Easy Recipes

Theres something intimidating about actually meeting people whose work you admire. You spend so much time appreciating from afar, be it music or writing or cooking, and feel a kinship with the artist because their work resonates with you so deeply. You know you must have so many sensibilities in common, and when you meet, this shared bond will just somehow sing across the room. If you dont end up bff, youll at least end up with a real heart-to-heart moment, perhaps an invitation for a drink.

But in reality, it seldom works that way. You finally push forward your book for an autograph, stammer something generic about how "I really like what you do," blush, and melt back into the crowd. Sigh. Occasionally there are moments, such as when you and your friends sneak into the after party for a live taping of your favorite radio show and are invited out for a surreal evening of drinks afterward. But for the most part, its pretty nervous-making and seldom goes the way you rehearsed in your many, many daydreams. Which is all to say I didnt go see Dorie Greenspan when she was in town this week.

For those unfamiliar with her lovely work, Dorie Greenspan writes about baking and French food. She manages to keep an eye on both the smallest details of technique, and the almost incalculably large role of food in our lives. Greenspan is also the woman behind the delicious salted chocolate sablees which I de-glutinized for a recipe earlier this year. And although I chickened out of the live meeting, I continue to worship in my oven from afar. And so I present Dories salted butter break-ups.

These cookies are baked from a single slab of buttery dough, and then broken apart into chunks with your hands (which proves just as emotionally satisfying as it sounds, plus yields a variety of textures ranging from nicely tender center chunks to deliciously caramelized end bits). I usually pooh-pooh people who say they dont have time to make cookies, because cmon, theyre so easy. But as I struggled to finish six quarts of soup and a round of bagel chips for a soup swap, a no-scoop mega-cookie sounded appealing. So I blitzed the dough, rolled it out, painted it with an egg wash and drew a crosshatch of lines with a fork (optional but fun, and strangely reminiscent of high school doodling for some reason), and baked it up. And broke it up. Perhaps next time Ill manage to make it to the book signing as well.


Salted Butter Break-Ups

yields 1 5"x11" cookie, which can be broken into as many chunks as you desire
adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan

1 3/4 cups flour
2/3 cup sugar
1 tsp coarse salt, plus more for sprinkling if desired
9 Tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into 18 pieces
3-5 Tbsp cold water
1 egg yolk, plus additional water

Put the flour, sugar and salt in a food processor, and pulse for a few seconds to combine. Add the butter, and pulse until youre left with pea-sized bits (in addition to some small flakes). Pulse the machine and add the water gradually, until it just barely forms a ball (this might not require the whole amount). The dough will be very soft.

Scrape the dough onto a piece of plastic wrap, form it into a chubby square, and refrigerate for at least an hour (or a few days, if needed).

When the dough has chilled, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with a silpat or parchment, or grease well. Let the dough soften at room temperature for a few minutes. Roll out (between plastic or waxed paper) into a rectangle thats about 5"x11", and transfer to the prepared sheet.

Beat the yolk with a splash of water, and paint it over the surface of the dough with a pastry brush (or, if youre me, a wadded up bit of the waxed paper you used to roll out the dough). Using the back of a fork, decorate the cookie in a crosshatch pattern by drawing the underside across in one direction, forming a series of tracks, then perpendicular to them. Sprinkle with additional salt, if you favor a pronounced salty-sweet flavor.

Bake the cookie for 30 to 40 minutes, or until it is lightly golden (and slightly dark on the edges, if thats what you favor). It will be firm to the touch, but have a little spring when pressed in the center. Allow to cool to room temperature, then break it as you please, either before serving or at the table.

My dog has a basket of toys by the front door. There are a few that he plays with nearly every day -- bones to gnaw and hollow rubber thingies to fill with peanut butter -- but then there are a handful that he ignores. Some promotional stuffed animal that he stopped caring about once he realized it couldnt be destroyed, or the twisted rope he liked to play tug-of-war with five years ago. Hell toss them aside to reach the more exciting items underneath, but for the most part they sit around gathering dust. Until another dog comes to the house. Magically, the value-adding property of another dogs interest renders a treat infinitely more appealing. You want that thing Ive ignored for five years? Suddenly I want it too! So much!

