Tuesdays with Dorie: Far Breton and Honey Nut Scones

Rustic pastry bathed in golden light? Oh yes.

As I may have mentioned, Tuesdays with Dorie is finishing up and doubling up recipes to make it to the end by year's end. This week, both recipes were so appealing that I made them in one night.

Above, we have the Far Breton, a high-level example of what the British call nursery food--custardy batter pocked with sweet dried raisins, craisins, and cherries. The Far was a close cousin of some other good friends of mine, the clafoutis, the popover, and the cup custard, and so completely compelling in its eggy-ness that I ate it all in about 24 hours.

With most of my attention focused on the Far Breton, I didn't have a lot of time for the eating of scones, but these honey-walnut ones won my approval by being very plain and simple. Whole-wheat pastry flour was allowed to shine, and they were a perfect jam vehicle.

Speaking of jam vehicles, nursery custard, and the end of the year, I wanted to take a second to float an idea I've been hatching. (Mixed metaphor alert--unless the idea is perhaps a duck.) Having built a pretty decent reputation in the neighborhood as a provider of delicious things, I'd like to launch a little consignment business for the holiday season, providing pies, cookie plates, and other good things upon request. Perfect for your dinner party or host gift dilemma. More on this shortly, and all suggestions welcome.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Chocolate Pots de Creme

French and I have a tortured relationship. I like the food, and the tablecloths and the attitude and all, but I fear the language. For a pronunciation challenged person like me, the myriad French words in the theater and food worlds are a perpetual minefield. I usually bull my way through by saying them slightly snidely, as if I were mispronouncing them on purpose to show those cheese-eating surrender monkeys. I mean, in the end, you still get cup custard. But I will cop to the fact that my aunt had to teach me how to say Pots de Creme quite recently, and I still feel a little dopey saying it.

(Can't say I'm the only one on the internet--yes I'm looking at you, bloggers who present their creations with a hearty 'Walla!.'  No, I'm still not over this.)

I feel just fine eating it, though, and was pleased when it was this week's Tuesdays with Dorie pick. I halved the recipe, and screwed it up somewhat by adding too much milk to the ganache at first, and refusing to skim and cover the baking cups, but the final product, though not picturesque, was some good pud. For those of you don't share my Francophobia, here's the recipe.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Fold-Over Pear Torte

This may not be widely known on the internet, but anyone who knew me in high school will confirm that I am a recovering anglophile. My addiction was less to footballers and crusty punk and the Royal family than to the comedians, the cottages, and above all the literature. I remain a Shakespeare addict, a serious Caryl Churchill fan, and a Jane Austen evangelist, but I no longer dream about a 19th century estate or little rose covered cottage of my own (ok, I do, but it doesn't have to be in England, karma...anywhere would do...).

The British addiction, which coincided with and was partly fueled by a furious crush (pash?) on Emma Thompson, was enhanced by much early reading of Britsh children's books, from the better known novels of C.S. Lewis, Noel Streatfield, and Frances Hodgeson Burnett to the slightly more obscure works of folks like Rumer Godden. These were complimented by many books from the era when American children's books were rather like some of their British counterparts, especially the mildly Transcendentalist 'moral pap for the young' written by the great and underestimated Louisa May Alcott, and the works of Lucy Maud Montgomery (a slightly different but no less urgent nod to Laura Ingalls Wilder, of course). I loved the dresses, the farmhouses, the emotional honesty, the earnest love affairs, and the food. Blancmange, hotcakes, raspberry cordial, and yorkshire pudding, custard and cold chicken and jelly. One item that always made an appearance was mince pies, a Christmas must-have (not being Christian, I never really knew that they still are).

This week's Tuesdays with Dorie selection, a crusty roly-poly filled with custard, chopped pears, almond extract, raisins and nuts, took me right back into that world of stodgy puddings and flaming mince. In this, it's a very uncharacteristic Dorie dessert. Usually, she leans toward the modern all-American or the classic French, but this Fold-Over Pear Torte is, at least in my version, right in the center of the British/American post-colonial camp.

Due to a momentary measuring brain-blip (unsurprising given my exhausted mental state for the weekend), I made half the filling in a full crust. It was presumably less wet and fruity than it was meant to be, but that spicy, almost Christmas-y taste was great, and the abundance of crust made it much easier to transport to rehearsal, where it was entirely consumed, although not with as great avidity as next week's Caramel Pumpkin Pie.

