I spent my last day in Seattle with my parents. We woke up early and got pancakes at one of our favorite dives, a run-down little restaurant near the airport. I spent the afternoon at home with Dad and the dogs, looking through old photo albums. We shared some good sushi for an early lunch, and ice cream sundaes for dessert. Even though sleet fell and dirty puddles collected, damp leaves sticking to our soles, I couldn’t have felt happier about my last afternoon.

At home after dinner, I watched my mom boil water for tea, facing away from me. I sat at the table and checked my email as she talked, only half listening. She stopped mid-sentence, and I finally noticed that she’d been crying – so quiet I hadn’t heard from three feet away.

She left the kitchen and I heard the closet open down the hall. She came back with a white cloth napkin with sky blue trim. “Recognize this?”

The last time I saw my parents before winter break was in Boston, a few days before classes started. We had dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant in the North End, a light meal before I left in near tears and caught the next train to my dorms. We didn’t say goodbye for very long because I didn’t want my parents to see I was upset.

“After you walked out, I started crying,” my mom said. I unfolded the napkin and turned it around in my hands. It was so neatly folded and wrinkle-free that it looked new.

“Your father and I left soon after you. We walked down the street and he gave me the napkin – he stole it from the restaurant. He said he thought I might need it.”

And here it was now, a seeming lifetime later, in our chipped little kitchen.

“We walked a little further and went into some of the stores. Your dad, he picked up this jar of something and said ‘Oh – Elissa would really like this.’ He just kept looking at it and finally he bought it. He said, ‘We should give it to her.’”

“The fig spread?”

I remembered this. I thought I’d said goodbye to my parents for the last time, but later that night, my dad stopped by the lobby of my dorm. He had a box of water crackers, a thick wedge of creamy brie, and a small glass jar of an incredible fig jam. It was the last real quality food I had before I settled into my routine of café sandwiches and dining hall chicken fingers. It was the last little bit that felt like Seattle as I settled into Boston.

The first week of school, I passed it around the common room and shared it with my floor. Nobody had eaten anything like that fig spread before, and I saw people right, left and center falling in love. Between my roommate E- and I, the jam lasted a few weeks. When it was gone, I washed out the jar and set it on the windowsill. That’s where it is now, catching the fleeting light that filters into my room.

When it was gone, I craved more, but I wasn’t about to buy more on my college student budget. One afternoon E- came into the room with a grocery bag. She pulled out a package of crackers. “I keep thinking about that fig spread,” she admitted. With or without it, the crackers satisfied us, and now our room is always stocked with a box or two.

(Left to right: Parmesan Cheese Crackers, Orange Sugar & Spice Crackers, Lime Thyme Crackers)

Mom was smiling now. “After the hard time your dad gave me about being upset, he was the one buying stuff for you half an hour later. He said we should go to Whole Foods and get something to go with the jam. I thought he was being ridiculous but he was so stubborn about the idea.”

They didn’t know where Whole Foods was, but they took a train and managed to find it. I can picture Dad walking up and down the cheese aisle, like he used to when we shopped together, looking for the particular brie I’m so smitten with. I imagine him looking at shelves and shelves of crackers, deciding which box would go best with the spread.

As I thought about all the work behind that simple gesture, a paper bag with a last-minute snack, I started to feel sad for the first time about winter break ending. I gave my mom a long hug and told her not to cry. I folded up the napkin, following the creases, and handed it to her.

“Hang onto this. I’m serious. Keep this forever, okay?”

“Okay.” She paused, and then smiled. “I’ll use it at your graduation.”

She put the napkin back in the linen closet, Dad came and sat down, and the two of them talked at the dinner table as I finished packing.

Boston, here I come.

Homemade crackers are the kind of thing that look and taste ultra-fancy and gourmet, but really, they’re pretty easy. This recipe is flexible, forgiving, and addictive. It’s as simple as combining a few ingredients in a bowl, letting the mixer do the work, and getting creative with toppings. Indecisive as ever, I made three different crackers. The first batch I sprinkled with lime zest, lime thyme, and black pepper. The second batch got grated parmesan cheese, cayenne pepper, and a healthy dose of salt. I made a sweeter cracker with the last batch, topping them with orange zest, vanilla sugar, ground ginger, cinnamon, chili powder.

The three varieties were all different and all good. The one thing they had in common was a thin, crispy texture, and a tendency to disappear fast. They’re good with all sorts of dips and spreads, like hummus, and a whole lot of toppings, like brie and fig spread.

Crackly Crackers
Adapted from 101 Cookbooks
Makes roughly a dozen extra large crackers

1 cup whole wheat flour
2 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon fine-grain sea salt
1 cup warm water
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
Toppings for sprinkling (ex: salt, pepper, grated cheese, dried herbs, spices, citrus zest, seeds, flavored oils, etc)

Whisk the whole wheat flour, all purpose flour, and salt together in the bowl of an electric mixer. Add the water and olive oil. Mix the dough with the dough hook attachment at medium speed for 5-7 minutes, or simply mix and knead by hand on a floured surface. The dough should be slightly tacky – add water if the dough is too dry, add flour if the dough is too sticky.

Form the dough into a ball and cut it into a dozen equal pieces. Gently rub each piece with some olive oil, shape into a ball and set on a plate. Cover the plate with plastic wrap or a clean dishtowel and let the dough rest for 30-60 minutes at room temperature.

As the dough rests, preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Add a pizza stone if available.