I laugh a bit at this transparent ridiculousness, but truth be told I can be the same way. My friend Robert once noted that somebody could be eating poop on a cracker, and hed be angling for a bite. It can happen easily. A few weeks ago, I took the cookbook Baked: New Frontiers in Baking out of the library. I thumbed through the pages, earmarking a few, thinking maybe Id make them someday. But then I saw an enticing version of Bakeds peanut butter chocolate chip cookies on the lovely blog A Little Ginger. And suddenly I wanted them too! So much!

Ive eaten my share of peanut butter cookies over the years, but these are easily the best Ive had. Hands down. Perfect cookies. They have a toothsome texture somewhere between soft and crisp, with a deep, slightly salty peanut butter flavor. They keep well, like any cookie, but I think theyre especially lovely the first day.

And speaking of ridiculous notions that consume your thoughts, I recently was so taken with the zucchini dishes I saw posted everywhere that I decided to host an All Zucchini Dinner Party. It took a bit of recipe-testing, a mountain of zucchini, and some very game friends, but in the end a good green meal was had by all. You can read about it (and get more recipes than you can shake a squash at) in The Oregonian.


Perfect Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

adapted from Baked: New Frontiers in Baking
yields ~36 cookies

1 3/4 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
1 cup granulated sugar, plus more for topping
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup peanut butter
6 oz chocolate, milk or dark, coarsely chopped

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, soda and salt. Set aside.

In a mixer, cream together the butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one, mixing until combined. Add the vanilla and peanut butter, mixing until well combined.

Fold in the dry ingredients until *just* combined. Fold in the chocolate bits, and place in a covered container and refrigerate overnight.

On baking day, remove the dough from the refrigerator, and preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Plop out rounded tablespoons of dough onto lined cookie sheets, at least 2" apart, and flatten slightly with the heel of your hand to smush the doughballs into chubby disks. Sprinkle a bit of granulated sugar on each cookie, enough to give a light dusting (this will make a lovely, sweet-crunchy crust).

Place sheets in oven and bake 10-12 minutes, until the edges just turn golden brown. Remove from oven, let cool on the sheet for 5 minutes, and then remove to finish cooling on a rack. Enjoy.

If you spend time in certain circles (those of the vegan persuasion), at some point someone will try to get you to eat a foul-sounding "pie" made of melted chocolate chips and tofu. This friend will assure you that it is phenomenal, that it tastes just like a chocolate silk pie, and has none of that nasty soy aftertaste. This person will be wrong on all counts.

But there is a way to make a delicious vegan chocolate pie that tastes good. And I dont mean "good by vegan standards" -- I mean "good." Like this pie. Seriously, look at it. Dont you want a bite?

This pie follows the basic chocolate cream pie template, using the solid-at-room-temperature cocoa butter of chocolate to stabilize an airy whipped topping (I used a commercial vegan cream replacement that whips up like cream, but only because my dining companion balked at the delicious saturated fat of coconut cream -- you can substitute that instead for a slightly denser but perhaps more delicious result). I added a layer of smooth peanut butter-coconut cream filling as well (because isnt every chocolate dessert better with peanut butter?), and poured it into an almond meal crust (though you can easily use your favorite cookie crumb crust instead). And to gild the lily I topped everything with the salty-sweet snap of candied peanuts.

And if this isnt enough sweetness for you, you can check out my story on the almond-and-cream deliciousness of Swedish Shrove Tuesday semlor over at NPR. Its a lovely practice, but truth be told I think this vegan pie might be even more delicious. I know, who am I these days?


Vegan Chocolate Peanut Butter Cream Pie

serves ~8-10, depending on level of enthusiasm
Crust and chocolate filling inspired by BitterSweet, peanut butter filling freestyled, candied peanuts adapted from David Lebovitz

Candied Peanuts:
this yields slightly more than youll need, but its hard to stop eating them so thats probably for the best
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
1 cup dry-roasted peanuts
 hefty pinch coarse salt

Crust:
1 1/2 cups almond meal
3 Tbsp cocoa powder
2 Tbsp sugar
3 Tbsp melted margarine

Peanut Butter Layer:
1/2 cup smooth peanut butter
1/3 cup coconut cream (the thick solid layer on top of a can of coconut milk)
2 Tbsp maple syrup or corn syrup, or sugar to taste
splash vanilla
hefty pinch salt

