Alpha Bakers -- Monkey Dunkey Bread

Hiya. I got distracted by some new cookbooks but I'm back in brioche and rolling out the balls. Pretty excited about Louisa Weiss' Classic German Baking book, though, I'll tell you. I made a potato cake right on top of a rye bread crust.  Why? Who knows. Those starchy Germans, right? 

In Roseland, though, it was Monkey Bread week, and Monkey Bread is all about brioche dough. Side note: I am unable to make brioche without hearing Julia Child yodeling about BRI-oche in my head. Since I just read Alex Prud'homme's new French Chef book and showed Jeremy a bunch of French Chef episodes (one of which he found so inspiring that he immediately made Coq au Vin), this seems appropriate. For this over the top Monkey Bread, I was supposed to make brioche, roll little balls of it around pieces of chocolate, drench it in caramel, bake, and cover with more caramel. I skipped the chocolate and the final caramel drench, because I genuinely prefer a simpler sweet bread. Not everyone agrees, however. I took this in to an office meeting and mentioned what it had been intended to look like, and saw colleagues' eyes glaze over with desire. So next time, I'll make it like that. In the meantime, it's pretty easy to make spectacular BRI-oche as long as you have a stand mixer.

Alpha Bakers - Very Slow Caramel Buns

Cake is all right, and pie is delicious, but my real passion is for breakfast pastry, from waffles to scones, biscuits to brioche. Sticky buns are akin to the waffle sundae, a good thing taken to heights of unbelievable overkill, then garnished with nuts. I love them, although sometimes I love them better without the caramel. The sticky buns in The Baking Bible are called Caramel Buns, and they are a brioche base rolled with nuts, sugar, and rum raisins, baked, glazed with raisin sugar syrup, and covered in a thick drippy caramel and more nuts. I know. Seriously.
 
Rose's brioche is a simple but slow dough, one that makes me glad I have a mixer, as it would be a gigantic pain without. It starts with a little sponge, which is then covered with a flour mix and refrigerated for a while.

I ran out of flour so I supplemented with a touch of my gluten free mix, accidentally contaminating the GF mix in the process. I'll need to make a new mix (enriching Bob's Red Mill as usual), but the old one will still be useful for gluten light baked goods and experimental models.
 
After some overnight rising and then stretching and folding and more rising, the dough is rolled out, brushed with egg, sugar, raisins, and, in my case, walnut bits, and then rolled up and cut. Rose recommends cutting the rolls with a piece of dental floss, which works perfectly and is weirdly satisfying besides. I have a twitchy response to public flossing, as my family knows to their sorrow (seriously, why is this a public event?), but public cinnamon roll cutting is full acceptable.
 
When I rolled it up, I completely forgot the rum-soaked sultanas, so I poked a few in on top. Most of them were forced up and got a touch toasted, but I really wanted them in there. Not sure what to do with the remainder, but especially with the rum, they'll last a little while in the refrigerator.

The buns are proofed for a while (it was a snow day so I let it run a little longer), and then baked with a Ball jar in the middle. The jar is filled with water--boiling water. I almost missed that the water was supposed to be boiling but caught it at the last minute.

While the buns were baking, I made the glaze (mostly raisin, rum, water, and sugar) and the caramel. The caramel was a pretty basic sugar/cream/butter shake-up, but I got a little creative and threw some cloves, Meyer lemon slices, and half a vanilla bean in with the boiling sugar, straining them out afterward. This gave the caramel a sort of 'Christmassy' flavor, as one taster said. Candied Meyer lemon slices were a good cook's treat.
 I overbaked the buns a bit, or they would have benefitted from the leftover raisins, as they were a little dry. Now that I think about it, that might have been the non-wheat flours, too. Next time I might make them larger.  Perfect baking for a snow day.

