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Amazing idea last week: lemon meringue cupcakes. I could make a lemony cake part, then bake a meringue right on top! No need to frost, super easy recipe! I mean look at these. Ladies, how cute would it be to show up at the next get-together with a cheerful tray of these? And guys, how funny would it be to challenge societal gender roles with this kind of delicious underlining your defiance?

Lemon meringue cupcakes.

And to boot, these are 165 calories apiece. Not health food, but far lighter than one would expect from such a tall cupcake.

While the above does appear to be what I described, it is not. No, this recipe has undergone about ten revisions, and unfortunately, that is not fantastic hyperbole. I don’t have pictures of the process, but it boils down to the fact that the pH of the batter is important, and turns out meringue will not hold its shape if baked upon a proper cupcake. And if you bake lemon curd atop a cupcake, the whole thing will taste weirdly sulfuric for some reason. So the final recipe is more involved than I wanted it to be, but the cuteness factor paired with the actual deliciousness is well worth the effort, which in itself is effectively the same as making cupcakes and frosting from scratch, except two frostings. Which is admittedly not the same thing at all.

There are a few “specialty” tools required for this recipe. Nothing too specialized—you should be able to find in your grocery store—but I generally avoid these things because in the past I always tried to work around them: a hand mixer, parchment paper, cake flour, food scale. The mixer is really just for the meringue, the parchment paper for baking the meringue, the scale for measuring the cake flour, and the cake flour because All-Purpose Flour is a misnomer, as it is not good for cakes. I think this recipe is lenient enough to allow you to substitute all purpose flour for cake, but can’t be held accountable for the resulting texture. In the worst case your texture is off, but you will still end up with something yummy if not presentable.

Start with the curd so it has time to chill while all that other stuff is going on. Have you ever had this stuff? I saw it all over left-coast food blogs back when Meyer lemons were in season, but since citrus is um, never in season in Massachusetts, I hadn’t really any good occasion to create a curd until now. And it’s a surprisingly quick (5 minute) ordeal with HUGE payoffs. I could spoon this into my mouth all day, and I hear people put it on toast and things like that. I don’t need to remind you that I put it on cupcakes. By itself, it’s a delightful frosting too!

Curd food.

This isn’t a bad time to go over how to zest a lemon. The white rind is bitter, while the nice sunny yellow part is what offers the bright lemony flavour, so grating away at the skin until you hit the poor lemon’s pulp is exactly NOT the way to do it. My strategy is to shoot for exactly one pass over each bit of the lemon’s surface exactly once. Remember, this is not a sheep-shearing contest, so there’s no need to get every little bit of yellow off the lemon. Just zip your micrograter or zester right along and don’t spend too much time on it.

How to zest a lemon.

Also, isn’t that lemon HUGE? My god, it’s like Monsanto’s answer to the lumpy F-cup boob job.

Speaking of lemons, for both the curd and the batter, I recommend straining your fresh lemon juice. I find that when I leave lemon seeds in my desserts, people never seem to go back for seconds.

It's a strain.

The batter has this subtle speckle of lemon rind yellow. Gorgeous.

Future cupcakes of america.

While that’s in the oven, we make our way to the third part: meringue. This is what it should look (roughly) like right before you start adding the sugar.

Meringue. Luscious.

Now we need a way for the meringues will fit the cupcakes. I use the liners as a guide and trace out circles on the BACK of the parchment paper upon which I shall bake the meringues.

Circles

Then I spoon the meringue onto each dot and smooth it out to the circumference of the paper circle, then around in a spiral to make that nice swirly peak. To do so, I washed my hands very thoroughly, then used something kicking around to smooth and swirl. I can’t remember what right now, but it definitely wasn’t my finger if that’s what your thinking. I mean, if I DID use my finger, I did wash my hands very thoroughly, but I wouldn’t use my finger because that would be very uncouth.

Swirly peaks.

And now that everything’s all squared away and set, let’s assemble!

Putting it together.

I cannot get over how successfully adorable these are.

Lemon meringue cupcakes.

And luscious too.

Lemon meringue cupcakes.

Lemon Meringue Cupcakes
an original recipe, in three acts

 

Prologue
Heat oven to 350o

 

Act One: Lemon Curd
2 eggs
1 lemon: zest of & juice of (about 2 tsp & 3 tbsp, respectively)
2 tbsp sugar
1/4 c butter (4 tbsp), chopped

Whisk eggs, lemon zest & juice and sugar in a small saucepan, no heat. Add the butter bits, then bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking all the while. After three minutes or so, you’ll begin to see the bottom of the pan here and there as you whisk, and the mixture will almost instantly thicken. Remove from heat and chill in fridge until needed.

 

Act Two: Cupcakes
2 egg yolks

1/4 c sugar
1/4 c butter (room-temp is best)
1 lemon: zest of

1/2 c sifted cake flour, or 64g if you’re able to weigh (best method). Feel free to try all-purpose and let me know how it goes!
1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp vanilla
1 lemon: juice of

Beat egg yolks. Add sugar, butter and zest, and mix until creamed. Sift flour and baking soda, then mix until combined. Lastly, add 1/2 tsp vanilla and strain 1 lemon’s worth of juice, then stir to combine. Nimbly scoop batter into 12 cupcake liners (quicker is better). Bake for 15 minutes.

 

Act Three: Meringue

Beat on high until stiff peaks form (about 3-4 minutes):
2 egg whites
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
1/4 tsp vanilla
pinch cornstarch

Add in a continuous stream, beating on high all the while:
1/2 c sugar

On a piece of parchment, use a cupcake liner as a stencil to draw 12 circles. Flip liner so the drawing is face down (in contact with the cookie sheet), then spoon 1/12 of the meringue into each area.

