The Cesar. It Hits You Right in the Skull.

As a present, my little brother recently gave me a glass skull shot glass and a blank composition book titled, “People I Want to Punch in the Face.”  We Gelsomins are not a violent bunch.  But we do have a sick sense of humor.

I mention this because I finally had the chance to use my new morbid barware last Sunday.  Turns out, one and a half ounces of vodka fills up to the skull’s would-be procerus—the booze hits right underneath the eyebrows.

But right.  I am not here to talk faux-skull anatomy.  No.  I am here to discuss a better Bloody Mary.  A lighter, more whimsical Bloody Mary.  If you allow my use of whimsy and blood in the same sentence. 

To complicate matters a tad, this cocktail is technically called a César.  (And I will henceforth leave figures with murderous undertones out of this.) The drink is essentially a Canadian version of the standard aforementioned brunch cocktail. 

This recipe comes from the brains behind Joe Beef and Liverpool House, Frédéric Morin and David McMillan.  Brilliant men.  The two have mastered the art of fanciful, nostalgic food.

They do things like serve Hot Oysters on the Radio.  (Or on bags of sugar, erotic novels, albums, whatever.)  They’ve been known to bring their own foie gras on train trips.  And their own vintage glassware when ice fishing.

They also subscribe to extreme cocktail garnishing.  Which is fine by me.  A mutiny of accoutrement is precisely what I’m after.

I recommend a lemon and lime slice for starters.  The obligatory celery stalk, of course.  Perhaps a pickle, an olive or two, and preferably at least one type of shellfish.  Dave and I decided a plump oyster crown would do.

The cocktail is spicy, savory, and skillfully employs Clamato juice as a vodka transporter of sorts.

And they go down easy.  So watch it.  You don’t want to end up on anyone’s face-punching list.

The César

Adapted from The Art of Living According to Joe Beef: A Cookbook of Sorts by Frédéric Morin, David McMillan, and Meredith Erickson

Ingredients:

Old Bay seasoning (for garnish) (or you could try this)

1½ ounces of vodka (up to the eyebrows in a skull shot glass, or one shot)

dash of Worcestershire

few dashes of Tabasco

½ tsp grated horseradish, or to taste

salt and pepper, to taste

4 to 6 ounces Clamato juice

at least one lemon and lime wedge or slice

2 olives

1 pickle spear

1 celery stalk

1 raw oyster

Instructions:

Place the Old Bay or seasoning mixture on a plate.  Dip the edge of a pint glass into water or rub it with the wedge of a lemon.  Turn the glass upside down and press the edge into the seasoning, moving it gently in a circular motion to help the spices stick.

Fill the glass at least halfway with ice.  Add the vodka, Worcestershire, Tabasco, horseradish, and a pinch of salt and pepper.  Fill the glass up with Clamato to the top (allowing a little room for garnish displacement).  Stir, taste, and adjust the seasoning, as needed.

Add in the citrus, olives, pickle spear, and celery.  Top with an opened oyster, or seafood garnish of your choice.

Makes one cocktail.

Notes:

-In a pinch, I used ground piment d’Espelette and a little salt in place of the Old Bay.

-A lobster claw would be a keen addition.  Other pickled vegetables, such as dilly beans, would be wonderful here, as well.

-You can see both the subtle skull shot glass and Bostonian Bully Boy vodka bottle in the background.  This is just an aside.

-Don't have Clamato?  Try one part tomato juice to two parts clam juice, as suggested here.

Dark Chocolate Crescent Ginger Oat Biscuits (The Beginning of Your Oat Experience)

No matter what I say from here on out, I assure you these biscuits are, in fact, cookies.  Purely a matter of semantics.  I may suggest they are virtuously cluttered with oats.  Or contain enough ginger to pass as a digestive aid.

A certain chef I know likened them to granola bars.  And he has eaten several under this premise.  The British have termed such things biscuits.  I do not have data on their intake.  But based on the information that follows, I suspect they consume their bloody share. 

They resemble an oversized, chewy ginger snap with pliable bits of softened ginger root.  The oats stand their ground supported by brown sugar and butter and take a crescent-shaped dip in dark chocolate.

The original recipe came to me accidentally.  I had seen a riff on the famed Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s River Cottage digestives made gingery and chocolatey by the cookery writer himself.  But somehow, somewhere signals got crossed and I wound up with Chocolate and Ginger Oat Biscuits from the BBC instead of Gingery, Chocolatey Oat Biscuits from The Guardian. 