"Shut the lower draught of the stove, so that the oven may heat. Then wash your hands and get out the flour, sugar, salt, butter, and cinnamon. See if the pie-board is clean, and pare your apple ready to put in."


"I really don't know how to measure for such tiny pies; I must guess at it, and if these don't succeed, we must try again," said Mrs. Jo, looking rather perplexed, and very much amused with the small concern before her. "Take that little pan full of flour, put in a pinch of salt, and then rub in as much butter as will go on that plate. Always remember to put your dry things together first, and then the wet. It mixes better so."


"I know how; I saw Asia do it. Don't I butter the pie plates too? She did, the first thing," said Daisy, whisking the flour about at a great rate.


"Quite right! I do believe you have a gift for cooking, you take to it so cleverly," said Aunt Jo, approvingly. "Now a dash of cold water, just enough to wet it; then scatter some flour on the board, work in a little, and roll the paste out; yes, that's the way. Now put dabs of butter all over it, and roll it out again. We won't have our pastry very rich, or the dolls will get dyspeptic."      ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Men

Tuesdays with Dorie: Crunchy, Custardy, Peach Tart

This was a perfectly wonderful tart. I used some tart dough left over from a brief flirtation with Maury Rubin's Book of Tarts. I love custard, and I love peaches. I thought the nutty streusel, which I sprinkled quite inexpertly (looks a bit like dog food, no?), was overkill. But I like peaches (and apricots) and custard very much indeed. The tart pictured went to the same dinner party that featured the Lemon Meringue Cake. Despite the competition, I think this tart would have stolen the flavor show if not for one flaw--it had been made the night before and had sadly become a bit soggy. Still delicious though. The little overflow individuals that I made and ate the night before? Flawless.

Oh, and did you want to see some of my experiments with the tart book? The fancy ones, in individual flan rings? The kind I used to have to lift with a large spatula off of marble slabs during my brief stint behind the City Bakery counter? The ones I, frankly, always wondered why people bought when there were croissants sitting right there. Clearly, I'm a pastry person. But this plum tart with almond cream was as edible as it was picturesque. I still have the book from the library, so there may be more of what Matt calls 'spare dessert.' Take me for what I am. Who I was meant to be.

Pie Frenzy

Last weekend, Stacey of BKFarmyards, a "decentralized urban farming network" that I've done some data entry for, invited me to represent Lily & Fig at a pie bake-off fundraiser at Jimmy's No. 43. Jimmy's is a basement bar, though a well-lit one, and the pie-off was in a back room, giving the whole affair an interestingly ilicit aura.

Pssst...back here...you want some pie, little girl...?

In fact, there was even a little girl, Jimmy's outgoing daughter Georgia, who, despite proclaiming her general indifference to pie, fell in love with the kosher salt garnishing Four & Twenty Blackbirds' 'Salty Honey' version, so I guess we did some mild dealing and corrupting of youth.

The event was one of my first forays into the wider world of Brooklyn foodie-ism, and my pie was in some very good company.  I didn't get to taste everything, but I did get to meet some seriously accomplished pie bakers and urban gardeners, including, in addition to Emily and Melissa of the aforementioned Four & Twenty Blackbirds, Allison Kave of First Prize Pies, Betty Brooklyn (whose individual Short Rib and Stout pies carried off the People's Choice Award), Kat of Piety Bakery, Brooklyn Honey, Rooftop Farms (winner of the Best Savory), the SCRATCHBread team (who filled hollowed out bread with an incredible combination of orange cauliflower puree, mushrooms, greens, and grapes), Lauren of Pie in the Park, and many more, including the makers of some truly unforgettable goat meat pies dribbled with savory jus.

And my pie? Well, it was good. Knowing what I know now, I might have gone in a different direction, but for my rookie bake-off, it was a good effort. I went savory, and created a new recipe that I'd never tried before.

Over a bed of roasted Vidalia onions, I layered red and Chioggia beets in a concentric pattern. A savory custard filled out the pie, and I scattered toasted pine nuts and goat cheese on the top.

 In retrospect, I would have mixed the goat cheese right into the custard, but all in all, it was a success. I think, though, that things would have gone even better if I had played to my strengths, made a custardy or fruity pie that I could love to pieces, rather than a very pretty beet pie that I couldn't be totally sure of (and I am kind of indifferent to beets, except that I do like cooking them). Still, this is all hindsight. I was proud of my pie, though it won no awards.

