Food Revolution Day: Biscuits Delivered

The hard part was over. I'd figured out what to make for Food Revolution Day, Jamie Oliver's  global day of action to help keep cooking skills alive. I'd made the biscuits - a life skill if there ever was one, passed down by hand through the generations.

Now, where to take the biscuits? My friend Betty would be an excellent prospect. She's the tallest member of a group of women I call "The Beautifuls." Each week they pull on their tap shoes and dance together in a small studio. They're perfectly coiffed, smartly dressed and always accessorize - the rest of us are ragamuffins in comparison. Did I mention they're from The Greatest Generation? Some of their early dance steps were beside visiting soldiers during World War II. They know how to live. They cherish the moments that bloom as memories.

Betty had missed a few classes, so what better excuse than to ring her doorbell, hand over the biscuits and check on her? Remember my goal to "think small" in the previous post? Baking for just one person has a power all its own. Very strong magic.

Hoping to amuse Betty, I dressed like a mom from the 1950s, baked Dorie Greenspan's Saint-Germain-des-Pres Onion Biscuits from her cookbook "Around My French Table" (and in case she needed some chocolate, also the Korova cookies from Greenspan's book "Paris Sweets."). I had lemon curd on hand, I had strawberry rhubarb jam, so those went into a basket, too. Once I got going, I just wanted to share it all. And that was the point of Food Revolution Day: Cook it, share it, live it.

To my delight, Betty and her husband, Bill, were at home. They placed the Korova cookie on a stunning china saucer, which sat on a silver tray, covered with white linen.

They poured out tea and with it, their stories.

I've never felt so regal, so rewarded.

Food Revolution Day: A Beautiful Biscuit

A lifelong passion for a well-rounded biscuit

Think small.

Getting involved in Food Revolution Day is as easy as a biscuit and as significant as salt of the Earth. British chef and media personality Jamie Oliver started the food initiative in 2012 as a global day of action to help keep good cooking skills alive. This year's theme is to choose a food, cook it and share it. That can be as simple as handing a dish to a neighbor or teaching a class on how to make it.

Award-winning cookbook author and Beurre & Sel creator Dorie Greenspan tweeted Oliver's idea and encouraged her "French Fridays With Dorie" group to get involved. If they needed a starting point (and don't we all), they could choose a recipe from her cookbook "Around My French Table," and go from there. That's where I jumped in. It took some noodling and stirring about in my own head, but I managed to think small and remember her onion biscuits.

(When we think too big, we talk ourselves out of action, concocting a million excuses why we don't have the time, resources and French finishing salt to get the job done. Thinking small is the key to hopping forward, a way to participate that feels doable.)

Biscuits are a natural for me; I was raised on them. Once my mother found out we learned biscuits in home ec, I had to make them every Sunday. My first efforts were flat, lifeless disks and often shaped like the bell or star cookie cutters we had. She persisted, and I handled the dough enough times (and used a champagne glass to cut the shapes) so that we got to know each other better - the biscuits and me, that is.

Mom was adamant on sticking with it: If you could make a good biscuit, you could get a husband, she said. We'll discuss that later.

Roll forward to these days. Well, a year ago. While prowling the bookshelf of my friend Jeanne Ambrose (she is editor of Taste of Home magazine and the author of Heartbreak Recovery Kitchen), I found Greenspan's cookbook and her recipe for Saint-Germain-des-Pres Onion Biscuits. I scribbled the recipe on the back of a ukulele song sheet (the only paper at hand) and vowed to try the biscuits. Once I did, I forever turned my back on the old buttermilks. I've stirred many versions over the years - from angel biscuits leavened with yeast to Southern style rounds dipped in bacon fat - even topped biscuits with red beets for Better Homes and Gardens. There is something about Greenspan's onion version - sweet, salty, softly oniony, fluffy - that hits all the marks of a comforting experience. And then there is the ease of it.

Food Revolution Day gives me a great excuse to make biscuits, but whom to share the biscuit with?

The story continues today, the actual Food Revolution Day, but for now . . . go stir things up.

You have time.

