It’s the beginning of January, and I feel like the upcoming year is a note from my friend. She wrote it with love, it made its way across the room towards my desk, and now it’s in my hand. The paper is crisp and neatly folded into a little triangle, almost like a present. I don’t know what kind of message it holds yet, but I can’t help but unfold it with a smile on my face.

Thinking about the potential and excitement of the New Year reminds me that this is a year of beginnings. Twenty ten will mark the start of my legal adulthood (turning 18 in April,) the first year anniversary of 17 and Baking, and most importantly my freshman year of college. It’s more than likely that I’ll be attending college away from home, and at the moment the exhilaration of travel is on my mind.

Travel. Don’t you feel a buzz of electricity and mystery even at the prospect of the word? I haven’t been to many states in the US, or visited many places outside the country, but the small taste I’ve had of the world has worked exactly as an appetizer should. It makes me hungry for more.

When people ask me what kind of job I’d like to have in the future, I always have the same things to say: I want a career where I’m using the written word to help people, I want to explore different cultures and opinions, and I want to be moving.

By moving, I mean that I don’t want to spend the majority of my afternoons sitting still. Although paperwork and an office cubicle are probably a large part of any job, I crave exposure to new experiences, the thrill of possibility that the unexplored world presents. Perhaps this is why I find journalism so appealing, even though the future of print journalism is currently murky. A day spent around the city, talking to people of all backgrounds and stories, and writing – it matches my interests perfectly.

Adventure isn’t just excavating gold along an exotic coast or trekking through a perilous jungle… I’d like to hope that one’s everyday life can be an adventure, too, if you are passionate about your work and refuse to limit your optimism.

This is also one of the reasons I’m looking forward to leaving home for college. As 2010 begins and I approach the halfway mark of my Senior year, I’m beginning to feel the seeds of nervousness. My friends and I often lament the dull routine of our daily lives, but now that my time left in high school has a definite expiration date, it’s hard to imagine anything else.

Quite frankly, the thought that my next New Year could be spent across the country is intimidating. It’s hard to picture living without my parents, my friends, my AP Stats homework, and the lush greenery and silver sleet of Seattle. When some of my friends graduated early after Junior year, I knew then that I wasn’t ready to be on my own. I still don’t feel prepared, but I don’t deny that I anticipate the plunge.

Washington is my home, but I am seizing the opportunity to be free for the next four years. I want to be dazzled by the bright lights of a city that never sleeps, and I hope to encounter people with perspectives I’ve never considered before. I finally turned in my last application last week, and received my first acceptance letter the next day.

But for now, I’m satisfied with an adventure I’m experiencing from my own bedroom. Without leaving my home, 17 and Baking has been an open door to the whole world. Every time I see a new comment on my “Leave Your Location” post, I add a pin to the world map on my wall. The bright pinpoints are like brave explorers making their way across oceans and the unknown terrain.

17 and Baking has also brought me into contact with a diverse variety of people, exactly what I hope to achieve in traveling and in college. From professional chefs in rural towns to big-city teens who are also baking and blogging ( :) JoJo), my readers completely reinforce my belief that no matter what, everyone has a voice and a story. We are all connected by a common thread, whether that is our basic humanity, or a love for good food and delicious photography.

So I want to officially thank you – for letting me connect with you, and for helping me “travel” in spirit. You guys are the one thing I am definitely bringing with me to college, certainly much more valuable than anything I could pack into a suitcase (even the KitchenAid.) Thank you for sticking with me through my adventures, and I hope your New Year unfolds into a wonderful one!

I made these crepes with my friend T- and her mother, who are both French. I was so excited when I found out that crepes were on the menu for lunch. We tried a whole variety of both sweet and savory fillings. Among the three of us we tried ham and cheese crepes, spinach and tomato crepes, nutella crepes, crepes with jam, and even plain crepes (when you are too hungry to wait any longer.)

I learned a couple of tricks about crepe making. The batter should rest after it’s made for about an hour, and the pan should be on low heat. T- had an actual crepe pan, and she showed me how to make paper-thin, golden crepes. The ones I made myself were ugly less beautiful than the rest, but tasted just as good.

Midafternoon Crepes
(Translated into English by T- herself)
Makes about 20 crepes, serves 4

250 g (1.8 cups) flour
1 pinch of salt
3 tablespoons of powdered sugar
2 tablespoons of melted butter
3 small eggs or 2 large ones
2 cups of liquid (milk, half milk/half water, or half milk/half beer)
2 tablespoons of cognac or brandy
40 g (1/3 stick) of butter to cook the crepes

Sift the flour into a bowl. Form a well into the center and pour in the salt, the sugar and melted butter. Mix with a wooden spoon as you gradually add the liquid, to get a batter that’s smooth and without chunks. Stop once you’ve added 2/3 of the liquid.

