meyer lemon bars with pine nut cornmeal crust (via The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook)

Karen and I have a habit of doing things on vacations that are spur of the moment, completely unplanned, and then falling into something wonderful. Or at least memorable. Being attacked by monkeys at the Batu Caves outside Kuala Lumpur comes to mind. So does finding Grom gelato in Florence. 

So does our drive down Highway 1 in California from San Francisco. Karen suggested we go (that is, made me go) to the Winchester Mystery house in San Jose (so much crazy), and once that was over, we decided to drive to Carmel-by-the-Sea. No clue how to get there. No GPS at the time. No restaurant picked out. Let’s just drive. 

And while Carmel was pretty and the beach was misty and moody and beautiful, it was the drive that was the real reward. Neither of us had spent much time on the West Coast, and we had no idea how overwhelming the Pacific Ocean is, as the highway hugs the cliffs. Giant waves crashing against the waves below you. Rainbows. So difficult to keep my eyes on the road. Luckily, there were many places to stop along the drive, stand out on the cliffs, the energy of the water rolling toward you, and feel small and impossibly large at the same time. 

Ridiculous beauty.

But.  A very sad “but.” Had we driven just a bit further south of Carmel, we would have found Big Sur Bakery which, from their cookbook and website, appears just as magical as the drive along Highway 1. 

Their cookbook is organized by season, and their approach to cooking and their restaurant inspires connection to the land and people around you, creating family wherever you go. 

We love their recipes, especially their Meyer lemon bars with pine nut corn meal crust.  The bars are big and rich, more substantial than most lemon bars, with a tender crunch in the crust from pine nuts. Meyer lemons are perfect for this, but use regular lemons if that’s what you have on hand. You’ll be happy.

Next time, we’ll drive past Carmel and head right for Big Sur Bakery. Seems like it’s full of all kinds of wonderful.

recipe | meyer lemon bars with pine nut cornmeal crust (via The Big Sur Bakery Cookbook)


For the dough

• 1 c unsalted butter
• ½ c pine nuts
• 2¾ c all purpose flour
• 1/3 c plus 2 T sugar
• ½ c yellow cornmeal
• 1 t kosher salt
• Grated zest of 2 Meyer lemons
• 2 egg yolks
• 2 T heavy cream

For the Meyer lemon filling

• 3¼ c sugar
• ½ c all purpose flour
• Grated zest of 3 Meyer lemons
• 1 c Meyer lemon juice
• ½ c heavy cream
• 8 whole eggs
• 5 egg yolks

For the topping

• Powdered sugar

Make the dough
Cut the butter into cubes. Spread them out on a plate and throw them in the freezer for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 F. Put the rack in the middle position.

Put the pine nuts on a cookie sheet and toast them in the oven for about 7 minutes. You want light brown, not medium. Light. Let them cool completely.
In a food processor, pulse the flour, sugar, cornmeal, pine nuts, salt and lemon zest until you get small pieces of pine nuts. Add the butter from the freezer. Pulse until you get a coarse meal. Dump the contents into a large mixing bowl.

Make a well in the center. Leave it sit there for a couple of minutes, waiting in anticipation. Pine nuts can be demanding, and they need to learn patience. Learn ‘em good.

In a separate bowl, whisk the yolks and cream together. Pour them into the well you made in the pine nut flour. Knead the mixture with your hands until fully combined. You’re looking for smooth dough that looks uniform. Flatten the disk and wrap it in plastic. Refrigerate for at least 3 hours. I know this is lengthy. I have no idea if you could do it for less time. Probably, but why would you?

After a good, long wait, roll the dough between two pieces of parchment paper. Roll it into a 15x17 inch rectangle that’s ¼ inch thick. Drape the dough inside a 9x13 baking dish, pushing the dough into the corners and up the side. You’re making a nest of pine nut crust. You’re welcome. Trim off the excess dough off the top and refrigerate the pan for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven. 350 F.

Bake the crust for about 20 minutes. Golden brown. Cool it completely. 


Make the filling

Heat the oven to 325 F.

