Guys, I’ve been struck with a love so strong it’s allowed me to return to blogging without a hint of shame after… wow, has it been a year? It’s been a year. Ok, a little shame, but not enough to keep me away. Because, on to more important things, have you ever realized how great breakfast is?
Think for a moment. Think about pancakes and parfaits and sausages and runny fried eggs and toast melting with peanut butter and sunny strawberry jam or scones with butter and marmelade and fresh squeezed orange juice and omelets with bacon tomato and cheese and croissants and pumpkin muffins and banana bread french toast… What do they all have in common? Well primarily that they’re the best, but what else? That it is most socially acceptable to eat them in the morning. Think some more. What other reason do you have to wake up every morning? Or go to bed at night, for that matter? Sometimes the only reason I can get myself to turn off the lights is the image of tomorrow morning’s banana with peanut butter.
You know I’m crazy but you also know I’m right. Because after conferring with a whole bunch of German people (my amazing roommate, Elli, and a large portion of Berlin), it turns out that it really is the best meal of the day. And it is actually relevant that these people are German because I had this epiphany in Germany, where they do breakfasts like none other.
The typical German breakfast is actually sausage, cheese and some kind of classy bread, or perhaps a dip egg (see below). But I was blown away by the way they seemed to be able to blend Power-For-The-Day with Light-Don’t-Weigh-You-Down. One example was the Fitness Breakfast at Spreegold in Berlin (pictured #1, above). You begin by getting some super whole grainy bread (try Panera Whole Grain) and spreading it with some kind of tomato-herb spread. I recommend mixing pre-made sundried tomato pesto with quark or greek yogurt. Then accompany that with strawberry or raspberry yogurt mixed with muesli or really crunchy granola. And then finally have a half a grapefruit with some demarara sugar sprinkled on top to add crunch and take off the edge. Congrats! You’ve covered all your nutrition and happiness needs for more or less the entire week.
If that doesn’t strike your fancy. I invite you to take a look at this pretty pretty Pinterest board (full disclosure – I haven’t tried a single one of those recipes). I’m sure I’ll be back tomorrow or so to wax some more. But I have an exam and it’s after midnight and… well frankly if I don’t go to bed I can’t have breakfast.
We’re completely overhauling the Fig Test Kitchen to bring you cooking lessons, healthy eating advice, restaurant reviews and a much prettier experience for you, if we do say so ourselves. Check back soon for updates, and posts from our recent food tour!
On days as hot as this one (95°, feels like 100°, humid, no wind) I have a really strange clearly masochistic instinct to crave barbecue. I know it’s because I associate it with the South, and seriously I have no idea how such a heavy food was invented in the kind of climate where you can’t even walk outside in the summer, but all I can say is it’s still a good thing we don’t have good barbecue in CT because otherwise I would eat it all. But while I’m reminiscing, I figured it’s about time I put up another restaurant review for your salivating pleasure. Also, while I have your attention, I’d like you to know that the new figcookingschool.com has finally arrived! Please go check it out and let us know what you think (extra credit for high praise).
Allen and Sons, in Chapel Hill, NC fits firmly in the category of “awesome road food.” While the menu is certainly not limited (they do have fried chicken and a few other southern classics), barbecue is clearly the center of attention. They only have one kind – the smoky, tender, chopped barbecue native to North Carolina, referred to simply as “barbecue.”
Because this pork is chopped, not pulled, it melts blissfully on your tongue, and while their vinegar-based East Carolina sauce is not as flavorful as the sauce at Halligan, it does perfectly accentuate the smokiness of the meat.
Alongside their ‘cue (see, I’m a native now) they serve a faintly lemony, delightfully tea-full sweet tea, perfectly crisp okra that actually tastes like okra, and the best hushpuppies we had – sweet, with a clear corn flavor. But while everything we had was great, their dessert can only be called a revelation. I rarely find a restaurant where I think dessert is better than the food (which is a shame because I love dessert more than anything) but this place, like many in the south, was a distinct exception.
