Toast

Cannele for Kids

This is not the first time I've tried making cannele (not to be confused with cannoli) . I liked them the other times, too...I've been experimenting for awhile. But the thing is, I have no idea if these are anything like the genuine article, because I've not ever eaten the real thing. Nor do I have the correct little copper molds (ack, I tried, but they cost the earth) or wax.

I was cheered to see that Jacques Pepin also uses silicon molds, though his are teeny ones, and mine are a little larger- more the size of the original copper molds which Paula Wolfert talks about. The following is an amalgam of their two recipes, which works for me, because my little toaster oven is a convection one, with a tray just big enough to hold my mold and keep it from going jiggly. I have included directions for baking in an ordinary oven as well, from P. W.

I know it's nervy to pass out a recipe for something I know zilch about, but the thing is, they are so good, in such a weird way, that I'm not sure how much I care if they are anything like authentic. I think you are going to like them. But I also really wish some foundation or sugar daddy or someone would, you know, give me a scholarship for a trip to Bordeaux to check 'em out. Because I do, actually, want to know. And I would make good use of the opportunity to sip a little wine, also. Or, perhaps, just a scholarship for eight of the the little copper molds? You can see a qualified person making them just so, in proper copper, here.

These are a strange little treat, best IMO, eaten fresh, but cooled down. They are made with a crepe kind of batter that gets sweet, hard and very dark on the outside, and is custardy-soft-sweet in the middle. A sweet that's not too sweet- my favorite kind. And there is definitely some familial relationship between (mine at least), and popovers and/or yorkshire pudding. Which, of course, are both lighter in weight, and not sweet at all, but still.

You've got to make the batter at least 12 hours ahead, which is the only remotely difficult part of this version. Other than that, it's dead easy- which is what makes me suspect I've got it wrong. I know they look homely before you taste them, but they look beautiful to me now. This recipe makes 8 of the non-mini cannele, and fits exactly into the silicon molds, now available in a number of places. I spray mine with a bit of canola oil spray, though supposedly the silicon molds don't need it. If they stick a bit, PW recommends gentle nudging with a toothpick, and I concur. Don't use a knife and mar the shiny surface!

12-24 hours before you bake your cannele, put 2 oz. of unsalted butter and a cup of milk in a 4 cup pyrex measuring cup or glass bowl of similar size. Microwave for just long enough to melt the butter-almost. With a small whisk (the ones that look like they are from Mars, with the little balls on the ends of flexible metal sticks are dandy for this, as they emulsify well.) Whisk in one egg, an egg yolk, 2 tsps vanilla extract, and 1/4 cup of rum, and mix with the whisk until smooth.

In a slightly larger bowl, mix 2/3 cup of granulated sugar with 1/2 cup all purpose flour. Pour in about one third of the liquid, and mix up until thick and smooth. Then when you whisk in the rest, it won't go lumpy. Make sure you don't add the liquid all at once. But if you do- pour it through a sieve, to get the lumps out. Now , if you have used the big pyrex cup, which has a pouring spout, pour your smooth mixture back into it. This will be nice for filling the mold the next day. Cover, and refrigerate.

12-24 hours later, spray your mold with some flavorless cooking oil, and set it on a baking sheet. People often tell you not to do this, but it will neither damage your molds, nor change the taste or appearance of your silicon baked cannele. And they are the devil to get out whole, if you do not. Or, you could do the wax thing...but I haven't. If I ever get some copper molds, I will try it. Take the batter out of the fridge, and give it a little whisk-up to make sure it is of even thickness. Fill each of the eight sections of the mold almost to the top. If you have got a convection toaster oven, you can put it in cold, turn it to 400F, and cook for an hour and a half. If not, preheat your oven to 300F, put them in for a half hour, and turn it up to 400F to cook for an hour an a half more. These times are approximate, and depend on your oven. You must watch them and see how they look.

