Third Bakeroo

chocolate kranz cake, pre-wrapping

nooks and crannies

I am currently sat at home with some freshly brewed Dunkin Donuts in hand. It's the Sunday of a long Bank holiday weekend and it's meant to be summertime weather today (in London that means a whopping 65 degrees - although this doesn't preclude the locals from whipping on their teeny and tiniest finest).  

But for me it means - capris! And possibly flip flops!! Oooh I know, such a risk taker aren't I?

But before my exposed tootsies go galavanting across East London for a lovely long walk and pub lunch I thought I'd quickly update you on last weekend's third bake I mentioned.

By now it's obvious to those who know me well that I will forever have an unrequited love affair with all things Yottam Ottolenghi.  Needing to be baked over two days I took on the challenge of his chocolate kranz cake, adapted from Jerusalem: A Cookbook by Yottam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi.  I omitted the lemon, added cinnamon to the chocolate, and to one of the cakes added plump dried sour cherries.  I also found the baking time quite temperamental.  The first cake baked at the recommended time of 30 minutes was arguably overdone a bit.  Second one in the oven was reduced to 20 minutes and was baked through perfectly.  

Also, I'd just like to say that the recipe required (as you would expect) a standing mixture with dough hook attachment.  Cognisant that I've needed to buy one for years but can't seem to find the countertop space, I kneaded the dough by hand.  I felt my throbbing shoulder and back muscles for about 2 days after.  I kid knot. (HA)! Bad joke of the day - check!

I also used the leftover scraps of dough to mock up a few small chocolate kranz "buns" (waste not want not people) and put the dough into small silicone muffin tins to rise and bake.   A perfect little mini-snack if you don't fancy breaking into the beautiful loaf.

Basically a chocolate babka, I'd liken the chocolate kranz cake more to a chocolate bread than cake, but still quite lovely with tea or coffee.

How Dana got her bake back

The first quarter of 2013 wasn't - let's say - the highlight of the past few years.  Challenging for many reasons, it's meant in part that consciously or not I've not been baking like I used to.  With the start of April and the beginning of spring I am pushing myself out from the cold winter blues and trying to just get on with some good stuff.

Last weekend was a cathartic start and realisation of this.  While limiting my typical over-planning (I only had 3 sets of plans as opposed to blocking out most of my days and evenings as per normal) I had the most productive weekend I've had in a while.  It's amazing - getting ones hands on some nice (dough) balls can make you feel like you've conquered the world.

RUDE. I know where your filthy mind just went.

So while I tidied away all of my bank statements / work / stock / insurance papers and started my spring clean* I also managed to bake 2 of the 3 items on my baking to-do list.  The only reason I didn't make the 3rd? Well, something for you to look forward to next week when I write it up.  Also, the recipe says it takes about 24 hours from start to finish - I'm about halfway through and shall report back in due course. Not a low maintenence one, this third bakeroo.

So what did I crank out? One savoury and one sweet.  My favourite? And the winner if I need to pick - the savoury.  But I'll leave it to you to decide.  Truth be told I ate them both all weekend long.  Only managed to scrape together a few leftover crumbs for my co-workers on Monday.

So yes, I was a glutton, a piggie, cochon. Oinker if you will.  Baking 2 different treats and scarfing most down all on my own.  To that I have 3 replies:

1.  I packaged up some of the baked goods to give away to the friends I saw last weekend. Ok, I forgot them on my counter and didn't realise until I saw them upon returning home, but I still get credit don't I??

Fine, be like that.

2. And well, I did also manage to toss together a "mango slaw" which was a healthy combination of mango, cabbage, carrots, beets, cilantro, mint and vinaigrette - so that neutralises the butter + sugar + bacon + caramel + chocolate + blue cheese right?

3. Ok, for real.  I DID manage 2 runs and a third cardio workout, each with an additional 15 minutes of weight bearing exercise.

Righty-o now on to the good stuffaroo - what did I bake?

First out of the oven was a bacon, blue cheese, garlic, ranch "pull-apart" bread.

