white apples . a blog

can she bake a cherry pie?

I took these photos last summer so I could share this Amaretto Sweet Cherry Pie recipe that I pieced together through trial and fancy and luck. However, when I finally found time to sit down and type out the recipe, it was well into pumpkin season. A post about sweet summer cherries just seemed cruel.

Now those gorgeous cherries are popping up everywhere once again, begging to be nestled into a buttery crust. Here in North Carolina, as in much of the country, temperatures are solidly in the triple digits, accompanied by stifling humidity. The very last thing I want to do is turn on the oven let alone wrestle an all-butter crust into a pie dish before the whole thing turns to a melty, gooey mess. However, you're probably made of sterner stuff than I, in which case, you should give this recipe a try. It is refreshingly different from the traditional cherry pie filling, with the addition of toasted almond slivers, a hint of nutmeg, and a hearty glug of amaretto. I originally intended to make an almond crust, but at the time all I had in the pantry was hazelnut flour (What? Not one of your pantry staples? You can usually find both almond flour and hazenut flour at Whole Foods. Or you can grind up your own nuts until they are fine crumbs.) The hazelnut crust tastes a bit like a Linzer cookie, which triggers all kinds of early childhood food memories for me of Christmas in Germany and road trips to Austria. So I stick to hazelnuts for this one. However, I use this same crust recipe with almond flour as my go-to crust for most sweet pies. It is simple and flavorful and not quite as persnickety as an all-wheat flour crust. The almond flour adds a hint of nuttiness and a wonderful texture, whereas the hazelnuts really pack a flavor punch.

raspberry jazzberry razzmatazz berry

I look forward to berry season all year. I love the little jewels - warmed by the sun or straight from the fridge, boiled down into jam or baked up into a pie, scattered on yogurt and granola or sprinkled into just poured pancakes. We eat a lot of berries in this household and this Raspberry Buttermilk Cake is one of my favorite berry incarnations when I'm looking for something easy and comforting and Summery-sweet. It is simple and rustic and delicious. It requires no special occasion or fancy ingredients. This is just the thing to whip up during Juniper's mid-day nap. I eat the still-warm slices with my hands, standing over the kitchen sink, waiting to hear her stir. Sure, forks and dessert plates will do if company is over, but this cake isn't that fussy. It begs to be wrapped up for summer picnics in the park or impromptu trips to the beach. I sneak slices as I walk by the kitchen table, the dog licking up the crumbs as I walk by. Juniper just eats it by the handful.

gonna be filled with strawberry love

"It could solve all the problems of the world, that pie... [it's] a thing of beauty — how each flavor opens itself one by one, like a chapter in a book. First the flavor of an exotic spice hits you, just the hint of it. And then you're flooded with chocolate, dark and bittersweet, like an old love affair. And finally strawberry, the way strawberry was always supposed to taste but never knew how."

The quote is from the movie "Waitress" - a quirky, sweet-tart little confection of a movie about, among other things, the transformative power of pie. The focus is less on eating pie and more on the act of creating a pie from scratch. Of pouring all your love or anger or helplessness into something made with your own hands. The above pie description is so captivating and irresistible that I immediately wanted a slice of strawberry chocolate pie. Not just any strawberry chocolate pie. I wanted to taste that very pie. The one that made Andy Griffith's character compose an impromptu ode to something enchanting and sensuous and delicious.

because not all muffins come from Shop-Rite

I am ambivalent about muffins.  I love them in certain situations; I loathe them often.  I have particular muffin requirements.  They can't be too sweet.  They are not cupcakes, for heaven's sake.  They must have chunkies of some sort - fruit is best, nuts are tolerable, raisins are unacceptable.  I have been known to enjoy a lemon poppyseed muffin now and then, but it better be one fine muffin specimen.  I like them to have some amount of whole grain flour to give them heartiness and depth.  Again, it shouldn't be cake.  They should be soft and melt-in-your-mouth.  And they must be small-ish in size - a nice snack with coffee, a bit of breakfast with some yogurt or cereal.  The current intractable trend of giant, dense, saucer-sized muffins has much to do with my suspicious attitude toward this particular baked good.  I don't need 2000 calories in one muffin.  I don't need it to be greasy and cloyingly sweet.  I don't need it to weigh more than my triple venti latte.  And don't even get me started on "muffin tops".