The bake-off did bring out my latent competive pie streak though--now I just can't wait to enter MORE BAKE-OFFS. And WIN. Or, you know, bake some more pies. Like I did this week. Seeing all those beautiful pies filled me with so many ideas, and so much desire to perfect my crust and crimping technique. Tough to do on such a hot an humid week, but I did manage two more pies, a double crust rhubarb pie and an old fashioned custard pie from the Joy of Cooking.

 The rhubarb pie was good, but the custard pie was the real star. I cannot stop eating it. It is like those little egg tarts from Chinatown bakeries except better because I put cherries in. It is really irresistable. Matt, for some unaccountable reason, has been very able to resist both of these perfect pies. More for me.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Toasted-Coconut Custard Tart

Coconut cream pie re-mixed...with toasted coconut right in the custard, a thick tart shell, and unsweetened whipped cream...Eat your heart out, President Obama, this one went to Sandy. 

Last month, Dorie was looking after my chocolate fiends. This month, it's jam lovers and coconut cravers. This is the second coconut dessert this week, following hard on Miriam's birthday coconut cake with lemon curd and seven minute icing. That cake was the finish to an epic feast (and horseback riding adventure) that deserves its own post, though, so I'll just say that there has been more coconut in the house this week than for many many months. I love it, but Matt doesn't eat it, so perhaps it's just as well. We'll take a 'light' month and give away our TWD. But I still lick the spoons, because I can't resist custard or cream in any form.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Lemon Cup Custard

This one was a no-brainer.
I love cup custard. I love lemon. And I was on a clear liquid diet eagerly awaiting my promotion to soft foods.

So, lemon cup custard. In cups, of course.
Infuse milk with lemon zest, strain and whisk into eggs and sugar, add a touch of hazelnut extract. Bake in water bath. I had some for breakfast. Very good, perhaps just slightly richer than my usual. I'll have to check the proportions and see if that was real or perceptual.
I recently found out that I have a custard-loving friend who does not know how to make this ultimate easy comfort food for herself. I would be so sad if I did not know how to make custard. My mother is a big fan of grape-nuts custard, and my father adores jello, so there was always something quivering in my childhood home, and those were some of the earliest things I learned to cook. Today is my father's birthday, which is traditionally celebrated with either carrot cake or a jello party, where each guest brings their own fanciful creation. Consider this my slightly off-topic offering, Dad. I'm still saving the Nigella Lawson gin and tonic jello mold for next time.

I have bombarded the above-mentioned friend with offers of instruction and recipes. By the end of this month, she will know how to make custard or it won't be my fault. What she does with this knowledge is up to her.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Floating Islands

What on earth are these? Alien spawn?
Milk volcanoes? Close. They're Dorie Greenspan's version of Floating Islands, the classic impress-the-boss'-wife dinner party dessert. I always wanted some of these (custard? MORE custard? caramel?) but they always seemed too silly to bother assembling. I'm more of an eat-cup-custard-out of the bowl girl than a frost and ice and assemble type. Between my mediocre photography skills and my lack of presentation in general, you may have already gathered that. Or, (and this is likely) you may know me. I sometimes like to do a fancy thing, though, and this was a good excuse. The first step is creme anglaise, which I make all the time and call it ice cream, so that went fine. Then, the meringue...whipped to a frenzy and then...poached in milk. That was odd. They came out well, I think (see above), though I'm not totally sure what well would have been. They had a fun texture but were kind of tasteless. Onward. I slapped the cold fluffs in the cold custard, and started some caramel. Unfortunately, I got distracted and burned it, so maple syrup took up the slack.
My floating island looks like a reverse egg.
It was good, though not amazing. I ended up tossing the rest of the islands, though a small amount of custard is still waiting in the fridge. Maybe I'll make a very small amount of ice cream.

Cup Custard

I love the Joy of Cooking. Particularly the little illustrations in the custard section. This page and the waffle page are far and away the dirtiest pages in my copy of the book--I rarely use it for anything else.But it comforts me.
Cup custard is the best.

You just heat 2 cups milk, and whisk three eggs and some sugar and salt and vanilla in a baking dish, slowly whisk in the milk, top with nutmeg, bake in a bain-marie (water bath to you) slowly for about an hour. Then it's breakfast, lunch, dinner and midnight snack, and not even too bad for you.