The peach cobbler had a thin syrup on perfectly sweet, juicy, fresh peaches…
the coconut pie was perfectly southern, and not too sweet…
and their chocolate pie, made with real chocolate and topped with perfectly spiced pecans, was thoroughly humbling (and you know how we get about our chocolate pie).
Nobody there had the recipe, so I’d have to drive all the way back just to get another piece, but I swear it would be worth every mile.
Allen & Son Barbecue is located at 6203 Millhouse Road Chapel Hill, NC 27516. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go as soon as you can.
Have you ever looked through a cookbook and you find a recipe think you’d love, but it has an ingredient you’ve never heard of and you just don’t want to deal with it so you turn the page and decide to make something else? Preserved lemons always used to capture that feeling for me. They are almost impossible to find in stores, and few cookbooks give clear directions on how to make them at home. The truth is that they are incredibly easy to make and essential to many Moroccan, Middle Eastern and even Mediterranean dishes. They have become an essential ingredient in our house and we regularly teach students how to make them in our Spice Market classes.
This ingredient is seemingly exotic but oh-so-simple and will give so much zest to your meals that I just had to share it. Preserved lemons are tangy and have an interesting texture, a perfect addition to grilled meats in the summer, stews in the winter, or cous cous year round. Here’s how you make them:
First, try and find small and ripe organic lemons. You will need between 8 and 12 of them, along with ¼ cup kosher salt and a one quart sterilized canning jar. Wash lemons thoroughly. Remember, you will be eating the peel, not the pulp. Cut a thin slice from the top and bottom of the lemons.
Make four deep vertical cuts three-quarters of the way down the fruit, but make sure the lemon is still attached at the base.
Place a generous tablespoon of salt on the bottom of the sterile jar.
Carefully open a lemon and generously sprinkle salt evenly throughout the quarters (about one generous teaspoon per lemon).
Place the lemon in the jar.
Repeat the process of salting and stuffing the lemons in the jar, making sure to press the lemons down hard with a clean spoon to release the juices and make room for the remaining lemons.
When the jar is full, place the remaining salt in the jar (it should be at least a tablespoon) and fill in the gaps with fresh lemon juice. Store the lemons in a cool place for at least a month, and shake the jar daily to evenly distribute the salt and juice
When the lemons are ready for use, rinse the lemons as needed, or else they will be too salty. Cut away the pulp inside and then slice or chop the rind according to the recipe you are using. Preserved lemons will keep for at least 6 months before opening the jar, but do refrigerate them once they are opened. Enjoy!
Once upon a time, by which I mean last week, we took a journey to the south land to visit my cousin Jessie and celebrate her recent graduation from Appalachian State University (yay Jessie!). Of course, never ones to avoid turning anything at all into a national eating holiday, we decided to take the opportunity to find the best food in North Carolina, or any other state we might be passing through at mealtimes. During our brief road trip, we hit up chicken and biscuits, maryland crabcakes, old fashioned milkshakes, coconut cake, peach cobbler, chocolate pie, and NC barbecue 5 times in 4 days. And you know what that means! Turn up the bluegrass and pour yourself a tall glass of sweet tea… it’s road food time!
Our journey begins in Richmond, VA. Looking for nothing more than a pretty-decent place to eat that was pretty-decently close to I-95 and also not McDonalds, we stumbled upon Halligan Bar and Grill, an unsuspecting restaurant which hides away what is, in our opinion, the best barbecue in the entire south – better than anything we had even in North Carolina. An homage to all things firefighter, Halligan has a bar made out of half a firetruck (sliced the long way, obviously) and badges, license plates and inspirational posters decorating every inch of wall space. But the decor is only commentary to food that can only be described as indescribable.
