Crepes

One of my favorite things to make for breakfast on a Sunday morning is a big pile of crepes. Crepes are super-thin pancakes that can be sweet or savory and are filled with all kinds of delicious things. Sweet crepes can be filled with fruit, jam, Nutella, Greek yogurt, whipped cream, even ice cream as a dessert. Savory crepes are served with sautéed ham, mushrooms, onions, cheese, scrambled eggs or seafood. They’re also wonderful simply folded or rolled up and topped with honey, maple syrup or cinnamon sugar. If you substitute buckwheat flour for all purpose white flour, your crepes will be gluten free! You can do just about anything you like with crepes. And despite what you might think, they’re easy to make. With the right equipment and a little technique, you can become an expert crepe maker in no time.

In order to make crepes, you need to have a small non-stick skillet. You could spend a lot of money on a crepe pan specifically made for this task. But it’s not necessary, a regular old 6 or 8 inch non-stick skillet will work beautifully. And it must be non-stick for this preparation. You’ll also need a small wooden or plastic spatula to free the crepes from the pan and flip them.

The recipe for the batter varies based on how you plan to serve your crepes. If its savory crepes you desire leave out the sugar and if you’d like a little spice, add a dash of cayenne pepper. For sweet crepes, you can add vanilla and I also like to grate a little lemon or orange zest into the batter.

RECIPE:

3 large eggs
2 cups of whole milk
1 cup of all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon of white sugar
a pinch of salt
2 tablespoons of melted butter

The batter can be made in a blender, but I use my hand mixer. This can also be done by hand with a whisk. Wisk the eggs and milk together until they’re well blended, then sift in the flour, sugar and salt. The batter should be thin and pourable, but have some body, similar to the consistency of heavy cream. It’s also good to let the batter rest for at least an hour, even overnight, before proceeding. The melted butter is the last thing that goes in before you start making crepes. When you’re ready to begin, put your skillet on the stove over medium heat and start melting your butter.
As soon as it’s melted, pour it into the batter and mix it in. The butter that’s left in the pan will create the perfect non-stick surface to start making crepes. This is where technique comes into play.

Now, keep in mind that the first crepe or two will come out funky. These are your test crepes and until the pan is the perfect temperature, your crepes may be a little limp and floppy. When the remaining butter in the pan begins to bubble, pour a little batter into the pan and tilt the pan around so that the batter covers the entire surface of the pan in a relatively thin layer. If you don’t have enough batter to cover the surface of the pan, dribble a little bit of batter over the exposed surface. The batter begins to set up quickly when it hits the hot pan, so you have to act fast. Set the pan back on the stove until you see the edges of the crepe begin to brown slightly. Using the edge of your spatula, gently lift the crepe up and flip it over in the pan. The crepe should be lightly golden brown. Cook it briefly on the other side until it browns slightly, and then turn the crepe out onto a plate. It should not be necessary to butter the pan between each crepe, but every third or fourth crepe, slip a small knob of butter into the pan. If you have too much butter in the pan, you can pour the excess back into the batter. Because they are buttery, you can stack the crepes up as you go and they shouldn’t stick together.

I like my crepes with fresh fruit and a little maple syrup. If you want to get fancy, melt a couple tablespoons of butter in the pan, then put in a couple tablespoons of honey and a dash of cinnamon and let them all melt together for a couple of minutes. Drizzle this cinnamon honey butter over the warm crepes and enjoy. This recipe makes a lot of crepes, at least two dozen, but they freeze very well. Wrap whatever you don’t eat in plastic wrap and put it in a freezer bag and they’ll keep in the freezer for several months. This is a great recipe to impress your house guests. Make these crepes and they’ll talk about it like you’re a five star chef for years to come. Give them a try; it’s a lot easier than you think.