Wash your hands thoroughly. Use the circles as a guide for what the meringues should be sized, then using a finger, swipe around the glob of meringue to give it a shape. You’ll have to play around with this, as it will be slightly different for everyone, but what works for me is to pat down the meringue to roughly the intended size, then swipe around with a damp finger to make it as circular as possible. Then I spiral inward, and once at the center, lift finger to create a peak.

Bake at 350o for 15 minutes. Do not open the oven while baking, unless you smell something burning or something. Remove from oven to wire rack, let cool 1 minute, then with a metal spatula, pop each meringue from the parchment so it does not stick there while it cools completely (which you must do before moving onto the next step).

 

Assembly

Spread about a tablespoon of lemon curd upon each cupcake, then top with a meringue. Ta da! Lemon Meringue Cupcake! Store in an airtight container, and for extra crisp meringues, don’t top cupcakes until ready to serve.

The end!

 

 

nutrition summary: (for 1 of 12 cupcakes) 165 calories, 9g fat, 0g fiber; about 3 weight watchers points

Apr-24-2009

daily noms: the very first

Posted by aleta under daily noms

The more dedicated readership of Omnomicon may have noticed a marked lack of update for Wednesday. Perhaps they are thinking to themselves that I am a total friggin liar because right there on the sidebar, just under Ad City, is a little blurb assuring passers-by that I faithfully update on Wednesdays, and between last week wherein I updated on THURSDAY and this week wherein I failed to update AT ALL, I have not upheld this informal agreement. But I’m pretty sure that most of you are only just now thinking to yourselves “huh, I guess she didn’t update this week,” so hopefully I haven’t let anyone down.

I’ll get candid for a moment here. I’m pretty psyched that there are lots of you who come back every week and leave comments telling me that you’ve made a bunch of my recipes. You guys. That’s pretty much the coolest thing ever. That’s one of my regrettable catch-phrases, but here I mean it. Six months ago, all I wanted to get out of this site was a few people I didn’t know in person to come by more than once.

I’ve received some requests for more frequent updates, but unfortunately between my real-life full-time job (which I love very much and has nothing to do with food at all), and the two thousand-word posts a week that take me no less than 10 hrs apiece to produce, adding three more such posts is simply undoable. As it is, I’m up til 2am at least three nights a week trying to perfect half-batches of cupcakes, find the most artistic angle on that batch of ingredients, and sifting through vintage cookbooks for interesting ideas. Nevermind the fact that I can no longer make plans on Saturday or Sunday til after 2pm because THE LIGHT, what if I run out of LIGHT while we’re out at brunch? Plus, I am literally incapable of producing posts of a lesser quality, owing to some kind of Type A personality disorder, but I think I have a compromise.

How about daily photos? I can never use every photo I want in a post, and while I have no problem fail-blogging, sometimes there just isn’t enough to say about that thing that didn’t work out, leaving me with 10 lovely but orphaned pictures. Think of them as out-takes, bloopers and previews. How about every weekday?

To kick things off, here’s a picture, and a quick question for those of you who keep coming back. I’m not trying to fish for compliments (I already know I’m pretty great, thanks), but I’d like get an idea of why do you keep coming back? Your response doesn’t need to be a 300-word essay, but if you tell me what you like, or even would like to see, I can work on more of that. And then everyone wins.

enjoy lentils.

Thanks, guys. You are the best internet-friends a gal could ask for!

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The last Recipe Round-Robin met with success, and I was so happy the idea took hold! Since the close of the contest, I’ve done a little informal polling to decide on the next generationally-transcendental delight. I thought it would be nice to alternate sweets and savouries, as food-types tend to gravitate toward either cooking or baking specifically. And with that in mind the next Round-Robin Recipe is meatloaf!

And this month’s prize is The America’s Test Kitchen Family Cookbook, Heavy-Duty Revised Edition. From what I hear, it is a fantastic read.

For those of you new to Omnomicon’s RRR scene, welcome! This is our second contest, the first was for Blueberry Muffins, and here’s a link to the results. I think we’ll do this monthly to give everyone plenty of time to hold up their end of the bargain. The basic concept follows.

  • Omnomicon announces this month’s recipe, aiming for some widely-enjoyed comfort food. A tantalizing prize is mentioned.
  • You say “oh hey, I have my own recipe for that!” and step up to the challenge by sending aleta at omnomicon dot com your recipe. You don’t need to be supercook to throw in your recipe, but if it’s something you’d feed to someone else, what do you have to lose by entering? Recipe-providers will henceforth be referred to as “Recipierres.” Fancy!
  • Or maybe you don’t have a recipe for that, but you would still like to taste-test. Great! We need more taste-testers than recipes anyway! Readers have said they have a lot of fun taste-testing with their friends, roommates and families. Taste-testers will be referred to as “Tastebuds.”
  • Aleta sends you (whether you are a Recipierre or Tastebud) two anonymous half-recipes to try out, giving you two weekends to test.
  • You reply with which was your favourite.
  • A winner is announced and sent the prize!

I’m hoping to better define the process and rules with each iteration, so the concept is a bit of a work in progress, but here are some new details for this round. Please note that many of these details are anticipatory rather than a reflection of people trying to bend rules. For example, nobody tried to enter multiple recipes last time, but I could see someone misinterpreting the spirit of the contest and wouldn’t want to make them feel bad nor make the contest unfair for others. Rules: they keep things easy.