The tops (ultimately the bottoms) of your cannele will rise, and then sink down a bit. They should be very, very dark. Look at the photos at the linked site above, and the ones noted below, to get the idea. When you think they are done, take them out. Let them sit 5 minutes, on the tray and then try getting them out with as little handling as possible. Let them cool completely, on a rack, but not sit too long. (Leftover cannele are lovely, too, but don't hold a candle to the same day product.) When they are nearly ready, make a pot of tea or coffee for yourself, and/or other worthies. Consume. I reckon you'll be glad you made them.

For more adventures in cannele at home, check out chocolate and zucchini and The Traveler's Lunchbox.

Basic Kitchen Part IV: Pantry

Of course, a person must go shopping from time to time, or even daily, depending on where she lives, and how she transports herself. And I enjoy food shopping. While I've never been rich, I have never gone hungry either, so I'm not sure why I am such a hoarder. Nonetheless, I am most comfortable and contented when my little apartment kitchen contains the makings of weeks worth of actual meals, in the event that I become, willy-nilly, somehow imprisoned here. Go figure.

To complete my compulsive list of kitchen essentials, I offer you: #1 The Basics, Long-keeping Staples, #2 Suggestions (for additional almost non-perishables), and #3 basic groceries to keep on hand. And I invite you, as always, to let me know what I've forgotten. I'm far from certain that this will be of any use to anyone, but I do love making lists, and reading this sort of thing when others do them. Outfitting a brand new kitchen, you would need to make certain you had:

Basic Long Keeping
Unbleached All-purpose flour
Kosher Salt and or Coarse Sea Salt
Peppercorns and Grinder
Granulated sugar
Baking powder
Baking Soda
Stone-ground corn meal
Oatmeal
Canned Tomatoes home canned are great,
(love those Muir Glen fire-roasted ones, too)
Canned chick peas
Canned kidney beans
Canned cannelini beans
Dijon mustard
Canola oil
Olive oil
Cider vinegar
red wine vinegar
real vanilla extract or beans
soy sauce
worchestershire sauce
tabasco or favorite hot sauce western style
"Roostersauce" the asian hot-sauce with a picture of a rooster on it
Dried pastas, long and short
Dried egg noodles and asian noodles
basmati rice
Dried white beans, lentils, split peas- unless you don't like them

Your favorite dried herbs and spices,and mixtures thereof in small quantities to replace at least once a year. Whole, if possible. I couldn't happily do without:

thyme
marjoram
greek oregano
basil (dried whole leaf is a lot better than dried flaked, but you usually have to dry your own)
bay leaves
tarragon
rosemary
crushed aleppo pepper
cayenne pepper
spanish style smoked paprika
hungarian paprika
nutmeg and grater
cinnamon
ginger (Penzey's has dried chunks you can grate, for when you are out of fresh)
cloves
chili powder (Ancho is most basic, a variety is nice)
ketchup
tomato paste

Extra Long Keeping Goodies

Canned italian style tuna in olive oil
capers
anchovies
sardines
High quality canned clams (like Morton's)
assorted jams and jellies
canned chipotles in adobo
dried mushrooms
dried chestnuts
balsamic vinegar- best you can afford
sherry vinegar
boxed low salt chicken broth -small and large boxes
small boxed fish stock
barley
canned water chestnuts
fish sauce
oyster sauce
nice plain crackers
additional spices and herbs

Groceries on Hand
milk
butter (unsalted is most versatile, you can always add salt)
eggs
lemons
a lime
an orange
carrots
onions
potatoes
celery and/or fennel
whole grain bread
crusty baguette or rolls
bacon
salad greens
yogurt
at least one piece of nice cheese for eating
chunk of parmesan and/or chunk of Romano
fresh mushrooms
parsley
cilantro
basil, in season
shallots
garlic
fresh fruit and veg in season

And you need some wine and beer and whiskey, for cooking and drinking-obviously too large a subject for a footnote. Of course, if you are a vegetarian, there's some stuff you will skip-notably fishes and bacon. Also, anything you hate, obviously.

