(from Donna Hay magazine)
2 eggs, plus 2 extra yolks
½ cup sugar
¼ cup pure maple syrup
1 cup milk
1 cup half and half
superfine sugar for sprinkling (*Note: I’ve found that organic sugar doesn’t caramelize as well for a brulee, so I use conventional superfine sugar.)
vanilla pastry:
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
¼ teaspoon baking powder
13 tablespoons cold butter, cut into cubes
1/3 cup iced water
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
-Start with the vanilla pastry. Place flour, sugar, and baking powder in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter cubes and pulse until the mixture is crumbly. With the motor running, slowly pour in the ice water and vanilla and process until the mixture forms a dough. Transfer to plastic wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.
-Pre-heat oven to 325 degrees F. Roll out the pastry on a lightly floured surface and then place in an eleven inch, round tart pan. Place tart pan on a large baking sheet to make it easier to move tart pan in and out of oven, cover the surface of the pastry with parchment paper, and fill the tart with pie weights or dried beans. Blind bake for 15-20 minutes, remove from oven, remove parchment and pie weights, and then set aside.
- In a medium bowl, whisk together eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and maple syrup. Combine milk and half and half in a small saucepan over low heat. Heat milk mixture until just boiling, and then slowly pour it into bowl with egg mixture while whisking constantly. Allow to cool just a bit before pouring the custard into the blind baked crust, and place the tart back in the oven for 20-25 minutes or until just set in the center. Remove from oven and let cool.
-Sprinkled cooled tart with superfine sugar while pre-heating the broiler. Place tart under the broiler, and leave oven door ajar so you can watch as the sugar browns. Turn the tart to brown as evenly as possible. Or, use a kitchen blow torch to brown the sugar. Serve while still warm and enjoy the wonderfulness of maple syrup for dessert.
, I noticed a simple, summery dessert that I could whip up at the same time. And, coming to think of it, I never do that. I never set out to make a meal including dessert all in one go. Dessert, or most of it depending on what it is, is always made in advance, but this one really is easy enough to prepare right along with dinner. It’s a custard with creme fraiche that’s poured over berries and then gratineed under the broiler. Once browned, it can sit patiently at room temperature while you enjoy your main course. Now speaking of that browning step, I’ve noticed that organic sugar doesn’t behave quite the same as regular sugar. In this case, confectioner’s sugar was suggested, and I used an organic brand, and I don’t think it browned as well as it could have. Deborah Madison confirmed the fact in her book Seasonal Fruit Desserts
that for browning or bruleeing, regular sugar works better, but I’m not sure why that is. At any rate, these little desserts only sit under the broiler long enough to become bubbly and a little browned, so it didn’t matter much here.An easy custard was made with warmed milk slowly whisked into a mixture of egg yolks, sugar, and cornstarch. That was returned to a saucepan and thickened. Butter and salt were added while it was warm, and then the custard was chilled in the refrigerator for a bit. Once cool, creme fraiche was folded into it. In the book, the dessert is made with raspberries, but I had blackberries, and any kind of berries or really just about any fruit would work. In the intro to the recipe, sauteed apples or pears with dried fruit is suggested for a winter version of this. The blackberries were tossed with a little granulated sugar and then scattered in ramekins in my case. The dessert can also be made in one, larger gratin dish. The custard was spooned over the berries, more berries were placed on top, confectioner’s sugar was sifted over each ramekin, and they were placed under the broiler for about seven minutes. I dusted them with a little more confectioner’s sugar before serving.