healthy and Hawaii

Every once in a while, I have to bake something that could possibly be categorized as "healthy".  These blueberry-coconut-macadamia muffins from Eating Well are one such recipe.  These muffins feel healthy and decadent at the same time.  Healthy due to the preponderance of whole wheat flour and antioxidant-rich blueberries and the absence of evil white sugar and the absurd quantities of butter that are usually lurking in innocent little breakfast muffins.  Decadent due to the hefty dose of macadamia nuts and the tasty coconut topping.  Drizzle these lovelies with a little honey and it's like Hawaii in a breakfast - lean, healthy, fitness-loving Hawaii not indulgent, SPAM-filled Hawaii.

where the fruits were jewels

The weather here has been warm.  Too warm.  At least to my wonky internal thermostat (Charlie seems to be freezing all the time).  The heat has made me reluctant to embark on any ambitious baking project, so I've been relying on hearty, rustic desserts that can be thrown together in minutes (like the bread pudding).  That way I can get back to lounging around under the ceiling fan as quickly as possible.

One of the quickest and most satisfying desserts to make is a crisp.  I owe all of my crisp knowledge and experience to my very dear and longtime friend, Alyssa.  She made sure we were all well fed with healthy homemade goodies those four years of college when it was possible to eat half a pound of pasta, half a pepperoni pizza, and whole pint of Ben & Jerry's in one evening without threatening the waistline.   Ahhhh, those were the days.  Anyway, this is based on her fantastic and wonderfully nostalgic recipe for blueberry crisp.  I added pecans because I've spent entirely too much time in the South and thus I always have pecans hanging around the kitchen.  I added nutmeg because I just got a brand new tin from Tsp Spices and felt like breaking it open.  The best part of this recipe is that is results in a nice, thick, generous crisp topping.  No skimpy sprinklings here.

Alyssa's Generous Blueberry Crisp

3 cups frozen blueberries (small ones are best, I used the organic wild blueberries from Wholes Foods)
1 tbsp lemon juice (lemon is so nice with blueberries, but I didn't have any lemons, so I left this out)
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup stone ground whole wheat flour
1/3 cup brown sugar (I think I used 1/2 cup, actually)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/8-1/4 tsp nutmeg (I eyeballed... but you never want to overdo nutmeg... not good)
1/3 cup canola oil
5 to 6 drops almost extract (mine doesn't drop, it gushes... I guess I added a "splash")
A handful or two of chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Spread berries unthawed into a small baking dish (8"x8" pan or 1 1/2-2 quart souffle dish).  Sprinkle lemon juice over the berries.

In a mixing bowl, combine oats, flour, brown sugar, and spices.  Mix.  Pour oil and almond extract and mix thoroughly.  Add the pecans and stir.  Sprinkle mixture on blueberries.  Bake 40 to 45 minutes, until berries are bubbling and top is brown

(post title from Charles Dickens)

To make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe. - Carl Sagan

In honor of me failing my one hour glucose tolerance test for gestational diabetes, I baked a pie this weekend (I have a three hour glucose diagnostic test on Thursday).  This particular pie was inspired by Wednesday's season premiere of my favorite show on TV - Pushing Daisies.  This quirky Amelie Poulain meets Tim Burton dramedy is exactly all the things that I would want in a TV show, including storybook-esque set design, enviable costumes, strange and macabre storylines, offbeat dialogue, and the prominent role of pie.  One of the main characters, Charlotte Charles, bakes an apple pie with Gruyère cheese grated into the crust for her Aunts.  She spikes it with a homeopathic anti-depressant potion to lift their spirits and get them out of the house. 