Chocolate Layer:
12 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped to bits (or chocolate chips)
10 ounce package whippable vegan cream (I used this)
2 Tbsp corn syrup (optional, but gives it a nice gloss)

To make the candied peanuts: Have a cookie sheet at the ready. Mix the sugar and water in a medium skillet over a medium-high flame, until the sugar melts and dissolves. Add the peanuts and salt, and cook, stirring regularly, until the sugar mixture begins to darken (often the mixture turns sandy before it re-melts and darkens, which is totally normal but this last time I added a bit more water and it didnt - I gave the recipe here as I made it, but dont worry if the sandy stage happens to you -- it will remelt). Turn the peanuts constantly with a heat-proof spatula as this happens, until the sugar is darkly-colored but not burnt (caution: this is a narrow window). Turn the peanuts out onto the cookie sheet, breaking them up into clumps if you can (if theyre too hot or the sugar is trailing into whisps as you try, just wait until theyve cooled and hardened and you can do it then). Set aside.

To make the crust: Preheat your oven to 350 degrees.

Mix together the almond meal, cocoa powder, and sugar. Add the melted margarine, stirring to combine, and press the mixture into a 9" tart pan. The mixture will make a very thin layer -- this makes it a bit difficult to evenly distribute, but makes for a lovely end result. Bake ~10 minutes, until it colors very slightly. Set aside to cool.

To make the peanut butter filling: Whip together all of the filling ingredients until smooth. Taste and adjust as needed. Pour into your baked and cooled pie shell.

To make the chocolate filling and finish the pie: In a microwave or over a double-boiler, melt the chocolate (dont over-cook!), and allow to cool just slightly. Stir in the corn syrup.

Whip the cream for 2-3 minutes, until light and fluffy and tripled in volume. Take a dollop of the whipped cream and stir it into the chocolate mixture to lighten, then gently fold the lightened chocolate into the cream. Gently spread the chocolate on top of the peanut butter filling. Chill the pie for several hours to set, then sprinkle with the candied peanuts and serve.

Time can be one of your best friends when cooking. A few hours of a hands-off simmer can turn a pot of vegetables and water into a deeply flavorful soup. And an overnight slow rise can turn out loaves of home-cooked bread that can hold their own against your local artisan boulangerie. And it turns out that the same holds true for sweets. Last year, The New York Times ran an article profiling what they deemed the definitive chocolate chip cookie recipe, which the blogosphere resoundingly endorsed. The recipe seems pretty standard, with the usual players of creamed butter, brown and white sugars, flour, leavening, vanilla and chocolate. But then it instructs you to set your batter back in the refrigerator. For a full day. Or even two. The resulting cookies sport a caramel-like sophistication, handily beating out their less-mature brethren in taste tests.

Now, Im all for richly complex baked goods. But sometimes time isnt on your side. Sometimes you want to whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies to share with your friends who are about to board a plane (and to console yourself after their departure). But yet you still crave toffee-like layers of flavor, a step above the standard wan Tollhouse variety. At times like these, theres brown butter.

Brown butter, or beurre noisette if youre feeling French, is simply butter thats been heated until the milk solids separate out and darken. The French name translates to "hazelnut butter," which aptly describes the toasty, nutty flavor that this process imparts. Its your quickest shortcut to the deep, complex flavors that usually take hours to develop. Yes, theres a small bit of fuss. Youve got to swirl the pan a bit as the butter melts, to ensure even heating, and make sure to use a light colored pot so that you can see the butter darkening, and dont miss the brief window before it becomes bitterly burnt. But isnt that easier than twiddling your thumbs for several days, while delicious cookie dough calls to you from the refrigerator with its siren song?


Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

adapted from Cooks Illustrateds Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookies
yields 16-24 cookies, depending on the size

1 3/4 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 3/4 sticks unsalted butter
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 packed brown sugar
1 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 1/4 cups chocolate chips

Preheat an oven to 375 degrees.

Sift together flour and baking soda, set aside.

Place 10 tablespoons butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan or skillet. Heat over medium-high until the butter melts. Continue to cook until the butter is a deep golden brown, swirling the pan constantly (~1-3 minutes). Pour thebrown butter into a large bowl, and immediately add the remaining 4 tablespoons of reserved butter. Let sit, swirling occasionally, until the remaining butter has melted.