When I saw this recipe in La Cucina Italiana, I was intrigued because a sformata was something new and different to me. It’s a baked, savory custard, but it’s not terribly rich. It’s mostly pureed, cooked cauliflower with bechamel sauce and parmigiano cheese. In the magazine, the sformato was baked in a pretty, wide tube pan the likes of which I do not own, so I used a bundt pan. Really, it could have been baked in any sort of pan, and it wasn’t entirely necessary that it be unmolded, but I was hoping for a nice view of the browned outer surface. The browning was due to a coating of breadcrumbs that was sprinkled onto a thick layer of butter in the pan before pouring in the custard. Considering that I was so eager to see this well-browned surface, you would think that I would have let it set the appropriate amount of time before trying to remove it from the pan. No, I rushed it out of hunger, and my sformata was a little wobbly because of it. As it sat, it firmed up, and next time I’ll have more patience, but the good news is that it very easily plopped right out of the pan. Presentation aside, the reason I’m going on so much about this dish is because the taste was fantastic. The creamy texture of the custard with the parmigiano flavor running throughout was delicious with a bit of crunch from the breadcrumbs.
To begin, a head of cauliflower was quartered and cooked, covered, in a pan with an inch of water for about 20 minutes. It was drained, and each quarter was placed in a towel, and the towel was twisted to remove excess water. The dried cauliflower was pureed in a food processor. A simple bechamel sauce was made, and I melted the parmigiano into the sauce. The sauce was cooled a bit before being added to the cauliflower puree along with two eggs. Once the sauce, eggs, and cauliflower were combined, the resulting custard was poured into a generously buttered and breadcrumbed bundt pan, and it baked for 40 minutes. I should have let it rest for an additional 20 minutes, but I got antsy after about 10 minutes and turned it out onto a platter. The shape held up ok, but I realized that it firmed up a bit more after sitting another 10 minutes or so.
The texture was light and almost fluffy with a sliver of crust on the outside. The cauliflower was mild allowing the flavor of the parmigiano to take the lead. This keeper of a dish even held up well to re-heating the next day. I was delighted with the result, and it’s always fun when something looks far more complicated than it is. 
Let’s just jump straight to dessert. Back when I baked the oatmeal maple bars from the Greyston Bakery Cookbook
, I mentioned that the mocha kahlua cake from that book might be nice for dessert on Christmas Eve. Well, it most certainly was. This is a cake of rich, chocolate layers with a kahlua custard between them, and it’s topped with a mocha buttercream frosting. If you follow the instructions exactly, you’ll have a very grand cake that’s three layers tall. I went for a slightly less grand final version of only two layers, and I baked the remaining layer’s worth of batter into cupcakes which are in the freezer now. I made the full amount of custard and the extra bit intended for a second layer of filling became a nice, little snack. I also made the full amount of frosting and gave the top of the cake a thick coating.
The cake batter was made with cocoa powder and espresso powder and six separated eggs plus two additional egg whites. The whites were beaten into soft peaks and carefully folded into the batter. After the cakes came out of the oven, they were brushed with kahlua which added flavor and kept them moist. As the cakes cooled, the custard was made with the two remaining egg yolks, sugar, cornstarch, half-and-half, and kahlua. I tasted it several times as it thickened to be sure it was as delicious as I thought it was. It was. The custard was chilled and then layered between cakes, and then the stacked layers were chilled for about an hour. Last, the buttercream was made with, of course, butter, cocoa powder, more kahlua, confectioner’s sugar, and half-and-half. It was a thick and sturdy frosting with just enough chocolate flavor. The finished cake does need to remain in the refrigerator, and I just barely had space for it.
As the cake sat for a few hours, it became even more tender from the kahlua soaking and the custard layer. Although kahlua was added in several places throughout this recipe, this wasn’t a boozy tasting cake. It was chocolaty and mocha-sweet with just a little taste of the liqueur edge. There was a nice mix of flavors, and that mix was just rich enough without being too much. When asked to choose a type of cake, Kurt has always said ‘chocolate,’ but from now on, he may start saying ‘mocha kahlua chocolate.’ 
I’m repeating myself from almost exactly one year ago. Last October, I made a pumpkin flan, and this year, I’ve made one with persimmons. It couldn’t be helped. There was a big table of persimmons at the farmers’ market, and I had to bring some home. Then, I found this recipe for persimmon flan in Potager which is a book devoted to cooking seasonally. I think of flan in the same way I think of souffles. They both seem a little daunting because it seems like things could go horribly wrong, but in the end, they’re actually very easy and almost never fail.