A good punch without getting pie-eyed

Derby glasses and a handmade banner for race day

Years ago I threw an amazing bash in a yurt at the office. I worked in an ad agency, where it was felt that yurts contributed to the feel of creative play, so that's where the parties were staged (and plots were hatched in huddles and whispers).

I always observe Derby Day (many former Louisville residents around the world do the same) and decided the yurt was a good spot for an event. I lugged in a silver punch bowl, handmade banners, fresh red roses and stacks of my parents' collection of Derby glasses. There were Benedictine sandwiches, foodstuffs of every description and of course, that chocolatey nutty pie you're not allowed to call the Derby blank space. See previous post on March 15.

We had mint juleps on hand, but I'll tell you, those adfolks enjoyed the Bourbon Slushie much more. Where I first found this Derby-style concoction I don't know, but people find it less of a head-spinner than the traditional julep of bourbon, sugar syrup and mint sprigs.

For a sure bet on Derby Day, offer the julep, but serve the slushie. And whether you're in a yurt, an RV or lucky enough to have a seat on Millionaire's Row, wear a hat and stand for the singing of "My Old Kentucky Home." Weep if you want to.

I always do.

Bourbon Slushie

1 12-ounce can of frozen orange juice, thawed
1 12-ounce can of frozen lemonade, thawed
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 1/2 cups bourbon such as Jim Beam
2 cups boiling water with 4 teabags steeped in it for 5 minutes (then remove bags)
7 cups boiling water

Mix all ingredients in a plastic gallon container. Place in freezer for 48 hours to make sure it's completely frozen. Scoop out with ice cream scoop or large spoon, place in Derby glasses. If you don't have a large plastic container (or freezer space), pack the slushie in some of thosse plastic cups from the ballpark. Cover with foil.

"B" is for Boston, "B" is for Butter

Herbs de Provence Crackers

My former academy of French culinary training Le Cordon Bleu had a soup drive a week after the capture of Suspect No. 2 to raise funds for Boston. Here was another chance to "pass it forward," as Atlanta's own Gena Berry says (she works with the annual hunger initiative Taste of the NFL). I like her twist on "pay it forward," meaning the good we do is like food on a tray and needs to go around.

I didn't know if the old school would let me in the kitchen (but I wore the cravat just in case). Those herbed crackers I make seemed like they'd go with the soup, so I made some "Bs" and baker shapes and high-tailed it to the school.

It turns out the kitchen was NOT open, and it was clear that the soup drive was well in hand without me. I dropped off the crackers, bought a quart of tortilla soup, hugged it out with the great and powerful pastry chef Joe Jacques, and returned home to ponder "what now" with all that energy that wanted to serve somebody.

Give me butter and I will find something to do. In this case, it was time to check out the Lemon-Lime Basil Shortbread Cookies from Bon Appetit. They're part of a cookie series the magazine did on Cookie Jar Favorites for the Brown Bag Set.

If you make them, and yes, you should, set your oven at 325 and bake for 20 minutes - after you've given the cookie dough a proper chill of about 30 minutes. Those are my tweaks. See the comments section of the link for what others found. All agreed the cookies are delicious and note to self: Double the recipe. When is a yield of 16 cookies EVER enough cookies? Don't be daunted by their apparent green color; they bake off to a normal shortbread style.

I'll use them in tomorrow's ice cream and gelato class.

It was obvious I still had butter, so I wandered into Dorie Greenspan's "Around My French Table." I wanted to practice because I signed up to do the Food Revolution Day and needed to find the recipe I want to make for May 17. It's another opportunity to cook something for somebody; check it out. I'd been curious about Greenspan's "Salted Butter Break-Ups" so started there.

Oh dear me goodness. J'adore, j'adore. The big cookie was so salty, buttery and comforting, I gave it a red poppy in gratitude. My one tweak, and it's purely optional, is to sprinkle a fine quality salt like the Murray Hill pink flakes gently over the top before baking.

And there was still more butter left, so on to Greenspan's Visitandine, a demure white cake with a springy spongy crumb, and since the canning/preserving class I'm teaching needs something to hold the lime curd up, this looked like the path to follow. The cake is now cooling; the house smells like someone's been in the butter and sugar.

I'm not through, but it's time to interview a contest winner with a formula for doughnut muffins. Sounds like more good times with butter to me.