After the dough has rested, flatten a ball of dough into a flat strip. Use a rolling pin or a pasta machine to make the dough as thin as possible. You can use your hands to pull the dough out afterwards, getting it a bit thinner. Cut the dough into whatever shape you want the crackers to be (I baked mine in large, freeform shapes and broke them into smaller crackers afterward.)

Place the dough on a floured baking sheet and poke the crackers all over with a fork. Add any toppings (see above for suggestions) and bake in the oven (or on the pizza stone if you have it) until deeply golden brown. The time will vary depending on your oven and the thickness of your crackers, mine took 5-10 minutes. Let the crackers cool before eating so they reach their full crispy potential.

Printer-Friendly Recipe – Crackly Crackers

We don’t spend hours in the kitchen every evening.

Sometimes, I just pop a bowl of cold fried rice into the microwave for a quicker than quick dinner. On Tuesdays my mother and I steam broccoli, chop watermelon into chunks, sit down to watch Chopped and call it a night. I’ve even leaned against the fridge and eaten cold chicken salad straight out of the tupperware. Our kitchen is always stocked with enough leftovers to make us low-maintenance weeknight diners.

Weekends, though… That’s an entirely different matter. Sometimes the whole day revolves our food. My mother often wakes up before me to brush her bread with an egg glaze, and we juggle the oven so I can bake biscuits. She’s the queen of scrambled eggs and freshly squeezed juice, and I can press any berry into a special maple syrup.

My parents and I frequently head to the farmer’s market right after breakfast to shop for dinner, usually without a meal plan in mind. We pick whatever’s fresh and seasonal and bright, whatever inspires hunger even though we just ate. My family has been known to spend an afternoon rolling out pasta directly on our dinner table, marinating fish, picking through sun-warmed herbs. Then, we feast.

Don’t be fooled, though. There are plenty of awful mistakes, pain in the rear ingredients, and even the occasional temper. Our kitchen is what my dad likes to call a “two-butt work area.” The three of us barely fit inside it, and with the two dogs brushing against our ankles, it’s a very tight squeeze.

Usually, it’s chaotic frustration. As the sky darkens, my dad works from both the stove and the cutting board, on opposite ends of the kitchen. My mother can’t help but clean dishes in real time, sometimes whisking bowls off into the sink before we’re through with them. And me? I’m just trying to get to the oven, which is between the two of them. Add Tilly, who begs at your feet until you step on her, and Otis, who grunts whenever you drop a scrap – it’s an experience.

Yet once we carry plates to the table, settling down in our usual chairs, it’s calm. It’s relaxed. It’s all about passing plates and trying a bit of everything. It’s the subdued “Mmm!” at first bite. Cooking together is hectic, but it’s always worth it. There is something intangible about a meal created with your family… an hour of satisfaction, and a lifetime of memories.

Usually when I’m in the kitchen, I’m alone. Sometimes I’m even the only one in the entire house, especially now in the summer. I love baking in the serene calm of morning, with light streaming from the window above the sink and the French doors. It’s quiet, except for blue jays rustling in the backyard pines and the faint rhythm of my breath. It’s silent enough for me to sense the song of the kitchen in my ears and in my soul.

When I’m baking by myself, the kitchen is perfect for one person – spacious, even. I can’t help but feel that there’s no better way to spend life than alone with my thoughts and my Kitchen Aid. That is, until the weekend rolls around again. Then I’m weaving between my parents, half laughing and half exasperated, five minutes away from “dinner’s ready.” And at that moment, there’s no other place I’d rather be.

They’re opposite situations, and I like that. I like the contrast, and the fact that such distinct experiences can occur in the same room. The differences make each experience memorable and sweet, even if they don’t seem to complement each other at first glance.

I love juxtaposed differences, in life and in food. Sweet with salty, hot with cool, creamy with crunchy… Enter these watermelon bars, the perfect example of just that.

The bottom layer is the simplest watermelon sorbet, a snap to whirl together. It freezes somewhat hard and icy, but it’s utterly refreshing. The sorbet is spread with a basil-lime semifreddo, which is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever made. The semifreddo makes up for all the richness the sorbet lacks, whisked with sweetened condensed milk and lightened with whipped cream. It’s so thick and creamy, it should be illegal. The zing of lime and smooth, floral aroma of basil pair gorgeously with melon.

It could be a clash of flavors and textures, but I think they make a beautifully balanced combination. Together, they pack the epitome of summer in every melting bite.

I’d had these chilled bars in the back of my mind since I first saw them in Gourmet magazine two years ago. I finally froze a batch because I had a hunk of watermelon in the fridge and a bag of limes perfuming the counter. I threw in basil, my favorite herb, since it reminds me of everything summer.

My dad didn’t like the bars as much as I did, but only because he felt the two frozen desserts could be paired differently. He suggested multiple, thinner layers of sorbet and semifreddo, for a multi-layered bar or perhaps for a swirled scoop of ice cream. Both great potential variations on this dessert.

The flavors in the bars are very bold, especially the citrus. Don’t be afraid! If you know you’re not a fan, leave out the lime zest in the semifreddo. I liked everything as is.

Frozen Watermelon Basil-Lime Bars
Concept and Semifreddo layer adapted from Gourmet
Watermelon Sorbet layer a 17 and Baking original
Makes a 9”x9” pan

Watermelon Sorbet
1 1/2 pounds (24 oz) seedless watermelon, rinds removed
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon Grand Marnier (or tequila, rum, etc) (optional)
Juice of a small lemon

Basil-Lime Semifreddo
One (14 oz) can sweetened condensed milk
3 tablespoons finely chopped fresh basil
Zest of a small lime
Juice of two small limes
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream, chilled

Line the bottom and sides of a 9”x9” pan with plastic wrap so that there is some overhang on all four sides. (I used aluminum foil, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It flaked later on when I cut the bars.) Place the lined pan in the freezer while making the watermelon sorbet.