Crack the eggs in a bowl and mix them, add them to the crepe batter, mix well and incorporate the rest of the liquid ingredients.

Heat the pan at a medium temperature and grease the pan with a bit of butter. Pour in a spoonful of batter and swirl the pan, forming a thin and circular crepe.

Let the crepe cook at low heat; once the edges detach from the pan, shake it to detach the crepe, turn it over, let it cook for a few moments and slide the crepe onto a plate.

Keep it warm, or reheat just before serving. Top or fill with any ingredients you like. (See above for some suggestions.)

Printer Friendly Version – Midafternoon Crepes

When I was in elementary school, I had a neighbor who I always played with, N-. I looked up to her for most everything – she was smart, pretty, and just older than me to have unquestionable authority. Whenever we played, whether it was pretend school or board games, she set the rules and stage of everything we did.

One day a new bike appeared on N-’s front lawn. At nine years old I thought it was utterly, undeniably the most perfect and beautiful bicycle I’d ever seen. The body was a seamless silver not yet smudged by fingerprints, with a shiny white seat and handles. Little blue glittery flowers adorned the spokes of the wheels, blurring into a pretty aqua streak when the bike smoothly accelerated. My own bike, which I’d cherished for years, suddenly seemed babyish in comparison with sparkles on its handlebars and a pink vinyl basket perfect for stuffed animals. But worst of all, my childish pink bike had training wheels – more shameful proof of my inability to match up to N-.

I waited for N- to come back from middle school that day, sitting on my front step. When she waved hello, I took a deep breath, and visualized the words I’d been reciting and editing and reciting again over and over in my head. What came out was simply, “Can I ride it?”

N-’s smile faded and she looked back at the bike, back at me. There is something so irresistible about ownership, something that’s yours, something still new and shiny. Even as children we appreciated possession of something beautiful. Unfortunately, this meant N- was less inclined to share her new toy with an untrustworthy neighbor still in the single digits.

“No,” was all she had to say about that. When she saw my face crumple, she added hastily, “But only because you don’t know how to ride a two wheeler. That’s all. You’d crash it and break it and I just got it new.”

Naturally, then, there was only one thing to do – learn to ride a bike without training wheels.

I had only tried to ride a two wheeler once before. I owned a dark purple bike without training wheels that my mother’s co-worker had given us, but I had never been enchanted by it. With its unattractive black stripes, lack of sparkles, and too-tall seat, I had been more than happy to stick to my pink baby bicycle. Not only did it feel safer, I found it a much more beautiful way to get around.

When my mother initially brought the purple bike home, we did try to use it in the park. Mom held the back of the bicycle seat as I pedaled, but no matter how strongly she tried to convince me that she was holding on, I couldn’t help but constantly look back to make sure she was still there. I never gained the confidence or proper motivation to master the two wheeler. Even though mom bought me a full set of knee and elbow pads, I stubbornly gave up.

Having had a few years to mature and a chance to ride N-’s bike was the perfect push. I immediately went to our garage and lifted out the ugly purple bike I’d never expected to ride again. I wheeled it over to a grassy slope near my house, and snapped on my helmet with a loud click. I was going to be riding this bike by the end of the day, or scrape my knees raw trying.

That day, I spent three hours on that grassy hill. I started by sitting on the bike and simply letting it roll down the slope without pedaling, until I could maintain my balance well enough. Then I repeated the process, this time pedaling the bike as I went. I fell over more times than I could count, staining my jeans green and scraping my palms, but every time I stood back up and got back on. When I could finally ride my bike on the sidewalk all the way back to my house without falling once, I knew I had finally done it.

As it turned out, N- still didn’t want to share, and I never did get the chance to play with her beautiful bike. But I’d learned something valuable in the process, something that I’ve kept with me long after that shiny new bike dulled and N- moved far away. Besides finally graduating to the two wheeled bike, I learned the power of perseverance. When I am truly determined, I can accomplish anything with enough effort, even if it means a few scrapes along the way.

Hugely, this concept has proved true for the Daring Bakers. The lavendar milanos that I made over and over before tasting success come to mind first, and the Dobos Torte that I had to attempt twice. When I saw the Daring Baker’s October challenge, I groaned.

The 2009 October Daring Bakers’ challenge was brought to us by Ami S. She chose macarons from Claudia Fleming’s The Last Course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern as the challenge recipe.