Pamela’s Pancakes

After two months of living in temporary housing while my husband packed up our house in New Hampshire, we have finally made the big move to Pittsburgh. I haven’t cooked more than a couple of fried eggs since November and that’s been one of the most difficult things about this transition. However, there are some amazing restaurants and intriguing local delicacies here and I’ve barely scratched the surface of the great dining this city has to offer. After a week of packing, moving, cleaning, selling our house, driving and stressing out about all of it, we woke up on our first morning in our new home surrounded by boxes with no food in the fridge. I hadn’t even unpacked the coffee pot yet. It was Saturday and it was early, but we were hungry and in dire need of a hot cup of joe. We rubbed the sleep from our eyes, got dressed and ventured out.

Breakfast can be a deceivingly difficult meal to get right. Most people are very particular about how they like their eggs prepared and they are easy to mess up. Twenty seconds too long on the heat and over easy eggs become hard cooked. It takes a deft hand to make perfecly fluffy pancakes and moist french toast. Finding a great breakfast place is like striking gold. We were never happy with our breakfast choices in Concord, NH so I’ve been particularly excited about finding a few good diners and coffee shops here in our new hometown. During my first couple of weeks here, someone took me to lunch at a place called Pamela’s down in the Strip District. They had excellent sandwiches and salads and the decor was kind of 50′s retro with a diner-like atmosphere. I also noticed that they serve breakfast all day. I thought I might have struck that illusive breakfast gold. Pamela’s has a couple of other locations, including one in Squirrel Hill, which is very close to where we live. That’s where we headed on our first Saturday morning in Pittsburgh.

Apparently, this location is almost impossible to get into for Sunday brunch. But on Saturday morning, we walked right in and found a cozy booth in the back. Almost immediately, large cups of hot coffee arrived at our table and we examined the menu. They had excellent looking egg dishes, pancakes with fruit and whipped cream, omelets, french toast and most of the usual things you’d see on a breakfast menu. They also had some interesting variations, like french toast made with a croissant, malted waffles and something called Lyonnaise potatoes. Jason ordered scrambled eggs mixed with cream cheese and scallions served with the Lyonnaise potatoes. I ordered crepe hotcakes with a side of bacon.

It only took a few minutes for our breakfast to arrive. Our eyes bugged slightly when the plates went down on the table. My crepe hotcakes occupied the entire plate! Jason’s breakfast looked delicious, the eggs decorated with small dollops of cream cheese and sprinkled with scallions. The Lyonnaise potatoes were soft homefries in some kind of creamy sauce, sort of like chunky mashed potatoes au gratin. It all looked delicious and we gratefully tucked in. The crepe hotcakes were sublime. They were thin yet fluffy and the butter and syrup kind of floated on top and barely soaked in without making the hotcakes soggy.
The most remarkable thing was the crispy edge that surrounded each hotcake, creating a halo of crunchy texture that was absolutely irresistable. I ate half the plate of hotcakes and was stuffed, but I could not leave those crispy bits behind. Jason had a few bites and together we almost finished the whole plate of hotcakes.

We went straight home after breakfast, climbed right back into bed and took a mid morning nap. I dreamed that I was sleeping under a blanket made from Pamela’s crepe hotcakes, warm and comforting with delicate pools of melted butter and syrup glistening on the surface, pulled up to my chin so I could nibble on the crispy edges when I awoke. We’ll most certainly return to Pamela’s for breakfast, for more crepe hotcakes and some of their other offerings. It was truly KILLER DELICIOUS.

Welcome to Pittsburgh

I firmly believe that a life well lived is full of adventures and that it all begins at the end of your comfort zone. Earlier this fall, I accepted a new position in Pittsburgh, PA. This is my first week in a new city with a new job and new culinary frontiers to explore. I am ready to belly right up to this buffet and fill my plate with Pittsburgh goodness. Since accepting this position, I have been reading up on the Pittsburgh food scene and there seems to be a lot going on here. The cultural melting pot in this city offers a lot of culinary diversity and my curiosity is piqued.

