick of butter.) I followed Molly's advice and used white whole wheat flour and would recommend that, though regular whole wheat flour makes good cookies as well. I also opted for a chocolate bar broken up and put in the mini-chopper over chocolate chips. It gives you some chocolate dust as well as chips and integrates itself into the batter nicely.

One other thing to note--these cookies seem to gain flavor with time. They also freeze very well. It makes a person feel better about everything to know that there's a Ziploc bag of delicious cookies in the freezer, ready for when unexpected guests arrive or just for when the day calls for a cookie or two. There's no reason to hide the fact that these are made with whole grains, but if you don't tell, I'm not sure anyone would guess. But whether you disclose the ingredients or not, whether you add the peanut butter or not, whether you make large cookies or small ones, I hope you will agree that not only is Kim Boyce a winner, but these cookies absolutely are as well.

Happy Mother's Day and enjoy!

Whole Wheat Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies
Adapted from Kim Boyce's Good to the Grain

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 cups white whole-wheat flour, plus more for the work surface
• 3/4 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 3/4 teaspoons kosher salt
• 6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
• 2 tablespoons peanut butter
  
• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped into 1/4- and 1/2-inch pieces

Directions:

Position oven racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven; preheat to 350 degrees. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt into a mixing bowl, adding any large bits of grain or other ingredients that remain in the sifter.

Combine the butter and sugars in the bowl of a stand mixer or hand-held electric mixer; beat on low speed for about 2 minutes, until just blended. Add the peanut butter and blend until combined. Add the egg, then the vanilla extract.

Add the flour mixture and beat until barely combined. Stop to scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl. Add the chocolate, and beat on low speed just until evenly distributed.

Lightly flour a work surface. Transfer the dough to the work surface and use your hands to fully incorporate any remaining flour or chocolate from the bowl.

Scoop small mounds of the dough onto each baking sheet, spacing them several inches apart. Bake for 16 to 20 minutes, rotating the sheets top to bottom and front to back halfway through. . Transfer the cookies to a wire rack to cool before serving or storing.

Repeat to use the remaining dough.

Approx. 30 small cookies

Hot Cross Buns, belatedly

Okay, yes, I know my timing is off here. Hot cross bun season is now over until next spring, and here I am posting about it. But by next spring, I will not remember much about my recent experience baking hot cross buns, so I wanted to make sure it was recorded for posterity.

My timing was off in several ways, in fact. Hot cross buns are not a food of my origins, shall we say, and to have made hot cross buns during Passover, no less, appears to make me a very bad Jew. Ah well. There is also the hot cross bun story I always think of when I go by the Bakery Normand in Northampton on an early spring day to see if they have any hot cross buns. Normand's is known around town both for its excellent array of baked goods and for its exceptionally cranky counter staff. Some years ago, I went in during the spring sometime and asked when there would be hot cross buns available. The pierced and surly counter person sniffed at me and said, "I have no idea. I'm not really into religion." And I thought, "You know, I'm not really into religion either. In fact, I'm a Jew who likes hot cross buns. But given that you work in a bakery, it's probably not a bad idea to know when seasonal products are going to be around." But, of course, I didn't actually say any of that because really, what was the point.

I did, in fact, eat a hot cross bun or two from Normand's this year (that counter person having moved on to hopefully less surly climes), but I also wanted to try to make some myself. I saw a recipe in Marion Cunningham's The Breakfast Book, which was intriguing. (Although I own another Cunningham book, I'd never heard of this one until Molly at Orangette posted the ginger muffins from it, which I made and which were delicious.) And then, the lovely Anne Bramley of EatFeed linked on Facebook a Guardian article about hot cross buns, which was quite interesting. This article included Nigella Lawson's hot cross bun recipe, which was also interesting.

In the end, though, I have to admit that I didn't go with any of these. One fact I hadn't known earlier is that the British version doesn't have a sugar-based icing on top. In fact, in the comments of the Guardian piece, people were somewhat horrified at the thought and sniffed at it as being particularly American. (They were even more horrified at the thought of cream cheese frosting, which I've never had on a hot cross bun but sounded like it could be good.) But to me, the icing is half the point! That's the treat factor--the bread and dried fruit and spices part are all well and good, but it's that bit of extra sugar on top that ties it all together.

In the end, I went with Elise's recipe from Simply Recipes. I liked that it had been created from other recipes after a lot of testing. (Always nice to have someone else to test all those other recipes for you!) It turned out that it was fairly similar to Marion Cunningham's recipe with just a few minor differences.

