Parsley Cake with Crème Fraîche and Honey, It's Vermont After All

I was in Waitsfield, Vermont last weekend.  Nowhere is vacation mode more apparent than a town that seems to propel itself on beer, bikes, and National Geographic hair.  The town is perpetually breezy.  I get the feeling July is alive and well there all year round.

I visited a vineyard and sat in the grass with friends, and a baby, and listened to a local band named the Grift, and drank wine in jam jars.  We ate Israeli couscous salad and shards of sharp cheese and rolled up cured meats surrounded by grape vines.

In the morning, we went to the farmers’ market where we had blackberry Danish and looked at sheepskin rugs touting local origins and tasted beer jelly made from Vermont brew. We bought red-skinned potatoes and haricot vert and dill, all of which found entry into a potato salad drenched with local crème fraîche later that evening.

We sampled smoked chèvre and an aged ash cheese called Black Madonna from the Sage Farm Goat Dairy lady, and I felt closer to France than I have in a long time.  Then we went on a search for Heady Topper, for which there was none in the entire state.  Apparently, we were too laidback in our acquisition efforts—even compared to native Vermonters, who all seem to know that the beer delivery happens on Monday and must set their watches accordingly. 

So we hiked. Then went on a bar crawl for three. Chatted with the owner of Localfolk Smokehouse about his recent perfection of a spicy barbeque sauce recipe.  And finally found some loosies of Heady Topper at the bar of Hostel Tevere, run brilliantly by a husband and wife team.  All the while in the company of a three-month-old possessing a very chill Vermont-y attitude, until the witching hour of 7 pm.

That evening I saw fireflies after dinner, and felt closer to childhood than I have in a long time.  And in the morning we had parsley cake for breakfast.

Which I will file away as the unofficial dessert of the Green Mountain State.  It is fern-colored and pleasantly grassy, if you will permit me to use such a ridiculous phrase as a selling point. It carries laidback sweetness, which allows the herbs to become softened by dairy. 

For this role, I recommend crème fraîche spiked with honey.  Old-fashioned vanilla ice cream would work equally as well, though less traditional as a breakfast option.  As one friend put it, the sweetened fraîche tasted of “warm ice cream.”  So there’s that, too.

I interpreted this positively, since he had multiple servings throughout the weekend.  No judgment on either account. It’s Vermont, after all.

The recipe is from a restaurant in Brooklyn called Roberta’s with a cult following.  In full disclosure: I haven’t been, though it wields an inspirational vibe and appears to be the kind of joint that can make pizza and parsley infinitely interesting, and unexpected.

Kind of like beer in jelly. Babies in bars.  And parsley in cake.

Parsley Cake with Crème Fraîche and Honey

Adapted from Food52 and Roberta’s Cookbook

Ingredients:

130 grams (about 3½ tightly-packed cups) parsley leaves (stems removed)

50 grams (about 1½ tightly-packed cups) mint leaves (stems removed)

165 grams (¾ cup) extra virgin olive oil

290 grams (2 cups plus 1 tbsp) flour

15 grams (1 tbsp plus 2 tsp) cornstarch

7 grams (2¼ tsp) kosher salt

8 grams (1½ tsp) baking powder

4 large eggs, room temperature

330 grams (1 2/3 cups) sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

zest of 1 lime

zest of 1 lemon

serve with

crème fraîche (sweeten with vanilla bean and honey or maple syrup, if desired)

honey (to drizzle on top)

Instructions:

In a food processor or blender, place 1/3 of the herbs and process until well crushed and broken down.  Add the remaining herbs in one or two more additions, depending on the size of your machine, and puree, stopping occasionally to stir the herbs and scrape them off the sides and toward the blade.

When the herbs are fairly well pulverized, stream in half the olive oil and pulse until combined.  Add remaining oil and blend for 10 seconds longer.  Scrape into a bowl and refrigerate until ready to use.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cornstarch, salt, and baking powder; set aside.

In a stand mixer with a paddle attachment, whip the eggs for 30 seconds; add the sugar and mix on high speed until light yellow and fluffy (about 3 minutes).  On low, slowly stream in the herb mixture and mix until combined.

With the machine on low, add the flour mixture a third at a time (do this quickly and don’t allow the flour to incorporate in before adding the next bit—this shouldn’t take more than 10 or 15 seconds).  Stop the mixer and add the vanilla and zest and stir with a rubber spatula until just combined (the flour should be fully incorporated but take care not to overmix). Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 6 and up to 24 hours.

When you are ready to bake, set the oven to 340 degrees.  Butter a loaf pan (I used two narrow ones—10 x 3½ and 7 x 3½), line with parchment paper (with the paper hanging over the sides), and then butter the parchment.  Pour in the batter and smooth with a spatula.

Bake for about 40 to 50 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean when inserted into the center of the cake. (The reference recipe has the cake bake for only 15 to 20 minutes, but they use a sheet pan which makes for a shallower cake and a faster cooking time; watch closely depending on your baking receptacle.)

Let cool in the pan.  Serve with a dollop of crème fraîche and a drizzle of honey.