On my second day here, I was invited to attend an evening meeting. One of the people at this meeting showed up with a cake box and there was a significant discussion about the unique qualities of its contents. The box was opened to reveal a lovely, nutty cake sprinkled with powdered sugar. What is this thing of beauty, I wondered. I soon found out that it was a burnt almond torte from Prantl’s Bakery, apparently one of the most famous foods in Pittsburgh. Prantl’s has been open for 40 years and its current location in the Shadyside neighborhood has been in continuous operation as a bakery for 100 years, although under different names. They specialize in German baked goods and their burnt almond torte is their most prized creation. A generous slice was placed in front of me and the earthy aroma of toasted almonds wafted up into my face. I took a bite. The white cake was a fluffy, ethereal wonder. It was topped with a thick layer of sugary frosting and coated with sliced almonds roasted to a deep, dark brown, then dusted with powdered sugar. I gratefully gobbled the whole thing and I ended up taking a huge piece home with me.

The following evening, there was a Welcome to Pittsburgh party in my honor. Knowing that I’m a bit of a foodie, they arranged to have some local specialties brought in for our snacking pleasure. When the trays were uncovered, I was delighted to see a vat of pierogi taking a bath in hot butter. If you’ve never heard of a pierogi, don’t feel embarrassed. This Polish specialty is not a widely consumed product, but one that Pittsburgh has embraced as its own. Apparently, the fine folks in Pittsburgh eat more than 10 times the amount of pierogi than any other city in America. There is even a pierogi race in the middle of the 5th inning of Pittsburgh Pirates home games. It’s a dumpling filled with potatoes, cheese, sauerkraut, meat or fruit, typically boiled, then fried in butter and sometimes topped with sautéed onions. I’ve only eaten them frozen, so this was my first time to taste freshly made, locally crafted pierogi. The only words I could find to describe them were “little pillows of love”. The dough was thin and delicate and their fluffy potato filling was perfectly seasoned and of course, they were annointed with copious ammounts of butter. Nothing wrong with that!!

During my first weekend in Pittsburgh, I decided to do a little exploring. People have been telling me about a placed called The Strip District where local food purveyors are in great abundance. This area of downtown is right on the railroad tracks and at the turn of the century it became the central transportation hub for wholesale produce coming into the city. The adjacent railroad lines and riverfront made it a natural fit for merchants. When I was here to interview for the job, someone drove me through the area to show me what the Strip Discrict was all about. So, I thought I might see if I could find this place on my own. I got in the car and started driving in the general direction of the disctict…and lo and behold, guess what I found? As I drove down the middle of the main drag, I saw Italian bakeries, Asian markets, produce stands and butcher shops. I found a parking spot, got out and started wandering from shop to shop. My first stop was Lotus Food Market, a very nicely appointed Asian market, resplendant with condiments, produce, meats, frozen items and many Asian delicacies. This is the kind of market that I used to drive an hour to visit and I was so delighted to find it just a few short miles from my apartment. I wandered the aisles, inspecting the canned goods, trying to figure out what was in them, marveling at the produce and examining the frozen dumplings. I made a mental note to head back down to Lotus for frozen items when I wasn’t planning to spend time wandering around.

My next stop was one of the most notorious places in the Strip District, Wholey’s Market. For almost a hundred years, Wholey’s has been supplying Pittsburgh with fresh chicken, meat, seafood, produce and specialty foods. I stepped into the doors of Wholey’s and almost wept tears of joy to see the dizzying variety of fish, all beautiful and fresh, all reasonably priced. They had a live lobster tank as well as frozen lobster tails from all over the world. I couldn’t count the different varieties of fresh fish beautifully displayed at their fish counter. I wandered through their spotless butcher area looking at the amazing array of different cuts of beef, pork, chicken and turkey. I found the refridgerator case filled with unique imported butter and locally crafted soft drinks. I tasted a sample of rich and succulent crab and lobster bisque made in house and sold in the refridgerator section. They even had a bin of crushed ice by the check-out counter so shoppers could pack their fresh fish on ice before making their way home. I wandered through the produce and bakery before finally finding the exit, floating back onto the street in a haze of foodie ecstacy.

I thought I’d found the ultimate place for a food lover like me, until I found Penzeys Spices on the next block. A couple years ago, my friend Debbie came to visit me and she brought me a small package of Penzeys spices, including the most pungent and flavorful cinnamon I’d ever come in contact with. Since then, I’ve been on the lookout for Penzey’s spices and my brain almost exploded when I saw their shop in the Strip District. I thought, can this really be happening right now? I plunged through the front door and inhaled deeply through my nose to take in the warm aroma. Penzeys has everything you could ever want or need…a massive variety of dried herbs, spices, extracts and gift boxes. There was an entire section of shelves dedicated just to vanilla. Chili powder and cinnamon had their own sections. I could visit Penzeys every day and never tire of browsing.