Alpha Bakers -- Frozen Pecan Tart

I don't do pecan pies. I just do not. Despite my love of caramel and nuts and pie crust, pecan pie is one of those things that people are yes or no on, and I am no. Why exactly? Can't say. But I don't make them and I don't eat them. There are so many good pies out there, why play around? Also, pecans are expensive.

It's just too early to bail on a bake-through now, though, so I made that Frozen Pecan Tart and now it is frozen and it is awaiting the first day of the new year, when it will be consumed with (presumptive) joy by the assembled crowd at my house. Here's how it went.

The crust: a food processor cookie-style dough, with turbinado sugar (I used raw). The dough was easy to work with, so easy that I didn't go through the elaborate pan-lining strategy outlined by the book, but just lined my tart pan as I always do, and was very satisfied with the results, especially the lack of puffing up in the par-baking. This may be my new go-to tart crust for sweet tarts. I'll probably stick with Dorie Greenspan's savory tart crust, but they're not that different.

The filling is a quick custard with egg yolks, sugar, butter, and golden syrup. I was glad to strain it because there were definitely a few egg bits, but the final product came out delicious. Can't I just eat that with a spoon and skip the whole dreaded pecan pie thing? Whatever.

My pecans were on the small side, so they didn't line up into the prettiest patterns, but otherwise the bake was uneventful. My only quarrel was with the instruction to un-mold the tart then slip it into a freezer bag once cooled. I had left the bottom round on instead of switching to a serving plate, and was glad I did, because the outer crust was too fragile to bag unsupported, and started crumbling off right away as I tried to get it in (cook's treat). I re-molded the tart into the tart ring and froze it that way. If I need the tart ring before we eat it it will come off easily, and the tart will be much sturdier now that it is frozen.

No comments on taste at this time, will update once we sample it on New Year's Day. 
UPDATE: The tart sliced beautifully, as promised. The filling had more stability to it than I expected, though, and remained reasonably firm even at a warm room temperature, rather than becoming a mess of goo, making it a perfect party dessert.

The pecan pie aficionados were loud in this tart's praise. 'Special,' 'good texture,' and 'delicious' were bandied about, and in general it was popular. I tasted it for authenticity's sake, and while I didn't love it, I think if the filling had been taken to a slightly deeper caramel stage and made into chewy caramels, I would have. Perhaps my pecan pie issue is more of a texture issue, in the end. It was a complete success of its kind.

Cakes and Cakes!

Baking phases come and go in waves. Inspired by my decorating session with Kristen and Jill, and by the ever-rolling tide of birthdays that fill the spring and summer months in my families, I've been making a lot of cake.

I've also been thinking more about cake, in the sense of giving more thought to the creation of unusual or special taste/texture combinations, rather than just following someone else's recipe. It's easy to over-reach in this vein--most people are happiest with pound cake and whipped cream, or devil's food with fudge. While I'm more than happy to whip up whatever makes the birthday person happiest (my preferred birthday cake is, I'll remind you, biscuits with whipped cream and ample berries), a birthday is a good excuse to work up a new speciality, or a surprise.

When planning a cake, I usually begin with a few pointers from the intended recipient or their spokespeople (i.e. 'Joe loves everything chocolate, but hates nuts.' 'Jane was really excited about some custard she had last year in Italy.') Sometimes, though, people give me too much freedom, and my imagination takes some bold leaps. This year, I was asked to make a birthday cake for my cousin Sophie, to be served at a family reunion. When I asked about her preferences, I was informed that she was a 'good eater,' and liked everything, and that I shouldn't consult her since it could then be a surprise. While the phrase 'good eater' is more associated in my mind with two-year-olds and meat animals than with my lovely 25-year-old cousin, I took the point. The options were endless.