  • One recipe per entry. Remember, this is supposed to be your favourite meatloaf recipe. The term “favourite” implies just one.
  • Contributed recipes MUST be (at least mostly) your own. It’s fine if you started off with someone else’s and modified it (hey, there’s nothing new under the sun), but please use some scruples. So your grandmother’s recipe from some ancient text is fine, but copying and pasting some other food bloggers’ recipe is a huge no-no.
  • Recipierres MUST taste-test in order to qualify for the prize. This is kinda just good manners.
  • You are more than welcome to blog about your experiences, but please save your posts until the contest has ended—we wouldn’t want to bias anyone.
  • As a corollary, if you are blogging about your testing, please keep it kind. The recipes are anonymously titled, but you never know if someone who reads your blog was the one who sent in their more creative recipe that just didn’t do it for you.
  • To keep things fresh and fun for everyone, once you’ve won one RRR, you must wait 2 more rounds before entering a new recipe. So far this only affects Lo. Sorry to single you out, Lo.
  • And lastly, your judging is completely subjective; as a rule of thumb ask yourself  “which recipe would I be more likely to put in my recipe box to make again and again?” For example, suppose Recipe A tastes better than Recipe B, but you’re watching calories and Recipe B is way lighter and you think you’d be more likely to make B in the future . . . Recipe B deserves your vote. Think similarly about prep time, availability of ingredients, appearance, the coolness factor . . . etc. “Best” is all about your opinion and priorities.

According to Dictionary.com, a meatloaf is “A mounded or molded dish, usually baked, of ground beef or a combination of various meats and other ingredients.” You may submit a vegetarian meatloaf if you so wish, but must be willing to taste-test meatloafs of the more traditional variety.

Recipierres:
You have until 5pm EST next Thursday: April 30th, 2009 to send your most bestest-ever meatloaf recipe to aleta at omnomicon dot com. Please, no recipes in the comments.

Tastebuds:
You have until 5pm EST next Thursday: April 29th to leave a comment indicating your interest in tasting. You will (hopefully) receive your assignments by the next day (Friday 4/29), and will have the better part of two weekends to try both recipes. Your vote is due Sunday May 10th by 3pm EST.

I just broke a bottle of champagne over my computer monitor and cut a ribbon with some giant scissors, so we are good to go!

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So by now we all know that milk (after a little cooking and straining) becomes yogurt, and strained yogurt becomes Greek yogurt, but if you keep straining for a little longer, you get yogurt cheese. Think fat-free cream cheese, except without weird ingredients like structuring proteins, and you can make it at home. I have no problem with chemicals, but I am a fan of simplicity, and if I can eat the same thing with less stuff in it, I’d rather.

So as it turns out yogurt cheese is called different things in different places. This foodstuff came to my attention at a Middle-Eastern restaurant where it was called “labneh,” alternately spelled “labaneh,” its Lebanese name. Indians call it “dahi,” and for some reason Wikipedia seems to think it’s the same thing as Greek yogurt. Since I do operate under the assumption that Wikipedia knows better than I, so I’m guessing that Greek yogurt is technically a particularly loosely-textured yogurt cheese. Given its recent commercialization, I will refer to Greek yogurt as the stuff you get in the store and yogurt cheese as the stuff with a texture like cream cheese.

At this point, I can’t imagine I’m spoiling anything by pointing out that this post could be alternately titled “how to make labaneh,” “how to make labneh,” “how to make dahi,” or “how to make yoghurt cheese.”

For the last few weeks I’ve been experimenting on how to get this right. Since yogurt is cheaper to get in large quantities, I’d been straining it extensively, if effort put into leaving something there for awhile can accurately be described as “extensive.” Seemed easiest to do it with a strainer.

Extensive leaving-it-there-for-awhile.

And uh, I ended up with Greek yogurt. With a strange sort of texture.

Greek yogurt that was supposed to be labneh.

I tried a few variations on this: in the fridge and on the counter, each checked every 12 hours or so and I never really got any further than Greek yogurt (for the record, on the counter is quicker). Which is all well and good, except that I can buy Greek yogurt at the store, and the quality is better, and given the yield per cup of yogurt, it costs about the same too, so as far as I’m concerned there’s no convincing argument to make Greek yogurt at home, other than maybe to try it out and get some indie cred from your more-tattooed friends.

And besides, I wanted labneh, which I can’t buy at the store, and wtf is up with the yogurt that refuses to cooperate? The entire internet agreed it only takes 24 hours to make this shit!

Just then, a little piece of my childhood reached out with a warm, knowing smile.

Stonyfield Farm's Oikos.

Alright, I lied, it was an email from someone I’ve never met who may have been smiling, but I wouldn’t know. What I do know, however, is that she works for Stonyfield Farm. I grew up going on field trips to Stonyfield Farm, as their headquarters are situated a few towns over from my hometown. I’m pretty sure that their organic yogurt was the first time I’d ever even seen the word “organic” on a foodstuff, because that trend took a little while to make it to New Hampshire. These people are trendsetters.

So Stonyfield wants to create some food blog buzz about their new organic, fat free, low cal, totally delicious Greek yogurt, affectionately called “Oikos” by sending along some “get it free” coupons. I was happy to accommodate for a few reasons. Excellent opportunity for a list.

  1. Food blog perks. Yay!
  2. What a convenient coincidence, I have been buying lots of yogurt lately for this labneh thing and could use the discount.
  3. I’m definitely not an organic foodie, but I am a HUGE proponent of buying local. Stonyfield Farm is a scant 50 miles from my home, which in food-source terms is my backyard.
  4. I figured out some food science.

So what do you do with Greek yogurt, other than just substitute it for regular yogurt in stuff? Well, there’s the boring but tasty “stir in some vanilla and honey” thing.