No matter.  The oat-ginger-chocolate combination is winning. This recipe also contains that buttery Lyle's golden syrup that the Brits love so much.  It relies on a suspicious amount of ginger, as well, both powdered and fresh.  The root itself becomes nearly caramelized by sheer proximity to sugar and provides a nice counterpoint to the slight bitterness of the moon-shaped dark chocolate edges.

What does matter, however unfortunately, is that both British recipes use weight measurements instead of volume.   Which I did not realize until this precise moment. 

So please forgive me.  But if you’ve been toying with getting a baking scale, now is your chance to use cookies as a rationalization device.  Or circle-shaped chewy “granola bars” with chocolate rims, if you want to play it that way.

I’ll just stick to calling them oat biscuits. Because it makes me feel better about eating them for breakfast.  And because, as Fearnley-Whittingstall says, “breakfast should be just the beginning of your oat experience.”

Dark Chocolate Crescent Ginger Oat Biscuits

Adapted from the BBC, inspired by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

Ingredients:

225g (8 ounces) unsalted butter

100g (3½ ounces) golden syrup

200g (7 ounces) dark brown sugar

150g (3½ ounces) all-purpose flour

2 tsp baking powder

1 tbsp plus 1 tsp ground ginger

2 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp kosher salt

400g (14 ounces) old-fashioned rolled oats

2 eggs, lightly beaten

40g (1½ ounces) peeled ginger, minced (the ginger root will be about the length of 1½ thumbs)

85g (3 ounces) dark chocolate (I used 55% dark chocolate from Taza), roughly chopped

Instructions:

Set the oven to 350 degrees.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  In a medium saucepan, melt the butter, syrup, and brown sugar over medium-low heat until well combined, stirring occasionally; set aside.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, and spices; add in the salt and oats and stir to combine.  Pour in the melted butter mixture; add in the eggs and ginger and stir everything together with a rubber spatula until fully combined.

Scoop the mixture into semi-composed heaps about 2 to 2½ inches in diameter.  You should be able to fit 9 per sheet.  Bake about 10 minutes, until the cookies have spread, are firm to the touch, and the centers are no longer liquidy.

Allow to cool long enough so they can be transferred to a wire rack.  Once they have cooled completely, pour a little water into the bottom of a saucepan and place a heat-proof bowl above it (the bowl should not be touching the water).  Place the chocolate in the bowl and stir occasionally, until the chocolate has fully melted. 

Dip the cookies into the warmed chocolate just enough to create a crescent shape spanning roughly one-third of the edge of each cookie, working quickly so the bowl of chocolate does not cool (and then start to thicken).

Place the cookies back on the wire rack until the chocolate has set.  (To speed up this process, I placed the cookies in the fridge.)  Store at room temperature for up to two days or for a number of weeks in the freezer.

Makes 18 cookies

Notes:

-The chocolate was taking a very long time to harden, so I placed the cookies in the fridge to speed up the process.  I’m sure a proper tempering would create a very lovely, shiny chocolate but I don’t think it’s necessary.

-For better or worse, these can pretty much be eaten straight out of the freezer.

-If you can get your hands on the spiked eggnog flavor from Taza, it’s quite the chocolate pairing for these cookies.

To Belgian Waffle

I have a history of preferring turkey sandwiches and cold pasta for breakfast.  Savory reigns in the morning.  And I lived a number of years quite content with this, until one day I came face to face with a certain waffle. 

The Belgian.

The kind of waffle which wears a crisp outer jacket covering its delicate, chewy insides.  Possessing crunchy burnt caramel pockets.  And tasting ever so slightly of pretzel.

It borrows the satisfying crack of a crème brûlée and the chew from a fresh yeast roll.  All the while never forgetting it’s a waffle.  And reminding that Belgians don’t have to be slapped with whipped cream to be fun.

I’ve started to refer to the action of cooking them as “to waffle.”  To Belgian waffle.  As it ensures both breakfast and merriment occur.

To waffle an actual waffler is needed.  And some yeast.  And pearl sugar, which can be a bit persnickety to procure.  Plus the restraint to wait overnight.

But to waffle is worth it.  And the goods needed to do so can be ordered online.  Breakfast will be filled with flour and joy and debatably unnecessary verbiage forevermore. 

The Belgian Waffle

Adapted from Sweet Amandine by way of Formaggio Kitchen

Ingredients:

2 cups bread flour, divided

1 tsp instant dry yeast

¼ cup whole milk, room temperature

1 egg, room temperature

1 tbsp plus 1 tsp dark brown sugar

¾ tsp kosher salt

1 tbsp honey

2 tsp vanilla extract

½ cup unsalted butter, room temperature

½ cup pearl sugar

Instructions:

The night before:

In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together 2/3 cup of bread flour and the yeast.  In a separate small bowl, mix together the milk, egg, and 2 tbsp plus 2 tsp lukewarm water; add to the yeast mixture and stir to moisten.  Sprinkle the remaining 1-1/3 cups of bread flour over the top, but do not mix it in.  Cover and let sit for 60 to 90 minutes, until the batter just starts to bubble up at the edges of the bowl.