Smoky pulled pork and chicken fall apart with every motion of your fork, and their sweet, vinegary sauce warms your throat as only proper southern cooking can do. Sandwiches are served on buttery buns, and coleslaw (the natural accompaniment) is peppery and fresh. On the side, homemade baked beans are thick and smoky and hushpuppies are soft and crisp. Moist, tender, herb-studded cornbread is served with sweet and savory chipotle-honey butter (with visible, hand-chopped chipotle peppers, of course) and is perfect for mopping up absolutely everything. A perfect welcome to the south, everything we had at Halligan Bar and Grill was beyond worth both the calories and the trip.
We’re writing up more good, strong and messy American cooking in every free moment of the next few days so we cordially invite you to get fat with us over the next few posts. Stay tuned ;)
Several weeks ago I was speaking to Keren Kurti-Alexander, the Manager at the Cityseed (link) Farmers market about our demos for the summer. I had all kinds of yummy surprises involving fun fruits and vegetables like blueberries, strawberries, and corn. But it was late May and the crops have been slow for his year, and she asked me the question I’ve been dreading ever since I started: “Could you do something with kale?”
Panicking, I punted and promised that I definitely would sometime during the season. I could push it off until late fall since it is such a hearty vegetable that always seems to be available and just hope that inspiration struck at some point in the interim. And of course Keren being a nice person said okay, I could do the fun stir fry and make great strawberry breakfast smoothies I was planning instead. But I could tell that in her heart of hearts she was hoping for some kale. I realized that it really was time to get over my kale fear. I’ve been cooking for longer than I can remember… surely I could find a way of making a dish that wasn’t bitter and didn’t look like putrid green slime.
It happened that we had just made some vibrant roasted butternut squash with a bit of butter and sea salt, which made Gabrielle remember that her friend Mia had raved about a pasta she’d had with kale and butternut squash at a restaurant in New York. From there, everything else fell together – I could tell that the colors, textures and flavors of these ingredients would compliment each other perfectly, and I could already see that with a little inspiration and improvisation, we could create something really memorable. The recipe that follows is probably one of the healthiest, tastiest and certainly one of the most colorful pastas ever. Here are the steps:
First peel the squash, admittedly one of my least favorite jobs. The skin is tough on this curvaceous vegetable and it is difficult to peel. If you’re wise you’ll get somebody else to do it.
Be sure to get all the stringy stuff out of the middle (we use a tomato de-seeder to scrape out the seeds and pulp, but a ice cream scoop, a spoon or your fingers will work just fine)
Some very silly textbooks would tell you to trim the squash so you have perfect squares and discard the rest.
But seriously, look at the waste. Just cut it up to be as square and uniform as you can and distribute the squash over two parchment lined cookie sheets. It may not be culinarily correct, but we’ll deal I think.
Melt some butter, sprinkle some sea salt and pepper and roast the vegetables for about 30 minutes.
Here is the finished product. (The recipe, by the way, calls for three squashes, about twice the amount you will actually need, but trust me you will want left over squash, the smell is so heavenly and it makes such a wonderful side dish to any meal.)
In the meantime prepare the kale. Make sure you buy kale that is deep green and fresh. Don’t wait until it gets like this.
Tear the leaves from the tough spine.
Chop into bit size pieces, and set aside.
You will need two cups of chopped onions and/or scallions of any sort. We had plenty of spring onions left over from a cooking demo at Wooster Square from Sun One Farms in Bethlehem, so that’s what we used.
Sautee the onion mixture until soft and glassy, about five minutes and add some garlic.
Add the kale and cook only until it is soft but still bright green. Add two cups of cherry tomatoes and continue cooking for about a minute, or until the tomatoes just begin to soften and are slightly warm but not mushy.
In the meantime, boil a pound of dried fusilli or another favorite medium sized pasta, and cook according to instructions. Drain and add an 8 ounce container of mascarpone cheese. Stir well.
Add the kale mixture to the pasta, and then the squash with the parmesan cheese.
Mix well and Serve. This dish is so hearty, it doesn’t really need any bread.