My first idea was a riff on this ever-popular birthday cake, stolen from Smitten Kitchen and wildly popular among my friends (requested for 3 separate birthdays in 2012, if you're counting). Instead of chocolate cake with peanut butter cream cheese frosting and peanut butter chocolate ganache, I would alternate layers of chocolate and banana cake, and top it with the peanut butter cream cheese frosting. For the cake layers, I used Rose Levy Beranbaum's recipes for 'Miette's Tomboy' and banana cake, from Rose's Heavenly Cakes. For sanity's sake, I made six-inch cakes. The result (above) was great but a little on the tooth-achingly sweet side (my co-workers disagreed).

Using the remaining layers from the first cake, I made another. Same cakes, different buttercream. To add a little more austerity (heh) I made a caramel silk meringue buttercream. Not austere at all, actually, but the burnt sugar does cut the richness a bit.

This was an easier cake to work with, and more stable at warm temperatures than the cream cheese, but I did get some comments noting that the buttercream was overkill, and that a thin chocolate glaze might be more appropriate. However, this comment did come from someone who has frequently suggested that strawberry ice cream and/or pie would be better with chocolate, so the grain of salt was firmly in place.

It is true, though, that buttercream can be very very rich, and maybe it was all just shaping up to be a bit too much. I considered all-banana, with mango buttercream, but got some late-breaking news that banana might not be the birthday girl's favorite.

After toying with this for the better part of two weeks, I ultimately decided to simplify. For cake, I went all chocolate (double recipe of Miette's tomboy, baked in 8" pans, split into four layers). Late at night, I made the final choice: orange or strawberry buttercream? For a five year old's birthday party (or mine), I would have gone with strawberry, but I was assured by several sources that orange would be more elegant and more generally preferred. The final cake, pictured below after 25 puncture wounds, was chocolate with orange mousseline buttercream, orange curd, and pistachio cream (from a jar that has been taking up cupboard space--more on cleaning out the cupboard shortly).

Birthdays are one thing, but I also make cakes for no reason at all when I get in this mood, as witnesseth the following masterpiece--Almond Shamah Chiffon (also from Rose's Heavenly Cakes) cake with an apricot mousseline. This is a slightly moister chiffon cake made with almond flour. I think people were a little bit frightened by the lipstick redness of the buttercream, but the cake layers, moistened with a light soaking syrup, were perfectly textured.

Tuesdays with Dorie: On the Run

In the midst of all the cake, I do keep making all sorts of things from Baking: From My Home to Yours, and they often turn out to be the most popular. I've made nearly all of the recent TWD recipes, but haven't had time to blog them, and sometimes failed to get the picture. But here they are, all in a row.

Maple Cornmeal Biscuits--crunchy drops, not a lot of staying power, but no problems here.

Oatmeal Nutmeg Scones--ahead of the pack. These are more than they seem, nubbly, and nutty, and really, really, good.

Blueberry-Brown Sugar Plain Cake -- like muffins in a pyrex dish. Lovely. With rhubarb. Something about the words 'plain cake' just screams the best part of L.M. Montgomery's Avonlea.  So wholesome yet kind of not.

Caramel Pots de Creme--wonderful on the bottom, grainy on the top where the bain marie didn't quite reach. Breakfast. Seriously, why do people eat muffins for breakfast. It's all about custard.

I might skip today's chocolate biscotti, but we'll see. On we barrel, on the way to looking just like a couple of barrels. Custard ho.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Unadorned Simplicity

Is that an oxymoron?

I considered dressing up this cake for the camera, but I decided that its rigorous simplicity demanded simple presentation. We ate it just like this, and it was complete in itself. The Karmel Cake, which is also a caramel cake, is a butter cake made with a milk/brown-sugar caramel in the batter, which gives it a subtle depth of flavor and a crunchy brown crust.