I stopped into a couple more places and looked at kitchen gadgets, wine, Middle Eastern foods, cheeses and baked goods before hitting the wall. My senses assaulted, I made my way back to the car and drove home on a cloud. Strip District, you are my new friend and I will be back to see you very soon. And I’ll be on the lookout for more interesting culinary adventures here in Pittsburgh.

See Food Diet in NOLA

When you think of New Orleans, unique and delicious food is one of the first things that comes to mind. Certainly, NOLA is considered one of the great dining cities in America. You know when you visit the Crescent City, you’ll find fresh oysters, gulf shrimp and the best cajun cuisine in the country. Its not hard to find, its all around you, just keep your senses aware to the sights and smells as you’re wandering around the city. On a recent trip to the French Quarter with friends, we visited the famous haunts and made some new discoveries.

As we prepared for our trip to The Big Easy, I started doing research. On previous visits, I’d had the pleasure of dining in some of the best places in the city, such as Brennan’s and Galatoire. But I’d also had an outstanding dinner at a place called Couchon that specializes in cajun style pork and locally sourced ingredients. Some of the other folks in our group had also spent quite a bit of time in New Orleans and had wonderful suggestions. We settled on a place called Irene’s Cuisine for dinner on our first night. Irene’s menu leans toward Italian cuisine, but heavily influenced by the local culture.

The evening started with coctails at the Napoleon House just off Jackson Square. After much consumption at the bar, we meandered our way to Irene’s. As we approached the restaurant, the tantalizing smell of garlic filled the air and our salivary glands began to work overtime. Irene’s is not a huge place, but the decor is charming and the service is of the highest caliber. We started with a sampling of appetizers including amazing meatballs in house made marinara, crabmeat in a spicy and creamy sauce and fresh tomato bruscetta. For my main course, I had a soft shelled crab served on a bed of pappardelle with a lucious sauce that was absolutely bursting with garlic. My fellow diners enjoyed dishes such as cioppino with fresh local seafood, a wonderful fish filet topped with crawfish tails and a beef dish topped with a mountain of fresh crabmeat. We saved room for dessert and we were not disappointed. We shared a bread pudding, a chocolate cake and a slice of decadent cheesecake. The bread pudding was dotted with pecans, resting in a small pool of bourbon sauce and served with vanilla ice cream and bananas on the side. The chocolate cake was rich, dark and mysterious and the silky cheesecake melted in our mouths. We stumbled out of Irene’s rubbing our bellies and reeking of garlic.

The following morning, we made a beeline for Cafe Du Monde, one of the most historic and recognizable establishments in New Orleans, serving beignets and bitter chicory coffee since 1862. In fact, beignets are the only food item on the menu at Cafe Du Monde. This is a must-stop place when you’re in New Orleans, any time of the day or night. But be careful when you lift that first beignet to your mouth not to inhale the copious amount of powdered sugar on top. The high octane coffee and sugary beignets will get your pulse racing for the day and send you flying on adventures in the French Quarter. We wandered and snacked for the rest of the day and I made sure to pick up a box of Aunt Sally’s creamy pralines, a delectable New Orleans sweet treat. They have several different flavors of praline, but my favorite is the cafe au lait.

Dinner that night was at Acme Oyster House, one of the most famous New Orleans eateries, in continuous operation since 1910 and in its current location in the French Quarter since 1924. We waited almost an hour to get a table and the line never seemed to shrink as new diners queued up throughout the night. Dining at Acme is like stepping back in time to enjoy the quintessential New Orleans dining experience. The wooden oyster bar at the front of the restaurant looks exactly the same as it did over 80 years ago. And if you sit at the oyster bar, the shuckers will slip you extra oysters as they open them. The raw oysters are fresh and cold and they have char grilled oysters as well, lightly cooked just until they open. Classic dishes such as gumbo, etouffee and jambalaya will not disappoint. I started with a dozen raw and had fried shrimp and oysters for my entree. When we waddled out of the restaurant, the line of people waiting to get in was just as long as it was when we’d arrived several hours earlier. We spent the rest of the night consuming many adult beverages while shuffling down Bourbon Street until we finally settled in the courtyard of the Copper Monkey bar, where we consumed many more adult beverages.