Cup custard is the best.

Tuesdays with Dorie: Creme Brulee

Taking 'Tuesday' a little figuratively here, but bear with me. Last Thursday, a week ago now, I started toying with the notion of doing my Tuesdays with Dorie early, as Tuesday is now the most full day of the week for me. Somehow, though, fish soup and bread and the collapse of the world financial markets just kept getting in the way. Here in the Days of Awe, now, though, I finally took the five minutes to stir together a decent creme brulee.
I love custard. Custard is not hard. Custard is easy. Custard is delicious. Custard is good for breakfast. This recipe was a perfect creme brulee, I would have preferred it deeper and slightly less sweet, but that would really make it a flan or a cup custard, and this was creme brulee.

After a quick time in the freezer, I had reasonable success with the brulee part under the broiler, with the ramekin suspended in a bowl of ice. Next time I'm borrowing Stacey's torch.

I might have been more inclined to take more pictures if I wasn't so pissed off at the mouse that I saw running over my stovetop and climbing into the top piece of it as I entered the kitchen. It is possible that I revved the broiler just in the hope of roasting the little shit, but I can't say that worked.

Bread Pudding

I haven't written much about this on this blog, as it's not that sexy, but one of my favorite ways to have my dessert is a silky, slidy, homey way, with overtones of vanilla and nutmeg, warm and soft and...well, maybe it is sexy.

I would be such a terrible vegan. I could live without cake, but milkless and eggless would be sad indeed. I love puddings and custards, especially slow-baked, with a little skin on. They're ok flavored (I favor lemon, coffee, caramel, and banana), but I really crave the purity of just a baked egg custard, or if I have as much bread around as I did yesterday, a crusty, squashy bread pudding.

I mixed cubes of the Pane di Genzano and last week's Semolina Raisin Bread, both staled, threw in a few chunks of apple, peach, and plum, and poured a mixture of hot milk, cream, egg, sugar, and vanilla over the whole thing, and baked for an hour and half. And it's perfect.

Sometimes, and custard is one of those times, it's not really necessary to follow every nitpicky step to get a lovely dessert. I was riffing on Dorie Greenspan's apple bread pudding, which involves caramelized apples, apple butter, butter, and a 30-minute soak before baking. I eliminated most of the fuss, (though never the water bath while baking, that really matters), and wound up with slightly leaner though not meaner bread pudding with a layer of delicious dry crusty bits on top.
This isn't to say that the apple bread pudding made as directed is a bad thing, I've made it and it is very very good, just that I like desserts where there's room for simplification, late night throwing together while someone nice is making squid and shrimp pasta. Also, any dessert that has a possibility of qualifying as breakfast is a winner--I almost always like breakfast better than dessert anyway. Far from incidentally, Matt happens to love bread pudding too.

Also, look how thrifty. All that stale bread used, and I think that that apple may honestly have been six months old.

Tuesdays With Dorie - Caramel Topped Flan

This is not the Tuesdays With Dorie recommended recipe. This week we were supposed to make a berry cobbler. Knowing me, many of you might very well ask why I didn't make it. I adore berries and biscuit dough, to the point of obsession, but because of this obsession, I already had half a rhubarb pie in the refrigerator. The pie, which I didn't blog about, had been frozen whole and unbaked, then baked a week later. The rhubarb kept its shape and its tartness, which I preferred to a collapsed mush. But then, you know how I feel about rhubarb.

So, assuming that I'd had all the biscuit-like things that were good for me this week, and that the house might like a change, I took advantage of the Tuesdays With Dorie newcomer loophole - the past recipe. I'm not totally clear whether this loophole is official, but it seems that when TWD members have reason to avoid a certain recipe on the list, it is permissible to switch in a recipe made by the group before they joined.

So, as my passion for custard equals my passion for biscuit and berries, I made a quick flan. I halved the recipe but not the caramel, as I wanted a lot. Flan is easy, quick and dirty, and always good. That said, my supply-influenced modifications, (half & half replacing milk and cream, two eggs instead of the recommended 1 and 1/2 egg and one yolk) seemed to make a thick and solid, rather than meltingly creamy, flan. All told, I would eat any flan gladly, but I think Alice Waters' version from The Art of Simple Food has worked out better for me. (In answer to the question posed in the comments, pictures have been a little spotty these days because I damaged Libby's camera and have been running around madly.)