I subbed some white sugar and molasses (my usual) for the brown sugar in the caramel. I also baked it in an 8" pan instead of a 9" (I don't have any 2" high 9" pans), which made it a little taller and increased the baking time (and the dome), but no matter. I wish I'd taken the caramel just a little bit farther into the dark side, but there will be other chances. It was supposed to cool entirely, which would have made for a bit of a stiffer batter, but even warm, it did just fine. Having had a terrible horrible experience with a large vat of chai caramel at work the other day (think shop filled with smoke, oven filled with goo, entire day's production thrown off), I decided to take this one easy. Sometimes cooking at home is just so peaceful.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Mud Turtle Cupcakes

I just watched an episode of Top Chef All-Stars where Fabio, the ridiculous and usually charming Italian madman, goes into a monologue in a Chinese grocery store about his pet turtle. Apparently, he bought one when he moved to New York, he loves it, takes it for walks, etc...and is deeply saddened by the cruelties of turtle soup.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

I don't think, though, that he'd mind these cupcakes. They don't so much look like turtles as sport that classic 'turtle' flavor combination: chocolate, caramel, and nuts. The base is a simple sour cream cocoa cupcake. The ganache was supposed to be dark chocolate, but my bodegas (even the fancy one) failed me, and it became a Hershey's milk chocolate whipped ganache, over which my bitter caramel sauce dripped nicely. I rarely buy pecans, so the nuts of choice were walnuts, as they have been in the last two Rose cakes that I made (one is upcoming, for free choice). I didn't eat one yet, but I tasted all the components. My taster, who is also my long-lost photographer, home from the opera wars, approved of them, looking askance at the number that I proposed to bring to work. As I work with about four people, he's probably right.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

So happy to have Matt back in the home and back at the tripod--I did extra special food styling tonight to feed his hobby. But he leaves again in not too long, so I'll be needing to get my camera fixed.

Those of you waiting for Lisbon updates, they're coming. Had to wait for most of my pictures to arrive, and I'm still waiting for five minutes to stop, breathe, and reflect. But in the meantime, enjoy the cupcakes.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: White Velvet Cake with Caramel Cranberry Chocolate Ganache

Photo by Matt Korahais.

This week's cake was on the quick and easy list, and quick and easy it was. I had made the White Velvet Cake (egg whites only, very tender) a few times from the Cake Bible back when I was testing cakes for Stacey and Avi's wedding, and as I remembered, it was simple and snappy. The frosting was supposed to be milk chocolate ganache, but I only had a giant bar of dark chocolate and didn't want to be wasteful. Still, to keep it from being too bitter, I added some cranberry almond caramel left over from my attempt at Maury Rubin's Caramel, Cranberry and Almond Tart.

It's getting eaten, but slowly. Not the most exciting cake but solidly good, a basic, a birthday cake...or, as Jill said, 'A good cake to mash into ice cream.' It's a reminder of how far I've come since the days when I could bake mean bread but had no clue how to turn out a perfect white cake.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Caramelized Pineapple Bread Pudding Cakes

I don't wear a watch. I am, however, pathologically obsessed with the time of day. These facts combined mean that, in practice, I use my phone as a watch, and am constantly clicking it to light up the display and tell me the date. This recently became a problem when I got a new phone that refuses to estimate the time when it is out of range or on the subway. Instead, it just says **searching**. As the subway displays also refuse to tell me the time when the train is in a station, this can get a little frustrating. Some subway stations are long and clockless, and I am usually hurrying out of them on my way to be late somewhere, so although I am aware of my phone's little quirk, I frequently pull it out reflexively and check anyway. It is usually **searching**.

Lately, this morning included, I've caught myself talking wearily to it under my breath. "Searching? I just bet you are." Or, in more philosophical mood; "Searching? Well, aren't we all."

This week, I channeled my searching into the making of a heavily caramelized, remarkably complicated Pineapple Bread Pudding. It began with the making of a brioche. Actually, I made two brioches, using Rose's recipe; one large one to sell at the bakery, one small one to use in the pudding. I trimmed the little loaf into cubes (it came just shy of the ingredient list's required weight, but I went with it), and then ravenously ate all of the trimmings.