The following morning, those of us not too hung over to move pondered our choices for breakfast. The day before while wandering through the French Quarter, I’d spotted a little place called The Old Coffee Pot that had a cozy courtyard and an interesting looking menu. A small group of the early risers made our way to this little spot and were delighted and surprised by the experience. The place has been open since 1894 and serves interesting local favorites. Their menu includes something called callas cakes, a recipe from the 1800′s that is basically sweetened rice balls deep fried and dusted with powdered sugar, and lost bread, which is French toast made from po boy bread. The coffee was fresh and tasty, but not too bitter.The menu was eclectic with many unique poached egg dishes. I ordered poached eggs sitting on a bed of creamed spinach nestled in an artichoke bottom resting on top of an English muffin and lightly anointed with spicy hollandaise sauce. Jenny had a similar dish with the eggs served over slices of roasted tomato and ham. Jason had his poached eggs topped with chicken livers and brown gravy served on a fresh biscuit. The eggs were perfectly poached and we were all extremely satisfied with our choices. Our lovely waitress called us “sweetheart” and “baby” and when she found out it was Jenny’s birthday, she gave Jenny a big kiss on the cheek. We left The Old Coffee Pot feeling as if New Orleans had just given us a warm and sincere hug.

On the flight home, I munched on Aunt Sally’s pralines, relived the amazing meals we’d had on our trip and dreamed of our next journey to New Orleans when we’d go back to some of the places we’d just discovered and uncover some new hidden treasures.

Mile High Crisp

Autumn is just about gone here in New England. The mums have all faded away, the trees are left with just a few splashes of color and the mornings are glistening with a thin film of crystalline frost. I managed to get one trip to the apple orchard in before pick-your-own ceased for the year. To be honest, I made several trips to my favorite orchard, but didn’t pick any apples myself until the final weekend of the season. There are still plenty of locally grown apples to be had and some of my favorites, such as Mutzu and Idared, are late season varieties. But I can’t pick them myself past the end of October and for some reason they seem to taste better when I know that I plucked them from their mother branches myself.

I picked about eight pounds of golden delicious and Idared and I’ve had them sitting in my garage for the past few weeks. They’ll keep pretty well for about a month in a cool dark place. And they’ll keep even longer in the refrigerator. I’ve been thinking about those apples and mulling over what to make with them. Many close friends and family will be expecting apple butter in their holiday packages this year. But it takes many pounds of apples to yield enough apple butter for canning and after eating quite a few there really aren’t that many left. I’m always surprised at how quickly we go through apples in the fall.

I had an entire Sunday with nothing to do but hang around the house and watch football. I mentioned to my husband Jason that I was thinking about making apple sauce with the apples we had left in the garage. He suggested a pie and that sounded pretty good. But then he said “Hey, how about an apple crisp. It’s like a pie but without all the crust”. I’ve only made apple crisp once before and I was disappointed with the results. I’d made it in a shallow baking dish with a thin layer of apples that cooked down to almost nothing. My topping was also too thin and it never got crispy like it was supposed to. I immediately started doing an inventory of the pantry in my head. I had the right ingredients, why the hell not! Apple crisp it is.

I picked eight of the largest apples of mixed varieties, peeled them, cut them in half and removed the core with a melon baller. This is by far the easiest method I’ve found for cleaning apples. I sliced them about a quarter of an inch, not too thin and not too thick, so they’d hold some of their shape when cooked. I put the sliced apples in a big mixing bowl and sprinkled them with about half a cup of dark brown sugar, a healthy tablespoon of cinnamon, a pinch of salt, the zest of one lemon and the juice from half the lemon and a couple tablespoons of flour. I also grated a little nub of ginger in as I really love that apple/ginger combination and I mixed everything up really well so that every slice of apple was coated with sugar. I wanted a deeper vessel for the apples, one that would allow them to bake in their own juices without reducing down to mush. I picked a casserole dish with relatively high sides. When I started pouring the apples in, I realized that this was going to be tricky. My apples created an enormous mound in the dish! I thought, how the hell am I going to get the topping to stay on this mountain of apples? I thought about transferring the apples to a bigger baking dish, but managed to quiet the doubtful voice in my head. I pressed on.