Inspired by a recipe I saw online I quickly kneaded up some pizza-dough. Once proofed and ready to go I rolled it out in a long rectangle, like so:

The foodie equivalent of rolling out the red carpet

Onto the dough I slathered ranch dressing, blue cheese, crispy bacon, chopped scallions and ridiculous amounts of blanched garlic.  Once laid out, I cut out little squares from the rectangle and stacked them right on top of each other, before flipping it on it's side and putting it in a loaf pan to bake. Voila:

The result? An insanely addictive savoury bread stuffed to the gills with lots of delicious naughtiness and par-fay for sharing as you just pull it apart piece by piece.

Please note I did very little sharing.

The best crispy outer bits

Right, well liking to balance things out fairly, I knew my savoury bread fancied a pas de deux with a sweet partner in crime. I pulled up one of my favourite food blogs, David Lebovitz, and found his recipe for peanut butter and salted peanut caramel cookies.  Well HELLO SAILOR was my reaction when I saw them.

Not completely done, somehow there's already one missing.  Can't imagine how that happened.

Basically a straight up peanut butter cookie, you make caramel sauce and then stir in salted chopped peanuts.  Once the cookies are baked and cooled you spoon the caramel into your "thumb print" hole in the middle of the cookie.

The chocolate on top is meant to be "optional" but it's like saying you want the burger without fries or the Herve Leger dress without the 30% discount.  Some "options" aren't really options at all.

I am officially branding myself the Jackson Pollock of cookie making. Spread the word.

* My spring clean usually starts late winter and finishes by mid-summer.  It's a rather thorough and laborious exercise of going through all of my crap and making piles and more piles and then because I don't have enough, more piles.  My current piles include:

1. Winter clothes to be dry cleaned
2. Charity shop shmatas (broken down into clothing type - so about 5 different piles here)
3. Sell on ebay / at Bang Bang stuff (same sub-piles as the shmatas)
4. Winter clothes I'm keeping (same sub-piles - you get the picture here)
5. STUFF that I don't wear or want but has nostalgic value and want to keep (HOARDER)

East-Over

The recent influx of biting winds and snow ridden days seem to be nearly gone for good.  Rightly so considering it's mid-April and the last time I saw the sun was back in 2012 when I picked up a drawing made by my friend's 3 year old. Remember that big yellow crayola circle with the lines coming out of it? Yeah, that's what I remember of the sun too.

But with the turning of the seasons we always get those springy-est of holidays, Passover and Easter.  Complete with lots of greenery, fresh foods, and of course massive amounts of chocolate eggs. I believe the egg bit technically doesn't sit with either of the holidays but somehow has ended up as Easter's raison d'etre (well at least for those non-practicing Christian and Jews I know). As far as my extensive research goes there appear to be no citations of the Easter bunny or little marshmallow chicks peeping around during Jesus's time. I do wish someone could prove me wrong here.

During the East-Over break I had the added pleasure of a last-minute visit from Mama Cupcakes. Needless to say our daily schedule revolved around where our next meal might be coming from and debating the best places to get cake in London.  This alternated with visits to Paul Young's Chocolate shop in Soho where we visited almost daily.  Delicious, the choccies in this shop are made of fun and unusual flavours.  Marmite or PB&J anyone?  He also sells a chocolate brownie with caramelised pecans that even Mama swooned over, even if it WAS a "store bought one"which is not something we typically go for. For those of you thinking you might go pick one up, be warned that at only 3 x 3 inches it's nearly £5, but it's also pretty amazeballs.

We certainly didn't stick to the Passover menu of no leavened products (our week included lunch at the Ivy for our favourite salmon fish cakes and complimentary bread basket). We also made an impromptu 48 hour trip to Venice where we scarfed down spaghetti with clams, Prosecco, gelato and an assortment of chicheti. All whilst fighting a constant internal battle, "must not buy the gorgeous _____" (frock, jacket, necklace, bag).  You can imagine how this turned out. Let's just say I need to work on my willpower.

All of that aside, the night Mama arrived I thought I'd try for a little Passover "tradition" and after whipping up some haroset I also managed a spinach and feta matzo pie.  It was a surprise but it was quite tasteriffic and (shock!) possibly a Passover recipe I could arguably make year round.