Yogurt + honey.

But I wouldn’t really call that a recipe. So I strained it, figuring that starting out at the Greek yogurt stage would cut my work in half and I could do a little product placement and maybe it would even work this time.

Making labneh.

This reminds me of the stork’s creepy baby-in-a-bag thing! I do this at room temperature because it seems to work more quickly and because it’s kind of a pain in the ass to work around a big bowl in my fridge. And I mean, we’re effectively just breeding bacteria here anyway, so this method doesn’t make me all that squeamish.

After just an overnight stint in the suggestive sling *ahem* I awoke to sheer delight. LABNEH! My quest, it was ended.

Results!

A perfect cream cheese texture . . . smooth, none of the weird pebbliness of previous attempts. I refused to believe this was just because organic is better, and compared Stonyfield’s ingredient list to that of other fat free yogurts. Turns out that Stonyfield has only milk + bacteria, whereas the other three cartons I examined included pectin or milk solids as thickeners. Now in terms of eating yogurt straight up, I don’t care if it’s thick because of milk solids or gelatin or inferior bacteria, but for my purposes here, Stonyfield worked out pretty well.

So here’s what you came for:

How to Make Yogurt Cheese

1 5.3 oz cup Greek yogurt (ingredients should be just milk + bacteria—no milk solids, pectin nor gelatin allowed!)
1 pinch salt
a piece of cheesecloth or muslin or even a very strong paper towel if you are daring
some place to suspend a leaky bag of yogurt overnight

Mix the yogurt & salt, make a bag out of the cheesecloth, then suspend it at room temperature for 8-12 hours with a bowl underneath to collect the whey as it drains off.

That’s pretty much it. Notes:

  • I use a rubber band to hang the parcel from a cabinet knob.
  • You can try this in the fridge, it will take a little bit longer.
  • And you can use regular yogurt too, but it too will take longer. Regular, non-Greek yogurt will yield about 1/3 c for every cup you use.
  • 3.5 oz of Stonyfield Farm Oikos yielded about 1/3 c yogurt cheese as well. Amount will vary depending on how long you strain and what brand of Greek yogurt you use.

Serve in one of the manners below.

Traditional labneh.

Traditional Labneh
like how I had it at that restaurant that time

Spread some of the yogurt cheese on a plate, drizzle some olive oil atop, serve with any combination of the following: pita, olives, tomatoes, chickpeas, cucumbers, hummus, bruised mint, sprinkles of other herbs or spices. Simple but the best application I’ve found to date.

Jalapeno yogurt cheese!

Jalapeno Yogurt Cream Cheese

1/3 c yogurt cheese (this recipe also works just fine for cream cheese if you omit the olive oil)
a drop or two of olive oil (brings out flavour)
pinch garlic powder
1/4 jalapeno, seeded and finely diced

Mix. Let mingle in fridge for a good while. Overnight would be ideal. Serve. Let me know if you try this one, I think it could use some work, but the idea is solid.

Imitation cherry cheesecake.
Cheaty-Pants Light Cherry Cheesecake Bites
makes just a few—eat alone or share with 1 other friend

1/3 c yogurt cheese
2-3 graham crackers (before you snap at perforation)
2 tsp sugar
2 drops vanilla extract
frozen cherries, thawed

Mix the yogurt cheese with the sugar and vanilla. Okay, NOW snap the graham crackers at the perforation, then slice each baby rectangle in half to make little squares. Spread a little cheesecake mixture onto each square, then top with a cherry and a little extra sprinkle of sugar. The graham crackers will get soggy very quickly, so these are not make-ahead nor party friendly. Think of it as a special private little treat to enjoy as you make them.

The end.

I don’t have much to say about the Daffodil Cake other than it appeared in my What’s Cooking in Massachusetts! 4H cookbook, and a quick Google is telling me that it is an Eastery-Springy-type of cake. So I guess I just missed Easter, which is fine because something in me still resists holiday seasonality. My guess is I still haven’t outgrown that jaded teenager phase, where family stuff is stupid and cheesey.

Foamy.

In line with the Spring theme we accidentally have going here, this cake is EXTREMELY light—for cake. It’s similar to an angel food cake, except that you are not left with an inordinate amount of unemployed egg yolks. In this cake, the egg yolks are used to make a second batter, this one all yellow, naturally, and the result is a little two-toned cake that is not as cool a surprise as say, a rainbow cake, but still pretty neat! It can be served in a manner similar to angel food cake, and in that vein would be quite delicious with some strawberries and whipped cream!

Egg yolks that are busily not going to waste.

I made this bad lawrence twice in an attempt to fix major problems from the first go at it. I cite as evidence:

Exhibit 1.

You can see how including that particular photo might counter any culinary abilities y’all might have thought I had. The good news is that I only had to try this one more time to get much more satisfying results, and I identified my major issues here. The first:

Daffodil cake.

Let me just say up front that is not meant to be a dick joke.

The terminology in the original recipe says “beat until stiff.” Now I’m going to venture that, in this case anyway, stiff does not imply stiff peaks, because the first time around it took me damn near 45 minutes with a handmixer to attain stiff peaks, which even then were passable at best. And then my cake exploded out of my pan and burnt to the bottom of my oven in a smelly mess (see above).

The other big hint that something was wrong was when I tried to remove the cake from the pan and then had to kind of grope it out with my fingers. It was embarrassing.

Mess.

Perhaps in 1962, they had nonstick tube pans they don’t make like they used to, but my nonstick bundt could not handle that baby, and as you can see, this time around I was plenty generous with my cooking spray. That cake might be soggy coming out of the pan, but it’s coming out of that pan on its own, goddammit!