For the topping, I combined half a cup of flour, half a cup of granulated sugar, six tablespoons of cool butter cut into cubes, a quarter cup of oats and a quarter cup of chopped pecans. To combine the topping ingredients, I found that my hands were the most effective tool. I mashed everything together until it had the consistency of slightly dry modeling clay. I could make balls out of it, but they crumbled easily. This was just the right consistency for pressing into the top of my apple mountain. Working carefully, I covered the entire mound with the topping mixture, pressing slightly to compact everything down. I had to cup one hand along the side of the casserole dish while covering the sides of the apple mountain. But I managed to get the whole thing covered and it was exactly the right amount of topping for the size of the dish. As a final touch, I sprinkle the top with a dusting of cinnamon. Before applying the topping, I’d transferred the dish filled with apples to a baking sheet in case the whole thing bubbled over in the oven. I slid it into a 375 degree oven and walked away. After 30 minutes, I checked it. The top was still soft and I could see that the apples had not yet rendered any of their juices, so I walked away again. After an hour, the topping had browned beautifully and I could see a little juice bubbling at the edges of the casserole dish. I turned off the oven and left it in there to cool off on its own.

By the time my apple crisp was done baking, it was about 2:30 in the afternoon. I considered making that my dinner, adding a scoop of vanilla ice cream and calling that a dose of calcium to make it seem more healthy and well rounded. But I talked myself out of it and we had a normal dinner of protein and vegetables, all the while fantasizing about that warm mile high apple crisp with vanilla ice cream melting into the juices of the apples, mingling together to drive me mad with sweet desire. Finally, the moment had come. Dinner had been consumed, the kitchen was clean and we were ready for the big unveiling. I broke through the thick crispy topping and it made a pleasant crackling sound. The apples had a lovely caramel color and aroma and the bottom of the dish was filled with luscious juice, which I spooned over the top. It tasted divine, the apples soft yet not overcooked, the hint of ginger, cinnamon and lemon blending together to compliment the apples, the crunch of the pecans and cooked oats in the topping adding a textural burst to every bite and the ice cream mellowing the whole thing out. It was sweet yet savory, crispy yet soft, warm yet cold. I will be making this again….exactly the same way. Until then, I’ll have mile high apple crisp on my mind.

Short & Sweet

August 15th was Julie Child’s 100th birthday and there was quite a bit of media attention paid to her contributions to the world of American cooking. For weeks, I was thrilled to find re-runs of old Julia Child cooking shows on my favorite TV networks. As I thumbed through cookbooks and contemplated what my next baking project would be, I turned to Julia for inspiration. As if by magic, I discovered that our local public television station was planning to re-air several episodes from the very first season of The French Chef from 1963. When I checked the listings for more information, I found that one of the episodes in the schedule was about making quiche, an egg custard pie. Eureka! Divine inspiration! Julia was making a short dough! This was a sign that I needed to make my own pie crust.

My mother made her own pie crusts and I’d made them myself when I was very young. But once they became available pre-made in the grocery store, that was the end of my pie crust making days. When I asked my husband’s 90 year-old grandmother, a pie maker from way back, what her favorite recipes and techniques were, she said “I haven’t made a pie crust in years. Quite frankly, I can’t tell the difference between home-made and store bought. Its so much easier to just buy them and they taste perfectly fine”. Still, what kind of baker would I be if I couldn’t master something as simple as a pie crust? I had to carry on with my plan.