In an electric mixer with the whisk attachment, combine the sugar, flour, zest, juice, heavy cream, eggs, and egg yolks. Crank it up to high. Beat until frothy, 2-3 minutes. Pour the mixture into the crust and bake until filling is set. Check it at 25-30 minutes. But ours went for almost an hour. Don’t panic. You want it set, but not browned. So watch it. Take personal responsibility for these. So many eggs. Let’s not let them brown. 

Cool completely. For real.

Cut the bars into whatever size makes you happy. A tip from the Big Sur Bakery cookbook - wipe the blade clean with a wet towel between cuts. No goopiness. Transfer the bars to plates and sprinkle generously with powdered sugar.

golden plum custard tart with almond sable dough (via Karen DeMasco)

It takes some effort to get to our farmers’ market, and it is only five blocks from our home. The walk isn’t hard. It’s the getting ready part.

There are diapers to be changed, children to be chased down, pajamas to be removed, children to be chased down again after escaping our clutches. Clothes to be put on, more chasing. Shoes to be found. Chasing. Shoes to be put on.

Chasing. Again. Herding to the door. A tag-team combo of offense and defense to get them in the stroller (a 3-seater monstrosity that looks like an SUV with a captain’s chair. We clear sidewalks with that thing. But it’s the only stroller out there that works for our kids’ ages, so we are forced to be “those people”).

Then we walk. 

Buying local would be so much easier if we didn't have to change diapers.

We've lived here long enough to have something to say when we see the neighbors, other than the weather. And the size of our stroller. Remember, these are the people who came running when the tree fell. Really good neighbors. So the farmers’ market ends up being much more about community than the actual food. That feels right.

Once we get to the market, we are ordered to run and see the fishmonger. And get terrified by the live lobsters. Then fresh lemonade for the kids. We hope to see the bee lady who brought her bees last year in one of those tall plastic-encased hives, but is nowhere to be found now. The produce vendors. A final stop at Scrumbcious to see Jessica and whatever wonderful thing she’s made that day. Usually it involves frosting and sprinkles for the kids.

A walk by the train station to see the tracks and look for Thomas.

Home.

When we lived in NYC, just Karen and I, the green market was about discovery. Surprise me, farmers. Impress me. And they never failed. But now the farmers’ market has become, for us, a ritual that demands familiarity. And community. And connections.

But these plums. These golden plums. So impressive. They were the first things my eyes caught as we approached the market. We were just walking toward home when I knew I needed them and turned the boat around.

Make this tart, inspired by The Craft of Baking, authored by James Beard-winner and pastry chef at Tom Colicchio’s Craft, Karen DeMasco, with any sweet/tart stone fruit: plums, apricots, nectarines, peaches, or cherries. But these golden plums were perfect.

When you read “custard,” do not think of eggs here. This isn’t eggy. I don’t do eggy. Think light and creamy, a perfect counterpoint to the tartness of the plums.

Tarts don't have to be fussy. This certainly isn't. Make the full dough recipe and save half for another tart. You'll want one soon. Probably right after next week's farmers' market.

recipe | golden plum custard tart with almond sable dough (via Karen DeMasco)

for the almond sable dough

• 2 1/4 c unbleached all purpose flour, plus more for dusting
• 3/4 c almond flour (We used almond meal because that's what we had on hand, which made it more rustic. And cheaper.)
• 1/2 t kosher salt
• 14 T chilled unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1/2 c plus 1 tablespoon confectioners' sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1 large egg yolk

In a bowl, whisk together the all purpose flour, almond flour, and salt.
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, combine the butter and confectioners' sugar. Mix on medium-low speed until well combined, about four minutes.

Mix in the egg and then the yolk, allowing each to be incorporated before adding the next. In two additions, add the flour mixture, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition.

Turn out the dough onto a clean lightly floured work surface. Divide it in half, shape into flattened disks, and wrap each one in plastic wrap. Refrigerate for at least one hour or overnight.

