Archive for the 'Sweet Sauces & Fillings' Category

Apple Cake with Butterscotch Whisky Sauce

Posted by the cookworm on October 13th, 2007

This hasn’t been a very productive week for cooking. For one, the weather has taken a rather drastic turn from the unseasonable heat of last week. Autumn came galloping in with a full gamut of chilly temperatures, wind, and a few days of monotonous drizzle. Not very motivating. I’ve also been slightly immersed in a videotape of old X-files episodes that I found and dusted off. Although I don’t watch much tv these days, I used to be pretty into the show back when it was in regular programming. But I seem to have had selective memory about it…I mean, were the episodes always so utterly silly? The one with the dancing skeleton, musical bowl, and cringe-inducing puns made me think that perhaps I was taking myself way too seriously back then to think that the show was something other than a big bag of goofiness.

Anyway, let’s be honest. The biggest reason I haven’t felt like doing much is that I stopped drinking coffee this week…for “health” reasons. Ha ha ha. If you’ve ever done this, you know what I was going through. So, even though I’ve been in somewhat in a haze from the migraine medicine (because caffeine withdrawal ain’t a pretty sight, folks) I did manage to come up for air and make some warm apple cake with a yummy, buttery, and caramelly whisky sauce.

This cake’s recipe came from the Vermont Localvore website, which was recently brought to my attention by a good friend who lives in Burlington. For all you eat-local devotees out there, the site has a nice FAQ about the benefits of eating locally, some sources for locally-produced (Vermont, that is) food, and a collection of user-submitted recipes. The recipes include information about how local the ingredients are, with categories like “totally local” and “local with Marco Polo exceptions”. The Marco Polo caveat allows “salt and spices that sailors could carry in their pockets for 6 months while at sea”. A good idea, if you ask me, since who can enjoy food without salt?

I like this website in particular because it seems to be a bit more inclusive than other local-food agendas I’ve come across; i.e. the importance of eating local in VT doesn’t seem to be totally co-opted by the wealthy and transformed into an expensive status symbol. But that’s another rant for another time.

Meanwhile, back to the cake. It comes together in a snap and bakes up soft, pale, and not too sweet…almost like a less-eggy clafoutis. By itself, it would work as a simple breakfast cake (especially if you use whole wheat pastry flour instead of the white). Although the title is Maple Apple cake, I didn’t detect a very strong maple flavor, possibly because I used a light grade A syrup instead of something darker. It also looked a bit humble by itself, so I wanted to add something to move it from breakfast to dessert status. Since the texture reminded me a little of bread pudding, I decided to coat it with a butterscotch whisky sauce, which is about the best topping for bread pudding I know of. This was just the right thing to transform the humble cake into something a bit prettier that guests would be glad to gobble up. I recommend using a generous hand with the sauce, so no one will have to do any clandestine plate-licking. :)

Maple Apple Cake
Adapted from Real, Old-Time Yankee Maple Cooking by Beatrice Vaughan and Janet Greene

1/2 cup maple syrup - Grade A dark amber (not light) or Grade B
2 medium apples, cored, peeled, and sliced
1 1/4 cups all purpose flour
3/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. each nutmeg, cloves, and allspice
1/4 cup yogurt or sour cream
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
1 large egg, beaten

Preheat oven to 375ºF.
Cook the apple slices in the maple syrup over low heat until the apples are tender; cool. Mix flour with salt, baking soda, baking powder, and spices. Combine yogurt, egg, and butter in a separate bowl. Add the apple mixture to the dry ingredients and stir to mix. Add wet ingredients. Stir lightly to blend, then pour into a greased and floured 8-inch square baking pan. Bake at 375ºF for 15-20 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.

While the cake cooks, make the Butterscotch Whisky Sauce. Note that this sauce recipe makes enough for 2-3 servings, but it will double easily for more. You can use it on cakes, crêpes, ice cream, fruit (warm sliced peaches would be divine), or whatever strikes your fancy.

Butterscotch Whisky Sauce

3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup whisky or bourbon
2 tablespoons water
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
pinch of sea salt

In a small heavy saucepan, cook sugar over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally with a fork until melted and pale golden. Cook caramel without stirring until deep golden amber. Remove pan from heat and slowly add whisky and water down side of pan. Cook mixture on lowest heat, stirring, until caramel bits are dissolved (this might take a while, but don’t worry, it will happen). Whisk in butter and salt until fully incorporated and remove pan from flame. Let sauce cool slightly before serving (it will thicken), and serve warm.