A few comments.

It took awhile for the dough not to be sticky anymore. While the recipe says to use between 3 1/4 and 3 1/2 cups of flour, I used closer to 4. Eventually, it became tacky but not excessively sticky, and that seemed fine.

Don't skip the orange peel! Along with the spices, it really adds a nice flavor.


If you want the X to survive the baking, you need to have a firm hand with the knife before baking.

When I had to take all those IV antibiotics for Lyme, I ended up with a lot of sterile syringes (if that's what they are when there's no needle in them). I tossed most of them, but the nurses told me that some people saved them and used them to ice cakes with. Why not, I thought. After they went through the dishwasher a few times, I stuck them in a drawer and remembered them only when I was looking at the icing instructions for the buns. It worked beautifully--though on the second batch, I just pasted the icing on with a spoon, which gets you more icing per bun, if you're interested in that kind of thing.

And about that second batch. I made half of the buns the day I made the dough and the other half 3 days later. The dough spent those days in the fridge, and if I had to pick, I'd say that the second batch was a bit better. So, if you want to make the dough ahead of time and bake later, they'll still be great.

Chances are that I won't be making hot cross buns again for awhile, yummy as they were. On the other hand, since they're not the food of my origins, perhaps there's no reason not to indulge in a spicy, fruity iced bun before next spring rolls around.

Hot Cross Buns
Adapted very slightly from Simply Recipes

Dough

• 1 1/4-ounce package instant yeast (about 2 1/2 teaspoons)
• 3/4 cup warm milk
• 3 1/4 to 3 1/2 cups all purpose flour (I used closer to 4 cups)
  
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
  
• 2 teaspoons ground spices (for example, 1/2 teaspoon cardamom, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, 1/2 teaspoon allspice, 1/4 teaspoon cloves, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg)
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 4 Tbsp butter, softened
• 2 eggs, room temperature
  
• 3/4 cup currants or raisins (I used 1/2 cup golden raisins and 1/4 cup regular)
  
• 2 teaspoons grated orange zest

Glaze

• 1 egg
• 1 Tbsp milk

Frosting

• 1 teaspoon milk
• 3 to 4 Tbsp powdered sugar

Baking Instructions

In a large bowl or the mixing bowl of an electric mixer, vigorously whisk together 3 cups of the flour (reserving additional flour for later step), the salt, spices, instant yeast and 1/4 cup of sugar.

Create a well in the flour and add the softened butter, eggs, and milk. Using a wooden spoon or the paddle attachment of your mixer, mix the ingredients until well incorporated. The mixture should be shaggy and quite sticky. Add in the currants or raisins and orange zest.

If you are using a standing mixer, switch to the dough hook attachment and start to knead on low speed. (If not using a mixer, use your hands to knead.) Slowly sprinkle in additional flour, a tablespoon at a time, kneading to incorporate after each addition, until the flour is still slightly tacky, but is no longer completely sticking to your fingers when you work with it.

Form a ball of dough in the bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Let sit, covered, at room temperature (or in a warm spot) for 2 hours, until the dough has doubled in size.

If you're going to refrigerate the dough to bake it later, do that now. Otherwise, press down on the dough to gently compress it. Roll the ball of dough into a log shape and cut it into two halves. Place one half back in the bowl while you work with the other half. Take the dough half you are working with and cut it into 8 equal pieces.

Take the individual pieces and form them into mounds, placing them 1 1/2 inches apart from each other on a baking sheet. Cover with plastic wrap and then work the remaining dough into 8 equal pieces and place them in mounds on a baking sheet, again cover with plastic wrap. Let the dough mounds sit at room temperature (or warm place) to rise again, until the mounds have doubled in volume, about 30-40 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400°F. Prepare egg wash by whisking together one egg and a tablespoon of milk. If you want, you can score the top of the buns with a knife in a cross pattern. You will want to make fairly deep cuts, for the pattern to be noticeable after they're done. Using a pastry brush, brush on the egg wash over the dough mounds. The egg wash will give them a shiny appearance when cooked.

Place in the middle rack of the oven and cook for 10-12 minutes, until the buns are lightly browned. Remove from oven and let cool on the pan for a few minutes, then transfer the buns to a wire rack to cool.

To paint a cross on the top of the buns, wait until the buns have cooled (or the frosting will run). Whisk together the milk and the powdered sugar. Keep adding powdered sugar until you get a thick consistency. Place in a plastic sandwich bag (or handy sterile syringe!). Snip off a small piece from the corner of the bag and use the bag to pipe two lines of frosting across each bun to make a cross

Yield: Makes 16 buns.