I recreated this pie (minus the potion) as part of my ongoing denial about the lack of a true Autumn season here in San Diego (yes, pumpkin recipes will be forthcoming).  I've tried the traditional combination of cheddar cheese and apple pie, which ended up being bland and disappointing (thanks a lot, Emeril).  Cheddar becomes leathery and oily and decidedly untasty.  But Gruyère... ahhhhhh, Gruyère melts seamlessly into the flaky pie crust, adding a deep, cheesy, slightly salty flavor that is perfect with apple pie filling.  Trust me.  It's as quirky as the TV show, but it works.

Charlotte Charles' Mood-Lifting Apple Pie with Gruyère Crust

3 lb organic baking apples
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 Tbsp lemon juice
5 tsp cornstarch
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 Gruyère Pie Crust (see below)

Preheat oven to 375°F. 

Peel, core and slice apples.  Mix with other ingredients (except for the egg... and the pie crust).  Mix with your hands.  It's fun.

Roll one disk of dough into a circle about fourteen inches in diameter.  Flop the dough circle into a glass pie plate and gently ease the dough into plate.

Pile the apple mixture into pie plate, adding any juices. Roll a slightly smaller piece of dough into a circle twelve inches in diameter.  Place it, like a cozy little blanket, on top of the apples. Seal the two crusts together (mine never looks pretty...), brush with the beaten egg, and make some combination of slits in the top crust to allow steam to free itself.

Place pie on a cookie sheet to catch any drips (I didn't do this and now I and my oven floor regret it), put in oven and bake for 50 minutes to an hour, or until the filling bubbles and the top becomes perfectly golden brown and delicious. Cool for least 20 minutes before serving, or the tasty pie juices will gush all over the place.

Gruyère Pie Crust

2 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
2 sticks (16 Tbsp) cold, unsalted butter (hmmm... I actually used 20 Tbsp...)
2 oz Gruyère, grated with a microplane rasp grater
7 Tbsp ice water

Makes one double-crusted pie.

Cut the butter into cubic inches and put it back in the refrigerator to chill again.

Mix flour, sugar, salt, and Gruyere in a large mixing bowl. Using a pastry blender (not your warm, sweaty fingers) cut in the butter until the largest chunks of butter remaining are pea-sized.

Sprinkle ice water over flour in one tablespoon increments, lightly tossing with fork after each addition. (Don't knead, mix, press, etc... be gentle).  When the dough clumps together when lightly squeezed, form two disks, one a bit larger than the other.  Wrap them in plastic and refrigerate overnight.

Notes from the Pie Maker:

• I like to use tart red apples for pies, such as Cortlands, Northern Spy, Romes, Empires.  However, since I do not live in the Northern part of the country (and it's not really Autumn here, remember?), I was relegated to whatever my local mega-mart had to offer, which unfortunately consisted of the ubiquitous and baffling "Delicious" variety as well as some sad little Granny Smith affairs.  I used the Granny Smith.  These make mediocre pie fillers since they are very tart and not very juicy and hold their slice just a little too much.  If, like me, you are not surrounded by the bounty of various Autumnal apple lineages, I would recommend using half Granny Smith, half Golden Delicious.
• Organic?  I'm such a free-range hippie.  But, apples are one of the dirty dozen, so unless you like the idea of pesticides bubbling around in your pie, you should buy organic.
  
• The crust recipe uses butter.  This makes a tasty, flaky crust.  However, if you want a perfectly tender, tasty, flaky crust, you should substitute some of that butter with lard (yes, I just said that).  However, since lard is apparently a dirty word in the state of California, I went with all butter.  What?  Shortening?  White, soap-flavored trans-fattiness?  Never.
  
• You should get one of those rotating, hand cranking apple corer, peeler, slicer things.  Aside from being quick and convenient, they make these fun little apple spirals.  One slice down the middle and you have perfect apple slices.
  