To make the sorbet, blend the watermelon in a blender or food processor until smooth. Add the sugar, Grand Marnier, and lemon juice and blend until very smooth. Chill the mixture in the freezer for 30 minutes or until very cold, then churn in an ice cream maker. Spread the churned sorbet in the prepared pan and freeze at least 2 hours, or until the sorbet has hardened.

To make the semifreddo, heat the sweetened condensed milk with the basil in a small saucepan over medium heat until it steams. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature. When cool, whisk in the zest and lime juice until smooth. In another bowl, whisk the whipping cream until it just reaches stiff peaks. Fold it into the sweetened condensed milk gently with a rubber spatula.

Smooth over the watermelon sorbet in the 9”x9” pan and freeze until solid, preferably overnight. I also recommend putting plates in the freezer at this point so when you’re ready to serve the bars, you can use chilled plates and the bars won’t melt as quickly.

When ready to serve, use the overhanging plastic wrap to lift out the bars. Cut into squares and serve on chilled plates.

Printer-Friendly Version – Frozen Watermelon Basil-Lime Bars

These past few weeks, I’ve felt suspended in limbo. In a lot of ways, this summer feels like my last. The last summer I can get away without having a steady job. The last summer where my high school friends are all in town and trying to keep us together. The last summer I’ll see the world the way I do right now. I keep having to remind myself that I’m a high school graduate, and that everything is about to change in September.

I don’t feel like a college freshman, the way I still don’t feel like a legal adult. Once in a while, when I hear from a friend or spot the square graduation cap in my closet, I’m stifled with hesitation. There are moments where I don’t think I’ll survive if I’m tossed into the depths of the unknown. But sooner or later, I walk past someone with a Red Sox tee or tell someone about my expected major – and then I’m overwhelmed with a desire to pack up and move to Boston already.

The morning after I graduated, I thought to myself, “This is it. This summer is like the eye of a hurricane.” A month in, though, I’m seeing it a little differently. The next two months aren’t the calm before an unstoppable storm… they’re a window of opportunity. The opportunity to relax while shouldering a bit of responsibility, and to enjoy every second of this limbo.

So what have I been doing with my last days in Washington? Even though Seattle is currently going through a miniature heat wave, I’ve been spending most of my hours in the kitchen.

It started about a week ago. My dad and I were at the dinner table, talking about college and 17 and Baking. Up until then, I’d felt unconcernedly confident about maintaining the blog through the school year. After all, it simply had to work out. How hard could it be to keep up the blogging?

But little by little, tiny cracks chipped away at my optimism. I came to the unpleasant conclusion that I can’t bring the KitchenAid mixer with me. It’s so heavy, how we would transport it across the country? And where would I keep it – my dorm? Would I carry it down the streets of Boston in search of a kitchen? I reluctantly admitted there were flaws in my idealism, all the way down to the simple issue of where I’d store flour and eggs. Would I even have time?

So I’ve begun baking like crazy to stock up on photos. While I’m thrilled that I’ll be able to keep blogging through the blustery chills of October and the January freeze, it contradicts my general philosophy of only using seasonal items. In the past week, my searches for wintery produce and dabbles with autumn spices have only reinforced my appreciation for seasonal ingredients.

It’s July, and it’s also a window of opportunity for the fruits and vegetables I’ve waited for all winter. I’ve missed the satisfaction of a real tomato, heavy with juice and sweeter than sugar. It’s been too long since I last eased a knife through the streaked hull of a watermelon. I’ve been craving the fuzzy blush of a peach and the first seed-studded bite into a strawberry ever since January. They just aren’t good in April – some things are worth waiting for.

Gosh, I’m hungry again.

And with the ingredients come the dishes I’ve been lusting after. Spontaneous fruits-of-the-moment fruit salads, cold cucumber soup, sparkling herb lemonade! Even water tastes better when you’re drinking it between forkfuls of grilled salmon with grape and melon chutney.

I know I’m not the only foodie in town excited by summer produce. My parents have both been waiting, and it’s finally the time of year for my dad’s zesty blueberry corn salad with lime, and my mom’s avocado and sundried tomato eggrolls with chili dipping sauce. There’s only a short window of time when we can indulge ourselves in these savory summer dishes, and we’re taking full advantage of it.

I love my mother’s eggrolls. She first came up with them last summer, and when avocado season rolled around this year we began eating batch after batch. She starts with a gorgeously ripe avocado – as creamy and thick as butter, the kind of green that sends happy flutters in your stomach. Add sun dried tomatoes, fresh cilantro and sharp red onion, and you’ve hit upon something special – smooth, crispy, chewy, and indulgent.

My dad loves the combination of fresh blueberries and gently cooked corn. The corn is still a little warm, still has a little pop to it. The blueberries are cool and sweet. Spritzed with lime, they become like dark pearls, stunning against the light yellow kernels and flecks of zest. There’s only a small period of time when blueberry season and corn season cross, so now’s the time to make this refreshing salad… over and over again.

In the coming weeks, as summer draws to an end, I might get sick of flaky eggroll skin or juicy corn. Before long, I’ll be longing for pumpkin puree and for the give of a ripe pear, the way it smells like crisp leaves and November rain. But everything is worth the wait. And for now, I’ll enjoy the summer’s bounty as long as it blooms, ripens, and warms in the July heat.