If you are really outfitting your kitchen from scratch, you will need paper products. But first, get reusuable cloth versions of everything. Napkins are easy to launder, as are dishtowels. You can just keep a little tote bag over a doorknob in the kitchen, and put the soiled ones in directly, then pick them up when you do laundry. The key is to have plenty, so you're not always running out, if you don't do laundry super-often.

The flour sack kind of kitchen towels are nice and big; plus- they are white, so you can bleach them, and also use them in food prep. I like the silicon potholders, because they can go in the dishwasher, and make good trivets, too. They don't seem to wear out. Ever. You will still need some paper towels, foil, parchment, and cling wrap, some ziploc bags and a bunch of containers of the Tupperware ilk for leftovers.

This must be, like a zillion dollars worth of food. No wonder we acquire our pantries over time. I have way more stuff than this, too. It does make a person feel wealthy.

My pantry shelves are pretty shabby.I understand from my landlord that I'm getting a kitchen redo some time this this year. I guess I'm pleased, although I will have not much say on design choices, and am a little wary of his possible preferences. Still, it will be nice to have some new surfaces, which have not been blasted by time and previous tenants. And once I've hung put all my stuff back in and up again, it will, at least, feel like home. He's letting me keep the wall colors I used, and giving them a fresh coat- so that's nice. We'll see. The cats are gonna go nuts.

Something Wicked: Pistachio Chocolate Thumbprints

My friend I., in aid of my recent babka obsession, recommended a wonderful cookbook, with the longish title of Great Coffee Cakes, Sticky Buns, Muffins and More, by Carole Walter. This is a woman who clearly knows what she is talking about and writes a mean recipe to boot.

She even explains how to make real strudel dough so clearly that I almost feel as if I could do it. I intend to follow several trails , including the babka road, in this excellent book. The first thing I had to try, though, was totally off-topic. And these chocolate pistachio thumbprint cookies are awfully good.

They are a little bit of a pain in the neck, in terms of multiple steps, dirty pans, and fiddle. Her instructions, however are so detailed that you pretty much cannot fail. No paraphrasing I can do will be nearly as good as the original- if you are a cookie monster who loves coffee cake, you should just get the book. Really. Plus, there's just so much detail a person can transcribe before they just don't want to anymore. Especially those of us who were never such great typists to begin with.

However, as I think it is unfair to show a picture and give no recipe, this is what I am going to do. I am going to provide the cookie recipe, and suggest that you use whatever chocolate glaze, or ganache suits you to fill the thumbprints. I think any nice one will work, though I am partial to Ms. Walter's, and have a bit left for a coffee cake to follow. I followed her instructions very closely, and the cookies are special. She's in a class with Dorie Greenspan and Maida Heatter for the writing of recipes for baking, folks.

You will need:
1 3/4 cups AP flour, spooned in and leveled
1/4 strained dutch process cocoa
1/4 tsp salt
2 sticks unsalted butter, slightly firm
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs, separated
1 1/2 tsps real vanilla
1 cup pistachio nuts, toasted, and then medium chopped
3 tbsps sparkling sugar (I used sanding sugar in green- I have a personal weakness for colored sanding sugar)
sufficient chocolate glaze to fill 32 thumbprints

Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper and preheat oven to 350F. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour cocoa powder, and salt. Set aside. Put the butter in the bowl of an electric mixer with the paddle beater. Mix until smooth, about 2 minutes. Add the sugar in a steady stream, and stop when just incorporated. Blend in egg yolks and vanilla.

Remove the bowl from the mixer, and blend in the flour mixture with a wooden spoon. (It's a bit of work, but don't overmix, or it will get oily, she says).

Set out a sheet of waxed paper, and with your hands, roll out a walnut sized ball of dough, and set it on the waxed paper. Continue until the dough is all made into cookies.

In a small shallow bowl, beat the egg white with 2 tsps water, just until combined. In another bowl, mix the sparkling sugar and cooled, chopped nuts. Now take half of that mixture, and put it in a small shallow bowl. Dip each cookie in the egg white, and rollin the nut mixture to cover. Then set each on one of the cookie sheets. When the nut mixture gets low, add more. (This helps it stay drier, instead of being all sticky from the eggwhite.)