Sweet Mary's Rhubarb Oatmeal Bars

Earlier this month, during the first group blog day about our favorite blogs, I mentioned that I was rather in a rut when it came to food blogs. Not that my favorite food blogs aren't worth visiting often, but I was beginning to realize that I wasn't straying too far from them, which really is a loss, given the quantity and quality of food blogs around these days.

So, one thing the blogathon has done is broaden my horizons. First, it led me to Jen Walker's My Morning Chocolate, and Jen, in turn, led me to Sweet Mary, who, in turn, led me to these rhubarb oatmeal bars, which I made a few days ago.

Clearly, I enjoy cooking with rhubarb (see 2008's Rhubarb Season, 2009's Rhubarb Redux and this year's Rhubarb Roundup), but again, I was in a bit of a rut, falling back on my favorite rhubarb-ginger-lemon combination. And, to be honest, only the fact that I still had no crystallized ginger in the house kept me from using that combo again in these bars. (That has been remedied since I made these.) I decided, instead, for this first time, just to follow the recipe and (mostly) not fiddle with it. It was instructive--I learned a new tasty rhubarb combination--and also inspiring--even as I was making the recipe, I was thinking of ways to tweak it.

This recipe shares some traits with the blueberry crumble bars we all fell in love with last summer. There is an oatmeal bottom and a fruity filling. This time, however, the topping is not a separate thing but more of the bottom layer sprinkled across the top, simplifying the recipe and the dishwashing both. I couldn't resist a single tweak and added some chopped walnuts to the topping. Mary uses orange juice and orange zest, along with vanilla and some powdered ginger, to flavor the rhubarb, and it's a nice combination. There's a citrus tang, but it's not quite as tart as the lemon/crystallized ginger combo. I have to admit, though, that next time I probably will try them using crystallized ginger and lemon zest, just for the hell of it.

The dough, which you mix with an electric mixer rather than by hand, is rather stiff, and I had to actively press it into the pan. I probably used slightly more than half of the dough for the bottom and the rest on top.

The rhubarb bars were bubbling and crumbly when they came out of the oven. I let them cool in the pan before I tried to cut them.

I have two brief stories about the response to these rhubarb bars. I brought the bulk of them to the office barbecue. When I offered one to a chocolate-loving colleague, she said, "No, I don't care for rhubarb." But later, in the kitchen when we were putting things away, someone else was taking a rhubarb bar home, and my rhubarb-disliking colleague was milling around looking for something to take. I jokingly pointed out that she'd spurned my rhubarb bars, and she said, "Okay fine, I'll take one little taste." She cut off a tiny piece, ate it, and paused. "These are really good," she said. "Do you mind if I take some home?"

Since I had still had some left (this barbecue was very well stocked with food, including the largest cookie platter I've ever seen), I left a few for Alex in his fridge. When I asked how he'd liked them, he said, "I hated them. Don't give me anymore." And then he went on and on about how much he hated them. This is not like Alex, and it seemed that perhaps he was protesting a bit too much, that maybe this was more about his propensity to eat too many rhubarb bars than about the rhubarb bars themselves. That became clear last night when he said, "Those rhubarb bars I hated? Do you have any left?"

Rhubarb Oatmeal Bars
barely adapted from Sweet Mary

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

1 cup packed brown sugar

1 1/2 cups all purpose flour

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 1/2 cups old fashioned oats

1/4 cup water

1/2 cup walnuts (optional)

Filling:

3 cups chopped rhubarb (1/2 inch pieces)

3/4 to 1 cup sugar (I used 1 cup, but 3/4 is also fine)

2 tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 tsp vanilla

1/2 tsp ginger

1 tablespoon orange zest

3 tablespoons orange juice

1/4 cup water

Heat oven to 350. Grease a 13x9-inch baking pan with butter or non-stick spray. (I lined the bottom with parchment paper and lightly sprayed that.)

Make filling first.

Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan over medium high heat. Dissolve sugar and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat to low. Cook until rhubarb has broken down and mixture has thickened a bit. The mixture should be like syrup (meaning not entirely liquid and not as thick as jam). This will take about 10 to 15 minutes. Keep in mind that the mixture will thicken as it cools, too. Cool for about 10 minutes.

While the filling cools, make the crust.

Whisk flour, salt, and baking soda together in a medium bowl.

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy in the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Add flour mixture and mix until fully incorporated. Add the oats and 1/4 cup water. Mix until crumbly.