Blueberry Corn Salad with Lime
A 17 and Baking Original
Makes 4 cups of salad

2 ears of sweet, ripe corn
2 cups fresh blueberries
A teaspoon of salt
1/2 lime, juiced and zested

Put the corn in a pot of cool water. Bring the water to a boil and cook for about 5 minutes, or until the corn is lightly cooked – you don’t want it to be raw, but you still want it to have some crisp. Cool the corn until you can cut the kernels off the cob (should yield about 2 cups corn.) While the corn is still a little warm, toss with the salt and the lime. Add the blueberries and toss gently. Add more salt or lime to taste. Eat the salad at room temperature, or slightly chilled.

This salad doesn’t keep well overnight (perhaps it’s the blueberry and the acidic citrus together.) If you want to make this salad ahead of time, simply leave out the blueberries until serving time.

Printer Friendly Version – Blueberry Corn Salad with Lime

Avocado and Sundried Tomato Eggrolls with Chili Dipping Sauce
A 17 and Baking Original
Makes six eggrolls

Eggrolls
2 large ripe avocados
1/2 cup diced red onion
1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
1/2 cup sundried tomatoes, chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Package of eggroll wrappers
One egg, beaten
Oil for frying

Chili Dipping Sauce
1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 teaspoons spicy sweet chili sauce (like Sriracha. Adjust to taste.)

To prepare the chili dipping sauce, combine the mayonnaise and the chili sauce in a small bowl. Make sure to taste it and add more mayonnaise or chili sauce depending on how much spice you like. The sauce needs to rest for 15 minutes, so you can make the eggrolls in the meantime.

Mash the avocado in a medium bowl. Mix in the red onion, cilantro, sundried tomatoes, salt, and pepper. Spread a little onto an eggroll wrapper and roll up, closing the two ends and using a little bit of egg to help seal it. Deep fry in a saucepan of sizzling oil over medium heat until the eggrolls are blistered and golden brown. Serve with the chili dipping sauce.

Printer Friendly Version – Avocado and Sundried Tomato Eggrolls with Chili Dipping Sauce

It was no surprise to anyone that after 8th grade graduation, I sobbed for weeks.

I didn’t just cry at the pre-ceremony event, the actual ceremony, and the post-ceremony party. Instead, weeks into summer, I broke down whenever I heard the Vitamin C graduation song or saw a friend’s face. Looking back at the past, it’s ridiculous and a little embarrassing, but not surprising. I was always an overly sensitive kid.

I remember once, when I was in middle school, unearthing a box of old school reports from my elementary school teachers. I’d opened and read every report written about me since the first grade. I don’t know what I expected, but I was disappointed to see the same thing written every year: “While Elissa shows a clear passion for learning, she needs to control her emotions. She feels everything a little too much.”

Reading those papers, I felt like my sensitivity was a major weakness, my biggest flaw. If only I could learn to make my heart a little tougher, life would suddenly make sense. But I felt like I couldn’t change what was so clearly part of me. My life was overflowing with sensitivity.

Fast forward four years, and my sensitivity certainly hasn’t left. I’m consumed with sympathy when I hear about earthquakes or hurricanes or oil spills around the world. If I make a rude offhand comment to my mother in the morning, it drenches my entire day with guilt. And I still cry when I watch the Lion King. It’s just so sad.

But somehow, something has changed. I graduated Monday night on my school’s football field. I didn’t cry when I walked into the main gym for the last time and saw my entire senior class in blue gowns and square caps. I kept it together when my mother presented me with the purple lei she’d secretly bought for me, just for this occasion. My heart didn’t break when I finally saw my parents in the crowd, smiling like 150 watts.

Because I didn’t spend the entire time crying, I’ll remember things about this graduation that I can’t remember from 8th grade. I’ll remember how A- kept knocking off my graduation hat, so I couldn’t get it straight during the actual ceremony (thanks a lot.) I’ll remember the way the knots of my cords felt against the back of my neck, and the melody that C- and M- played on their cellos. And surreal and dreamy as it might be, I’ll remember the snapshot image of everyone’s caps suspended in the air, like they could float there forever.

It’s Wednesday – a lifetime of hugs, handshakes, photographs, laughs, and memories later. I still haven’t shed a tear. It’s not that I’m not sad to leave high school, because I am. I’ll miss my morning carpool with C-, my doodles in first period with M-, and watching Battlestar Galactica in E-‘s basement with a pillow clutched to my chest. In a few months, I’ll begin to miss things that I haven’t even thought of, the little things I took for granted every day I went to class.

But something fundamental has changed in me. In 8th grade, I clung so fervently to the past that I had to be dragged into the next stage of my life. I was terrified of change, even though I couldn’t admit it. And now? Well, I’m still terrified of change. But I’m also ready for it, eager for it. The thrill of college is tangible and overwhelming – it’s electric.

And while I don’t think I’ll ever stop tearing up when Simba takes his rightful place in Pride Rock, I’m no longer held back by sensitivity as a weakness. In fact, wielded in the right way, I think it’s a strength. It’s what fills my head with imagery as a writer, it’s what lets me empathize with everyone around me, and it’s what makes life so much richer an experience.

My life is no longer overflowing with sensitivity – it’s flowing with inspiration. Everywhere I look, I am surrounded by potential and motivation. I want to take everything I’ve learned in high school and change the world with knowledge. I want to throw myself into Boston head first, arms open. I want to read every book in existence, and let the words push me forward.