A beautiful recipe like Salted Butter Break-Ups deserves a flower.

And now, a refresher on those herbed crackers.

Homemade Crackers

2 cups buttermilk
1 cup oil
2 and 1/2 tablespoons Herbs de Provence
1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
1/2 tablespoon baking soda
4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, with more for the counter
Finishing salt such as Fleur de Sel or Salish smoked salt (optional)

Directions

Preheat oven to 400. In the bowl of a stand mixer, add the buttermilk and oil, then the Herbs de Provence, salt, baking soda and flour. Mix on low speed until incorporated. The batter should be thick enough to pull off a golf-ball-size dough piece and round it.

On a lightly floured counter top, place a piece of dough (the size of a golf ball) and roll out into an oblong shape, a stroke or two up and down with the rolling pin. Place cracker on baking sheet. Crackers won't spread, so you should get about 4 crackers on a sheet.

Lightly sprinkle crackers with finishing salt, bake 9-10 minutes. Flip crackers over, finish baking about 9-10 minutes more.

Crackers last several days in an airtight container, room temp.

A Boston Cream Pie, With Thanks

My Boston Cream Pie looks nothing like Martha Stewart's Boston Cream Pie. That is as it should be.

Mine is the first one I've ever made, and there were no food stylists nor photographers with good lighting present. I did it to give it away. And it was very good.

Last week like everyone else, I had such a deep sense of anguish over events surrounding the Boston Marathon and the news cycle was taking me down, pigtail spiraling downward way down. There had to be a way to stop that momentum (and unplug from CNN).

All I could think of was, make something, bake it and take it somewhere to tell somebody thanks for responding when help is needed. My creative spirit Jeanne Ambrose of Taste of Home magazine had done this wonderful thing where she baked something and gave it to local firefighters - for no reason. I liked that idea so I stole it. I decided to make a Boston Cream Pie and find the fire station in my neighborhood and waltz in there, hand over the pie and say thanks.

I challenged Jeanne to do the same in Milwaukee, and we set about to make our cakes. She wrote about hers eloquently on her site Heartbreak Recovery Kitchen, which is dedicated to the idea that recipes help us mend and move on. She also explained why a Boston Cream Pie is a cake and not a pie.

As it turned out, we both needed a few days to bring all three parts - cake, filling and icing - together. Friday morning (the day Suspect No. 2 was captured) I finally finished. My friend Trish drove me to Fire Station No. 20 in North Dallas. I wanted a box to carry the cake; she had a FedEx box in her trunk, so we flattened that and covered it in foil.

It was a windy day and, while walking to the side entrance of the fire station, I thought for a moment the wind would take the cake before I could get it in the door. The door was locked, but the station captain saw me coming and opened up.

"On behalf of a grateful city I would like to say thanks for your service, and here's a Boston Cream Pie, please refrigerate it if you're not going to eat it right away," I burbled. "At this moment the very same thing is happening in Milwaukee as we encourage everyone to get out and say thanks." End of speech.

Six burly firefighters appeared. All shook my hand, and they have very strong grips. I darted away, feeling a tremendous surge of spirit like I'd just rung their doorbell and then run away before they could catch me. It was a carefree feeling of joy for having tried something thankful - and what a day that Friday turned out to be.

Here's how I made a Boston Cream Pie.

For the cake:

I followed Martha Stewart's recipe.

For the pudding in between the layers:

I made Creme Patisserie - Pastry Cream

Milk                   16 ounces
Sugar                 2 ounces
Egg yolks          1.5 ounces
Eggs                  2 whole eggs
Cornstarch        1.25 ounces
Sugar                2 ounces
Butter               1 ounce
Vanilla extract  1/2 tablespoon

1. Line a shallow baking sheet with plastic wrap, set aside.
2. In a heavy saucepan over medium heat, dissolve first sugar into the milk and bring to a simmer. In a separate stainless steel bowl, whisk together the eggs yolks and whole eggs. Sift the cornstarch and sugar into the eggs. Whisk until smooth.
3. Temper the egg mixture by slowly beating the hot milk into the eggs in a slow stream while whisking constantly. Return the mixture to the stove and bring to a boil, stirring constantly with a rubber spatula. The mixture will noticeably thicken.
4. Cook the mixture for 1-2 minutes to ensure you've cooked out the cornstarch. Remove from heat, add butter and vanilla and mix until incorporated.
5. Pour mixture into a shallow pan, cover with plastic directly on the surface to prevent a skin from forming. Chill thoroughly before using, which could take a few hours.