Next, while the brioche cubes dried in a 200 degree oven, I made a very lightly cooked creme anglaise base (cream, milk, sugar, eggs...) and poured it into a shallow pan. When the cubes were dry, I slipped them into the creme anglaise to soak, covered and refrigerated.

Then came the caramel. This recipe has not one, but two caramels. The first, a quick water/sugar mix, with a little butter added, went to line the pudding molds--a shallow corningware dish and a larger oval IKEA number. The second was a kind of poaching liquid for the pineapple, with pineapple juice (or in my case quince poaching liquid) and corn syrup added in. I poach-roasted the pineapple, then cut it up, which was nice, because it had a clean yellow interior and a caramel crust, sort of like the smoke ring on good barbeque. As all this went on, I ravenously consumed the other half of the pineapple. Sensing a pattern?

At last, the assembly: Cooked pineapple laid in over pan-lining caramel, covered in milky bread cubes, which had soaked up all of the liquid. The dishes were placed into a water bath, and into a 300 degree oven. When they were lightly browned and bubbly, I pulled them out and unmolded the small square one.

Oh. The unmolding didn't go so well--as many other bakers have pointed out, the caramel stayed in a hard, thick layer in the pan, as all the rest flipped semi-neatly out. I went after it with a spoon and it cascaded down onto the pudding in taffy-like waves. Very pretty, actually, just not exactly right for such an otherwise soft dessert.

I found this one overly sweet, and would have liked a larger proportion of bread to topping, or perhaps only one caramel, but we ate it all, and Matt, newly returned from Rotterdam and sporting his usual sweet-affinity palate, was a fan.

Next week, the Heavenly Cake Bakers continue the search with Molten Chocolate Souffle and Lava Cakes.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Chocolate Cake with Caramel Ganache

I made a ganache this week.

It was a really really good ganache.

I made a cake too, but the ganache was the star. It was a caramel ganache, with creamy caramel added to chocolate. Some caramel ganaches are are bitter, or only taste like chocolate. This one, not so. This one, I love. This one, is like the best chocolate in the box, the one you spy and wait for, and know is the best because it is square and has chewy caramel inside.

The cake was good too, but due to a dome-ing incident, the layers were very thin indeed, rendering the cake/ganache ratio ridiculous. And delicious. I made the cake at the bakery on Saturday, and went back this morning to take a picture. And every piece was gone. Good news for those of you who like photos is that Lily says I should make it again right after labor day.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Plum, Peach, and Blueberry Upside Down Torte

Working our way down the 'Quick & Easy' list, we come to this simple cake, with a batter made in the food processor. In addition to quickness and relative easiness, this cake has adaptability, which came in handy when I ran low on sugar. I made only a quarter of the caramel recipe that lines the pan. Although that switch made it impossible for fill the pan with a caramel layer, I was able to sprinkle caramel in dribs and drabs, and that seems to have done just fine.

For the fruits, I used peaches and shiro plums from the farmers market, sprinkled with the last remaining blueberries from a huge Trader Joe's pack. The TJ blueberries weren't that great, but they did make up for it a bit in quantity, and cooked they just melted right into the plums and were great.

This was an easy cake to eat, a breakfast lunch and dinner cake, although Matt didn't seem that interested in helping me to eat it, so after a day or two on the counter I found the last quarter moldy.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Burnt Sugar Ice Cream

I recently bought a new cookbook. Not the most unusual occurrence in my life, but I really am trying to limit my purchases, and use the books I have. This was a special occasion, though, a cookbook release from one of my favorite bloggers and recipe writers, David Lebovitz. In addition to being a Chez Panisse-pedigreed, Paris-living chocolate and dessert expert, David L. is also the author of The Perfect Scoop. The Perfect Scoop, like Bread Alone, was a seminal cookbook for me, opening a new world of expertise beyond just following recipes. Most of David L.'s other books are out of print, but his blog provides spot-on recipes and hilarious commentary regularly, and when I saw that he was putting out a new book that would draw from his previous works, I had to buy Ready For Dessert. Who am I kidding, I pre-ordered it. It's a beautiful book, and I look forward to cooking from it, but instead of immediately jumping in to the cheesecakes, fruit tarts, or cookies, I found myself drawn directly to the ice creams, which ultimately drew me back to The Perfect Scoop. 