Seeing Orange

Posted by the cookworm on October 6th, 2007

I am completely addicted to that Orange Caramel Sauce that I made to spoon atop molten chocolate cakes. After the cakes were gone, there was still quite a bit left over, so I’ve been pouring it on everything, from sliced blood oranges…

to a topping for fixing up some otherwise somewhat dull, morning-rush frozen buckwheat waffles.

In other orange news, I made this lovely orange-hued Butternut Squash Soup with Cider Cream. You can find the recipe here on Epicurious. I substituted 1 medium onion and four chopped shallots for the leeks and used no celery, since there wasn’t time to go out and get any. I really liked the way it turned out, although the reviews claiming it was a sweet soup had me surprised - to me it wasn’t unusually sweet at all, even with the cider cream. In fact, next time I will try an even sweeter and more apple-y variation with a heavier hand on the cider and chopped apples. As is, though, it’s a tasty and nicely savory fall soup that I’ll definitely make again.

Molten Season

Posted by the cookworm on October 3rd, 2007

It seems that Pittsburgh isn’t quite ready to let go of summer just yet, as the daily temperatures are still topping the 70s and 80s, even now at the beginning of October. Luckily, come sundown, the familiar crispness of fall shows its face, and I feel ready to cozy up to the autumnal troupe of warm desserts, mulled cider, and slow-cooked stews that are lining up to be made and enjoyed. One of my favorites among comfort-food desserts is a good old molten chocolate cake. It’s the perfect vehicle for indulging in rich chocolate bliss, and doesn’t need a special trip to the store…which means I can make it on short notice, anytime there’s a craving in the house (and it doesn’t take much to get a craving around here).

Not too long ago, molten chocolate cakes were the height of trendiness for restaurant desserts. While they might have fallen off the hipness radar, I will gladly continue to make them. It’s a pleasing transformation: the formerly uppity restaurant dessert has settled down and warmed up to a new role - that of a home cook’s reliable stalwart. I’m of the mind that everyone should have a recipe for Molten Chocolate Cakes in their repertoire.

Of course, if everyone has a Molten Chocolate Cake recipe, everyone’s version is just a little bit different. What makes mine special? I like it because it was inspired by chocolate goddesses Alice Medrich and Lori Longbotham, and thus is dense, rich, and very bittersweet. It also serves a smaller number of people than the usual 6 to 8 individual cakes. Therefore, you can serve either four tonight, or two today and two tomorrow. They reheat very well either at 350°F for 10 minutes or in the microwave for about 2 minutes. Like a soufflé, the tops of these cakes will fall shortly after being taken out of the oven, leaving a slightly crisp exterior which hides the rich and gooey center. If you like, you can top them with warm Orange Caramel Sauce, as I did, or a bit of softly whipped cream.

Individual Molten Chocolate Cakes

4 ounces fine-quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped (I used Guittard 64%)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into chunks
2 large eggs
1/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons flour

Preheat oven to 375°F.
Butter and flour four 4-ounce ramekins or custard cups.
In a metal bowl over barely simmering water, melt butter and chocolate, stirring until smooth. Or, put butter and chocolate in a microwave-proof bowl and microwave at 30 second intervals, stirring well each time, until fully melted. Set chocolate mixture aside.

With an electric mixer, beat eggs and sugar until light-colored and thick. Fold chocolate mixture and flour gently into egg mixture, then pour into prepared ramekins. Place ramekins on a baking sheet and bake for 18-20 minutes, or until puffed on top but moist inside when tested with a toothpick.

Orange Caramel Sauce
From Bon Appetit, January 2002

2/3 cup white sugar
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup fresh orange juice (homestyle or pulpy is okay)
1/2 teaspoon grated blood orange peel

Combine sugar and 1/4 cup water in a small saucepan. Stir over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat and cook until sugar has reached a deep amber color.

Slowly add orange juice and peel to caramel (mixture will bubble up). Stir over low heat until smooth and any stray bits of caramel dissolve. Use warm or at room temperature.

A Trifling Matter

Posted by the cookworm on September 13th, 2007

Have you ever spent the day poring over recipes to find the perfect lemon ginger buttermilk Bundt cake? Then, you spend half the night making it: grating a chihuahua-sized hunk of ginger, using all your high-quality butter and organic eggs, squeezing lemons until your hands are raw and shriveled, then gleefully pouring the shining batter into your well-greased Bundt pan, baking it, letting it cool, excitement mounting as you tap your fingers on the counter, waiting for the precise moment in which you can gently invert the pan and present your cake in golden glory on the platter, imagining what wonderful words your friends will say when they see and taste your masterpiece…

Yes, and when you carefully tug at the pan to lift it from the cake, smugly anticipating that feeling, the smooth release of cake from pan, and you find yourself, incredibly, with

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