On the evening of the broadcast, I hundered down in front of the television with a pen and paper and I wrote down Julia’s ingredients and instructions. In some of my past research, I’ve noted that pie crusts made with butter have excellent flavor but are not as tender and flaky as those made with shortening or lard. Julia’s answer was to use both. Her recipe called for 2 cups of all purpose flour, 1 stick of butter and 3 tablespoons of vegetable shortening. Into the flour, she put a pinch of salt and a teaspoon of sugar. She cut the butter into small pieces and put them into the freezer for a couple of minutes before starting the recipe. The shortening she left at room temperature. She also had a small jar of ice water standing by for the completion of this recipe. I decided to make my pie crust exactly like Julia did without the help of a food processor or mixer. I followed her instructions to the letter.

When making any short dough, which is what a pie crust is, its very very important that all the ingredients be as cold as possible. The butter or shortening is crumbled into the flour and remains suspended in the flour in small pieces. As the crust bakes and the fat melts, layers are created in the dough and the result is a crust with flaky texture. My butter was ice-cold when I started the preparation. By hand, I crumbled the butter and shortening into the flour, working it between my fingers until it resembled rough cornmeal. Then I started adding ice water a tablespoon at a time until the dough started to come together and form a ball. Julia added about 5 tablespoons of ice water but I didn’t want my dough to be too wet. I added about 4 tablespoons and my dough was coming together, so I balled it up, placed it in a sheet of waxed paper and put it in the fridge for half an hour to rest.

When I took it out, it looked kind of dry and crackly. And when I tried to soften it up so I could roll it out, it started crumbling. Obviosuly, my dough was too dry. And since it was chilled and hard, it was challening to try and work more water into it. I worked it like a piece of clay, adding little bits of water and kneading it in my hands until I could manipulate it without it crumbling. But then another concern occurred to me. Since I just kneaded this dough, the strands of gluton in the flour were more developed and my pie crust might end up being hard and tough instead of tender and flaky. In the spirit of expermintation, I told myself that the proof of the pudding is in the eating and I pressed on. I rolled out my dough to about an eight of an inch in thickness and placed it into the pie plate. I cut off the excess dough and fluted the edges and my crust was ready to be filled.

My filling of choice for this crust was a pecan pie, which requires the crust to be pre-baked or “blind baked” before it gets its filling and final baking. This process entails baking the crust for about 20 minutes with some kind of weight inside it to keep it flat while it sets up. I have a jar of beans that I’ve been using for years for this very purpose. My oven was pre-heated to 400 degrees and I pricked the bottom of the pie crust with a fork a few times, just to make sure any air escaped during baking, which keeps the crust from rising up on the bottom. I lined the inside of my raw pie crust with foil, poured the beans in and pressed them gently up the sides of the crust to insure that it wouldn’t slide down when it went into the hot oven. I put my crust into the oven while I prepared the filling.

20 minutes later, the crust was starting to brown and it was set up enough to take out, fill and put back into the oven. The pie took about 40 minutes to bake. And it came out picture perfect. But as the old saying goes, the proof is in the eating. Unfortunately, I was correct in my assumption that the extra kneading would result in a tough pie crust. The bottom of the crust was tender and lovely. But the sides of the crust were a little hard and kind of diffitult to chew. I learned a good lesson with this project. Next time, I’ll know exactly what to do to turn out the perfect pie crust.

Hell of a Challah

Learning to bake can present a bit of a conundrum. There are so many different types of breads, pastries and baked goodies that I’ve had a hard time deciding what to experiment with next. Usually, I have an idea in mind, I do some research, narrow in on my approach and move forward. But sometimes I have no idea where to start. I sit at the table and thumb through cookbooks and read recipes and hope to find some inspiration in the writing of other bakers. That’s what happened when I decided to make challah.

Challah is a fluffy braided egg bread most closely associated with Jewish holidays. According to tradition, the Sabbath and other holiday meals are supposed to start with two loaves of bread, which pays homage to the manna from heaven that sustained the Jewish people after their exodus from Egypt. Manna didn’t fall on holy days, but the day before Sabbath or a holiday, God would send down a double ration to keep his people fed, thus the tradition of the “double loaf” at the holiday table. Challah is not only delicious but as a braided bread its also stunning in appearance. My father is an expert challah baker and I have always been impressed with his ability to turn out beautiful and tasty challah. This felt like an excellent direction for my next project.