The recipe served 8 and with Mama and I eating it for two nights, I decided to freeze the second half.  Of course I was a little concerned. I mean really, has anyone frozen matzo before? Probably - but it just sounds wrong.

Anyway, low and behold I've been enjoying it defrosted from frozen even MORE than I did when it was fresh from the oven.  Who knew matzo could be such a dark horse?

Adapted from http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Spinach-and-Matzoh-Pie-242019
I substituted skim milk for the whole milk and added a fair bit of garlic.

Happy to report that we also stuck to some secular Easter traditions.  Mama made her way to Leonidas Chocolates after Easter Sunday in order to buy two large chocolate stuffed Easter eggs.  50% off naturally.

Whiskey Mama

The Nickname.  A source of tears, laughs, endearment and love, depending on the age, context and delivery.  I've certainly had my fair share of good and bad.  Some of best (and least) favourites?

• Spaz - as a small child by ever adoring (not) older siblings
• TTD (Too Tall Dana) - being 5'7'' when you're 11 and being your full height of 5'9'' by age 13 doesn't help
• Bunny Rabbit - Mom's term of endearment. She still uses it (which I love)
• Dane (no, there was no GREAT before it) / Daners - What all of my closest friends from Rochester / Accenture call me
• Candi / Cupcakes / Candi Cupcakes - My moniker since starting with the Discob*tches back in 2009.  I'm pretty sure some of these friends don't actually know my real first name
• Princess - I've not yet decided if this is a term of endearment or a reflection on my affection for sparkly things.  Either way, it works

There are many more of course.  The traumatic bullying one from 6th grade (that's not getting posted here) and many more loving ones that shall remain tucked away in that special place that makes me smile.

But let's get to the point here shall we?  

There was one that while short lived, is one of my all-time favourites. A combination of "bad ass" and silly. 

I'd like to introduce you to..."WHISKEY MAMA"

Picture it, 1995-1996, I'm a wee innocent one attending her freshman year at the University of Rochester.  Not having drunk in high-school, I jumped into the pastime with wanton abandon (note, I still made Dean's List both semesters...being a multitasking pro and all).

My vague recollections of the nickname revolve around a group of us girls hanging out in Goldfinger's dorm room and sitting in a circle taking shots of whiskey (listening to Dave Matthews, naturally). I have no recollection of what kind of whiskey it was, only that it was in a supersized plastic bottle and probably purchased at the likes of COSTCO with someone's fake ID (classy, right)?

Somehow in that instant, on that night, I was the ultimate (bad) whiskey drinker.  While the rest of the group started mixing it with coke and/or making horrible "this shit is going to make me totally sick" comments, I kept going...shot after shot...and apparently proclaimed that I loved it.  For whatever reason, that night, Whiskey Mama was born.

I started out this tale with the fact that the nickname was short lived because well - I'm pretty sure I didn't drink whiskey again for the rest of my time at Rochester (yes, the hangover was that bad).  Thing is, even as a "proper grown up" I've never really liked it - even the fancy shmancy ones and/or whiskey cocktails never had much appeal.  I mean, really - when I've attempted these in the past 10 years more or less I always thought I was drinking medicine and burning myself from the inside out.  

No thank you very much, thank you no. 

So it was with a bit of trepidation that I went to a 90 minute whiskey tasting class this week.  I'm always a big fan of "events" for presents, so it wasn't too difficult when thinking of Christmas presents for M.  He likes whiskey, I'd like to LIKE whiskey so why not?  Off I booked two spots to a tasting event put on by Dramatic Whiskey.  They do events all over the country but I booked us into one at the Liberty Lounge in the East End.

The original meaning of "on the rocks"

So how was it? Informative? Somewhat.  Fun? Most definitely.  All in all we tasted 6 different whiskeys, single and double malt, with peat (tasted like smoke and bandaids) and without (still burned but much more enjoyable).