Macarons are among the most notorious desserts in the food blogging world, as temperamental and difficult as high school boys. They’ve been on my goal list for months, but to be truthful, I probably would have never been brave enough to attempt them. The Daring Baker’s challenge provided exactly the push I needed. Though I knew I would probably break some eggs, throw a spatula in frustration, and have to make macarons over and over – possibly without success – I felt up to the challenge.

So imagine my surprise when I made the macarons and they came out more beautifully than I would have believed, on my first attempt! I drew the first batch out of the oven and saw to my shock and delight that they had little ruffled feet. While they could have been smoother, taller, and had more perfect feet, I couldn’t have been happier with my results. And the flavor profile I chose evokes warm cinnamon rolls or snickerdoodle cookies.

And now, as a 17 year old in the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon and cream cheese is just as appealing as a gleaming new bike.

Many Daring Bakers this month did not like this recipe, and had much more success with Tartelette’s macaron recipe. Like I said, mine were not perfectly formed, and were a little moister/tackier than perfect. Overall, though, they were a success. I don’t know why mine worked – kitchen karma? Plain dumb luck? – but here’s what I did:

- I aged my egg whites in a bowl on the counter, covered with a paper towel, for 3 days.
- I used storebought almond meal (which is actually moister than almond flour).
- I sifted my almond flour/powdered sugar/cinnamon mixture 3 times.
– I have no idea how many strokes I used with the egg white/almond flour mixture. I just folded until combined.
- I doubled up on pans, but I don’t know if this made a difference.
- After piping, I rapped the pan on the counter to release air bubbles.
- I let the piped macarons sit on the counter for an hour before baking. No feet formed, but a slight skin did.

Since the recipe worked for me, I am reproducing it below. My one complaint is that I did find the macarons a bit too sweet, so I used a tangy cream cheese filling to balance it out. They were quite good!

Cinnamon and Cream Cheese Macarons
Makes 10 Dozen

2 ¼ cups (225 g, 8 oz.) icing sugar
2 cups (190 g, 6.7 oz.) almond flour
2 tablespoons (25 g , .88 oz.) granulated sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
5 egg whites (Have at room temperature)

Preheat the oven to 200°F (93°C). Combine the confectioners’ sugar, cinnamon, and almond flour in a medium bowl. If grinding your own nuts, combine nuts and a cup of confectioners’ sugar in the bowl of a food processor and grind until nuts are very fine and powdery.

Beat the egg whites in the clean dry bowl of a stand mixer until they hold soft peaks. Slowly add the granulated sugar and beat until the mixture holds stiff peaks.

Sift a third of the almond flour mixture into the meringue and fold gently to combine. If you are planning on adding zest or other flavorings to the batter, now is the time. Sift in the remaining almond flour in two batches. Be gentle! Don’t overfold, but fully incorporate your ingredients.

Spoon the mixture into a pastry bag fitted with a plain half-inch tip (Ateco #806). You can also use a Ziploc bag with a corner cut off. It’s easiest to fill your bag if you stand it up in a tall glass and fold the top down before spooning in the batter. Pipe one-inch-sized (2.5 cm) mounds of batter onto baking sheets lined with nonstick liners (or parchment paper).

Bake the macaroon for 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the oven and raise the temperature to 375°F (190°C). Once the oven is up to temperature, put the pans back in the oven and bake for an additional 7 to 8 minutes, or lightly colored. Cool on a rack before filling.

Cream Cheese Filling
Makes enough to fill the macarons

6 oz cream cheese, softened
4 oz unsalted butter, softened
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
2 tbsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Beat the cream cheese and butter in an electric mixer until smooth. Add the sugar until combined, then mix in the juice and extract. Pipe a dollop onto one macaron and top with another.

Printer Friendly Version – Cinnamon and Cream Cheese Macarons

As always, I encourage you to check out every Daring Baker’s macarons. They are incredible!

I wish I could travel more. Traveling is something I’ve barely done, and yet, it’s one of my favorite things. There’s so many things I love about it – mostly, I just love to experience something so totally different from what I’m used to. A different skyline, a different perspective and culture, a different lifestyle… and different food.

Food is one of the biggest highlights of my travels, limited as they might be. It’s as important as the monuments, the museums, the shopping. Bagels, pizza, and cheesecake in New York, the best bubble tea and bao bing in Houston’s Chinatown, french brioche toast and tea in Victoria, Canada. Oh, but Paris…

I was in 8th grade when I went to Paris with my French class – such an amazing trip. While I didn’t photograph any of our meals, I remember them vividly. Crêpes, bought right on the street and spread with nutella; fresh sandwiches made with beautiful, crackly baguettes; and a fresh, flaky croissant served with orange juice and chocolat chaud every morning for breakfast.

