A Weighty Issue

November 11th, 2009  |  6 Comments

oven-boy

How did your last batch turn out? Would Martha give a cool nod of approval or would she wince in agony at the sorry sight?

We all know one of the biggest factors in successful baking is the ratio of ingredients. Having to measure our goods is what separates the men (bakers) from the boys (cooks). Though I always use a scale if weights are listed, I sometimes follow along to a recipe that is written in cups. Like a good lil’ baker, I’ll break out said measuring cups, and flex my OCD muscle, taking my time, spooning carefully, leveling off.

The other day I was messing around with a recipe for quadruple chocolate cake (hold on to your hats, kids, that post’s next). I whipped out an old notebook, sticky from years of splatters, and located a recipe that I meant to use as a starting point. Lo and behold, it was in cups. Since I was testing batters, I wanted the results to be as consistent as possible from batch to batch. An uneasy feeling crept up on me. Is it possible to get consistent results with a cup measure? An experiment was in order.

I spooned one cup of flour straight from the bag into the measuring cup…

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…until mounded…

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…scraped off the excess…

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…then took note of the weight.

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Then I did it again with a separate cup of flour.

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Turns out, there is a difference of .4 ounces in this case. Either I don’t know my own strength with a spoon or some cupfuls pack down more than others. Is .4 oz a lot? Well, if a recipe calls for 3 cups of flour, you could end up inadvertently omitting more than a full ounce.

Ok, ok, I don’t mean to create a panic a lá War of the Worlds. No need to spill out on to the sidewalks with rolling pins ablaze. A slight variance in measure is not necessarily going to make your three-layer hopeful collapse on your shoe, but the dessert probably won’t reach the full potential it’s capable of. It may be a little too dry or a little too dense, or a little soupier than last time. Us bakers are perfectionists. A little too something is just not good enough, unless it’s a little too good.

Obviously, the best thing is to weigh when possible. More and more enlightened cookbooks are including weight measures and our dinner rolls are the better for it. The scales I like best display both ounces and grams in small increments, are capable of weighing heavy quantities (up to 11 lbs.), and don’t automatically shut off before you get a chance to pour in your stuff.

Here’s one that people seem to like:

Oxo Good Grips Food Scale with Pull-Out Display

Mark my words. You’ll never look back.



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A Bit o’ Brittle

November 5th, 2009  |  15 Comments

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Unbeknownst to me, I’ve been on a caramel magic carpet ride. I didn’t even realize this was the case until I saw Julia’s beautiful round-up of caramel desserts. For one thing, she had the brilliant idea to theme it up for the month of October by working with only caramel in all its glorious splendor. Just look at that gallery of lovelies. She’s shot every duck at the caramel carnival. (She’s also gone all-French for the month of November so be sure to pay her blog a visit.) For another, it’s amazing to see that cooked sugar is as transformable as the egg in the kitchen.

As I looked over her opus, it dawned on me that I’ve spent my fair share of time browning up sugar, too. There are the caramelized bananas from my last post, the garnish rounds on the Dobos Torte, the Creme Caramel from weeks past, the Caramel Chocolate Mousse that I won’t soon forget, and now this. Brittle. I won’t say what kind of brittle because this recipe makes ANY brittle. You can dance with almonds or cashews as I’ve done here, or you can salsa with sesame seeds, tango with peanuts, or twirl with walnuts. Heck, if you’re feeling really footloose, you can throw in a medley of nuts and seeds. Salted nuts are great, too. If you’ve got big nuts (heh), be sure to chop ‘em up first.

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You’ll notice that my brittle is really dense with nuts. That’s because I like nuts and I like that proportion of nuts to sugar. If you want the brittle to be more candy-like and appear stained-glassy, you can add less nuts. This recipe makes a pretty big batch and I’ve learned the hard way that this is best. Like most people, I make brittle intending to give it as a gift. As it innocently cools on a sheet pan, I invariably drift over to “check” it and lop off a piece. This opens a Pandora’s Box of unleashed cravings and I find myself moseying over for just “one more” chunk. Before you know it, the so-called gift dwindles to a sorry nub. Not enough to gift a bird, let alone a family, and I have to make a second batch. I’ve since wised up.