At the beginning of the night I gave M the task of "remembering everything I actually like because I'm never going to remember."  We haven't powwowed and discussed since then so I can't report back which I liked, but I can say that there were at least two that were quite tasty (even if they also burned going down - but sort of in a "being warmed by the fire cozykins" sort of way).  

Do I think I'll be reviving the Whiskey Mama name anytime soon?  Probably not.  However, with a bit more practice at the whiskey drinking perhaps I could work towards "Whiskey Princess?"  

I think it has a nice little ring to it, don't you?

In memory

Sorry for the delay folks.

January 2013 was the first month since starting my blog back in 2007 where I didn't have any entries.  (Ahem, of course you noticed).

I get so much joy from eating, cooking, reading about food - and clearly writing about it too.  The reality is that even if I only have on average 1-2 entries per month, there's always a backlog of little snippets, stories and recipes that I think of sharing but never find time to.  I know, I know - more is usually better right?  Well certainly when it involves spilling 2/3 a bottle of maple syrup on my Egyptian cotton sheets (not an inappropriate X-rated story, more one of me being greedy in bed with pancakes thank you very much) or perhaps more recipes from my recent adventures in the kitchen (crispy chilli asian inspired pork belly or pastry cream filled donuts anyone)?

The reality is that I don't write more simply because well...I'm living life. Now of course, there's a part of this basic "living" that's a bit tedious.  Last week's examples might be numerous stupidly early mornings in the office or perhaps a plumber finding what appears to be 6 years worth of lint tucked away in the washing machine filter.  Pretty it was not.  However, the reality is that there's a lot of good and a fair share of great happening as well.  Blessed with some of the most wonderful friends a girl could ever ask for and a great family - that even spread across the globe tries to connect as money, time, and space best allows.  Most recently there was a planned trip in December with time spent chatting (and of course eating) with the 5 Shinnicks, Mama Cupcakes and Papa (cupcakes) Bear.

Which brings me to the point of my non-food related ramblings...

The reason it's so important to live, play, enjoy your work? You never know when something is going to happen that will to knock you flat on your ass.

For me it was Papa Bear (aka Daddy) passing away on January 18th.  I'm not going to get started on the "what it feels like" crap. It's emotional and physical and hits you at both expected and unexpected moments. Breathing is hard and there's a numbness that sticks with you.  But that said and done, let me try, at least in this forum for a few minutes to move on to sweeter notes.

I thought that in small tribute  I might cook up some of his favourite foods. But in doing a little bit of research (double checking with mom) she reminded me that while he did have some distinct likes, he could also be a bit fickle (e.g. I do remember many an occasion growing up with mom making something for dinner and Dad all but licking his plate, only to have it served to him a few weeks later to an "eh, that's just ok" response.  Not clocking he'd loved it a few weeks before).

He loved traditional Jewish foods, chopped liver and brisket, knishes and kugel. Never said no to a thick soup ala split pea, and couldn't get enough chinese food - be it Marlborough's Royal Mandarin in the '80s or Framingham's Uncle Cheungs in the '90s.  The last time visiting with him I picked up some General Tsao's chicken.  A small debate over brown or white rice, and then agreement with me that the brown was as good when doused in duck sauce.

All of that said, you couldn't even mention "beet" near him, he hated them in every way shape and form. I can only equate it to my relationship with bell peppers and yellow mustard.  Essentially I'd rather poke my eyes out with raw onions than eat these items.  Dad felt the same way about beets. He never could get his head around some oatmeal chocolate beet cookies I made last year - "disgusting" he kept saying when I told him about it...which of course made both of us laugh.

Which reminds me of another little side story...

Growing up, mom did 99.23% of the cooking.  I have vague recollections of him sometimes whipping up breakfasts at the weekend and mom says he made a french onion soup, including the stock, by scratch.  But there's one food related memory that I'll never forget and that was a particularly special lunch he made for me.

It must have been the weekend and with Mom off somewhere Dad decided he could manage lunch for us kids. Placed in front of me moments later a good ol' early '80s bologna sandwich (who didn't love that Oscar Meyer song)? One bite and the next thing I knew I was barfing* my morning's breakfast up.