(The dough can be frozen for up to 1 month; thaw it overnight in the refrigerator before using.)

for the peach custard

• A bit of all purpose flour, for rolling
• One round of the almond sable dough (1/2 of the recipe)
• 1/4 c sliced blanched almonds
• 1 c sour cream
• 1 large egg
• 2 large egg yolks
• 1/4 c granulated sugar
• 1/2 t vanilla extract
• 1/2 t kosher salt
• 1/4 c almond flour (again, we used almond meal)
• 3 c golden plums (or other stone fruit), pitted
• 2 T turbinado sugar

On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to an 11-inch round. Fit the dough into a 9 1/2-inch fluted tart pan with a removable bottom. Press the dough into the edges of the pan, and use a pairing knife to trim off the top. With a fork, prick the bottom of the dough ail over. Chill in the freezer for 10 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350F. Spread the almonds on a baking sheet and toast for 5 minutes; set aside.

Line the chilled tart shell with a round of parchment paper or foil, leaving a 1-inch overhang. Fill it with dried beans. Bake until the edges of the crust are just beginning to turn golden, 15 to 20 minutes. Remove the parchment and beans. Rotate the pan, return the crust to the oven, and continue baking until it is golden all over, 15 to 20 minutes more. Transfer the tart shell to a wire rack and let it cool completely.

In a bowl, whisk together the sour cream, egg, egg yolks, granulated sugar, vanilla, and salt. Fold in the almond flour.

Set the tart pan on a baking sheet.

Place the plums into the cooled tart shell, arranging the fruit in a snug single layer. Pour the custard mixture over the plums, and then sprinkle the top with the almonds and turbinado sugar.

Bake, rotating the pan halfway through, until the almonds are toasted and the edges of the filling are set, about 30 minutes. The center will be a little loose.

Transfer the pan to a wire rack and let it cool completely. Remove the outer ring of the pan before serving.

summer garden pasta (via Ina Garten)

A tree fell on our house this week. 

Our neighbors' tree in their backyard gave up the ghost and landed on our house. Twelve inches to the left, and it would have smashed through the window of the room where our twin daughters sleep. 

But that didn't happen. They cried for thirty seconds after what sounded like a bomb exploded on our roof, tree limbs stabbing through the shingles. Good girls.

Havoc in the upstairs bathroom with new skylights where there had been none, plaster all around. But our son slept soundly. Good boy.

We were all fine.

That's what we're left with after the tree. We're all fine. No one was hurt. The neighborhood came running at 11:00 p.m., ready to help in whatever way the could. Nothing to do but stare in wonder at what could have happened, how bad it was but just how much worse it could have been.

We are fine. 

We keep telling ourselves that. 

We are fine. 

So. The week goes on, and I traveled for work. Back home, the last thing I wanted to do was cook. A bottle of wine and some ice cream watching Top Chef sounded like the perfect evening with Karen, sitting on the couch and just being still under our tarp-wrapped roof. 

But she made dinner. Really, she's the best. 

Grape tomatoes sliced open, shreds of basil, a lot of garlic, and a kick of pepper flakes over a steaming bowl of pasta. A lot of Parm and olive oil. The tomatoes mellow in a bowl with the garlic for four hours, so you make most of this in the early afternoon for dinner that night.

Comfort and calm on a hot summer night. Exactly what we needed.

Make this when it's hot. When you're tired. When you only have energy for ice cream and wine. And you know, if a tree falls on your house. And remind yourself that you're fine.

recipe | summer garden pasta (via Ina Garten)

• 2 pints cherry or grape tomatoes, halved
• Extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 tablespoons minced garlic (6 cloves) 
• 18 large (or however many you feel like) basil leaves, julienned, plus extra for serving
• ½ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (we add more)
• Kosher salt
• 1 pound dried pasta (linguine fini works well here)
• 1 ½ cups freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus extra for serving

Combine the cherry tomatoes, ½ cup olive oil, garlic, basil leaves, red pepper flakes, 1.5 teaspoons salt, and the pepper in a large bowl. Cover with plastic wrap, and set aside at room temperature for about 4 hours.

Make the pasta. Add the drained pasta to the tomato mixture. Douse with the Parm. Top with some extra basil. Eat.

cherry sidecars (via mattbites.com)

I was looking for a new recipe for a sidecar a few weeks back. I really like drinking them. A lot. Not too much. But a lot.