I devoured A Homemade Life in one afternoon several weeks ago. It’s by my hero Molly Wizenberg, the blogger behind Orangette, and it’s beautiful. She weaves every story with family and food and love, tying everything in her life to the meals she remembers. “Inspiring” feels like an understatement – I want to write a book like that someday.

But for now, maybe I can be satisfied with baking food like that today. When I saw her recipe for white chocolate coeur de la crème, I couldn’t stop myself from making it that very evening. It’s a mousse made with cream, cream cheese, and white chocolate, chilled and served in dollops with berry puree. It was everything she’d described – creamy, soft, simultaneously airy and substantial – brought to life.

It’s incredible how my view of the world has changed in four years. What will the next four bring?

I’ve never been a fan of white chocolate. It’s too sweet, doesn’t melt the same way on your tongue as dark chocolate, and it can even be a little waxy. But here, the white chocolate is the star in a very good way. You get the flavor of white chocolate, sweet and vanilla scented. But it’s balanced by the cream cheese, and the whipped cream folded in keeps the whole thing light and fluffy. The blueberry lime puree adds tang and color – just an overall gorgeous dessert.

You chill the dessert in any mold you like overnight. I picked one of my metal mixing bowls and ended up with a shallow dome. It’s traditionally made in a heart-shaped mold, but you could use just about anything.

White Chocolate Coeur de la Crème with Blueberry Lime Puree
Slightly adapted from A Homemade Life
Serves 6-8

Coeur de la Crème
3 oz good quality white chocolate, finely chopped
8 oz cream cheese (not low fat), room temperature
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
3/4 cup powdered sugar, sifted

Puree
10 oz frozen blueberries
Zest of one lime
3 tbsp sugar

Cut two sheets of cheesecloth big enough to fully line your mold, plus a little overhang on all sides. Dampen the cheesecloth with water, wring it out, and put them together to make a double layer. Press it into the sides and bottom of the mold, leaving some hanging over the sides.

Microwave the white chocolate in a microwavable bowl in 20 second intervals on high. Stir between intervals, and heat only until smooth and just melted.

Mix the cream cheese, 1/4 cup cream, and the sugar in a mixer on medium speed until fluffy. Scrape the sides of the bowl as needed. Then add the white chocolate and beat for 2 minutes, until very smooth.

In another bowl, beat the remaining 1 cup cream to stiff peaks and fold into the cream cheese mixture. Spoon into the mold, smooth the top with a rubber spatula, then fold the overhanging cheesecloth over it to cover the top. Place the mold unto a rimmed sheetpan or plate and chill for 8 hours or overnight.

To make the puree, blend the thawed berries, their juice, the zest, and the sugar in a blender or food processor until smooth. Push the puree through a sieve to remove the seeds into a small bowl. Cover and chill for up to 4 hours.

Carefully peel the cheesecloth off the top of the coeur de la crème and invert it onto a plate. Peel off the rest of the cheesecloth. Serve in dollops in teacups or shallow bowls along with a spoonful of puree.

Printer-Friendly Version – White Chocolate Coeur de la Crème with Blueberry Lime Puree

It’s nearly July.

You’ve got it in your head that you want to remodel your front yard. You’re going to pull out all the old grass, taking the moss and weeds with it, and replant new seeds. You’re going to transfer your herb garden, plant lots of beautiful flowers, and create a fence with espalier fruit trees – apple, pear, and asian pear. You might even ask your teenage daughter to help once in a while.

And generally, it’s hard work. Hard, hot work. You can drink all the water you want, but what would really cool you off?

A mojito!

I know some of you guys were intrigued by the jelly that I put up earlier this week. There were a lot of great guesses, and some of them got pretty close but nobody got it quite right. It turns out, this little jar is much more than a delicious batch of lime and mint jelly. It’s part of this month’s Daring Bakers challenge!

The June Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Jasmine of Confessions of a Cardamom Addict and Annemarie of Ambrosia and Nectar. They chose a Traditional (UK) Bakewell Tart… er… pudding that was inspired by a rich baking history dating back to the 1800′s in England.

The Bakewell Tart is a tart crust spread with jam, jelly, curd, or even chocolate, and then topped with moist, spongy almond frangipane. For the challenge we were asked to make the crust and frangipane as instructed, but we had freedom over the jelly.

I’d never made jelly by myself before, so I knew that I definitely wanted to make that part of the challenge. I played with so many different flavors in my head before finally settling on lime and mint. It’s a slightly unusual combination for a jelly, and it sounded so utterly different and refreshing that I knew it would make this pretty challenge even more special.

When I told my dad my flavor combination, he said, “Why not make mojitos to go along?” So he brought the mint, the limes, and the rum, and I headed next door to ask the neighbors for a bowl of ice. The result was a cool, fresh mojito. It turns out, I really like them. I think I could have probably had one or two all by myself. Luckily my parents and I shared two glasses among us and I was able to really focus on the tart as well. :)

I was a little unsure about how almond would pair with lime and mint, but the tart was super delicious. On its own, the jelly is fantastic. It’s tangy and bursting with flavor, and tastes so bright that everyone is a little surprised when they first try it. In the tart, the flavor was much more subdued. In hindsight, a jam like raspberry, pear, or peach would have probably better fit the tart, but the mojito jelly did add a lovely green stripe and interesting twist to an otherwise straightforward dessert.

The tart crust was a huge hit, especially with my dad. It’s officially my new go-to tart crust. And the frangipane? I’d never made it before, but I can’t get enough of it. I’d love to try making it with other nuts (pistachio or hazelnut, maybe?) and the jelly is definitely a recipe I’ll keep. Three components, three successes… what a challenge!