After watching HBO’s Weight of the Nation (which you have to see if you haven’t yet) our entire family has decided to go on a health kick. Mom has made a brave (and miraculously successful!) first attempt at cooking kale (see post Friday or so), Francesca has taken up Irish step dancing, Isabella has been dragging me on these miserable runs, and dad has agreed to keep on eating whatever we put in front of him.
But as luck would have it, a week into this health kick, mom was scheduled to teach her famous fried chicken class, with lime creamed corn, buttermilk mashed potatoes with crispy (deep fried) shallots and Jack Daniel’s fudge pie. The foodpocalypse was essentially zooming towards us, with nothing we could do to stop it. The only way for us children to keep ourselves in check was to eat a light dinner, and hopefully only be hungry for a drumstick or so when we got home. So as class time approached, the girls and I ventured out for an evening of Panera (which has healthy options), Froyo (which is not healthy, but is healthier than some things) and nerdy cavorting at Barnes and Noble.
It was a lovely time, and we actually ended up learning a lot of lessons over the course over the evening. We learned copious amounts about whales, Irish history, graphic design, and not letting the pigeon drive the bus, and we learned how to fail at moderating ourselves at Froyo World (The toppings are just right there for you to take! These people are marketing geniuses!)
But of all the lessons we learned, the best was certainly how much you can benefit from being an indecisive nut. We spent such a long time trying to figure out which option at Panera would maximize health and yumminess, that I felt a bother correcting the lady when she thought I said I wanted tuna on honey-wheat instead of whole grain and had already put in my order. By some miraculous stroke of luck, honey-wheat bread turned out to be so soft, gently sweet and perfect that it has since become my default bread of choice. And since mom’s last post was about butter, what could I do but write a fresh baked bread post to match.
This is the first time I’ve made bread on the blog, so this is going to be a tutorial, not just a recipe. Even if you’re an experienced bread maker, there are a lot of steps that a lot of us just dutifully do, which we ought to try and understand. To begin we have a starter, which is some permutation of water, flour and yeast, as you see above. It actually has little to do with making the bread rise, but instead is mostly about making sure the bread actually tastes like something. The starter we’re making here is called a sponge, and is made with equal parts flour and water, along with a little bit of instant yeast. As it sits at room temperature for about an hour (or up to 4) the yeast ferments and takes your bread from bland to boss.
First, we add instant yeast to the water, and immediately whisk it in to prevent clumping. Following Rose Levy Beranbaum (the queen of Bread) I advise you to almost always use instant yeast, which is more convenient for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it can be activated in room temperature water, not just the 90-100° required by active dry (although that temperature will work too – it’s very flexible – just don’t use super hot or super cold). It is also called rapid rise, leading to the misconception that it causes your bread to rise faster, which it doesn’t. But it is very easy to use, and serves our purposes in almost every case.
We then whisk in the flour, until we get this nice pasty thing. Rose Levy Beranbaum says that she likes her sponge starters to be more liquidy because the yeast makes more bubbles, resulting in a lighter, more even bread. So that’s what we made. To let the bubbles and flavor develop, we let it sit at room temperature for an hour. We could have gone longer, but I’m impatient. Go until your starter looks at least kind of like this:
See all the bubbles? That means it’s alive! If that doesn’t happen, start over/buy new yeast. Cover it tightly while it’s fermenting. It prevents the dough from drying out, and also you get to see the plastic wrap dome up as the yeast releases carbon dioxide. Also note that some the gas will bubble up and pop on the surface. Which means it’s working and is also fun to see. Meanwhile get everything else together. First off, we have crisco…
…which is usually really bad for you – worse even than butter, which we usually advocate above all else. But in baking, butter can make things harder and drier, which only good when when we want a nice crisp cookie. In this case, when what we were looking for was a moist, soft bread above all else, shortening was the only option. Adding a little bit of fat to the bread tenderizes it, making it soft and addictive, just like you want. And since we’re using it in low quantities, this bread is still healthy and low-cal.