Firmly pat half of this mixture into the greased baking pan.

Then, add the rhubarb mixture. Spread evenly over the crumble mixture.

Sprinkle the remaining crumb mixture on top of the rhubarb. I added a half cup of walnuts to the top as well.

Bake at 350 for 25 minutes until it starts to brown. Cool. Cut into bars.

Pretzel Rolls!

Although I've been to Germany a number of times (my brother lived there for 8 years), my knowledge of the German language is practically non-existent. My vocabulary basically consists of the words danke, bitte, auf wiedersehn and laugesemmel. That last word? It means pretzel roll. My brother wrote it down for me so that I could go to the bakery and ask for what I wanted without having to point. And every time I went to the bakery, that's what I asked for.

So, I was very pleased when I moved to Northampton and discovered that the Bakery Normand--a German bakery, after all--made pretzel rolls regularly. Round ones and long ones, some with cheese melted on top. Yum. And though I don't go to Normand as often as I used to since the Hungry Ghost came to town (and because the counter people are surly, as a rule), I still stop by occasionally for a pretzel roll. Encountering the surliness is a small price to pay for a good pretzel roll.

Not long ago, I discovered that now the Whole Foods bakery also makes pretzel rolls. I tried one, and it was fine, though not as good as Normand's. I tried another one, just to make sure, and my judgment stood. And then I remembered that a few years back, Deb at Smitten Kitchen had written about making pretzel rolls (called "bretzels"), and I decided the time had finally come to try them myself.

The dough itself is easy to work with. What makes these pretzel rolls rather than just ordinary rolls is that they are boiled for a minute before baking in a water-sugar-baking soda bath.
Basically, you make the dough, (I used my Kitchen Aid mixer rather than the food processor in the original recipe.), let it rest and then divide it into 8 balls. I used my nifty new(ish) scale to make sure that the dough balls were approximately the same size. (They were after I fiddled with them.)

You make an X in each ball and then let them rise again til doubled in size:

Meanwhile, the oven is preheating, and the water is coming to the boil. Here's the action shot:


And then you place them on a baking sheet, ideally one covered with a piece of parchment paper sprinkled with corn meal. At this point, I followed Deb's suggestion and slit the X into the rolls a second time, as the boiling seemed to close it back up. (Next time, I might just wait til the end to do it, or I might do it twice.) You brush them with an egg white wash and sprinkle on coarse salt. When I got to that point, I (mentally) kicked myself; I have kosher salt and Malden salt and regular salt . . . but no coarse salt. I sprinkled with the kosher salt and hoped for the best.

The pretzel rolls were, I have to admit, not as good as Normand's. But I've decided that they've just had a lot more practice, and for the first time around, these were just fine. In the meantime, coarse salt is going on my shopping list, and pretzel rolls are going onto my regular baking agenda.

Pretzel Rolls
Adapted from Bon Appétit | January 1994, via Smitten Kitchen

2 3/4 cups bread flour
1 envelope quick-rising yeast or 2 1/4 tsp. instant yeast
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon celery seeds (I didn't use these as I don't really like celery, though some of the epicurious reviewers recommended them.)
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (about) hot water (125°F to 130°F)

Cornmeal
8 cups water
1/4 cup baking soda
2 tablespoons sugar

1 egg white, beaten to blend (glaze)
Coarse salt

Combine bread flour, yeast, 1 teaspoon salt, 1 teaspoon sugar and celery seeds (if using) in food processor or bowl of Kitchen Aid mixer and blend. With machine running, gradually pour hot water through feed tube, adding enough water to form smooth elastic dough. (If you use the mixer, just add the water and then turn it on. I used the lowest speed and the dough hook, and it took several minutes to come together into a ball.) Process 1 minute to knead. Grease medium bowl. Add dough to bowl, turning to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, then towel; let dough rise in warm draft-free area until doubled in volume, about 35 minutes.

Flour baking sheet. Punch dough down and knead on lightly floured surface until smooth. Divide into 8 pieces. Form each dough piece into ball. Place dough balls on prepared sheet, flattening each slightly. Using serrated knife, cut X in top center of each dough ball. Cover with towel and let dough balls rise until almost doubled in volume, about 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Cover a baking sheet with parchment paper and sprinkle with cornmeal. Bring 8 cups water to boil in large saucepan. Add baking soda and 2 tablespoons sugar (water will foam up). Add 4 rolls and cook 30 seconds per side. Using slotted spoon, transfer rolls to prepared sheet, arranging X side up. Repeat with remaining rolls.