Here’s a rare Omnomicon action shot.

Two tone!

And the bottom was the most delicious part of this. If you aren’t big on presentation, I recommend eating the entire crust off the bottom, because the cake is moist and fluffy and once you flip it onto the bottom and leave it that way for a few hours, the delicious crunchy almost-meringuey texture becomes the texture of just . . . regular cake. Not as magical at all.

Nice bottom.

Interestingly, though you pour the yolk mixture on TOP of the whites mixture (which would logically put it on the bottom of the cake once flipped out of the pan), the yolk mix is denser and therefore sinks to the bottom of the pan. In this particular piece, it looks like a funky ying yang.

Cake Shui.

But when I overbeat the white mixture, the yolk stayed right where one would expect it to—to the top of the pan and bottom of the cake. I have to assume this is due to the increased firmness in a longer beat time for the white.

Daffodil cake.

So then I took some literal shots with a daffodil, which really don’t complement the visage of the cake very well, but I bought those flowers and by golly they’re gonna be in my pictures!

Daffodil cake.

The best way to describe the plush airiness of these, however, is with this shot, wherein I tore a piece of cake in half. Verily, I rent it asunder for the visceral pleasure of it.

Daffodil cake.

And then one more picture of daffodils. Just so I can get my money’s worth.

Just daffodils. No cake.

Daffodil Cake
adapted from a 60s era 4H fundraiser book: What’s Cooking? In Massachusetts

6 egg whites
1/2 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 c sugar
1/2 c cake flour
1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 325o.Beat egg whites until foamy. Add cream of tartar and salt, and beat until the mixture can hold a little bit of shape, but not until stiff peaks form (it should take you about 5 minutes to reach this consistency with a mixer on medium). Briefly beat in vanilla. Sift sugar and flour four times (seems like overkill to me, but just to be safe I went ahead and did it), then fold into egg white mixture. Pour into well-greased tube or bundt pan and set aside.

Now it’s time for the egg yolks!

6 egg yolks
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
3/4 c sugar
3/4 c cake flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 c boiling water

Put about 2 c water on the stove to boil. You’ll want to measure your boiling water after it’s come to a boil instead of before (what with evaporation and what have you). Beat egg yolks 3 minutes, add salt and vanilla, then gradually beat in sugar. Sift the flour and baking powder four times (again, it couldn’t hurt) and add alternately with hot water. Pour atop the white mixture in the pan.

Bake 50 minutes, let cool completely (at least an hour) before removing from pan.

Serve by itself for a cottony delicious treat, or with fruit and the whipped topping of your choice for a more full-blown sort of dessert.

Fun variation:
So some versions of the daffodil cake include a lemon icing, and this one in particular calls for either vanilla or lemon extract in the yellow batter. My awesome idea is to dye the white part with lemon extract and the yellow mixture with vanilla. It will taste the same, and 90% of people won’t notice which is which, but it’ll be really funny for that one person with the particularly sharp tastebuds.

Daffodil cake.

nutrition summary (for 1 of 8 servings): 260 calories, 4g fat, 0g fiber; 5 weight watchers points

Thanks to everyone who sent me Google’s cached version of my post . . . unfortunately that was what I had started with two hours prior, sans recipe, not deleted altogether, but without all the hard work of the night. I’ve been learning to click save more frequently for ten years now and, apparently, will never learn. So anyway, here’s my revised all-the-better rendition of Coffee Nut Chicken.

Remember that time I posted that thing about how to score herbs & spices on the cheap? And then when I said I had a good recipe to use them all? This is that recipe, guys! Despite the word “chicken” in the title, this is easily modified to vegetarian or vegan tastes. Easily.

Toasty sunflowers.

The original recipe comes from Chef Paul Prudhomme’s out-of-print cookbook classic Fiery Foods That I Love, and the recipe is also available on Chef Paul’s website. I changed a few things to obviate the need for Chef Paul’s magical seasonings blends because any food with “magic” in the title is suspect to me.

Toasting pecans.

Not sure if this has come up yet, but Dano is my boyfriend. I hate the phrase “my boyfriend,” because every time I use it I feel like staking out some man-meat territory. To me, it sounds like “mah buh-FRAAAND.” So now that we’re real close friends, you’ll just have to keep track of his name like all my other pals. Internet: Dano. Dano: Internet.

"Mah buh-FRAAAND"

Anyway, I bring this up because Coffee Nut Chicken was the very first meal he ever made for me! *Awwww!* Turns out Dano can cook too, when I let him!

Poppy and sesame.

There are a metric shit-ton of ingredients in this recipe, so a little mis en place might be a good idea.
Birdfeed?

The puree is . . . um . . . not that pretty. But remember how there were all those delicious toasted nuts and seeds in there when someone inevitably describes it in less-than-appetizing terms.

More appetizing than you'd expect.

As promised, we begin with a herbs and spices do come into play. Specifically, an 8-spice blend if you don’t count salt. There are so many ingredients involved that this recipe presents some problems with some easy solutions. On the one hand you probably are missing at least *one* of the ingredients on the list. On the other, because there are so many flavours in play, your improvised substitution won’t ruin dinner.

Get your spices' worth.

It doesn’t matter what kind of chicken you use. Bone-in, whole chicken, skinned, some chicken thighs, breasts . . . you know, whatever. The original calls for a whole chicken, but I tend toward chicken thighs, so that’s what’s pictured here.

Tha chicks.

Onions, naturally.

Onions, but with stuff on them this time.

Simma!

Simma!