Once all the cookies are on the baking sheets, use the end of a wooden spoon (about 1/2"in diameter), to poke a deep hole in the center of each cookie. Put the cookie sheets in the oven, and bake for 12 minutes. Take them out, and re-poke all the holes with the spoon-end. Turn them round and exchange the top sheet for the bottom one. Bake another 3-5 minutes, until firm to the touch, then remove. Let the cookies sit on the sheets for 5 minutes or so, then move to a cooling rack. When they are tepid, fill with your glaze or ganache.

These will keep in an airtight container for a week, with waxed paper or foil between, if they last that long. I wonder if I could actually make a strudel, from other than frozen, store bought filo? I think the coffee cakes come first.

Summer School

I have a plan for this summer. It developed when I noticed that Christine Ferber was giving a class at the French Pastry School in Chicago-something that she has done for the past few years. As I am an admirer- I thought I'd like to go, and write about it. However, it turns out that although many of the FPS's master classes are open to amateur enthusiasts, Ms. Ferber's is not one of them.

Apparently after last year's class, the amateurs complained that the class moved too quickly, while the pros thought it was too basic. So now, only pros are admitted to her class. But there is a related class, open to "cooking enthusiasts" as well as pros, which is an introduction to jams and jellies. While I was disappointed about C. F., I did note that the class was half as expensive, looks great, and involves boxing up your work product to take home!

The teacher looks interesting, and the classes are 3 days in July, from 4pm to 9pm. I decided to go learn some techniques for a favorite activity, and write about the experience- possibly maybe a free lance magazine article (?), but certainly for Toast.

So I signed up. Anyone else want to come ? It would surely be an interesting trip for a cook into preserving, and it would be fun to meet up with some of you in class. They expect you to bring and wear a chef's jacket, but they do furnish all the equipment and supplies for the class. I'm kind of jazzed about getting the jacket, dork that I am. Also they suggest a notebook and pen, and a (still) camera. Glad about the camera, I am. (Videos not permitted).

Here's where you can find out about it. You will see that I've borrowed their photo. Other interesting "continuing education" classes are listed on the site. The ones marked with little diamonds are open to chefs and amateurs alike. I figured that if I have enough energy, I'll do some other Chicago things during the day. Dunno though, keeping up with a five hour per day cooking class might leave me spending the rest of the time resting the proverbial dogs. Old lady that I've become. sigh.

Ideally, I will do some sightseeing/museum-ing/shopping, etc. in the morning, try someplace interesting for lunch as a main meal (cheaper than dinner), take a huge nap/rest/siesta at the hotel, grab a roll or something, and head for the 4:00 class. By 9:00, when it's over, I'll probably need to crash. I hope to take lots of notes and some photos, and tell you all about what I learn. If it's really hard work, I may ditch everything but the class, sleeping, and, of course, eating-which I seldom forget to do.

What, you might ask, am I doing planning another holiday less than a month before my English trip? Well, I've been thinking about this venture for some time, but also, mostly, I need to have something else of the same sort to look forward to when I come back from a trip. So that I can, you know, get myself to get back to work and what have you, without a lot of moaning. Seems to work.

So, what do you say? Anyone interested in a class in Chicago?

Fruit with a Knife: A Home Cook Cuts Up

I think I am not the only one who greatly prefers to eat a piece of fruit with a knife, rather than in bites from my hand. A plate is nice, but not necessary. This is less important with the smaller citrus fruits, which can be peeled and divided into attractive individual sections- also very satisfactory. With apples, pears, peaches, and the larger plums, the knife makes a difference to me.

I don't know why this is, and I am aware that it is a little dissonant with the pleasant mental image of curling up with a book, and a pile of apples to munch , Jo March style. Maybe Jo had a pocket knife for those apples; it would be a "boyish" article, and she favored that sort of thing. I am partial to this little painting by Julian Merrow-Smith, whose "postcards" you might enjoy*. This one is called "Apple Quarter and Laguiole Knife". (There is a more recent one with a "Sabatier and Pear Slice". ) My personal favorite sort of knife for the eating of fruit is a pocket knife, and of course you can eat your fruit anywhere at all if you have one of these.