Thus began a mini-frenzy of ice cream making that has so far yielded Caramel, Rhubarb, and Maple ice creams, Chocolate Gelato, and Lemon-Buttermilk Sherbet. The Caramel, made with David Lebovitz's recipe, was by far the winner in taste and texture. As I was waiting for a moment to make it again, Tuesdays with Dorie came to the rescue with a very similar recipe for...'Burnt Sugar' ice cream. With slightly different proportions of milk, cream, and egg yolks, it was caramel ice cream time all over again.

In an attempt to take the brown flavor of caramel to the next level, I used rough brown large crystal sugar from the local Jamaican bodega. This added a molasses note, but minimized the burnt flavor of the caramel, because I couldn't see when the sugar had browned, and took it off a little early. I was also a little flummoxed by the instruction to add ALL the milk and cream to the saucepan, as opposed to Lebovitz's usual practice of retaining half the liquid in the chilling container, which helps the mixture chill faster, and, more importantly, allows it to thicken more dramatically, giving better clues as to when it's done. My custard, although it reached the proper temperature, seemed very thin. Instead of vanilla extract, I added almond extract, which gave another shade to the light caramel flavor. I churned half the batch last night, when it was really still too warm, and will churn the rest tonight and check out the difference in quality. (Turns out it was fairly similar--I had used a small enough batch initially that it had frozen despite the short cooling time).

Maybe it's the almond extract, but by the time I came home to churn the second batch, Matt was in love with this flavor like no other before. He usually likes to put a few add-ons on a non-chocolate ice cream, but he told me when I was contemplating shaving in some chocolate to the second batch that he had actually put some chocolate on a bowl of this ice cream, and then changed his mind and taken it off, as it was perfect in pure form. Some things should not be messed with.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Chocolate Caramel Chestnut Cake

I must have really been missing elaborate cakes. Although if you asked me, I'd almost surely tell you that I love crispy, buttery, nutty desserts, cream and fruit over chocolate, and pies over cakes, somehow when it was my turn to pick the week's Tuesdays with Dorie recipe, I went all out. I picked the Chocolate Caramel Chestnut Cake, a three-layer extravaganza filled with chopped nuts and buttery ganache, and then covered in more chocolate glaze. No joke.

The magic word, of course, was chestnuts. No one, not even, I dare to say, an Appalachian farmer living through the winter on them before the blight, could love chestnuts more than I do. I love everything about them, from their hokey homey-ness, their association with fires and hot cider, and their sweet, firm, and slightly dry roasted selves. I love them from street vendors and hot out of the oven. I adore them with brussels sprouts and dream of them in stuffing. Chestnuts are it.

Cake? What cake?
Oh, this one.

As many TWD participants mentioned, this was an extravagant and expensive cake. Over a pound of butter, a pint of cream, and nearly a pound and a half of various chocolates, not to mention the chestnut paste and chopped chestnuts. This was a CAKE. Just thinking about it makes me feel awed and giggly.

It was also a two-day affair. (Some, like the Engineer Baker, made it a one-day affair by skipping out on all the trimmings. As you can see, she was pleased enough by the cake plain and simple. This may be me next time--I'll be making truffles out of my ganache if nobody minds.)

It began with ganache--a stovetop caramel, lightened with cream, flavored with milk and dark chocolates, and thickened with butter. That went into the refrigerator, and on to the cake.
The cake was a butter cake, creamed and sugared, with the addition of a cup of sweetened chestnut paste, and lightened with beaten egg whites. I made mine in a 2"x8" pan and found it filled it nicely, although because the pan was smaller and taller than recommended, it took nearly 45 minutes longer to cook. The cake, wrapped well, went into the refrigerator with the ganache.