For the chocolate topping:

Chocolate Glacage

Heavy whipping cream      11 ounces
granulated sugar                 13 ounces
corn syrup                           3.5 ounces
water                                   6.25 ounces, divided use
cocoa powder                      5.25 ounces
powdered gelatin                2 packages of Knox Gelatin

1. Heat cream, sugar, corn syrup and 3.90 ounces of water to 216 degrees.
2. In a separate bowl, soften the gelatin in remaining water (2.35 ounces), set aside.
3. Add cocoa powder to cream mixture; bring to boil. This will create chunks of cocoa.
4. Remove mixture from heat and allow to cool to 140 or below, then add softened gelatin.
5. Mix with an immersion blender, then strain through a china cap or chinois into a clean bowl.
6. Place plastic wrap directly on surface, cool slightly and pour over cake.

For the logo design:

I used white fondant for the Boston "B" and tinted more fondant with red food coloring to get the remainder of the BoSox logo. The letter is placed on a circle of fondant tinted blue, painted with egg white and sprinkled with blue sanding sugar for added sparkle. The blue circle is sitting atop a cake board circle so it doesn't sink down through the glacage.

Firefighters, police officers and first responders everywhere, thank you for going, seeing and doing what is at times the unimaginable and unthinkable.

We are grateful.

Now in memory of the events in West, Texas, I believe a batch of kolaches are in order. West was originally home to a large Czech community, and they made wonderful kolaches.

More to come.

Going Retro With the Ring Ding

In which I find inspiration from Dorie Greenspan's chocolate thyme cake . . . and the original Hostess Ring Ding.

Before starting this story, I ate two spoons of frozen chocolate frosting, one of those Babybel cheese balls and a slurp of yesterday's coffee, washed down with lemonade. That's sugar, cheese, caffeine and sugar. There might have been a leftover sourdough pancake in there, too. Finally, a little smoky Lapsang Souchong tea got me going.

I'm in a phase where I just think Dorie Greenspan has everything right. She's written 10 cookbooks and won six James Beard and IACP awards for them, including Cookbook of the Year. She has a New York Times Bestseller in her book "Around My French Table." She's co-authored books with Pierre Hermé, the king of Parisian pastry, and scribed one of my favorite cookbooks, "Baking With Julia," for Julia Child. Mon incredible dieu.

Naturally I take my cues from the top shelf - if you must steal for inspiration, steal from the best. From her book "Paris Sweets," I found a recipe for a cake with chocolate and thyme. That intrigued me, because unusual flavor combinations just fascinate the tongue, don't you think? I never need an excuse to fling flower in the kitchen, I just storm in there and blaze a trail in the quest to discover what works in wondrous ways that never cease. If she's the pie piper, I'm following along.

My Greenspan phase is directly tied to the fact that as a result of her years of experience in New York, Connecticut, Paris and beyond (including her Beurre & Sel emporium in Manhattan and online), she's highly adept at giving us recipes that work, taste fabulous and never talk in language as if they were intended for a room full of doctoral candidates in molecular science.

If she says chocolate and thyme go together, then they do and I want to know what it's like. I didn't make the leap to try, though, until I  flipped through a copy of "The Art and Soul of Baking" and its recipe for Retro Ringers - a twist on the classic Hostess Ring Ding (or Ding Dong, read here to straighten out the confusion).

This book's yeah, yeah recipe for the cake's cream filling and devil's food cake looked so-so, but then it hit me: Use the Greenspan chocolate thyme cake to make the Ring Ding shape. I already had in my possession a chocolate frosting (see mention of taste-testing above), but I used the chocolate cake, thyme syrup and thyme cream from Greenspan's book to make a new version of the Retro Ringer.