And then serve. Please remember all the hard work that went into this dish, because without that knowledge, this is probably the last thing you’d think you’d want to put in your mouth. Remember, it’s nutty and warm and savoury with an interesting heat that comes on just as you think you’re in the clear with spiciness. And it’s positively divine on egg noodles.

Coffee Nut Chicken

Vegetarian? Oh that’s cool, it’s easy to fix. Make the sauce with a veggie stock, and instead of chicken, simmer some whole portobello mushrooms, or other sliced mushrooms in the sauce (no need to sear!). Serve over egg noodles, or for vegan types, rice. I had egg noodles on hand, so unfortunately that’s the picture you get, but I hear vegans have excellent imaginations.

Coffee nut mushrooms

 

 

Coffee Nut Chicken
modified from a recipe by Paul Prudhomme

A very important note:
Please do not try to substitute ground coffee for instant, which is not at all the same thing. Just put aside your foodie-snobbery, suck it up, and accept that sometimes freeze-dried is what’s called for. Dano made this mistake exactly once. We had pizza that night. Other than that, substitutions work well here.

Seasoning
  2 tbsp lightly packed brown sugar
  2 tsp dried ancho chili powder
  2 tsp chipotle chili powder
  (if you have no interest in fancy chili powders, substitute 1 tbsp + 1 tsp total chili powders for the
  ancho and chipotle)
  2 tsp salt
  1.5 tsp cumin
  1.5 tsp garlic powder
  1.5 tsp onion powder
  1.5 tsp oregano
  1 tsp basil
  1/2 tsp ground cloves

The Coffee and Nuts (and what they are pureed with)
  1/2 c sunflower seeds
  2 c chopped pecans
  2 tbsp poppy seeds
  2 tbsp sesame seeds
  1 cup chicken stock or broth
  2 tbsp lightly packed brown sugar
  3 tbsp instant coffee
  1 tsp ground chicory (hard to find at regular grocery stores and therefore optional)

Other stuff
  6 chicken thighs (or 3 chicken breasts halved, we’re shooting for about 1.5 lbs of meat)
  2 tbsp canola, sunflower or other high-heat oil (olive oil will burn)
  1 onion, chopped
  1 cup chicken stock or broth
  8 oz egg noodles

Mix the seasoning spices by giving them a little pinchy-pinch. Rub about 2 tbsp of the seasoning into chicken. Set aside.

Heat a large skillet to medium. Toast the sunflower seeds then the chopped pecans 5-6 minutes each, shaking the pan as they toast. Toast the poppy and sesame seeds together for 2 minutes in the same manner.

Puree the sunflower seeds, pecans, poppy and sesame seeds with 1 c chicken stock, 2 tbsp brown sugar, instant coffee and chicory in a food processor about 1 minute.

Heat the oil in the nut-skillet on high until it moves easily. Sear each side of the chicken 2 minutes, then set aside; lower heat to medium. Add 1 tbsp of the spice mixture to the pan with the chopped onion and sautee 5 minutes or until cooked. Stir in 1 cup chicken stock or broth, scraping the bottom of the pan to release the brown bits. Bring to a boil, add chicken, nut puree and spice mix, then reduce to low and simmer for another 25 minutes, or until chicken reaches an internal temperature of 160o. If you want to make the chicken cook more quickly (but with the risk of having an extra-liquidy meal), cover and cook til the internal temperature is reached.

Now’s a good time to boil water and cook the egg noodles.

By request: finally, a vegetarian option!
I mentioned this earlier, but it bears repeating. Word-for-word, in fact, just to conserve my precious creativity: Make the sauce with a veggie stock, and instead of chicken, simmer 6 whole portobello mushrooms, or other 24 oz sliced mushrooms in the sauce (no need to sear!). Serve over egg noodles, or for vegan types, rice.

 

 

Nutrition Summary (one of six servings, using 1.5 lb chicken breast, No Yolks egg noodles): 555 calories, 6g fiber, 22g fat (but lots of the good kind, hehe); 12 weight watchers points

(using 6 portobello caps, No Yolks egg noodles): 475 calories, 8g fiber, 21g fat; 10 ww points

Apr-12-2009

um . . . sorry guys.

Posted by aleta under an aside

Kay listen, I spent all of this exhausted night writing this post on a truly delicious dinner favourite. Then I had to log in again. Then I lost the entire thing.

I’m going to go to bed and rewrite this tomorrow night or something. Sorry bout that. Here’s a preview for the emotionally invested.

Get your spices' worth.

<3, Aleta.

Tags:

Not to brag or anything, but I probably pay less for my dried herbs & spices than you do. I can fill my spice cabinet for about $10.

I’m so excited about this post . . . I’ve been working on it for weeks and the necessary research included grocery shopping, an impromptu Twitter survey and a *spreadsheet*, and I am a bitch easily excited by things that can only be figured out on a spreadsheet. So here goes: Aleta’s Guide to Buying Dried Herbs & Spices on the Cheap. And right up front, I promise the pictures get better as you read along.

When you buy spices & dried herbs at the right places, they go from “pretty expensive and at times cost-prohibitive” to “practically free.” Buying cheap spicery brings with it several very important benefits. Here’s a convenient bullet-pointed list of those benefits.

  • The sudden affordability of grabbing something you haven’t tried; if you don’t like it, eh . . . it was 43 cents to learn that.
  • The ability to replace your seasonings as frequently as you’re supposed to—6 months for dried herbs, 1 year for ground spices. I replace all mine every three months (mostly because I only buy 3 months’ worth at a time) for about $4. And yes, the improvement in taste from fresh spices to the dusty shit in the back of your cabinet is immediately discernible.
  • Hey, suddenly organic food is cheaper than conventional, how about that.