What with Christmas shopping, a new computer, an iphone (yes, I have gone insane) and a trip to England in the offing, I have been spending quite enough , thank you very much. I am nonetheless longing for a knife like this one, and have been for some time. Truth be told, I'm a bit of a knife nerd. I'm not fully qualified for the role, since I've failed to learn the technique of sharpening my knives with a stone. I do believe I need a human instructor for this; the books have failed me. Instead I use a small version of the Furi, by Zytech. It is the only one of its kind which really works for me. Even so, I take the more oft used cutlery for a professional sharpening sometimes.

I understand that a professional chef is very particular about knives, will have only the best, and doesn't lend. My collection is more humble, not to say a little weird-and you can't refuse a volunteer in your kitchen the use of your equipment. I haven't got a matched set of fancy knives, partly because I can't afford a good one, and partly because I prefer to pick and choose. They are fun to buy, keep, and use. so before I move on to my next bossy section on kitchen necessities ("Pantry"), I thought I'd indulge myself by telling you about my knives. You can really get by fine with only three- Chef's, paring, bread- this is pure indulgence.

My first really good knife was an 8" Wusthof high carbon steel chef's knife, and it is the most used knife of all. Old Faithful. It is on the left, in the first photo. If I were choosing the handle now, I'd chose the "Classic Ikon" handle as you see it on the serrated utility knife which is my most recent full-price buy. (I'm moving left to right here). The chef's knife is good for most any task, but especially chopping. Lots of people like a longer one, my daughter finds this one too short for a cook's knife. The 5" serrated utility knife is great for tomatoes, salami, and the cutting of baguettes, and other breads of modest girth. When you see my full-sized serrated bread knife, you'll know why the smaller one is handy. I love the look of that Wusthof Ikon handle, and it feels wonderful in your hand.

Next is a nameless stainless item, made in Japan model, shaped a bit like a fileting knife. I bought it in a hole-in-the-wall hotel gift shop in NYC, many years ago, when I realized I'd failed to pack a knife, and was desperate to break into some cheese I bought. It proved unexpectedly efficient, and has stayed nice and sharp for over 15 years. I've never tried sharpening it, because it has funnly little markings along the edge- I'm not sure what would happen. It's not supersharp-never has been, but it's okay, and doesn't seem to have gotten duller over time. I'm attached to it. Next is a Sabatier green stamina handled 6" cook's knife. I fell for it because of the green handle, even I think it's short for a cook's knife. But it's nice, and interesting, because it has the slimmer French-style blade. Last is a cheapo-line Wusthof Gourmet knife- not forged, it doesn't need to be very strong, because it's just for certain tasks. It's dynamite for cutting high-stacked sandwiches and the like, without squishing them. I think it's so neat that I've given several as presents.

Recently, I've picked up a few new/vintage knives on ebay. Three are carbon steel, and enormous, one is a high carbon steel paring knife, with a cool handle and sharp blade. Before the days of fancy high-carbon steel and even fancier ceramic blades, in my mother's time, carbon steel Sabatier knives were the thing. They were a serious pain, because if you didn't keep them clean and dry, they rusted. but they were the only kind that held a real edge, chefs and butchers used them. In those days there were not a zillion knives of varying quality labeled "Sabatier" and "Languiole"- it was easier to pick by label. Some people think that the newer high-carbon stainless won't match them for edge. I don't know about that, but I am subject to reasonless nostalgia at times. And it's fun to be able to get knives not in general stock shapes and styles.