And Fauchon, the famous luxury bakery! My French teacher told a story of a boy one year who was left behind in Fauchon, so mesmerized by the pastries that he did not notice the group leave the patisserie and board the subway. Madame called it a nightmare. Me, I think it sounds like a dream come true!

I really wish I would have discovered my love for baking at that point in my life. At the time, I’d never heard of Fauchon, and while I left feeling full and impressed (I bought an excellent fig éclair at what I thought a ridiculous price), I didn’t fully appreciate the visit.

When I saw that April’s Sugar High Friday, hosted by Heather of Diary of a Fanatic Foodie, was to make a dessert inspired by travel (“Take Me Away”), memories of Paris came back to me with surprising strength. There were so many unbelievable desserts I tried. But what made me think utterly of Paris? And what was simple enough to make at home, right after school?

This lovely pear tart was the ticket. Back to Paris, I mean. :)

The pastry that I always try first in a new French bakery is always the pear and almond tart. To me it seems like such a classic, something so simple but incredible when done right. Maybe it’s a little unfair, but I tend to judge bakeries right away based on that tart.

(The best pear tart I’ve ever had was in Paris, if you were wondering. It wasn’t even in a fancy or expensive pastry shop, but a teeny patisserie we passed on the street. I don’t even remember it’s name. An unknown pastry shop in Paris produces better pear tarts than most “genuine French” bakeries in Seattle!)

Unfortunately, my mom doesn’t care much for pear and almond tarts. The problem is mostly the custard, which is too rich for her. I didn’t want to make anything that she wouldn’t enjoy. I also decided on making just enough for two mini tarts, the perfect dessert for two.

The solution was this simple pear tart, which is nothing but a flaky, buttery crust and sweet, soft pear. It’s a snap to make, and of all the tarts I’ve ever made – this was probably my favorite. My mother surprised me by saying it was among the top 3 best things I’d ever baked, in her opinion. Quel succès!

You could double the crust and quadruple the pears and make a full sized tart, baking times adjusted accordingly.

Simple Pear Tart
Adapted from Carole Walter
Makes two 4″ tarts

2 Sweet Tart shells, baked (recipe follows)
1 Anjou pear, slightly under-ripe
Fresh lemon juice
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tbsp cornstarch
3 tbsp apricot jam, divided
1/4 tbsp butter, room temperature

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Peel the pear and slice it in half lengthwise, from top to bottom. Core each half with a melon baller or a teaspoon, then coat with lemon juice to prevent browning. Slice each half lengthwise into 1/4″ slices. Toss in a bowl with sugar and cornstarch.

Spread a thin layer of apricot jam onto the bottom of each tart shell. Lay the pear slices decoratively on top – I overlapped the pears, using the longest slices in the center of the tart. Pour the juices left in the bowl over the pears, then dot with butter.

Bake the tarts for 45 minutes, then cover loosely with foil and bake an additional 5 minutes. Mix a tablespoon of apricot jam with a teaspoon of water, brush it over the pears as a glaze while still warm. Cool tarts completely before removing from their pans.

Dorie Greenspan’s Sweet Tart Shell
Crust adapted from Dorie Greenspan via Smitten Kitchen
Makes enough for two 4″ tarts, plus scraps

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup confectioner’s sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
4.5 tbsp frozen unsalted butter, cubed
1/2 large egg, scrambled (crack a whole and use half)

In a food processor, pulse the flour, sugar, and salt. Add the cubed butter and pulse until the butter is cut in, with little “butter balls” the size of peas and of oats. Add the yolk bit by bit, pulsing after each time, then once all the yolk is added pulse the dough in long, 10 second intervals. When the dough clumps up, knead it gently a few times on a work surface just until it comes together. Chill the dough 1 hour before rolling.

Butter two 4″ fluted tart pans with removable bottoms. Divide the tart dough in two and roll each half between two sheets of plastic wrap. Peel off one of the sheets and invert the dough on top of a tart pan. Pat the dough onto the bottom of the pan and ease it into the corners and sides. Gently and carefully remove the second piece of plastic wrap, then use a knife to trim the overhang to 1/4 inch. Fold the excess dough over, into the pan, to create double-thick sides. Prick bottom with a fork, then freeze at least 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Butter the shiny side of two squares of aluminum foil. Press them into the chilled tart pans, then bake the crust for 10 minutes. Remove the foil and press down on any puffiness with a spoon. Bake for an additional 10 minutes.

Printer Friendly Version – Simple Pear Tart for Two

P.S.: My birthday is in two days… expect some birthday cake! :)