The persimmons were peeled, seeded, chopped, and briefly cooked before being pureed. The puree was pushed through a strainer to make it very smooth. Although the recipe was very straightforward in that just plain persimmon puree was to be added, I had to introduce a little something extra. To the puree, I added a pinch or two of nutmeg and cinnamon. As usual for flan, sugar was caramelized in a small cake pan and then set aside. The custard was made from six eggs, milk, cream, sugar, vanilla, and a bit of salt. The persimmon puree was stirred into the custard, and the custard was poured onto the caramelized sugar in the cake pan. It was baked at 325 degrees F in a bain-marie with water coming halfway up the side of the cake pan. The recipe noted it should bake for about 45 minutes, but mine required a few more minutes before it was set in the middle.
The flan was removed from the roasting pan with water and left to cool on a rack, and then it was unmolded onto a plate. That’s the scary part, but just like last time, it popped out without any problems. The remaining caramel in the pan was then pooled onto the inverted flan. I have to admit the caramel is the real reason I like flan so much, but the custard was delicious too. The persimmon flavor was mild, but by adding fruit, the custard is prevented from tasting too much of egg. Next time, I might add a larger pinch of cinnamon, but I’m not complaining about the results here at all. I should really consider making flan more often than once each October, but at this rate, it has been a special, appreciated dessert each time.
Imagine a tiny, little town in the middle of Illinois where the fourth of July is a really big deal and where on that day the park is filled with food stands and carnival rides and a dunk tank and the night-time fireworks show draws a crowd larger than the town’s population, and I grew up there. The fourth of July holiday was the highlight of the summer. Those food stands sold everything from fried fish sandwiches to pulled pork to soup, and pie was always served for dessert. All, or most, of the ladies in town baked pies for the various stands, and the proceeds benefitted local churches and charities. Not much has changed over the years about the celebration, but I don’t make the trip to attend very often anymore. Instead, I check in with my Mom to find out what kind of pies she’s baking and how big of a crowd is expected. She went with peach pies this year. When the day arrives, I always wish I had traveled north to join the fun. The one thing that makes it seem almost like I’m there is baking a pie, and this year’s pie is one I spotted in the March issue of Living magazine. It was presented as a raspberry custard pie, but I found local, organic blueberries and used those instead.
First, the crust was blind baked and allowed to cool. I followed the pate brisee recipe that’s included in the article, and that happens to be the pie crust recipe I use most of the time. Then, flour, sugar, an egg, and cream were whisked together. The blueberries were tossed with sugar and a small bit of salt. The berries were placed in the baked and cooled crust, and the custard was poured over top. The pie went back into the oven for 45 minutes. Once removed from the oven, it was allowed to cool on a rack, and then it was refrigerated overnight. It was simple as far as pies go. I always feel like a pie is easier than it could be when there’s no top crust.
The custard was cold, smooth, and not too rich. The berries were sweetened just enough by the sugar and custard but retained their fresh flavor. Thinking back to all those different kinds of pies at the park, I remember how they were cut into equal-sized pieces and placed on small paper plates with a plastic fork sitting right on the plate. There would be a whole long table full of pieces of various kinds of pie. There were double-crust, lattice-topped, open-faced, chocolate-cream, fruit combinations, rhubarb-studded, you name it, but I don’t recall seeing many custard pies. I told my Mom about the blueberry custard pie I baked, and she commented that it sounded great except for the blueberries. I somehow went my whole life until last weekend before learning that Mom doesn’t like blueberries. That could explain why her pies are always apple, peach, or cherry, but I think I might be able to change her mind about blueberries with this pie.
The custard was smooth and nicely flavored by dark rum. The plump raisins were chewy and delicious, and I would add more of them next time. Lightly sweetened whipped cream further gilded an already lovely dessert, and no one complained about it. In fact, there were no complaints about this dessert at all. On a day full of feasting, when dessert is still enjoyed, it must be a good one.