To the batter, add in the brown sugar and salt and (with the paddle attachment) mix on low until just combined.  With the machine on low, add in the honey and vanilla, and then the butter 2 tbsp at a time. When the butter is incorporated and the mixture has come together, switch to a dough hook and mix on medium-low, stopping to scrape down the sides occasionally.  This will take 4 or 5 minutes.  It is done when the dough stretches, rather than breaks.

Cover with plastic wrap and place in the fridge overnight.

The day of:

About 2 to 3 hours before you want to eat waffles, take out the dough.  Let it rest a few minutes, until it becomes just a little pliable; then use your hands to mix in the pearl sugar. Separate the dough into 6 equal pieces and place on a parchment-lined cookie sheet.  Cover loosely with plastic wrap and allow to rise.  (The directions say this takes 1-1/2 hours, but I’ve found it takes closer to 2 to 2-1/2 hours in my house.  It might be a little colder here.  To speed up the process, place the sheet on top of a warm stove.) 

When the dough is puffed up and soft and pillowy (see here), you are ready.  Heat a stovetop waffle iron (aka the waffler), greased lightly with canola oil, on medium low for a few minutes (about 3) and then flip it and heat the other side for another minute or 2 more.  (Have a regular iron?  See here.)  Add one dough ball to the center of the iron, close the iron, and cook for about a minute. 

Take a peak inside, the waffle should have started to brown and should not stick to the iron.  Flip the iron and continue to cook until the waffle is sufficiently golden and crispy.  (Flip the pan again, if the other side needs more color.)  If the waffles are browning too quickly, turn down the heat.  The entire process should only take a few minutes.

Repeat with remaining dough balls.  (You can keep the cooked waffles warm in a 200-degree oven until all are finished.)

Makes 6 waffles

Notes:

-If you are in the market for a waffler, they are much cheaper on Amazon.

-I’ve successfully made this recipe with active dry yeast, too.  You’ll need 1-1/3 tsp and you’ll have to bloom the yeast about 10 minutes in whole milk (same amount as listed) that has been heated to about 100 degrees.  In this case, you’ll mix the bloomed yeast with the water and egg mixture before adding it to the 2/3 cup of flour.

-You can freeze the waffles whole and warm them again in an oven, though admittedly they lose some of their chewiness the second time around.

- I like these guys with a little butter and maple syrup (though they don’t really need it).  I’ve also enjoyed them with a thick, heavily reduced apple cider. Bacon would likely be a welcome addition here too.

-Weight equivalents are available here.

Cranberry Spice Muffins. Also, I am a Boring Human.

There is something about initiating a discussion on muffins that makes me feel like the world's least interesting human. 

It probably doesn't help that I'm currently wearing a bathrobe and a t-shirt that says "Thomas Jefferson Still Lives" under that.  And that I'm drinking club soda.  And that I'm writing this on a Friday night.

But please don't let my lameness stop you.  This is a fine pastry specimen.  In fact, I referred to the batch I baked around Christmas as holiday stud-muffins. 

This probably does not help my cause much.  But hopefully it does something for the muffins.

The recipe is inspired by a blueberry spelt version in Nigel Slater's Ripe.  It's a wonderful base to use throughout the year and takes kindly to whatever berry-of-the-moment the season is hosting. And this is one of my favorite incarnations. So despite being past its seasonal prime, I deemed it worthy enough to risk a passé label.

It has the tender quality of a muffin masquerading as a biscuit and hints ever so slightly of eggnog.  The cranberries swing with the spices and offer up pleasing tart pockets.  Things might even teeter on the side of savory, if there wasn't a sprinkling of demerara over their tops. 

But the crunch from the sugar is a must.  If it were up to me, I'd make a demerara scattering mandatory across most baked goods.  They also freeze brilliantly.  Which means they can pretty much go wherever, whenever.

They are a real renaissance muffin.

Jefferson lives!

Cranberry Spice Muffins

Adapted from Ripe: A Cook in the Orchard by Nigel Slater

Ingredients:

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1½ tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

heaping ½ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp ground allspice

¼ to ½ tsp freshly ground nutmeg (see note)

½ tsp kosher salt

¼ cup butter, softened

scant 2/3 cup granulated sugar

2 eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

½ cup plain whole milk yogurt

1¼ cups cranberries (fresh or frozen whole)

a few spoonfuls demerara sugar

few spoonfuls rolled oats

Instructions:

Set the oven to 375 degrees.  Line 12 muffin cups with liners.  Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, spices, and salt.