I made the jelly first. I’m not sure it came out absolutely perfectly… the jelly didn’t fully solidify in the unopened jars. I put the one that I opened in the refrigerator, however, and the jelly had a great texture. I really encourage you guys to try this recipe… While it looks a bit unusual, the taste has such a zing. Next time I might filter out the bits of lime zest and mint, or perhaps I would try to cut them smaller.

I used half regular mint, and half orange mint that we grow in our garden. The orange mint is much more mild and sweet and has a slight citrus scent that went quite nicely with the lime, but standard mint works well too.

Mojito (Lime and Mint) Jelly
Adapted from Cookin’ With Cyndi
Makes 5 half-pints

2 tablespoons lime zest
3/4 cup lime juice
3/4 cup freshly packed mint leaves, finely chopped
1 3/4 cups water
4 cups sugar
Green liquid food coloring
3 oz liquid fruit pectin

The jars must be completely sterilized. Put the glass jars, lids, and a funnel into a large pan and cover with water. Boil for 20 minutes, or follow the directions that come along with the lids. When the jars are removed from the water they will dry off almost immediately, so wait until the jelly is nearly ready.

Combine zest, juice, mint, and water in a 4 quart saucepan and stir in sugar. Bring mixture to a boil over high heat, constantly stirring. Add a few drops of food coloring and stir in fruit pectin. Bring to a full rolling boil for one minute, then remove from heat and skim off the foam with a metal spoon.

Pour the jelly into hot, sterilized jars, using the sterilized funnel and leaving 1/4″ headway in each jar. Cover immediately with lids and screw on the bands finger tight. Process the jars in boiling water for 5-10 minutes, then cool jars on wire racks.

I made an 8″ tart and a small 4″ tart from this recipe, which originally makes a 9″ tart.

Sweet Shortcrust Pastry
Makes a 9″ tart

225g (8oz) all purpose flour
30g (1oz) sugar
2.5ml (½ tsp) salt
110g (4oz) unsalted butter, cold (frozen is better)
2 (2) egg yolks
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract (optional)
15-30ml (1-2 Tbsp) cold water

Sift together flour, sugar and salt. Grate butter into the flour mixture, using the large hole-side of a box grater. Using your finger tips only, and working very quickly, rub the fat into the flour until the mixture resembles bread crumbs. Set aside.

Lightly beat the egg yolks with the almond extract (if using) and quickly mix into the flour mixture. Keep mixing while dribbling in the water, only adding enough to form a cohesive and slightly sticky dough.

Form the dough into a disc, wrap in cling and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Frangipane

125g (4.5oz) unsalted butter, softened
125g (4.5oz) icing sugar
3 (3) eggs
2.5ml (½ tsp) almond extract
125g (4.5oz) ground almonds
30g (1oz) all purpose flour

Cream butter and sugar together for about a minute or until the mixture is primrose in colour and very fluffy. Scrape down the side of the bowl and add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. The batter may appear to curdle. In the words of Douglas Adams: Don’t panic. Really. It’ll be fine. After all three are in, pour in the almond extract and mix for about another 30 seconds and scrape down the sides again. With the beaters on, spoon in the ground nuts and the flour. Mix well. The mixture will be soft, keep its slightly curdled look (mostly from the almonds) and retain its pallid yellow colour.

Mojito Bakewell Tart
Makes a 9″ Tart

1 recipe Sweet Shortcrust Pastry (see above)
1 recipe Frangipane (see above)
1 cup Mojito Jelly (see above)

Place the chilled dough disc on a lightly floured surface. If it’s overly cold, you will need to let it become acclimatised for about 15 minutes before you roll it out. Flour the rolling pin and roll the pastry to 5mm (1/4”) thickness, by rolling in one direction only (start from the centre and roll away from you), and turning the disc a quarter turn after each roll. When the pastry is to the desired size and thickness, transfer it to the tart pan, press in and trim the excess dough. Patch any holes, fissures or tears with trimmed bits. Chill in the freezer for 15 minutes.

Preheat oven to 200C/400F.

Remove shell from freezer, spread as even a layer as you can of jam onto the pastry base. Top with frangipane, spreading to cover the entire surface of the tart. Smooth the top and pop into the oven for 35 minutes.

The finished tart will have a golden crust and the frangipane will be tanned, poofy and a bit spongy-looking. Remove from the oven and cool on the counter. Serve warm, with crème fraîche, whipped cream or custard sauce if you wish.

When you slice into the tart, the almond paste will be firm, but slightly squidgy and the crust should be crisp but not tough.

Printer Friendly Version – Mojito Bakewell Tart with Mojito Jelly

I also highly recommend you check out the other Daring Bakers’ versions of this tart. From chocolate to lemon curd to more flavors of jam than I can list, every creation is super special. Thanks again for the great challenge!

Update: I’m giving away a jar of the Mojito Jelly! Post a comment to be entered… Ends July 6th, 2009.

Dear Daring Bakers,

I love you. Seriously. Each and every one of you, from the very bottom of my heart. I’ve watched you grow, the blogroll getting longer and longer each month, and I’ve savored the challenges, looking at every elegant photograph and memorable post with admiration and just a touch of envy.

In complete honesty, Daring Bakers, you were out of my league. Perhaps I could make a food blog, but never could I make the same desserts as you – challenging, beautiful, time consuming, potentially expensive – it was not in the cards for an amateur 17 year old who fancied herself a foodie.