Brush rolls with egg white glaze. Sprinkle rolls generously with coarse salt. Bake rolls until brown, about 25 minutes. Transfer to racks and cool 10 minutes. Serve rolls warm or room temperature. (Can be prepared 6 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature. Rewarm in 375°F oven 10 minutes.)

Blueberry Buttermilk Cake (aka another plain cake)

I have to admit it--I'm a blueberry hoarder. Every summer, I make sure that I go blueberry picking at least once (and usually twice), and even though I might make muffins or crumble right then, I make sure that I have several large ziplock bags full of frozen berries in my freezer shortly thereafter. And I find myself somewhat reluctant to use them in the first cooler months--I start to envision a blueberry-less February, and I don't want to do that to myself. (I know, of course, that blueberries are available in the frozen foods department of any grocery store, but I'm always more attached to the berries I've picked myself--they're tangible proof that it was summer once and therefore must be again.) By late winter and early spring, though, I'm a bit more profligate with the berries, and by this time of year, I'll bake with them weekly--blueberry season, after all, is actually in sight, if still several months away. And it's even more heartening this year to see that there are berries developing on the biggest of my three baby blueberry bushes. (I'm thinking I might put a couple more in, if I can figure out where--who needs all that lawn, anyway?)

I was thinking about making blueberry muffins today, but I wasn't in the mood for either of my usual blueberry muffin recipes. And I'd seen this recipe up on Smitten Kitchen last week, as raspberry buttermilk cake, and had noted it as something I might want to make eventually, but I didn't think too much about it. But today, I was flipping through the June issue of Gourmet and saw the recipe again, and this time, something stuck--probably it was when I realized that this would be an excellent cake with blueberries as well as raspberries.

This cake is easy, easy, easy, and it's also nice in that it's not that bad for you. It has a half stick of butter and a single egg in the whole cake. You could even, maybe, call it a somewhat virtuous cake (unless, of course, you feel compelled to eat half of it at one sitting.). And it's definitely delicious. It's not quite a one bowl cake, but it's 2 bowls, only one of which really gets dirty, and one measuring cup for the buttermilk. I was generous with the blueberries on top, and I put some lemon zest in the batter, since I'm a big fan of the lemon/blueberry combo (Exhibit A). It took all of 15 minutes (if that) to put together, and it was out of the oven and cool enough to eat in less than an hour.

As for the serving size, I want to quote Laurie Colwin, who wrote this in her chapter on "How to Make Gingerbread" in her wonderful book of food essays, Home Cooking:

"This little three-layer cake will feed six delicate, well-mannered people with small appetites who are on diets and have just had a large meal, or four fairly well-mannered people who are not terribly hungry. Two absolute pigs can devour it in one sitting--half for you and half for me--with a glass of milk and a cup of coffee and leave not a crumb for anyone else."

I won't say that that's what Alex and I did this afternoon. But I will say that there is perhaps a third of the cake left, and I know already that it's lovely with tea, so I won't guarantee it lasting past tomorrow.

Blueberry Buttermilk Cake
Adapted from Gourmet, June 2009

The original recipe called for raspberries, and I obviously used blueberries. Any type of berry seems like it would suffice. I'm also contemplating how this might work with rhubarb instead of berries. It feels like a generally flexible recipe, so I'll bet lots of variations could work.

Makes one thin 9-inch cake--see note on number of servings above.

1 cup all-purpose flour (I used 1/3 whole wheat pastry flour)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 stick unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup plus 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar, divided
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest (optional)
1 large egg
1/2 cup well-shaken buttermilk
1 cup fresh berries (I used 1 1/2 cups frozen blueberries.)

Preheat oven to 400°F with rack in middle. Butter and flour a 9-inch round cake pan.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt and set aside. In a larger bowl, beat butter and 2/3 cup sugar with an electric mixer at medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about two minutes, then beat in vanilla and zest, if using. Add egg and beat well.

At low speed, mix in flour mixture in three batches, alternating with buttermilk, beginning and ending with flour, and mixing until just combined.Spoon batter into cake pan, smoothing top. Scatter berries evenly over top and sprinkle with remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar.

Bake until cake is golden and a wooden pick inserted into center comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Cool in pan 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack and cool to warm, 10 to 15 minutes more. Invert onto a plate.

(Deb and many of her commenters said their cakes baked in 20 minutes. Mine did not. At 25 minutes, the middle was still a bit jiggly, so I left it in for 5 more minutes, and it was perfect.)