Two days later, assembly. Cake was sliced into three layers, and trimmed and leveled to perfection. Each layer was brushed with a syrup of Campari and sugar. Following the syrup, a full cup of ganache was luxuriantly spread over each layer, followed by chopped almonds--(it was supposed to be chopped chestnuts, but the chestnuts at the corner bodega were clearly from last year, dry, hard, and sadly, moldy.  I was able to salvage a few for decoration, but the almonds had to do last minute duty. Next time.)

The remaining ganache iced the cake, and then...wait for it...I poured a dark chocolate glaze over that. In the final slices, it was beautiful to see the two layers of color in the chocolate icing. This was serious cake. I had intended to freeze it and present it to my family for Thanksgiving, as I won't be there with them, but there was a more immediate need, and off the cake went to load-in for Granada, my theater company's new play, where dusty and exhausted producers and crew were able to add some richly-deserved chocolatey smears to their talented faces.

Here is the recipe, adapted from its appearance in Bon Appetit in 2005.

Chocolate-Caramel Cake with Gold-Dusted Chestnuts
by Dorie Greenspan

Ingredients:
Caramel ganache
9 ounces high-quality milk chocolate (such as Lindt or Perugina)
3 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
6 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons water
1 cinnamon stick
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream
1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (21/4 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature

Cake:
2 cups cake flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups (packed) golden brown sugar, divided
4 large eggs, separated
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup sweetened chestnut spread with vanilla (or several cooked chestnuts spun in the processor with some vanilla and sugar)
1/4 cup whole milk

Brandy syrup
1/4 cup brandy
2 tablespoons golden brown sugar
24 jarred peeled whole chestnuts; 12 coarsely chopped, 12 left whole (about 7.25 ounces)

Glaze
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
8 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped
Edible gold dust (optional)

Preparation
For ganache:

Combine milk chocolate and bittersweet chocolate in medium bowl. Stir sugar, 2 tablespoons water, and cinnamon stick in heavy medium saucepan over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat and boil without stirring until syrup turns deep amber, occasionally brushing down sides of pan with wet pastry brush and swirling pan, about 6 minutes (time will vary depending on size of pan). Add cream and salt (mixture will bubble vigorously). Bring caramel to boil, whisking until smooth and caramel bits dissolve, about 1 minute. Discard cinnamon stick. Pour hot caramel over chocolate; stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Let stand until completely cool, stirring occasionally, about 1 hour.

Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until fluffy. Beat in chocolate mixture in 4 additions. Cover and refrigerate ganache overnight.

For cake:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour 9x9x2-inch metal baking pan. Line bottom of pan with parchment paper. Sift flour, baking powder, and salt into medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until fluffy. Beat in 1 cup brown sugar, then egg yolks and vanilla extract. Beat in chestnut spread, then milk. Sift dry ingredients over and gently mix together. Using clean dry beaters, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Add remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar and beat until stiff but not dry. Fold egg whites into batter in 3 additions.

Transfer batter to pan. Bake cake until golden and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 48 minutes. Cut around cake to loosen. Cool cake completely in pan on rack.

For syrup:

Stir brandy and brown sugar in small bowl until sugar dissolves.

To assemble: 
Turn cake out onto work surface. Peel off parchment. Using long serrated knife, cut cake horizontally into 3 equal layers. Place 1 cake layer, cut side up, on 8x8-inch cardboard square. Brush cake layer with half of brandy syrup. Spread with 1 cup ganache (ganache may needs some time out of the refrigerator first to become spreadable--KS). Sprinkle with half of chopped chestnuts. Top with second cake layer, cut side up. Repeat with remaining brandy syrup, 1 cup ganache, and remaining chopped chestnuts. Top with remaining cake layer, cut side up. Spread remaining ganache over top and sides of cake. Place cake rack on sheet of foil; place assembled cake on rack. Chill while preparing glaze.