Lucky for me, Daring Bakers are the warmest, friendliest bakers around. I still can’t quite believe that I am a Daring Baker now, and that I’ve finished my first challenge. Actually, this might be a daydream. I could potentially be in 5th period English. Don’t wake me up.

Love, love, love

Elissa

The April 2009 challenge is hosted by Jenny from Jenny Bakes. She has chosen Abbey’s Infamous Cheesecake as the challenge.

After recovering from the wild crazy joy that was being accepted into the Daring Bakers, I went absolutely insane waiting for the April challenge to be announced. I won’t lie – I felt scared that it would be a fancy French pastry that I would completely defile, and that would be the end of it. But I’d made cheesecake twice before – plain cheesecake – and was eager to try more exotic flavors and see how this recipe compared with mine.

I must have played with a dozen different ideas. A spicy Mexican Hot Chocolate cheesecake, green tea and white chocolate, blood orange and champagne, even basil. When I brainstormed aloud about coconut to my parents, my dad said “Thai.” And it all came together.

Chocolate Marble Cheesecake with Coconut, Lemongrass, and Kaffir Lime.

And yeah, that tiny bite is what’s left of the slice from the picture before.

I actually stopped the photoshoot to eat the cake I was photographing. Then I guiltily set down the plate and picked up the camera.

This cheesecake is just that good.

[8/4/10 Update - I made this cheesecake for the Seattle talk show New Day Northwest! Watch me make the cheesecake on TV here.]

It’s a bit Asian inspired. Coconut, lemongrass, and especially kaffir lime are all characteristic flavors in Thai cooking. And the chocolate? You can’t go wrong with that. It pairs really well with the coconut.

The flavor wasn’t as strong as I’d expected, but it was lovely. The coconut is definitely the most prominent, it hits you after the first bite and says “Coconut.” The lemongrass is more subtle. The lime is probably the faintest flavor, not something easily pinpointed but definitely tasted. The chocolate – well, chocolate is always divine. I didn’t use too much because I was worried about overpowering the otherwise delicate flavor of the cheesecake, and I think I hit just the right balance.

This was a great cheesecake recipe. It was creamy, though not quite as heavy as the cheesecake I’ve made before. My mother, who doesn’t care for anything richer than chiffon cake, proclaimed it one of her all time favorites. She was just as reluctant as I was to donate it to her office before we ate the whole thing.

It did crack, though this is probably my fault – I opened the springform pan way, way, way before the cheesecake was done. I also may have overmixed the batter, as I usually do it by hand but used a mixer this time, as per the instructions. I still think the cheesecake looks gorgeous. I didn’t even cover it up with a ganache or fruit. I proudly displayed that crack along with the honey-golden edges and the mysterious chocolate swirls. No one complained.

Changes to the recipe: To add the Thai flavor, I used 1/2 cup heavy cream and 1/2 cup coconut cream rather than the full 1 cup heavy cream called for. I infused the creams with lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves, and used lime juice instead of lemon in the cheesecake too. I didn’t want to buy coconut extract, so I used vanilla. I also didn’t want to buy coconut or lime liquor, so I omitted the alcohol.

The crust combines the Thai and chocolate: crushed chocolate cookies, cocoa powder, and shredded coconut. I left out the sugar in the recipe because the coconut was sweetened.

As for the chocolate swirl, I simply melted bittersweet chocolate and mixed it into about 3/4 cup of the chocolate mixture. The cheesecake probably would have looked nicer with more chocolate swirls, but this ratio kept the coconut, lemongrass, and lime flavors more than an afterthought.

A big thank you to Jenny for hosting such a great challenge, as well as all of the daring bakers for their inspiration and friendliness. I really encourage you to check out everyone else’s cheesecakes too. They’re nothing short of amazing.

Chocolate Marble Cheesecake with Coconut, Lemongrass, and Kaffir Lime
Makes one 9″ cheesecake

Crust
10 whole chocolate graham crackers
4 oz (1 stick) butter, melted
2 tsp Dutch-processed cocoa powder
1/3 cup sweetened shredded coconut
1 tsp vanilla extract

Cheesecake
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup coconut cream (not coconut milk or cream of coconut)
1 large stalk lemon grass, or 2 thin stalks lemon grass
2 dried kaffir lime leaves (can be bought at specialty Asian stores such as Uwajimaya)
3 (8 oz) containers of cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
1 tbsp lime juice
1 tbsp vanilla extract
2 oz bittersweet chocolate, melted and slightly cooled

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and begin to boil a large pot of water for the waterbath. Generously butter a 9″ springform pan. Wrap the outside of the pan in a extra-heavy duty aluminum foil.

Chop up the lemongrass stalk into inch sized pieces, breaking the layers apart and reserving the juices. Place in a small saucepan, along with the heavy cream, coconut cream, and dried kaffir lime leaves. Heat over medium-high heat until mixture boils, then remove from heat and cover. Let steep until cooled completely. Strain the cream into a small bowl and set aside. Discard the lemongrass and lime leaves.

Place the chocolate graham crackers in a large ziploc bag and close it so it’s airtight. Roll a rolling pin over the bag, pressing down to crush the crackers into fine crumbs. You should end up with 2 cups of crumbs. Mix together the crust ingredients and press into the bottom of the springform pan. [I like to use a metal measuring cup with a flat bottom and straight sides to help pack the crust in.] Set the pan aside.