Most traditional Jewish challah recipes steer clear of any dairy, which according to Jewish dietary laws would preclude it from being served with meat. I read a number of different recipes and settled on one that my Jewish ancestors would most certainly not approve of – it contained milk and butter. This bread starts like any other bread recipe by proofing 1 1/2 tablespoons of active dry yeast in half a cup of 90 degree water and a pinch of sugar. While my yeast proofed, I mixed up the wet ingredients. This recipe called for one cup of whole milk and one stick of butter heated together until the butter melts. Once the butter is melted, 1/3 of a cup of sugar, one tablespoon of honey and 2 1/2 teaspoons of salt get mixed in until they disolve. The milk mixture is allowed to cool to about 90 degrees, is added to the proofed yeast and finally four large eggs go in and it all gets mixed up. Then approximately 6 cups of bread flour gets mixed in until the dough starts to come together, then the kneading begins.

This dough is relatively soft and I gave it about 10 minutes of kneading in the mixer, followed by 10 minutes of kneading by hand. The egg yolks give it a pleasant yellow color and the butter and honey add a sweet aroma to this glorious dough. This recipe makes enough dough for two large loaves, so it needs a large container for rising. I buttered the inside of my bread bin, laid the dough in the bottom and covered the top with plastic wrap and a towel. I gave it an hour and a half for it’s first rise, setting it near the vent of my oven which was set to 170 degrees. During that time, it doubled in volume, I deflated it and gave it a second rise of about an hour, which allowed it to double in size once again. The multiple rise technique allows the yeast to create lots of air bubbles in the dough, yeilding a fluffy, airy bread. After the second rise, the air bubbles were clearly visable. I turned the dough out and started working on the finished loaves.

Braiding dough is no easy task and it requires a careful eye when dividing it up. Each piece of dough needs to be exactly the same size and shape to make a perfect looking challah. I patted the dough out into a huge rectangle, being careful not to deflate it too much. I cut it in half, then patted each half out into a smaller rectangle, then cut each rectangle into thirds. Each one of those pieces gets rolled into a long baguette-shaped loaf. In one set of loaves, I sprinkled raisins in the middle. A set of three loaves are lined up side by side on the board, pressed together at one end and braided, end over the middle, until you reach the end. The ends are pressed together, then folded underneath. My first attempt was a little sloppy and my challah looked lumpy, uneven and was much wider on one end. But my second attempt using the loaves with the raisins in them was pretty close to perfect. The braided loaves are set on baking sheets, covered with a towel and given their final rise of about 40 minutes.

After the final rise, the loaves are puffy and full and ready to be baked. But before they go into a 375 degree oven, they are brushed with an egg wash of one beaten egg and a little bit of water, which gives the challah a golden and shiny exterior. I brushed the outside of the loaves with egg wash, let them dry for a few minutes, then brushed them again before putting them into the oven. After 20 minutes in the oven, I brushed them again with the egg wash, then let them bake for another 15 minutes.

By the time these loaves of challah came out of the oven, my house was filled with the strong aroma of fresh bread. They were so beautiful I wanted to rip right into one of these loaves when it was piping hot. It was a tremendous challenge to keep my hands off until they cooled enough to slice. I sliced the non-raisin loaf first and it absolutely lived up to my expectations. It was buttery and eggy and fluffy and slightly sweet and divine. The next morning, I made my favorite breakfast – challah french toast with real maple syrup.
I put a little bit of vanilla and a shake of cinnamon in my french toast custard mixture and the slices of challah absorb it like little sponges. I could eat challah french toast every day and never get sick of it.
So, another baking experiment brought me success. Now I’ll be on the lookout for the next inspiration. I’ve been toying with the idea of yeast donuts and using some of that dough for cinnamon rolls. It’s about to be berry season here in New Hampshire and that means pie crust and tart shells. I can always use a refresher course in making that kind of short dough. Then there’s brioche and cakes and cream puffs made from pate-a-choux and popovers and danish pastry and…and…and….sigh….the conundrum begins.