There’s something easy and perfect about a sidecar. Brandy, Cointreau, and lemon juice. Ice in a shaker (or an unused sippy cup for extra insulation while shaking). A cocktail glass. You’re set.

I’ll substitue in a Meyer lemon when I can find them. A tangelo. It takes almost any sweet tart citrus in stride.

But a few weeks ago, I was searching for some new ideas for sidecars, and I came across Matt Armendariz’s cherry sidecar recipe. Matt is one of the best food photographers around, and that’s not just me saying it (#7, plus Martha is a fan. THAT Martha.) Real beauty in his work every time without an ounce of preciousness. We like that a lot.

His sidecars are ridiculous. They are sweet and boozy, with a punch of lime that reminds your mouth you want more. Another round, every time.

Matt’s secret is steeping the cherries in brandy for five days. Five. You get your cherries drunk over the week, and then you reduce them down to their absolute lush essence.

I've made this exactly the way Matt suggests, and it’s worth the wait. Start it on a Monday, and you’re set for the weekend. I took Matt's advice of taking a sip or two every day while they are steeping to make sure they’re progressing nicely. At least that can be your excuse. 

But...

Sometimes I am impatient. I want my sidecar now. Five days is a long time to endure an itch that you can’t scratch. And so I cheat. Big time. No pitting. No chopping. Just smashing, simmering, and into the freezer for a quick cool. Cherry sidecars in 30 minutes. I can usually wait that long. Usually.

cherry sidecars (cheater’s version) inspired by mattbites.com

Note - Matt’s version is completely superior. Use this cheater’s approach only in the case of urgent need. Which turns out to be quite frequently with me. If only I would anticipate my needs better.


cherry syrup

• 1 pound sweet cherries
• 1 c water
• 1 c sugar (or a little less if they’re very sweet)

Remove the stems and wash the cherries.

Grab a medium saucepan and dump in the cherries. Add the water. Using a muddler, bottom of a coffee mug, cleaned wine bottle, whatever, smash the cherries. You want their sides ruptured to give up their juice. Add the sugar. Place over medium heat until you’ve got a strong simmer. Then reduce the heat low enough to maintain a barely-there simmer for 20 minutes.

Pour the cherries and liquid though a fine mesh strainer into a bowl that will fit in your freezer. Mash all the juice out of the cherries. Be brutal. This is the really good stuff stuck in there.

Place in freezer for 10 minutes if you’re using right away. Or place it covered in the refrigerator and tease your brain with it, knowing you could make something wonderful anytime you want.

Now, go juice some limes.

cherry sidecar

• 1 1/2 oz of brandy (cognac is nice here)
• 1/2 oz of cherry syrup 
• 1/2 oz of freshly squeezed lime juice

Fill shaker (or insulated sippy cup) with ice. Measure in the brandy, syrup. and lime juice. Put on the top and shake it. Shake it some more. And again. This is why we recommend a sippy cup, so your hands don’t fall off from the metal shaker freeze. Pour into a cocktail glass. Drink. And then make another one.


Hint - I lost my jigger for measuring mixed drinks. Something tells me the kids are using it in the sandbox.

Google says one US tablespoon is equal to 0.5 US fluid ounces. Converting for you, the recipe above is 3 T brandy, 1 T syrup, and 1 T lime. And I always make mine a double (6, 2, 2).

chocolate fudge cake with peanut butter creme filling

 
 
 
 

Karen asked for cake for her birthday. This has never happened before because she doesn't like cake. I wouldn't say she hates it, just doesn't see the point. 

There's always a lack of understanding, common ground, on particular topics in a relationship. Ours is cake. We love pie. Diggin on the cupcakes. But two roads diverge on the issue of cake. I say yes. She says meh.

Except for one cake, that is. Remember our mention of the Chocolate Bar cookbook with the best brownies in. the. world. a while back? It also contains the best chocolate cake we've ever eaten. Fudge. It's like a cake of fudge. Not cakey at all. Dense, moist, giant-wet-crumb. And a deep chocolate butter frosting for the ages. The best part of it is that it gets better the longer it sits, if you can wait. 