In the bowl of stand mixer, cream the butter and granulated sugar until fluffy, scraping down the sides occasionally (the mixture will want to cling to the side of the bowl, especially if you use the paddle attachment).  With the mixer running, slowly add the eggs one at a time; add in the vanilla and yogurt.

Add the sifted flour mixture in three or four swift additions with the mixer running (the flour does not have to be fully incorporated; you don't want to over-mix the batter).  Stop the mixer and fold in the berries.  Spoon the batter into the prepared cups (it will be very thick).  Scatter the tops with ½ to 1 tsp demerara per muffin and sprinkle on some oats.

Bake for about 20 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean when inserted into the center of a muffin.  Let the muffins cool briefly in the pan and then place on a rack to fully cool.

Makes one dozen muffins

Notes:

-I used sheep's yogurt, because I love it.  Any yogurt will do, but I prefer whole because it adds a little richness and the recipe does not use a lot of fat overall.

-I eyeballed the nutmeg measurement (I ground it for 10 seconds with a microplane).  This yielded a faint but tangible presence. Use your judgment and do more or less depending on your relationship with the spice.

-You can substitute the whole wheat pastry flour for another whole grain, like whole wheat or spelt.  The pastry flour will yield a lighter crumb, but I've also used other less delicate types with satisfying results. 

A Maple Bourbon Sour, We Begin Again

Hello to you from 2014.  December has come to a smashing halt.  And we have a lot to talk about. 

We have Belgian waffles and a Buddhist-inspired dumpling soup to make.  Plus room-silencing butterscotch pots de crème and a whole host of recipes that have yet to be discovered.  Who knows what other bits 2014 will bring. 

I had wanted to talk about cranberry-spiced muffins today.  I had wanted to suggest if you squirreled away holiday berries you can repurpose them for a very fine breakfast.  But since I ended 2013 like this, a recipe on leftover frugality seemed a little lacking in the festive department.

So I have frothy booze and a coupe glass for you instead.   

I made a pair of these Sunday night to christen a dinner party Dave and I were about to prepare.  Dave went on to make a regal lamb roast and clam spaghetti, and some very wonderful melty Italian broccoli.  I served up some homemade quince marmalade and spelt sourdough as cheese companions, plus the aforementioned pots de crème. 

The drinks were the first of many delicious things.  So I thought it only fitting to feature them today.  On day one.

This is an adaption of a recipe from Molly and Brandon, courtesy of Food52’s craft cocktail column.  No matter what goes down in 2014, it’s comforting knowing these two are around to sling drink suggestions.  

This one happens to involve raw egg whites, which sometimes scares people.  All I can say is I lived to see 2014 and—if you are reading this you probably did too—so perhaps it’s time to take a walk on the wild side.

The cocktail is easy to make and easy to love.  It is also easy to transform from brandy to whiskey-based, if your bar has a Pisco deficit.  Whatever bitters you have will add additional drink flare; I enjoy Peychaud’s.  If you have lemon and an egg, plus something distilled from grapes or grain and some sweet tree sap, you’re pretty much there.

It’s a silky cocktail, balanced by citrus and maple.  The top turns bright white on you, once shaken and poured.  You’ll then want to lightly pepper it with drops of Peychaud’s and swirl them with a toothpick.  It helps if you have a dropper, but just wing it with a steady hand if you don’t. (As you can see, mine went rogue.) Either way you can’t really go wrong. 

A baptism in bourbon may be just the thing this year.

Maple Bourbon Sour

Adapted from the Maple Pisco Sour at Essex

Ingredients:

1¾ ounces of bourbon

¾ ounce fresh lemon juice

½ ounce maple syrup, preferably grade B

1 egg white

8 drops Peychaud’s bitters

Instructions:

In a cocktail shaker, place the bourbon, lemon juice, maple syrup, and egg white and dry shake it (meaning without ice) for about 20 to 30 seconds.  Add ice and shake for another 30 seconds. 

Strain into a cocktail glass.  Garnish with the drops of bitters and swirl with a toothpick.

Makes 1 cocktail

Notes:

-The original recipe also notes you can try shaking with ice (avoiding a dry shake altogether) for as long as your hands can take the cold.

-Though I didn’t do this, you could try it with liquid egg whites.  It’s about 2 tbsp egg white per cocktail.