Recently in Something Sweet Category

There was a moment when I was making this that my heart sank, "Oh, no. I can't deal with a baking failure today. I'll blow it all out of proportion." Because I am not on an even keel today, and I know it. I thought baking something might make me feel more relaxed, but I forgot that things can go wrong.

But the emotional funhouse was all worth it when I opened the oven door and this browned beauty smiled back at me. I had set out to make Mark Bittman's blueberry cobbler, substituting 4 cups of peaches for the blueberries and using cornmeal for half the flour. What I ended up with was like a peach upside down cornmeal cake that was light on the cake and super-heavy on the fruit. The cornmeal topping covered the fruit and had a crust crunchy with cornmeal and sugar.

Four cups peeled, diced peaches (I used UFOs) tossed with 1/4 cup sugar in the baking dish. Mix 1/4 cup each flour and cornmeal in a bowl, add 1/2 teaspoon baking powder and a pinch of salt. Cut in 1 stick (1/2 cup) cold, unsalted butter. Then mix in 1/2 cup sugar because you forgot to add it with the flour. Use a spoon to mix in 1 egg and a dash of vanilla. (This is the point at which I panicked. It did not look like biscuit dough, but rather a spotty, lumpy yellow mush.) Drop over the fruit in tablespoonfuls and don't spread it. The baking will do that, 30 minutes in a 350 degree oven.

What happens to your zucchini muffins when you halve a recipe that calls for 3 eggs, but instead of 1 1/2 you use 2? Nothing too terrible, if you're lucky. I thought that extra half-egg might do something wonky to my muffins, but they turned out just fine, moist and fluffy. "They" always warn against messing with baking recipes, and I do believe that you do so at your own peril. But it can turn out just fine. I've also become a very cavalier flour measurer since finding out how varied the actual weight of flour can be when you use a volume (like a cup) measure. I figure, if there's variation built into the system, I can be less careful, not more. Does that make sense?

These were made from this recipe over at 101 Cookbooks. She does some very funky things with hers, and I tried out one of them, the poppy seeds, with great success. The gentle crunch was at first a mystery, until I remembered I added them. I omitted the ginger, lemon peel and curry powder, so ended up with a zucchini-walnut-poppy seed muffin. (Oh, and clearly I used a 12-cup muffin tin instead of 2 loaf pans and halved the recipe.) I just love 101 Cookbooks because she makes it clear how much you can fiddle with a recipe. Now, the egg thing was a risk, but things like spices and add-ons like nuts or chocolate chips (which I have also used in this recipe) are fair game.

I made one of my favorites, a cornmeal cake from an Epicurious recipe, to take to a friend's on Sunday night. But instead of the rosemary syrup, which is really good, I used some peaches and apricots on my counter to make what ended up being kind of a homemade "peaches canned in light syrup." (Forgive the quote marks.) This grainy cake is a wonderful sponge that soaked up all that peachy syrup.

I started with a simple syrup: 1 cup water and 1 cup sugar boiled and stirred until the sugar dissolved. Then I added peeled, diced peaches, which hadn't gotten very ripe, and tried to cook them into submission for a few minutes. Then I added the apricots, which had ripened, and set the whole mixture in my fridge overnight.

The next day I made the cake: 1/2 cup butter and 1 cup sugar beaten until fluffy (although it just got kind of fluffy-clumpy). Add 1 cup cornmeal, 3/4 cup flour, 2/3 cup milk, 1 teaspoon baking powder, 2 eggs, 1 egg yolk, 3/4 teaspoon salt, and mix it all together. Bake in a 8-inch pan in a 350 degree oven for 40 minutes (mine took 50). Let it cool a bit, then brush on about 1/3 cup of the peach syrup. Serve the rest, including the fruit, with the cake at the table.

I was all up in arms because of a bad experience I just had with the baby at the Time Warner Center (apparently, Time Warner Center does not want your stinky little children grubbing up their pristine environment). Then I came home and comforted myself with some chocolate shortbread he and I made yesterday and realized there's benefits and drawbacks to my new life with August. I may not be welcome at a few of the places I used to frequent, but I now have an eager baking partner who loves to smear whatever we're making all over his already sweet little face.

The chocolate shortbread turned out a bit more crumbly than I think it was supposed to, which I'm sure was a result of less-than-accurate flour measuring. But this was sooo easy. And I'm thinking that most shortbread recipes (although not this one) would be good to bake with a baby who likes to taste the batter because they're eggless. August's desire to taste at every stage of the process makes me think I should try to track down pasteurized eggs rather than try to keep him away at the end of the process.