Karen asked for cake because our son was disappointed that she didn't have a cake with candles on her actual birthday. She had pie. And we didn't do candles. Apparently, it is not acceptable to a 3-year-old to experience a birthday without a cake. Or candles. So Karen's eyes got dreamy when she said, "Make me the chocolate fudge cake. But with peanut butter. Somehow. Figure it out."

Slept on her challenge for a night. Then I had it. I'd take the most perfect chocolate cake in the world and shove it full of the filling from the most perfect peanut butter cookie sandwich in the world - the Bouchon nutter butters. This was a holy marriage of chocolate and peanut butter, fudge and an unbearable lightness of being. 

Safest bet I've ever made. Also, the best cake I've ever made. This cake is complete. It is perfected. All other chocolate fudge peanut butter cakes will fall short (sorry). It might not win any beauty contests, but I have no tolerance for pretty little things that aren't worth their calories. This cake is worth it.

Make this for someone you love, especially if you are that someone. You deserve it. Really.

recipe | chocolate fudge cake (via The Chocolate Bar cookbook) with peanut butter creme filling (via Bouchon Bakery)

For the cake

• 2 2/3 c all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 c sugar
• 1 c packed light brown sugar
• 1/2 c unsweetened nonalkalized cocoa powder
• 2 t baking powder
• 1 t baking soda
• 1/2 t salt
• 3 large eggs
• 2/3 c sour cream
• 1 T vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, melted and cooled
• 1/2 c corn oil (I used canola. We survived.)
• 1 1/4 c. ice water

For the fudge frosting

• 6 oz unsweetened chocolate (if you don't like intense dark chocolate like our friend, Alyssa A., you might want to use semi- or bittersweet chocolate)
• 2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
• 2 c confectioners' sugar, sifted
• 1 T vanilla extract

For the filling

• 1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
• ½ c creamy peanut butter, preferably Skippy
• 1 2/3 c confectioners' sugar

The cake

Preheat oven to 350 F. In a large bowl, sift the flour, sugars, cocoa, baking powder & soda, and salt. Whisk the ingredients together until well mixed. Smack the bowl on the backside and tell it how pretty it looks. Then feel ashamed.

In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs, sour cream, and vanilla until well blended. Don't say anything to them. 

Pull out the electric mixer and slap on the paddle attachment or beaters. On low speed, mix together the oil and butter. Beat in the water. See how cool it is? You've got solid fats now. That's the secret to the recipe. Turn off the mixer. Get excited.

Add the dry ingredients all at once and mix on low for 1 minute. Scrape down sides. Add the egg mixture and praise them. They're ready to accept it now. Blend it all together, maybe a minute. Scrape the batter into the prepared pans.

Bake for 50-55 minutes. Don't split the difference. Start with 50 and test to see if it comes out clean. Add a minute each time until you're happy.

Cool the cakes in the pans on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Then invert the cakes on the rack and remove the pans. Cool completely.

The fudge frosting

Melt your chocolate, either over a double boiler or 90 second on 70% in the microwave. Let it cool completely.

Clean your mixer bowl and paddle/beaters. Slap it back together and beat the butter on medium-high for 1 minute until it's creamy. Add the sifted confectioners' sugar and beat until well blended and light, 2-3 minutes. Beat in the vanilla. Reduce the speed to low and drizzle in the chocolate. Bump up the speed to medium high and beat for 1 minute until glossy.

The peanut butter creme

Cream together the butter, peanut butter, and confectioners' sugar with the paddle attachment, probably 2 minutes.

Assemble

Slice off the domed tops of the cakes so they are flat. Place a layer on your serving plate. Add on the peanut butter creme. Smooth out without touching the sides (squishing it out the side is tasty but a little ungainly). Place on the second layer. Spread out the fudge frosting on the top and sides using an offset spatula. You're welcome.

Hint - this cake benefits from some refrigeration. It helps the entire enterprise of cake and peanut butter and fudge frosting stand up to the world united while melding the layers together. Maybe an hour. Not a lot. Or forget it and just dig into the cake. Perfect slices are for when you need to appear fancy. Get over it and eat.