Dad had slathered yellow mustard onto the Wonder Bread.  Rookie mistake with 6 year-old Dana.  He learned the hard way...but next time there was mayo there instead.

Daddy wasn't ready to leave us.  Even with his personal struggles he was a fighter and none of us expected him to leave so soon.  One of the greatest gifts he gave me was the belief in living life and enjoying it as best you can.  Squeezing out as many good memories and experiences as possible.  So for him that's exactly what I'm going to do.

Just without a side of yellow mustard.

loved and never forgotten 

* I remember being in second grade and being asked by the teacher if anyone knew a "grown up word for throwing up" (aka vomiting)  Always the super nerd, I raised my hand only to shout out with full confidence "barfing".  Not exactly what she was after.  I blame the influence of older siblings.

India Calling

I have 3 critical points to make here.

1. November is definitely the time to take your summer holidays.  While I spent most of July and August in the sweltering (ahem) rain of London my colleauges were off in the South of France, or at their lake cabins on the coast of Norway, or a few for good measure, in the grand ol' USA. As they say someone needed to "hold down the fort" so I opted to stay tucked in at my desk (and the Olympic Park) over the summer and instead make a cheeky getaway from the 9th -21st November.  Coming back to two days in the London office and then a week in Oslo, followed by 1 day in the office and then another week in Oslo, I am not surprised at how quickly Santa and all of that palaver has snuck up on me.  Just one more week in the office and I get to have another few weeks off. November is definitely the new black.

2. Delhi Belly / Non shmelly belly.  The stats all say, "50-70% of all people travelling in India will have stomach problems within the first two weeks".  In addition to this frightening statistic, I had half a dozen people warn me of what was to come.  So much so that my pulmonary doctor I see for my asthma was so traumatised by a trip he'd taken last year he insisted that along with a refill prescription of my inhaler he give me two mega doses of ciproflaxin. I wasn't allowed to leave his office without it.  It would have been a bit comical if he wasn't so convinced I'd need it.  Little did everyone know how OCD I'd be about everything I ate on this trip.  (Note: I was going to write how anal I was about cleanliness but that just doesn't seem right here).

Clearly I avoided all of the shadier food options put forth to me but I also lived with an antibacterial gel in my pocket. Add to the mix about 50 individually wrapped Wet Ones perpetually floating around the bottom of my bag - any time there was an even quasi chance that something unsantised was coming near my mouth - I whipped out the antibacterial gel /wipes.  I did get a couple of funny looks wiping down the outside of the coke can and straw, but hey ho - I had 12 days of spicy, rich, glorious food and all along had a stomach of steel to match.

3.  I love Indian food.  Just how much was an epiphany to me. In particular the heavy, fried, creamy and buttery food of Northern India. No salady stuff washed in water allowed, see my Number 2 (no pun intended) point above. It's definitely not something I could have 3 meals a day for weeks on end but for most of our trip it was to-die-for and consumed with my (sanitised) hands scooping up gorgeous curries with even more delectable Indian rotis and parathas.

Tandoori Aloo
(Potato barrels, stuffed with nuts & house spices) 

One of many buttery delicious breads (some spicy and stuffed, this one just with mint)

The "best chai in Jaipur"
NOTE: TWO Wet Ones used on the glass (I saw the milk boiling)

No clue what everything was called, but gorgeous aubergine curry at our boutique Jaipur hotel, The Farm

Foodie Pen Pal - Take 3

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This month's Foodie Pen Pal came from the lovely Jade over at http://wildpickings.co.uk.  A "forager" which was a somewhat new concept for me in today's day and age - Jade sent a lovely package over from West Wales with an assortment of fun treats.  This experience with FPP has been fabulous so far, putting me in touch with all sorts of talented food lovers  - Jade certainly not being an exception to this. In my package? Blackberry and crab apple fruit leather, wild dukkah, dried chanterelles, rose petal vinegar, hawthorne ketchup, and rosehip syrup.  Certainly any number of items not accounted for in my bi-weekly Waitrose run! I've not had a chance to try some of these fun treats, but hopefully in the next few weeks I'll be able to give them a go.