We creamed a stick of room-temperature butter with 1/2 cup sugar, 3/4 cup cocoa and 1/4 teaspoon of salt. Then we added an egg yolk and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla. Mix in 1 cup flour, then pat into a greased 9-inch round springform pan and bake in a 350 degree oven 25 minutes. Let cool, then cut into wedges. These weren't very sweet, but deeply chocolately and kind of salty. We didn't add the glaze because that'd make them kind of messy.

These might be a chocolate overdose with fondue, but I think regular shortbread (or biscotti or, my favorite, macaroons) would make a decadent fondue.

August and I made a gingerbread cake yesterday, ostesibly from The New American Cooking, and I think I need to call it my miracle cake. This is what happens when you don't gather all your ingredients ahead of time. I'm not going to record the actual recipe because I'm sure the results aren't reproducable.

First I had August measure out the flour. He's just over 1 year old, so really I had him hold the cup while I poured flour in, then he dumped it into the bowl, or rather in the general vicinity of the bowl. So (1) the flour wasn't measured accurately. Then I discovered I had no ground ginger for my GINGERbread cake, so I (2) subbed pumpkin pie spice for all the spices called for. Added the other dry ingredients, which August then mixed together with his hands and then spread all over the front of his shirt.

Then the wet ingredients. I found I only had 1/2 cup white sugar, so I (3) substituted brown for the rest. Only had 1/3 cup molasses when the recipe called for 1 cup, so (4) that's all I used. Mixed everything together, put it in a pan and then into the oven. I turned on the oven light and August and I watched, fully expecting the whole thing to explode or cave into a goey mess. I thought we were going to get something when bubbles started forming at the top. I thought at least the cake would have a metallic taste because there wasn't enough molasses to react with the baking soda.

I felt sure I must've made the baking gods mad, breaking all the rules about using the right ratios and following baking recipes exactly. But they must have a thing for little kids covered in flour, because the cake was pretty good, if a little bland. Definitely edible, and not the kitchen disaster I was expecting. Nice warm topped with vanilla ice cream and sprinkled with freshly grated nutmeg.

August and I made a gingerbread cake yesterday, ostesibly from The New American Cooking, and I think I need to call it my miracle cake. This is what happens when you don't gather all your ingredients ahead of time. I'm not going to record the actual recipe because I'm sure the results aren't reproducable.

First I had August measure out the flour. He's just over 1 year old, so really I had him hold the cup while I poured flour in, then he dumped it into the bowl, or rather in the general vicinity of the bowl. So (1) the flour wasn't measured accurately. Then I discovered I had no ground ginger for my GINGERbread cake, so I (2) subbed pumpkin pie spice for all the spices called for. Added the other dry ingredients, which August then mixed together with his hands and then spread all over the front of his shirt.

Then the wet ingredients. I found I only had 1/2 cup white sugar, so I (3) substituted brown for the rest. Only had 1/3 cup molasses when the recipe called for 1 cup, so (4) that's all I used. Mixed everything together, put it in a pan and then into the oven. I turned on the oven light and August and I watched, fully expecting the whole thing to explode or cave into a goey mess. I thought we were going to get something when bubbles started forming at the top. I thought at least the cake would have a metallic taste because there wasn't enough molasses to react with the baking soda.

I felt sure I must've made the baking gods mad, breaking all the rules about using the right ratios and following baking recipes exactly. But they must have a thing for little kids covered in flour, because the cake was pretty good, if a little bland. Definitely edible, and not the kitchen disaster I was expecting. Nice warm topped with vanilla ice cream and sprinkled with freshly grated nutmeg.

Pretty little cakes are the perfect thing to package up, maybe with some coffee or tea, to give to a coworker or friend. Todd gave me a mini-bundt pan one year, and it's an easy way to make any quick bread recipe pretty cute. A couple years ago I made lemon-rosemary cakes out of Woman's Day. This time I made orange-scented cranberry-pecan cakes. The quick breads with fruit or nuts in them don't turn out quite as neat in the mini bundts, but they didn't look too bad. I made one fruit-and-nut-free for August, too.

The recipe called for 1 1/2 cups fresh cranberries, but I had dried, so I used 1 cup and soaked them in orange liquer overnight. Then I sifted together 2 cups flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt and the zest of one orange. Tossed the drained, patted-dry cranberries and 1/2 cup pecans with a couple tablespoons of the flour mixture. Then mixed 1/4 cup softened butter with 1 cup sugar and 1 egg. Stirred in 3/4 cup orange juice, then the remaining flour mixture. Made one bundt for August, then stirred the nuts and cranberries into the rest. Baked in 350 degree oven for half an hour.