When all the butter has melted, add the sugars, salt and vanilla to the bowl, and whisk to combine. Add the egg and egg yolk. Whisk until the mixture is smooth, ~30 seconds, and then let sit for 3 minutes. Repeat the whisking and resting two more times. The sugars will begin to dissolve, and the mixture will become thicker, shiny and lighter in color.

Stir in the flour mixture until just combined, and fold in the chocolate chips. Scoop balls of dough onto a prepared cookie sheet, using 2-3 tablespoons of dough (depending on how large you like your cookies). Bake, one sheet at a time, until the edges are beginning to get golden, but the centers are still puffy and soft (8-14 minutes, depending on cookie size and oven temperature).
Cool on a rack.

I am totally loving on zucchini this summer. I have been making versions of this summer stir-fry, shaving it into long thin ribbons, and (more often than not) stewing it with garlic and olive oil forever, until it just slumps into deliciousness. And I also made this cornbread.

I have long been a fan of the many uses of zucchini, and how its flaws are actually its assets, if you just look at them in the right light. Like you know how it has a fairly subtle flavor, and can be kinda watery? Well, that just means you can easily slip it into your cornbread, where it adds a gentle green note, and keeps things tender and moist. I know, right?

This recipe is a fairly standard quickbread, though it goes a step further and browns the butter for a nutty taste ( a step I always recommend taking). The end result is somewhere between cornbread and zucchini bread, and a nice welcome change from either of the two. While less desserty than zucchini bread, it definitely falls on the sweeter end of the cornbread spectrum — but after a childhood relationship with doughnut shop corn muffins, thats how I like it (I even play up the subtle sweetness a bit more with a sanding of sugar across the top). Its a delicious snack to go with your afternoon tea (or iced tea, depending on the weather), and paired with a handful of blackberries or slice of cheese it makes for a perfect summer breakfast.

And if youd like to hear me say more kind words about zucchini, you can check out this intervew I did with No Chefs Allowed, over on Heritage Radio. Complete with ummms and upspeak and awkward oh-do-I-talk-now? pauses. It turns out being interviewed on the radio is totally nervous-making. Who knew?


Brown Butter Zucchini Cornbread

from Bon Appetit, via Epicurious
yields 1 loaf

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, plus additional for greasing pan
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 large eggs

Several years ago, I left my dog alone at a friends house for an evening, and returned to find that he had eaten all of the dog food in the house. All of it. When he came to greet us at the front door, he was noticeably larger. We rushed our barrel-shaped pup to the veterinarian, who pronounced him fine (and showed us an amusing x-ray, wherein you could still see all of the individual pieces of kibble in his overly-full stomach). In addition to piece of mind (and a hefty bill), we were given my absolute Favorite Diagnosis Ever: dietary indiscretion. Seriously. Dietary Indiscretion. Its sort of like diagnosis: bad decision-making. I suffer from that all the time.

For the most part, my diet is fairly healthy, full of fresh produce and whole grains and all that good stuff. But sometimes its not. Sometimes Im dining out, and the deliciously retro ice cream sundae on the menu calls to me. Or Im catching up with friends over happy hour, and after a few drinks an order (or three) of fries suddenly seems like a phenomenally brilliant idea. Or I am eating something so addictively delicious, say these little cheese-filled puff pastry palmiers at my friend Sarahs house, and I just cannot stop. Dietary Indiscretion.

After such poor choices, weve come up with a recovery meal known around our household as Hippie Dinner. Its the best way to sop up booze, grease, and bad decisions, and set you on the path to dietary righteousness. There are three elements: whole grains (in the form of some brown rice or quinoa); protein (in the form of marinated tofu or a piece of lean fish); and a huge pile of steamed or sauteed vegetables. Actually, make that 4 elements: the whole plate is topped off with a tahini variation called sloppy sauce.