In the bowl of a stand-mixer (or in a large bowl if using a hand-mixer), beat the cream cheese for 30 seconds on low speed until creamy. Beat in the sugar and cream at a slow speed (about 3 on a Kitchen Aid) until smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, fully incorporating each before adding the next. Make sure to scrape down the bowl in between each egg. Add the infused cream mixture, vanilla extract, and lime juice and blend until just smooth and creamy, taking care not to overmix. [Some lumps are okay. The closer to room temperature your cream cheese is, the fewer lumps you'll get.]

Take 3/4 cup of the cream cheese mixture and mix it with the melted chocolate. Pour a third of the white batter into the prepared crust. Drop in half the chocolate batter in tablespoon sized dollops across the white batter. Smooth the remaining 2/3 of the white batter into the pan. Dollop tablespoons of the remaining 1/2 chocolate batter across the top. Run a sharp, thin knife or bamboo skewer through the batter for a swirled effect.

Tap the pan on the counter a few times to bring all air bubbles to the surface. Set the springform pan inside a larger pan, then pour the boiling water 1 inch deep between the larger pan and the foil. Don’t pour the water between the springform pan and foil.

Bake 45 to 55 minutes, until it is almost done – this can be hard to judge, but you’re looking for the cake to hold together, but still have a lot of jiggle to it in the center. You don’t want it to be completely firm at this stage. [50 minutes is perfect for my oven.] Close the oven door, turn the heat off, and let rest in the cooling oven for one hour. This lets the cake finish cooking and cool down gently enough so that it won’t crack on the top. After one hour, remove cheesecake from oven and lift carefully out of water bath. Let it finish cooling on the counter, and then cover and put in the fridge to chill. Once fully chilled, it is ready to serve.

Printer Friendly Version – Chocolate Marble Cheesecake with Coconut, Lemongrass, and Kaffir Lime

My first DB Challenge, ta-da! I can’t wait for May!

There’s a Goodwill by my school that we used to visit all the time. I never knew what to do once we got there, because I was never interested in any of the clothes. I’d look at the old VHS movies, the funny 90′s jewelry, and the once-worn spring dresses before I got bored. I’d sit in the comfiest looking sofa and wait until we could leave.

That was before I discovered the cooking aspect of Goodwill. Now I take longer than my mom to finish up because I have to check out every single cookbook on the shelf – they’re only a dollar each, it’s such a bargain! Some of them have been total disasters (like the Sweet and Sugarfree cookbook I thought sounded interesting) but others have been really excellent, like the Martha Stewart Healthy Quick Cook cookbook I found. Then I have to inspect all of the cooking supplies. I’ve bought a couple really great finds from Goodwill, including a new set of three nonstick springpans that I use all the time. I’ve bought interesting bundt pans, cute holiday shaped cake pans, and even some mini muffin tins.

The mini muffin tins kind of confused my mom, since they were so small. “Why would you make muffins that small? Those would be barely even a bite.” She kind of had a point, but I wanted them anyway. We both finally saw the greatness of mini muffins when I decided to try Deb’s raspberry-topped lemon muffins. Like most of my sweets I was planning to bring them to school for my friends to eat at lunch. The recipe only made 14 standard size muffins, which I suspected would not be enough. But Deb made 56 mini muffins out of the same amount of batter. The great thing about the mini muffins is that even if each person ends up eating less than a full muffin, they feel like they’ve had a lot, so everyone is satisfied. Plus, if someone doesn’t like it they don’t have to waste a whole muffin. Although that was definitely not a problem with these…

I didn’t have lemons on hand so I used limes. The recipe also called for fresh raspberries, but all I had were frozen. I popped them in the microwave for a few seconds. The first few times I made puree, but eventually I was able to half-defrost them and they worked great. I also experimented with marionberries (like in the photo above) but the raspberries were definitely better.

These were more like cupcakes or tea cakes to me than muffins, and they were really good. The batter is a simple buttermilk cupcake, but you add sugar mashed with lime zest that gives it more of a kick and the raspberries really add the perfect touch. They’re moist, just the right sweetness, and really addictive. Some of my friends ate more than a few.

Lime Tea Cakes with Raspberries

Adapted from smitten kitchen, who adapted from Bon Appetit

Makes 14 standard or 56 mini muffins

1 1/8 cups sugar, divided

4 teaspoons lime zest (2-3 limes)

2 cups all purpose flour

2 1/2 tsp baking powder

3/4 tsp salt

1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, room temperature

1 large egg

1 cup buttermilk *

2 tsp vanilla extract

1 1/2 half-pint containers of raspberries (about)

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees and grease 14 standard or 56 mini muffin tins. Butter worked better than oil for me. You can also use paper liners.

In a small bowl, mash together 1/8 cup sugar and the lime zest until the sugar is moist. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Cream the butter and remaining 1 cup sugar in an electric mixer until smooth, then add the egg. Beat in the buttermilk, then the vanilla and the lime-sugar mixture. Beat in the flour mixture.

Divide the batter into muffin tins. The 2/3 to 3/4 level worked best for the mini muffins (I used a cookie scoop to fill them and it was really easy.) Top each muffin with 4 raspberries or each mini muffin with one raspberry. Bake until golden and a toothpick comes out clean, 35 minutes for standard muffins and 18 minutes for mini-muffins.

The mini muffins pop right out if the pan is well greased and you run a plastic knife around the sides.

* If you often don’t have buttermilk, like me, you can make an easy substitute. Put 1 tablespoon of lemon juice or vinegar into a 1-cup measuring cup, then pour in milk to the top. Let sit for 5 minutes, then use as buttermilk.

Printer Friendly Version – Lime Tea Cakes with Raspberries