Bermudian Rum Cake

I’ve actually had a Bermudian rum cake in Bermuda, but I’d never made my own until now. This one is from The Greyston Bakery Cookbook. It’s similar to a holiday cake that gets soaked in a liquor-filled glaze only this is much simpler. In this case, you only apply the glaze once rather than several times over days or weeks, and the cake batter is one of the easiest ever to whisk together. The rum and orange juice and zest in the cake and the finely chopped pecans that end up coating it give it fantastic flavor before the rum glaze is even applied. Rum cakes that are soaked multiple times can end up tasting very boozy and I do quite like the taste of rum, but it’s not overwhelming here. In the glaze, the rum melds with melted butter and brown sugar into a lovely butterscotch with just a hint of rum. Soaking the cake with the glaze also extends the life of the cake. It gets better as it sits, and it lasts a few days longer than it would otherwise. To gild each serving a bit more, I whipped cream with Grand Marnier to top the cut pieces.

This simple whisked batter started with flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt being combined in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, milk, orange juice, vegetable oil, eggs, orange zest, and rum were whisked together and then added to the dry ingredients. The batter was stirred to combine and then carefully poured into a bundt pan that had been buttered and sprinkled with toasted and chopped pecans. You want to pour the batter slowly to as not to dislodge the pecans. The cake baked for about an hour, was left to cool, and was placed on a serving platter, and that’s where I learned a lesson. You should place the cake on a rimmed platter. I somehow believed that the cake would absorb every single bit of the glaze, and I foolishly chose a flat platter. The glaze was made by melting butter in a saucepan, adding sugar and water and stirring while simmering for five minutes. The rum was added off the heat. The cooled cake, on a platter with a rim, is then pierced all over with a wooden skewer before you slowly spoon the glaze over top. Most of the glaze will be absorbed, but some does collect around the base of the cake and that could work its way to the edge of a platter without a rim and dribble all over your dining room table. Whip some cream with a little sugar and Grand Marnier to serve with the cake.

The finely chopped pecans held their place on the surface of the cake and gave it some crunch, and the Grand Marnier whipped cream added more orange flavor. Certainly, a rum cake in Bermuda comes with a much better view, but this homemade rum cake was fresher, lighter, and even more delicious. Obviously, the best solution would be to pack up a homemade cake and go back for another visit to Bermuda.

Cream of Cauliflower Soup with Red Beet Chips

When I read a cookbook, there are always recipes that stick in my mind, that I continue to think about for weeks. When they're recipes for things that aren't in season at the time, I make mental notes about what future occasions would be good opportunities to serve each particular dish. So, last year when I read Ad Hoc at Home and saw a lovely looking cream of cauliflower soup with beet chips, the winter vegetables and red and white colors made me think of Christmas. This being a Thomas Keller recipe and my first time trying this recipe, I didn't want to be making this on the actual day of Christmas. Instead, I chose a day during the holiday season when I had plenty of time to work my way through each step, use each and every pot, pan, and utensil I own, and then wash all of those dishes after dinner. Yes, it is a little bit of a process to follow the recipe exactly, but it all came together nicely to make a velvety smooth soup with crispy, crunchy, and tasty toppings.

The first step is to chop the cauliflower. Most of the cauliflower, including the stems, were cooked and pureed, but some florets were set aside for a garnish. For the puree, onion, leeks, coarsely chopped cauliflower, and some curry powder were cooked in melted butter. Equal amounts of milk, cream, and water were added, and it was left to simmer until the cauliflower was tender. The mixture was pureed in batches. To make things easier on the day you plan to serve the soup, this puree could be made in advance and just re-warmed before serving. Next, a red beet was peeled and thinly sliced on a Japanese mandoline. I used a candy cane striped chioggia beet from our farmers' market. The paper thin beet slices were fried in oil in a small saucepan and left to drain on a paper towel-lined rack. Then, the reserved cauliflower florets were blanched in water with a little vinegar. Keller notes that the vinegar helps keep the cauliflower white. The drained, florets were then sauteed in melted butter. At the same time, I also made the requisite torn croutons which were slowly browned in a mix of garlic oil and melted butter with the goal of the croutons absorbing the flavor of the oil and butter while taking on a crisp outer texture. The soup was served in wide bowls topped with the florets, then some torn croutons, a stack of beet chips, and a swirl of extra virgin olive oil. The other garnishes held the beet chips up and out of the soup so they stayed crisp.

All of the parts and pieces did make a spectacular soup. The rich and smooth puree was even better with the chunky and crunchy textures of the garnishes. Certainly, the soup puree could have been made in advance, but the beet chips are best when just fried and still crisp and warm. The croutons can be re-warmed, but they do become drier and lose the bit of give they have after just being browned. This soup was a great example of how simple, humble vegetables can become a dish that's the star of a meal.

Panettone

A year ago, I had every intention of baking panettone for the holidays, and then somehow Christmas was gone in a flash and my kitchen saw not a single loaf of festive, fruit-filled bread. So this year, I was determined to make it happen. I even earmarked some of the candied orange peel I made in November for this very purpose. I used the panettone recipe from The Bread Baker’s Apprentice which is a two-day process unless you need to bring your sourdough starter to room temperature and feed it before you get started in which case it becomes a three-day process. The first two days’ tasks are minimal, but the waiting time between days is necessary. This panettone recipe is made with a fairly rich dough with an egg and an additional egg yolk and half a cup of butter, and even though the dough is soft and a little sticky, it wasn’t difficult to knead or shape. The fun part was mixing the dried and candied fruits with rum, Gran Marnier, and vanilla so they could sit overnight to plump and absorb great flavors before being mixed into the dough. I made one big loaf in an eight inch springform pan and used the rest of the dough for muffin tin-sized mini panettones.

So, step one was making a wild yeast sponge with a barm or starter, milk, and flour. The sponge sat at room temperature to ferment for four hours before spending the night in the refrigerator. Also, on that day, the dried and candied fruits were soaked in rum, an orange or lemon extract and I chose to use Gran Marnier instead, and vanilla and left to sit overnight. I used dried sour cherries, dried cranberries, golden raisins, and chopped candied orange peel. The next day, the wild yeast sponge was brought up to room temperature before mixing the dough. I used a stand mixer and combined flour, sugar, salt, and instant yeast before adding the sponge, the whole egg, and an egg yolk. Water was added until the dough came together, it was allowed to rest for a bit, and then softened butter was worked into the dough before the soaked fruit mixture was added. It was kneaded with a dough hook for a few minutes, and then transferred to a floured board. The almonds were worked in while kneading by hand. Because this is a sticky dough and you don’t want to add too much flour while kneading, I used a bench scraper to lift and turn the dough while kneading with the other hand. It was left to ferment for two hours, shaped into one big loaf and some muffin sized pieces, and then all of that proofed for two more hours. For the big loaf in the springform pan, I placed a parchment collar around the sides and a parchment circle in the bottom of the pan. Last, the big loaf baked for about an hour, and the minis were pulled from the oven after about 25 minutes. The bread should reach 185 degrees F in the center.

If this bread counts in any way as a fruitcake, then it’s my favorite fruitcake ever. In fact, I’m thinking this should become an annual tradition. I can try different dried and candied fruit and different liquors or liqueurs each time, and I may never make the same panettone twice. The soft, brioche-like bread was irresistible warm from the oven, and it keeps well wrapped in foil too. It was so enjoyable simply sliced and toasted over the next few days, I never got around to trying it as French toast or in bread pudding, but that’s just another reason to make it again next year.

I’m submitting this to Yeastspotting where you’ll find some seriously well-made bread.