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Vols-au-Vents, the Forgotten Fillings

October 31st, 2009  |  13 Comments

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How do you like that? I win an award and disappear. Isn’t that typical of us big-headed rock stars.

But, really, let me fill you in (like a vols-au-vent, heh).

In the last few months, Scott and I have gone from  On-The-Rocks to Splitsville. I sure wish it didn’t have to be this way, but to borrow a phrase from the tabloids, I’ll chalk it up to “irreconcilable differences.” Funny how one week you’re bopping around Spain and the next you’re divvying up the dish set. These days, it’s next to impossible to drag myself up to brush my teeth, let alone bake, so this site has taken a minor hit during my recovery from broken heartedness and general upheaval. Thanks to the wonders of marathon television and weeks of laying about like an invalid, I’m ready to dust myself off and get back to it.

Where were we? Oh yeah, the vols-au-vents. Last we spoke, I was making puff pastry for the Daring Bakers Challenge and was gearing up to tell you about the fillings. This challenge seems so long ago now, doesn’t it? Even another has now come and gone (dangnabbit, I was really looking forward to those french macaroons. They WILL get their day in the sun.) Talking about it now makes me feel like I’m selling you a rotary phone. Completely out of touch. Luckily, these fillings are as timeless as diamonds.

One batch of vents were blessed with dark chocolate chantilly, then topped with bruleéd bananas, crushed peanuts, and a little chocolate sauce. Though there are a few different components, this dessert is simple to put together. If made with store bought puff pastry, it appears to have taken days of slaving away, but really needs less attention than an episode of Survivor. The other filling is a passion fruit curd with a smattering of pineapple dice and a drizzle of mint syrup.


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Almost a Rock Star

October 2nd, 2009  |  10 Comments

Let me apologize for being so MIA lately. Life stuff is getting in the way. I’ll still be posting as I can until I can get back to my regular schedule, so do check back in. And I still have some catching up to do with you, too. Please have patience with me. 

dmblgit_orange sept 2009

Meanwhile, a few weeks ago, I submitted the Dobos Torte photo to DMBLGIT. Then forgot all about it. Whaddaya know. I won overall second place. A heaping thank you goes out to the host Michelle at Brown Eyed Baker and all the judges who threw points my way.

♦  Shari of Whisk: A Food Blog
♦  Megan of Tres Jolie Studios
♦  Pille of Nami-Nami
♦  Vera of Baking Obsession

And congratulations to all the other winners! That was some stiff competition.


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Yes, you can make your own puff pastry (when the Daring Bakers tell you to)

September 27th, 2009  |  32 Comments

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What is it about puff pastry? The mere mention of it sends shivers down every baker’s spine. Could it be the knowledge that it has 944 microscopic layers of dough and butter, which seem to break all laws of physics? You look down at your own two hands and think, “These two hands? All by themselves? No way,” before huffing off to the grocery store to buy the ready-made version. At the risk of sounding like Tony Robbins, I say “Yes way,” and this month’s Daring Bakers have laid down the law.

The September 2009 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Steph of A Whisk and a Spoon. She chose the French treat, Vols-au-Vent based on the Puff Pastry recipe by Michel Richard from the cookbook Baking With Julia by Dorie Greenspan.

Now please sit down. I have to break something to you. It might surprise you to learn that no restaurant I’ve ever worked in, no matter how fancy, ever made their own puff pastry (though surely there are some that I’ve never worked in that do.) If you peek in their freezer, you’ll find cases of  stacked up sheets of dough, looking all guilty and unhomemade. Granted, it’s high quality, all-butter dough and it saves the chef lots of hours and labor costs. I wouldn’t even know how to make enough puff pastry to feed hundreds of napoleon-loving patrons. Do you make lots of individual batches? Do you make one monster batch and pound out a dozen blocks of butter with a broomstick? The truth is, I’ve only made my own puff pastry a handful of times, and never in a professional setting, only at home.


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