Next we have honey. Sometimes sweet things (sugar, honey, etc.) are added so that the yeast has something to eat and makes more bubbles, but here it’s really just a flavor thing. Before you add all the other ingredients, whisk the honey in with the water so that it’s less sticky, and distributes nicely.
Finally we have the flour, which gets whisked with the salt. This means the salt doesn’t get added all at once, minimizing its contact with the yeast (otherwise a lot of the yeast will die, which would suck).
We are ready to mix! Whisk the yeast into the honey-water, then add the shortening, flour-salt mixture and your starter. You can begin kneading it by hand, but please consult The Bread Bible for instructions on how to do that. I’ve found that my best results by far come from using a KitchenAid. Using a dough hook, mix the dough on setting #2 for about 1 to 1.5 minutes, until it looks like this:
Then we let it rest, covered, for 20 minutes. This lets the flour absorb the water better, and means our mixing time will shorten. Meaning, among other things, we won’t get impatient and make the bread mix on too high a setting, breaking all the gluten bonds and essentially killing any chance of our bread being edible.
Then turn the mixer back on and let it mix on setting #4 for about 15 minutes, or until it’s pretty stretchy. Then cut the dough in half, and form it into two rounds, and put on wax paper. Cover with a warm, moist towel, and set to rise in a decently warm place for about 40 minutes. When you’re forming it into rounds, pull the sides out a bit, and then fold them around back, and then tuck the ends under, so the top is nice and smooth, like you see above. Otherwise you can end up with a kind of craggy looking top. Like this silly looking thing:
Yours probably won’t look so extreme, because this dough was super dry… but still, lets not take chances. Once the dough has risen, you can either transfer it to a loaf pan, or bake it on its own directly on the baking sheet. Preheat the oven to 350°F convection/375° conventional and let it rise for about another 45 minutes, preferably in a warm area, covering again with a warm, moist towel. You’re ready to bake! A loaf in no pan takes about 25 minutes, while a loaf in a pan can take up to 10 minutes longer. To be on the safe side, insert a baking thermometer into the center. It’s done when it reaches between 190 and 200°F. Let cool for as long as you can stand it (at least 10 minutes), slice, and eat!
You can find my full recipe on Food52 by clicking here. Feel free to leave a comment if you have any questions. I highly recommend making this bred, whether you’re very experienced or brand new to the process. I think you’ll agree that a slice of this bread is pretty much the best thing since (wait for it…) itself.
As you have just seen on the video, compound butter is, quite simply made up of a stick of butter combined with some finely minced herbs or vegetables. The combinations are endless. Possible ingredients include herbs and spices, such as basil, thyme, oregeno, saffron, chives, or aromatic vegetables such as shallots, garlic and ginger. You can use compound butters in a million ways. They are great to serve with fresh bread, the obvious choice, but equally great served on top of a sizzling steak, grilled chicken, fish or really any place you use butter in a savory dish. We recently made a whole nourishing meal in five minutes by adding basil butter to a pound of pasta and dumping a pint of cherry tomatoes in the bowl. It was amazing. Just remember one of the key rules to cooking: simple and fresh ingredients, always result in great food.
Start with butter. Not this much. About a stick’s worth will do. You’re going to have to cut through it, so you don’t want it to be too frozen, but not too warm because then it will get mushy. Basically just don’t wait too long after taking it out of the fridge to use it.
Then find yourself a heaping half cup of basil, and finely chop it. Remember that the amount of herbs or vegetables you use will vary greatly depending on the ingredient you choose to use. Here we are using a ½ cup of basil, but you certainly wouldn’t use a ½ cup of ginger or garlic since it would be overwhelming. In the case of garlic or ginger, a couple of tablespoons would do, depending on your taste. You’ll have to play around with it.
Using a chefs knife, cut the butter and herbs together until they come together and are well combined.