Make the cake in an 8-inch square pan, then use round cookie cutters to make the shapes and go from there. Choose your own berries and edible flowers. Find Dorie on Facebook and tell her about it. Don't be shy.

To dare is human.

Flan Fellowship

Make new friends, and keep the old. One is silver and the other has gold.

Gold, in this story, is a luscious batch of flan.

Our dear friend Sara is a talented mixologist who's always in demand for the party spirits. Recently she showed us even stronger magic. During our family funeral reception, she brought her grandmother's Cuban flan. Sweet, creamy, cut into perfect single servings, it was a master stroke and a crowd favorite. There was nothing for it but to ask her to do a cooking class at Singing Wheat Kitchen.

She not only brought the flan ingredients, she brought the Top Shelf margaritas, too - what a grand girl! We popped a few folding chairs just behind the stove and watched her whisk the brilliance.

Remember the lesson of Sara's gift: As you gather with friends and share something marvelous, write down where you are and who you're with. Food connects us with our memories. A recipe without a story lacks the spirit of the thing, the motivation, the intention, the essence of how you felt when you first discovered it.

Sara loves this flan because her grandmother handed it down to her. She remembers her grandmother's cooking talent extended only to desserts. "She was a beautiful, wonderful woman who doted on us and shared with us the joys of the simple, sweet bites of life," Sara says. 

That's what you have to capture and preserve, the stories in addition to the ingredients. This idea is the cornerstone of author Kathleen Flinn's next book, a multi-generational memoir with recipes. She wrote "The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry" about attending Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, and it made me feel better about my experience with the Dallas branch. She told what it was like to withstand the world's most famous cooking school and ended every chapter with a recipe. 

Recipes tell a story, and if they don't, they're not as powerful as they could be. Just ask the mixologist.

By good fortune, here is her marvelous flan.

Cuban Flan Recipe by Sara S. Hewitt

With this recipe, if you are going to make one, you might as well make two, so here goes:

                                             For One Flan               For Two Flans

Caramel Sauce:

Sugar                                          3/4 cups             1 ½ cups

Water                                          1/4 cup               1/2 cup

Flan Ingredients:

Evaporated milk                          1 cup                          2 cups

Sweetened Condensed Milk       1 14 oz. can                2 14 oz. cans

Well-beaten eggs                        5-6 large eggs           10-12 large eggs (Sara likes 10)

Vanilla Extract                     1 teaspoon                 2 teaspoons

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Place in the oven a 9x13 metal pan filled 1/3 full of water.

In a saucepan, heat the sugar and water over medium high heat until it becomes syrupy and a golden color (about 15 minutes). If you want a darker brown, let it heat longer. Have one or two bread loaf pans ready. Watch carefully and do not overheat because it will burn to black in a hurry. At high altitudes, really watch it! When the caramel sauce is where you want it, pour it into the loaf pan and run the hot caramel slightly up the edges to coat the four sides of the pan. The caramel sauce will be very hot so take care not to spill on your hands. Let the pan sit to cool and the caramel sauce will harden.

While you are waiting for your caramel sauce to get to the syrupy consistency, hand-whisk the remaining ingredients. Efficiency tip: When making two flans, I usually use just 1 12-ounce can of evaporated milk and top it off to 2 cups with whipping cream. More calories, but you don’t have leftover evaporated milk. Pour the mixture into the loaf pan(s) and then place in the preheated, water-filled 9 X 13 pan (water bath) in the oven. The loaf pan(s) should sit in the water. Add more water if too much has burned off.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45-50 minutes until set. DO NOT OVERCOOK! Let cool. Take an offset spatula and run it around the edges to make sure the flan will fall out easily. Cover the top of the loaf pan with the serving dish and quickly invert the loaf pan so that the flan slides out easily. Spoon out the extra caramel sauce onto the flan. Chill for at least 4 hours before serving.

Serves 12-16 depending on how thick you cut the slices. Serve “as is,” or you can garnish with fruit (blueberries, strawberries, or raspberries) and whipped cream.

There will be a hard candy crust on the bottom of your loaf pan(s). Pour hot water in the pan and let sit until the hard crust dissolves.

(To cut for party servings, make one long cut horizontally through the center of the loaf pan flan.  Then make short cuts vertically - the short side.)