Obtaining affordable spicery is every bit as simple as locating an organic/health food store or co-op in your area—my personal H&S-supplier is Worcester’s own ARTichoke Food Co-Operative. ARTichoke is a really great part of Worcester’s community, and just being in the store makes me contentedly smile to myself the entire time. As a frame of reference, I’m a complete bitch at all other times, so that really means something. Also, they were so very accommodating with my request to take photos, and that’s pretty cool of them. So if you live in the Metrowest area, please give ARTichoke your business, and consider becoming a member.

Now pretend you’re me: at your local co-op grinning like an idiot, you wander to the back to see if they have what I affectionately call “the world’s biggest spice rack.”

World's biggest spice rack.

. . . and chances are, they do. Yes, regardless of size, they’re all “World’s Biggest” as far as I’m concerned. You’ll see a nice variety of spices in bulk, many or all of them organic, still a total steal compared to the grocery store (we’ll get to hard numbers in just a minute). The only concern you should have here is how frequently the containers are rotated, and if you’re too shy to ask, figure that the more traffic the store gets, the fresher their spices will be.

Spice rack detail.

Most of the prices are between $10 and $20 a pound. This sounds like an awful lot to pay for spices, but you are buying fractions of an ounce, so it’s a pretty good deal.

Holy oregano batman.

For example, that’s three months’ worth of oregano (for me) for about 29 cents. So I loaded up on the stuff I use the most for about $3.15. I never throw any away, because I never have to—I buy just the amount I think I’ll use, and then I throw in something I’ve never tried just for fun (this time it was chicory), and I rotate every 3 months.

Loadin on up.

So let’s say you are just moving out of your dorm and setting up your first apartment and you want to fill your spice rack. How much does that cost, and how much can you save by buying the same amounts at the co-op? WELL I AM GLAD YOU ASKED, I HAPPEN TO HAVE A SPREADSHEET HANDY. These are prices at my local Stop & Shop compared to prices at ARTichoke Food Co-op.

How to Buy Herbs & Spices: The Chart

(Please note that you do not *need* to buy a full jar’s worth, so your price can easily be under $4 for the top ten there).

So for a more established cook like myself, where I already have a bunch of herbs & spices in stock and only really need to replace them one at a time every now and again, the cost savings isn’t quite what it would be for our hypothetical college student (I figure it’s about $70 a year for me instead of about $26 up front for a new homesteader). But my biggest advantage is being able to afford to replace my H&S extremely frequently. And also, my spices are organic, thrusting my taste in agriculture into the realm of the most gastronomically elite.

Incidentally, ethnic markets are another great place to buy H&S. My local ethnic store of choice is an Indian market, so while they have a wide array of spices, they really don’t have any dried herbs at all. But if the co-op is out of something, or I think I’m gonna need A LOT of it (like, 5 times as much as comes in the typical bottle at the grocery store), or if you don’t have a co-op or organic bulk store near you, this is another option.

Spices!

Even though, pound for pound, the Indian bulk prices are even WAY lower than the co-op prices, this approach doesn’t look like it’s saving you all that much money. The reason is you can’t buy less than a pouch of any of these, and 7oz is A LOT (notice how the average oz in the grocery store is about 1.5oz). Strange, though, how even buying 7 times as much of something is still cheaper. Here comes another spreadsheet.

How to buy Herbs & Spices (from India)

Fun fact: If you compared the amount you would have to buy at the grocery store to the amount you get at the Indian store, you will save (literally, I calculated it and everything) $135.31 for the top 10 and $483.22 for all 20. I’m not even kidding.

So that’s my big secret! I have a littler one, and it’s how to fill the glass bottles (the ones you obviously saved from the grocery store herbs and spices) with the co-op feed without using a funnel. I actually figured this out just the other night as I was taking pictures for this post, so I’m feeling awfully clever at the moment. But it’s so simple, it doesn’t even require words:

Filling the bottle

And that’s it! Throw some scotch tape on there, write the name of the spices with a Sharpie (I still can’t tell cayenne from paprika without a risky sniff test), and you are fully-equipped to throw in cavalier handfuls of seasoning into your next spaghetti sauce.

Congratulations, you are finally free of the economic oppression placed upon you by your local grocery store!

Spices!

I already asked Twitter, but if you aren’t on Twitter or feel like stating it again for perpetuity, what are your top ten most-used herbs and spices?

And, if I can manage it, look for a bonus post tomorrow on something you can do with all your fancy new (suddenly inexpensive) herbs and spices. Cheers, dear readers! Forget it, maybe another time.

Okay, Recipe Round-Robin Tastebuds . . . did you get Recipe A? Did you just love it? Well, so did everyone else, and I’m so excited to announce the winner of Omnomicon’s very first Recipe Round-Robin: it’s none other than my old pal Lo of Burp! Where Food Happens fame!! Come on down, Lo, you have won your very own copy of The America’s Test Kitchen Family Baking Book.


See? Like that!

I want to thank the several other folks who entered the contest for so generously sharing their recipes. Y’all rock! Everyone had delicious descriptions of each of the recipes involved, so rest assured yours garnered some mad props in some end of the globe.

So what made this recipe so awesome? Here are some of the nice things our Tastebuds had to say:

  • Muffin A was hailed as “the best blueberry muffin EVER”.
  • A was fluffy, moist and very very tasty.
  • This was a difficult, very delicious decision. But Recipe A is the winner in my book (er, stomach?).

And here’s what my test run of Lo’s Blueberry Pecan Muffins with Brown Sugar Topping looked like. We start with buttermilk and oil. It looks pretty cool.

Oil and buttermilk.