Pretty little cakes are the perfect thing to package up, maybe with some coffee or tea, to give to a coworker or friend. Todd gave me a mini-bundt pan one year, and it's an easy way to make any quick bread recipe pretty cute. A couple years ago I made lemon-rosemary cakes out of Woman's Day. This time I made orange-scented cranberry-pecan cakes. The quick breads with fruit or nuts in them don't turn out quite as neat in the mini bundts, but they didn't look too bad. I made one fruit-and-nut-free for August, too.

The recipe called for 1 1/2 cups fresh cranberries, but I had dried, so I used 1 cup and soaked them in orange liquer overnight. Then I sifted together 2 cups flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon baking soda, 1/2 teaspoon salt and the zest of one orange. Tossed the drained, patted-dry cranberries and 1/2 cup pecans with a couple tablespoons of the flour mixture. Then mixed 1/4 cup softened butter with 1 cup sugar and 1 egg. Stirred in 3/4 cup orange juice, then the remaining flour mixture. Made one bundt for August, then stirred the nuts and cranberries into the rest. Baked in 350 degree oven for half an hour.

When I was a child my parents drank Postum. It's a beverage, supposedly a coffee substitute, made from chicory and roasted grains, and so I took a pass on the early morning hot beverage habit. Then I met my future husband during my first week of college. He was a senior and his coffee-guzzling habit was one of the things that added to his aura of maturity. We were friends first, would go with a big group to the local coffee shop to argue about the kinds of things you argue about in college. Then we moved on to just the two of us, at Perkins late at night, where they set a big pot of coffee right on the table (saving the waitstaff all that time dispensing refills). Those nights I'd lay in bed, my heart racing -- was it love or the pints of coffee coursing through my veins?

So coffee has always been more about relationships than beverages to me. Now it's my relationship with my son, who from the moment his presence was known in my womb has had me drinking decaf (and still he doesn't sleep at night). Decaf can make you an outcast, though. The guests with the coffee habit who have to have regular in the morning. The restaurant that doesn't have decaf or, even worse, only has instant. The sacrifices in taste and price. Being one of those people who "can't have" something, the bane of their hosts.

So lately it's an ambivalent relationship. But I'm still in love. That's why I'm making these brownies, which like my husband get their maturity from coffee, for about the 400th time. So I can share them with a new friend (a new-mommy friend) who's husband is doing me a favor. And so I can share them, again, with you.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Then beat 1 cup sugar and 2 eggs with a mixer on high until it's pale and thick (about 5 minutes). Add 2 teaspoons espresso powder dissolved into a tablespoon of water, 1/4 cup melted butter and 1 teaspoon vanilla and mix.

Next mix 1 cup flour, 2/3 cup cocoa powder and 1/4 teaspoon of salt. Add to sugar mixture and spread it in a 9-inch square baking dish coated with nonstick cooking spray. Bake for about 25 minutes, checking at 20 minutes to see if it's cooked through. They're fudgy, so moist crumbs should be attached when they're done.

When I was a child my parents drank Postum. It's a beverage, supposedly a coffee substitute, made from chicory and roasted grains, and so I took a pass on the early morning hot beverage habit. Then I met my future husband during my first week of college. He was a senior and his coffee-guzzling habit was one of the things that added to his aura of maturity. We were friends first, would go with a big group to the local coffee shop to argue about the kinds of things you argue about in college. Then we moved on to just the two of us, at Perkins late at night, where they set a big pot of coffee right on the table (saving the waitstaff all that time dispensing refills). Those nights I'd lay in bed, my heart racing -- was it love or the pints of coffee coursing through my veins?

So coffee has always been more about relationships than beverages to me. Now it's my relationship with my son, who from the moment his presence was known in my womb has had me drinking decaf (and still he doesn't sleep at night). Decaf can make you an outcast, though. The guests with the coffee habit who have to have regular in the morning. The restaurant that doesn't have decaf or, even worse, only has instant. The sacrifices in taste and price. Being one of those people who "can't have" something, the bane of their hosts.

So lately it's an ambivalent relationship. But I'm still in love. That's why I'm making these brownies, which like my husband get their maturity from coffee, for about the 400th time. So I can share them with a new friend (a new-mommy friend) who's husband is doing me a favor. And so I can share them, again, with you.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Then beat 1 cup sugar and 2 eggs with a mixer on high until it's pale and thick (about 5 minutes). Add 2 teaspoons espresso powder dissolved into a tablespoon of water, 1/4 cup melted butter and 1 teaspoon vanilla and mix.

Next mix 1 cup flour, 2/3 cup cocoa powder and 1/4 teaspoon of salt. Add to sugar mixture and spread it in a 9-inch square baking dish coated with nonstick cooking spray. Bake for about 25 minutes, checking at 20 minutes to see if it's cooked through. They're fudgy, so moist crumbs should be attached when they're done.