Once the butter and basil are well combined place the butter on a sheet of wax or parchment paper (use wax paper if you have it since it is a lot cheaper and serves the same purpose). Shape the butter into a log.
Cover the roll with the sheet of wax or parchment paper. Once covered, gently roll the covered butter back and forth until the log is round and looks like a log.
Twist the ends of the log to look like a candy wrapper and place in the refrigerator for one hour or longer (you may also put it in the freezer for ½ hour if pressed for time, but don’t forget it!) Unwrap the butter and place it on a pretty plate, cutting thin slices while it is still firm. Cover any leftovers with plastic wrap and store in refrigerator. The butter will keep for a week or longer.
So here’s the challenge for you. Make your own compound butter (even combine more than one herb or vegetable), and let us know how you used them. We can’t wait to see your comments!
Cooking for a living has begun to take over all of my thoughts. Isabella’s newly sewn pink dress isn’t an article of clothing, but a piece of watermelon. Everywhere I go I think about new dishes and ingredients, and there is no off button to press. Just dials on the stove to let me make more food. I feel like a composer sometimes, only instead of notes, I hear shallots, pancetta and fried chicken. It’s driving me crazy, really it is. I love love love teaching people to cook… but seriously. Enough is enough.
This recipe was born out of one of these fits of inspiration. We often teach a cream of asparagus soup in our spring classes, but I was making a Thai dish one day and the idea to infuse it with coconut, lemongrass and ginger just jumped into my head. It has quickly become a family favorite and it worked out so well that I used it for my latest appearance on Connecticut Style. Although a video exists on WTNH, it was very fast, and we thought you’d appreciate seeing how to make this lively Asian inspired soup step-by-step, so here it is:
We start with the freshest ingredients, which includes, lemon juice, lemongrass, ginger, asparagus and coconut milk, but there are others as well, including yellow onions and chicken or vegetable broth.
First, we need to peel the lemongrass, an ingredient commonly found in Asian food stores and in some supermarkets, especially Whole Foods.
Then you have to cut most of the stalk away. We only want the part of the lemongrass that has purple rings.
Then – and really pay attention to this or the lemongrass with be tough and stringy – you have to smash it hard several times with a knife. Until it looks like this
Then put the lemongrass in a mini food processor with a teaspoon or two of oil until finely minced and looks like this:
Then you need to peel the ginger. You can peel it in many different ways by using a melon baller, sturdy spoon or vegetable peeler. Afterwards, finely mince the ginger in a mini chopper as well. You can, obviously, do that by hand, it will just take much longer.
After sautéeing the onions until they are glassy, add the lemongrass and ginger and continue sautéeing until the ginger and lemongrass start to soften, about 2-3 minutes. Add the asparagus, salt and pepper and cook for another five minutes.
Add the broth (chicken or vegetable – we like to use vegetable when we’re cooking for a crowd, since then we can make this vegan and everyone can eat it!) and give the mixture a good stir in a large pot, such as a Dutch oven. Cook for 15 minutes and then puree the soup either in a blender (after letting the mixture cool) or an immersion blender right inside the pot, our preferred choice.
Add a bit of lemon, give it a good stir, and serve. The great thing about this soup, next to the amazing flavor, is that it tastes great for several days and can certainly be made the day before company. And there you have it! Serve with a garnish of mint, or chives.
Click here to get the complete recipe written up on Food52!
I’ve realized that every time I make a transfer from home to school, I seem to try my absolute hardest to make you guys extra jealous of the food I get to eat at home. When I’m home I wax poetic about foods like boeuf bourguignon, Persian jeweled rice, and plum crumble with vanilla bean. When I’m away, I whine about how much I miss them. I suppose that’s my way of handling my joy/sorrow. To be truthful I’m pretty sure mom just makes all that stuff to keep me around. But I am a very defiant girl, and I will not let her win, which is why I try to make as much of her food as I can at school. It has nothing to do with the fact that I miss home. Nothing at all. So of course, you would imagine my distress when I came home this week to discover that she was taking the recipes I had tried so hard to steal and *dramatic pause* innovating on them. The woman will stop at nothing. All my defiance was for naught because, what’s worse, it was all for the better… almost.