Serves about 12

Notes:

-Any leftovers can be stored in the freezer.

-Note the batter hangs in the fridge for a least 6 hours before baking.

A Beet Greens Quiche Comes Home

I’ve held associations of quiche with sweet chilled tea and triangle-cut cucumber cream cheese sandwiches.  A vibe of lacquered perfection.  I have no idea where this came from.  But I was wrong. 

Instead picture eight friends sitting around two uneven tables covered by mismatched tablecloths, surrounded by an unusual collection of dishes.  

Vegetables with edamame dip.  An oozy Canadian chèvre called Grey Owl, with a fuzzy slate-colored rind.  Lasagna.  Foie gras with morels.  Quiche.  And a layered chocolate cake. 

Or picture eating quiche for a solid week for breakfast.  Both happened. 

Tartine’s quiche recipe, of the famed San Francisco bakery, feels like home.  The crust—its gently slumping sides shown here resemble a craggy coastal line—is buttery, flaky, and rich.  Ribbons of beet greens appear when it’s sliced into wedges, revealing an eggy filling so light and smooth, it’s almost custardy.  Adding in a tub of crème fraîche might have helped with that.

Anyway, this quiche connected a memory of my mother’s soft-boiled eggs.  A few weeks ago I saw her lightly boil an egg, set it in an egg cup, tap-tap-tap the top of its shell, and gently peel off just enough to create jagged eggshell edges.

I’ve eaten many boiled eggs from this woman.  I remember them being soft and delicate.  I remember dunking narrow strips of buttered toast deep into the yolk.  I remember feeling cared for.  I do not remember ever noticing the uneven lines that came from unhinging the tiptop of the eggshell.  Those rough edges were always there though.

This intensely fragile custard and its rich, buttery shell cause a similar hypnotization.  When simple things are very good, craggy edges and slightly sloping crusts don’t matter much.

Beet Greens Quiche

Adapted from Tartine, by Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson

Ingredients:

for the crust

(this makes 2 crusts, save one for another use)

1 tsp salt

2/3 cup ice water (measured after the ice is removed)

3 cups plus 2 tbsp all-purpose flour

1 cup plus 5 tbsp unsalted butter, very cold and cut into 1 inch pieces

for the custard

5 eggs

3 tbsp all-purpose flour

1 cup (8 ounces) crème fraîche

1 cup whole milk

1 tsp salt

8-10 grinds of black pepper

1 tbsp thyme, finely chopped (or other soft herb)

1 cup raw beet greens, cut into thin strips (chiffonade)

Instructions:

In a small bowl, combine the salt and water and stir.  Place the flour in a food processor and scatter the butter on top; pulse until crumbs the size of walnuts and peas form.  Add in the water and pulse for a few seconds more (the dough should come together, but it will be shaggy).

On a lightly floured surface, divide the dough in two.  Shape each ball into a 1-inch thick disk; wrap in plastic wrap and chill 2-24 hours.

To roll out the dough, place it on a lightly floured surface and roll it into a circle 1/8 inch thick (do not roll back and forth, instead roll from the center out, turning the dough as you go).  Dust with extra flour, as needed, to prevent sticking.  Gently roll the dough up on your rolling pin and over a 9 or 10-inch pie or tart pan (it should hang over 1-2 inches).  Gently ease the dough into the pan.  Trim it to a ½ inch overhang and crimp it, or trim the dough even with a tart pan. (Repeat with the remaining dough and reserve for another use.)

Chill the dough 30-60 minutes.  Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Line the shell with parchment paper and fill with pie weights or dried beans.  Bake for about 25 minutes, or until the shell looks light brown (lift up the parchment paper).  Remove the parchment paper and bake until golden brown, about 5 minutes more.  Let cool completely on a wire rack. 

Meanwhile, in a medium bowl make the custard by whisking 1 egg and the flour together until smooth.  Whisk in the remaining eggs.  In a large bowl, beat the crème fraîche until smooth; add in the milk and whisk until well combined. 

Through a strainer or mesh sieve, pour the egg mixture into the milk mixture.  Whisk in the salt, pepper, and thyme.  Refrigerate until ready to bake.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Add the beet greens into the custard and pour it into the prepared pastry shell.  Bake for 10 minutes, then turn the oven to 325 degrees and bake for 30-40 minutes longer, until the center of the quiche is set up (it should not jiggle if jostled); it should feel fairly firm to the touch.

Let cool on a wire rack and serve slightly warm, or at room temperature, or slightly chilled.  To rewarm the quiche, cover with foil and reheat at 325 degrees for about 15 minutes.

Makes 8 reasonable slices

Notes:

-Any kind of dark greens would be lovely here, kale, swiss chard, etc.  I had approximately 1 million pounds of beet greens from canning a few weeks ago that needed a home.

-My crusts tend to slump a bit.  I’m pretty sure it’s my oven (let’s blame it anyway).  It’s not the recipe.  Either way, it didn't matter.

-You can refrigerate the shell overnight, before it is baked, if tightly wrapped.

-The unfilled baked pie shell will keep at room temperature tightly wrapped for a day or two or in the freezer for up to two weeks.