For glaze:
Bring cream, sugar, and 1/4 cup water to boil in heavy medium saucepan, stirring until sugar dissolves. Add chocolate and whisk until melted and glaze is smooth. Let cool until thick but still pourable, about 4 hours (it only took mine about 10 minutes-KS).

Pour glaze atop cake, spreading evenly over sides. Chill until glaze sets.

Brush 12 whole chestnuts with gold dust. Arrange chestnuts across top of cake. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover with cake dome and refrigerate. Let cake stand at least 4 hours and up to 8 hours at room temperature.) Serve cake at room temperature.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Chocolate Crunched Tart

I made this tart on the same day that I made last week's pufflets, and brought them both in to work. The 'turnovers' got a good response, but they couldn't touch the tart. In fact, once I finally located an implement (back of a fork) with which to cut the tart, one eater informed me that they made the turnovers 'taste like dirt,' and another told me that it was the best thing to happen to him since the office had moved a week and a half ago. Not bad.

The dessert in question, which can turn others to dirt and liven the days of very very put upon receptionists, was a tart layered with chocolate ganache and nutted caramel. It was supposed to have a tart crust, but I accidentally made Dorie's pie crust instead (it's on the page following the tart dough) and didn't bother to correct the mistake. Because I also didn't bother to allow the caramel layer to chill a while, it kind of blended into the crust and into the upper chocolate layer, which muted the effect but kept the taste wonderful. This kind of thing is not my dessert of choice, but no one can deny its near universal appeal (and it is good). Even Matt, though, who loves chocolate, said it well when he said it wasn't much different from eating hot fudge out of the jar. I can't explain why that's not as good a thing as it sounds like. I think, with my love of salt caramel, I would have preferred it with the layers unblended. Or just a great big fistful of salt caramel would be fine too.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Caramel Crunch Bars

Overheard in the stairwell, as our upstairs neighbors went out on Saturday night:

Him: They're baking again!
Her: It smells sweet.
Him: mmm
Her: I love it when it's bread...

I loved them so much that when they came home they found a tin of these ridiculously sweet little bars at their front door.
This week's Tuesdays with Dorie challenge was caramel crunch bars--a buttery shortbread-like base with chopped chocolate in it, topped with melted chocolate and toffee bits. This is the somewhat upscale variation on two specialties that friends of mine have perfected, the saltine toffee crunch and Miriam's bake sale tested toffee bars. People don't seem to be able to resist toffee, and, as Andy on The Office said, 'I am a person.' I love anything with burnt sugar and butter, caramels of all kinds.

The only changes that I made in this recipe were to reduce the total amount of chocolate (out of necessity) and to use plain old coffee grounds instead of instant espresso powder. In a pudding or a more delicate cake, that might have been a problem, but here they just blended in and added their crunch. I made the toffee myself, over almonds, using the recipe from David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop (much like this one).

The end product? Fun, but kind of overwhelming. For my taste, I should have just made a double batch of toffee. Still, they had that sweet intensity that sometimes everyone just needs, an ice cream sundae in bar form, buttery and tooth-aching and addictive. I bet they'd be fantastic picnic food, after something very savory.

And yes, I did put vanilla ice cream on them--or toffee vanilla ice cream, because I made it in the same pot that the toffee had been made in, and it melted and absorbed the drips. I churned the vanilla ice cream that didn't go into the sandwiches with the remaining crumbs from last week's chocolate cakes. I am a TWD recycling superstar.And the neighbors--liked them very much, though they may also have found them overwhelming. He just came down to return the tin, used a lot of words like 'intense,' and brought me a sample of his new sourdough starter. I gave him half of mine in return, to see if they were different at all. Supposedly, after a few weeks in a new place, a starter takes on the character and local yeasts of its current location, no matter where it came from, so maybe they'll be just the same, but it will be interesting to try.