Sloppy sauce, inspired by a friend who needed to recover from a nearly all-pizza diet, is a great way to make a huge pile of steamed kale and sweet potatoes much more exciting. It starts off like a traditional Middle Eastern tahini sauce, mixing sesame paste with lemon juice and garlic. But its given a bit of savory heft (and arguable health benefit) from a scoop of miso, and delicious nuttiness from almond butter. I like to further play up the East meets Middle East dimension by stirring in a bit of grated ginger, or a handful of scallions or chopped cilantro if youve got. And sometimes I emphasize the peanut sauce resemblance by using lime juice instead of lemon. As suggested by its name, sloppy sauce is a pretty informal affair, and can be easily adapted to your taste. And it can be enjoyed any time, whether youre recovering from a dietary indiscretion or not.


Sloppy Sauce (aka Tahini with Miso and Almond Butter)

yields ~3/4 cup

1 Tbsp miso (any type)
2 Tbsp tahini
2 Tbsp almond butter
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/2" ginger, grated
juice of 1 lemon
water
handful minced scallions and/or cilantro (optional)

Mix together the miso, tahini, and almond butter until well combined. Stir in the garlic and ginger, then the lemon juice. Add water, a little at a time, until it reaches a thick-but-pourable consistency (~1/4+ cup). Stir in the scallions and/or cilantro, if using. Taste, and adjust seasonings as needed. Pour over whatever hippie concoction you desire. The sauce will thicken upon standing, so just stir in a little additional water or lemon juice to loosen leftovers.

Once we age out of wearing pointy hats on our birthdays, most of us tend to not bake up cake for dessert. Cakes are for office parties or weddings. And even on those boredom-killing or celebratory occasions, were hardly looking forward to them. Theyre either too cottony, or too cloying, or favoring tier-supporting structure over delicacy. Its little wonder we forgo the cake entirely, opting for plum-studded tarts, or fudgy flourless chocolate cookies, or ganache-covered macaroons instead.

But oh, this cake. This cake. Essentially, its not much more than your basic genoise — whipped eggs and sugar, some flour and melted butter. But the butter is browned, giving it a surprisingly nutty depth. And then it gets a helping of autumnal pears and bittersweet chocolate. And its perfect.

To be clear, this isnt your standard buttery birthday cake. Its a bit more complex and grown-up, rich with brown butter and chocolate, moist with pears, but still light and just slightly dry (which is where the whipped cream comes in). Its kind of amazing, especially in these pear-heavy days at the end of summer.

And in other news of the transformative power of a quality baked good, I recently had the good fortune to sit in on a challah-baking class, right before the Jewish new year. You can take a listen over at NPR. Lshana tova!



Brown Butter Cake with Pear and Chocolate

from Al Di La, via the Smitten Kitchen (do you know she has a cookbook coming out?)
 
1 cup flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 stick unsalted butter
3 eggs, at room temperature
3/4 cup sugar, plus another spoonful or so for sweetening the whipped cream
3 pears, peeled, in a small dice (go with pears that are just barely ripe — too soft and theyll sog up the cake)
3/4 cup bittersweet chocolate chunks
1 cup cream

Preheat the oven to 350° Farenheit. Butter a 9-inch springform pan, dust with breadcrumbs or flour, and set aside.

Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt, and set aside.

To brown the butter, place in a saucepan and melt over medium heat, cooking until the butter turns a light brown and smells nutty and delicious (about 5-7 minutes). Scrape the bottom of the pan towards the end of this time, so that it browns evenly without the solids burning. Remove from the flame but keep in a warm spot.

Using a mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, whip the eggs on high speed until pale and very thick. You want to whip them for several minutes, beyond the usual foam, until it thickens and will sheet off the beaters in thick ribbons (more than 5 minutes).

Add the sugar to the eggs and whip a few minutes more.

Just as the egg-sugar mixture is starting to lose volume, turn the mixture down to the slowest stir, and add the flour mixture and brown butter in batches. Add one third of the flour mixture, then half of the butter, a third of the flour, the remaining butter, and the rest of flour. Whisk until just barely combined, then use a spatula to gently scrape and fold in the last of the batter (be careful not to over-mix — though this cake has a hefty amount of leavening, it still gets a lot of its loft from beaten eggs, so you dont want to deflate).

Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle the pear and chocolate chunks over the top (theyll sink to the middle as the cake sets), and bake until the cake is golden brown and springs back to the touch, about 40 to 50 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Whip the cream with a bit of sugar, and serve together.