If you don’t have a cup of buttermilk on hand, you can always substitute a cup of milk with a tablespoon of lemon juice, or, as I recently found out, 1 cup of yogurt. Now, clearly Lo got it right with the buttermilk, but just in case you forgot to pick up the buttermilk at the grocery store, these are things you are more likely to have already on hand.

There were blueberries, of course.

Blueberries, of course.

. . . and a subtle amount of pecans in the batter that is *juuuuuusssttt* enough without overdoing it.

Pecans are a secret.

I have to admit that I kind of messed this up just a teensy bit, though not enough to destroy the tastiness of all this (*phew!*). See, I was out of dark brown sugar, and apparently I haven’t quite mastered how to make dark brown sugar out of sugar and molasses, soo . . . my topping was a little too wet (as in, it had too much butter and not enough sugar). And because of that, I ended up with little holes into the top of my muffins. But if you use hard packed brown sugar and did it right, yours should look more like mounds of brown sugar and less like um, well . . . brown gloop on top. Like I said, this is me and NOT the recipe. So make sure yours looks like brown sugar still.

My mistake.

And you know, the brown sugar and pecan topping really makes this extra-special.

The topping makes it.

But in the end, it’s a blueberry muffin, and aren’t they always just totally delicious?

Best blueberry muffin.

Lo’s Award-Winning Blueberry Pecan Muffins with Brown Sugar Topping
courtesy of Lo

2 cups flour
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup oil
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup fresh blueberries

1/2 cup dark brown sugar packed
3 T melted butter *(see NOTE below)
1/4 cup finely chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 375º.

Combine flour, granulated sugar, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, and 1/2 cup pecans in large bowl.

Whisk buttermilk, oil, egg, and vanilla in small bowl. Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients; stir just until combined. Gently fold in blueberries. Allow batter for 15 minutes before dividing evenly among paper-lined muffin cups.

Combine melted butter and brown sugar in a small bowl. [Aleta’s NOTE (and the only part of this not word-for-word Lo’s recipe): a lot of people have had a hard time with this crumbly topping like I did (notably, others have had no problem at all), probably from not packing sugar enough. Because brown sugar packing is an inexact process, I recommend reducing the butter 1 tbsp or eliminating altogether to prevent sunken-in tops.] Spoon 2 tsp over each muffin then sprinkle with 1 tsp of the remaining finely chopped pecans.

Bake muffins at 375º for approximately 20 minutes or until a toothpick in the center comes out clean. Cool on a rack for at least 15 minutes before serving.

 

 

nutrition summary (for 1 of about 14 muffins, with topping, real egg & all-purpose flour): 310 calories, 1g fiber, 16g fat; 7 weight watchers points

 

 

Hey, one last thing: a lot of participants said they enjoyed taste-testing and would do it again. Yay! That means my experiment was successful! That said, what do you think would be a good recipe standard for the next Recipe Round-Robin? I’m looking for the kind of thing that everyone has a recipe for. So far Twitterers have recommended things like macaroni & cheese, meatloaf and shepherd’s pie . . . keep going, what else can you think of? Leave a comment if you know just the thing, and thanks dude!

Apr-2-2009

fail: spent grain cake

Posted by aleta under recipe fail, vintage recipes

I have enjoyed some luck with used book stores and cook books that were sold to housewives for a fundraiser 40 years back. People share treasured family recipes that often turn out great (or are at least interesting enough to try to modify). However, for the record, I’d like to advise all of you against spending $5 on this ditto-machined little avocado number.

Recipe for a successful guild year.

I think that’s supposed to be Julia Child contact-papered to the cover there. Also, there were foil stars, one can only assume for extra pizazz, and a recipe for something awful titled Deviled Eggs Supreme that calls for cream of celery soup.

The guild year poem.

Here’s where the trouble started.

Where the bad idea began.

I thought for sure I could coax this cake into being an acceptable vehicle for the several pounds of spent grain in my freezer.

I call this one "Spent grain in pyrex" for lofty artistic reasons you aren't likely to grasp.

For the uninitiated, that there is a byproduct of brewing beer, and since it seems like everyone we know is a homebrewer, it’s plentiful and free around here. Spent grain is an all-natural high-fiber cereal, neutral in flavour, but similar in texture to cooked rice or oatmeal. You see why it might just work. Once upon a time I posted a recipe for spent grain cookies, but harvette did a much better job of the recipe by excluding peanut butter.

I took a picture of oatmeal too.

Oatmeal!

I have no good reason for sharing that other than it is a particularly nice picture of oatmeal, wouldn’t you agree? So anyway, I made two cakes tonight, one oatmeal, one with spent grain.

Brown sugar--always gorgeous.

More cakemaking.

. . . and while they didn’t look too bad . . .

Failed oatmeal springform.

Bundt grain fail.

They were best served like this . . .

Spent grain fail.

. . . directly into the trash can. This cake was way too sweet, never ever (ever) finished cooking, was super dense, and lacked any kind of complexity to its flavour, even after I bastardized the recipe (swapping shortening for butter, more flour, maple syrup, etc etc). Yuck. After just a couple bites I suddenly wanted to eat nothing but vegetables for the rest of my life.

So apologies to the faithful who check up on Thursday mornings, I have no recipe to share today because this one is too awful and people might actually expect to be able to eat it afterward, which um, isn’t really a realistic option. I am, however, just putting the finishing touches on an article with a really bad working title like Omnomicon: Special Edition: how to buy spices. I would like to get that post up tomorrow with not only that how-to, but also a recipe to test out all your new spices. Why? Because I would hate to disappoint anyone. I . . . I love you man!

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