A Pie-ku from me to you:

Flaky, cheesy crust.
Sweet-tart slices, Fall spices.
The texture of love

it's ridiculous to leave all the conversation to the pudding

Cranberry Maple Pudding Cake is, without a doubt, my favorite Sunday morning breakfast.  The stone-ground cornmeal "cake" is hearty and not-too-sweet and the saucy maple-y bottom has just the right amount of cranberry tang.  Eat it warm.  Eat it with a big dollop of Greek yogurt or just on its own.  It's healthy (well, cranberries... right?), it's tasty, it's quick and easy to make.  It leaves the rest of the afternoon free for contemplating dessert.

Here's the recipe (originally from an issue of Bon Appetit):

2 cup fresh or frozen cranberries (I usually add more)
1 cup pure maple syrup (grade B or grade A dark amber) - use the grade B for maximum mapleyness
2/3 cup heavy whipping cream
3/4 tsp finely grated orange peel
Pinch plus 1/2 tsp salt
2/3 cup all purpose flour
1/3 cup stone-ground yellow cornmeal
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 lg egg
3 Tbsp sugar
1/2 cup whole milk
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted
1 tsp vanilla extract
Crème Fraîche, softly whipped cream, or vanilla ice cream (or Greek yogurt for breakfast!)

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 400°F. Combine first 4 ingredients and pinch of salt in medium saucepan. Bring to boil, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat and simmer 1 minute. Remove from heat.

Whisk flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in medium bowl. Whisk egg and sugar in another medium bowl. Whisk milk, melted butter, and vanilla into egg mixture. Add flour mixture to egg mixture; whisk to blend. Pour warm cranberry mixture into 8x8x2-inch glass or ceramic baking dish. Pour batter over.

Bake cake until golden and cranberry mixture bubbles at edges, about 28 minutes. Cool 15 minutes.

Dimply Pluot Cake

I haven't had any strange food cravings yet.  Nothing involving (gasp!) pickles or unusual condiment combinations.  There might be a mild flirtation with Baskin Robbins chocolate chip ice cream, but honestly, can we really blame that on the kid?  I have, however, been baking quite a bit these days and I couldn't resist a recipe that has the word "dimply" in the title.  This is a Dimply Plum Cake from Dorie Greenspan's cookbook "Baking: From My Home to Yours."  If you're at all into baking, you should click on that link right now and buy a copy.  Go ahead.  I'll wait.

Her recipe calls for plums, but I always find plums more tart than I expect, so I used pluots.  A pluot is apparently what you get when you cross a plum and an apricot and then throw another plum into the mix.  Regardless, they are super sweet and all over California in the late Summer and Fall.  This is technically a coffee cake, which means it qualifies as breakfast.  Cake for breakfast.  You're welcome.

Here's the recipe:

Dimply Plum Cake

from Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
Scant 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom (I used cinnamon.  I think cardamom tastes kind of weird)
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup (packed) light brown sugar
2 large eggs
1/3 cup flavorless oil, such as canola or safflower
Grated zest of 1 orange
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
8 purple or red plums (or even Italian prune plums, when they are in season), halved and pitted

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter an 8-inch square baking pan, dust the inside with flour, tap out the excess and put the pan on a baking sheet.

Whisk the flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon together.

Working with a mixer, beat the butter at medium speed until it’s soft and creamy, about 3 minutes. Add the sugar and beat for another 2 minutes, then add the eggs, one at a time, and beat for a minute after each egg goes in. On medium speed, beat in the oil, zest and vanilla.  The batter will look very light and smooth, almost satiny. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients, mixing only until they are incorporated.

Run a spatula around the bowl and under the batter, just to make sure there are no dry spots, then scrape the batter into the pan and smooth the top. Arrange the plums cut side up in the batter—Dorie says she usually makes four rows of four plum halves each—jiggling the plums a tad just so they settle comfortably into the batter.  I guess my pluots were a bit bigger, since I only got three rows of three.

 

Bake for about 40 minutes, or until the top is honey brown and puffed around the plums and a thin knife inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Transfer the cake to a rack and cool for 15 minutes—during which time the plums’ juices will seep back into the cake—then run a knife around the sides of the pan and unmold the cake. Invert and cool right side up.

Enjoy with strong coffee and a good book.