One of the recipes I had stolen was this awesome leek and goat cheese quiche. It’s so popular at school that one of my friends once ate half of it in one sitting. Mom teaches it all the time in her 20 Minute Dinners class, and every time I eat it, it reminds me of home. Because it’s supposed to be quick and easy, and because homemade pie crust is almost never worth the effort, we use good pre-made crust. But last night, mom was teaching 20 Minute Dinners, and she thought it might be a good idea to replace the pie crust with puff pastry pressed into a tart shell. Now granted, it did sound like a pretty good idea, but it sounded like a *bit* more effort than I was going to go into on your typical Wednesday night, and I just knew I was going to end up missing home again and we just can’t have that. But mom insisted, and so she took the puff pastry out of the freezer and let it defrost… forgetting, as we chatted over smoothies, that you have to unfold puff pastry as quickly as possible before defrosting. Lo and behold, we tried to unfold it and ended up with the sticky monster you see above.
I, of course, was thrilled. Not only were there very literal holes in this silly plan, but I had just acquired a whole sheet of puff pastry to play with. I made some cinnamon sugar, got out some Hershey Special Dark Kisses and Reese’s Peanut Butter Chips, and got to immediate work. I wrapped pastry around chocolate, around bunches of peanut butter chips, and sometimes around combinations of the two. Sometimes I dipped these in cinnamon sugar, sometimes not. And then sometimes I just tied pastry in a knot or twisted it up and dipped that in cinnamon sugar – like the cinnamon twists you’re currently overpaying for. It was a lot of fun. I really love puff pastry.
I baked them at 375 until they were browned and sugar was caramelized. I removed them from the oven and redipped all of the cinnamon sugar ones, so that they had a layer of caramelized sugar and a layer of fresh (do that while they’re hot so that it sticks). They were heavenly, especially the chocolate-filled cinnamon-dipped ones, which tasted kind of like rugalach. It was quite a success, especially considering this was all happening at 10 am.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, mom was still trying to make innovation worthwhile. She took out a new sheet of pastry and pressed it into a tart pan. But somehow, much as we tried to keep it in shape, the sides refused to stay up and we ended up with a beautifully puffy gallette. Having finished my pastry bits, I came to the rescue again, filling it with dried cranberries, apricots and almonds…
And topping it with dark chocolate.
Seriously, how does my family even function without me? Granted this part was kind of her idea… but I did it, and my point makes more sense if I take credit. I then baked it until it was sort of toasty and the chocolate was melted (which doesn’t take long, next time I’m going to bake the puff pastry longer first). I spread it around and topped Francesca and Isabella’s half with some sugar because that makes it taste like a chocolate croissant (did you know that’s why they taste the way they do?). Seriously, I could sell a prettier version of this for so much money at a pastry shop.
In German tradition there’s a time, around 3 or 4 o’clock, where everyone sits down for Kaffee und Kuchen, or coffee and cake. But since I don’t think my family comes from the fancy part of Germany, we call it yowza (yauße?) (does anyone know anything about this?). So yesterday afternoon, once I’d picked up my sisters from school, we sat down to a lovely yowza of mini pastries and chocolate tart. It was ever so classy, and the puff pastry was all saved from a monstrous end. And of course, my mom was forced to concede that quiche should just be left to the pre-made crust. I guess she’ll just have to find better ways of getting me to come home.
There are several morals to this story, all of equal importance. Moral number one: daughters may need their mothers, but mothers need their daughters just as much. Moral number 2: there is no disaster so big that it can’t be made into pastry. Moral number three: you can try all you want, but you just can’t improve on pre-made pie crust.