The second photo shows my vintage Lamson cleaver (just got it- new old stock carbon-steel American), my enormous wide new/vintage Sabatier serrated bread knife (This will cut the crustiest of giant country loaves, and then some, plus it is unbeatable for slicing bar cookies, as you just need one guillotine-type drop to go through the entire block of bar cookies. ), and my new/vintage Dexter (17.5"!) carbon steel slicer (also, I think, American-slices thin, thin, thin hams, etc.), and my just purchased "Vintage Stubai Austria fully forged" paring knife, which says that it is from "France", but which Ralph says actually comes from Austria, and was re-marked as part of some corporate gifting thing. Ralph has supplied me with some lovely almost new old stock knives, and seems to know what he's talking about, unlike moi. A cool thing about this knife (high carbon stainless) is that it has 2 alternate grips- a short one (for paring) and a longer one (more for slicing). Also, it takes a hell of an edge. Then there is my Mundial funny knife- I think it is for shaping vegetables into cunning ovoids. I don't do a whole lot of that- but it's cute, no? I picked that up at a yard sale, along with a couple other odd red knives. The lady who sold them said she got a whole set of these red Mundial knives for Passover, to identify them as clearly separate from her black-handled everyday ones, but some, she didn't use. She thought Mundial knives came from Argentina.

And that's it for me for a good long while knife-wise. Except for the Languiole. I think there's one in my future. Besides this painting, I've had two recent, unexpected encounters with the idea. One was in chocolate and zucchini. The other in a very interesting book I've just read, called The Village Book, by Nicholas Freeling, in which he descibes a view of heaven, involving crouching making a fire, with a laguiole knife in his pocket. His has a corkscrew, as well as a blade. That's the one I want. Unlike some, I won't be able to pick mine out in person, but I may have to find one on the internet, before I leave on my trip in February. If I do, I will have to remember to pack it, rather than carry it on board in my purse, lest it get confiscated.

*Do check out his site, there are many impressive paintings to look at (and often to bid on, if you'd like one for yourself.) Also, you can have his postcard/paintings periodically sent to your email inbox to view, so much nicer than the latest sale on Lands End, or whatever.

Squirrel Hill Past: The Babka Alias

I have turned out to be a remarkably provincial sort of woman. Though I went away to college in the midwest, crave travel, and married someone from Elsewhere, we moved back to Pittsburgh early on. I now live in an apartment only about 8 city blocks from the house where my parents lived when I was born. I am Squirrel Hill, born and bred. Hey, buddy, I got me some terroir. (Sounds cooler than "stick-in-the-mud.")

The Waldorf Bakery of Squirrel Hill in Pittsburgh is long gone, and I'm not sure exactly when it disappeared, to widespread cries of dismay. Nor do I remember its beginnings, which I suspect preceded my own. It had always been there, as far as I knew. I believe it fell victim to over confident expansion plans, much like Sodini's Restaurant, which my parents had considered their neighborhood bistro. I know its demise occured before Rosenbloom's Bakery went up in smoke (literally), leaving all of Squirrel Hill wondering where our next real rye bread would come from. Certainly, it was still in business long after the closing of Weinstein's Restaurant- which I viewed as the height of elegance as a child. (Don't get me started.) I'm kind of hoping some Pittsburghers with better memories will stop by and comment, to fill me in on the relative dates of all these food-related goings on. I haven't found a photo of the Waldorf, though the most recent, homely pre-fire face of Rosenbloom's was available online.

The Waldorf was, at one time, a part of a row of shops including Authenreit's (sp?)- a real five and ten cents store- and the original National Record Mart store, where I bought my first 45 rpm record. (Though I lived only 5 blocks away, I had to have an adult come with me- the streets were too busy for me to cross alone. It was Chantilly Lace, by the ill-fated Big Bopper.) Now the row of shops has a Panera, a Bruegger's and a Barnes and Noble.

While the bread at the Waldorf was okay, they were really known for their sweet things, including excellent home-made candy; they had dark chocolate covered orange peel to die for. Many of their cakes were fabled, but my favorite reliable purchase was the chocolate coffee cake. Buttery, flaky, sweet enough for a dessert treat, not too sweet for breakfast with coffee, and you could go crazy with any stale remainder, toasting it, and even, sometimes, buttering that toast. When I was a child-bride of 23, I always bought one if we had company I didn't know well-everyone liked it.

For some time now, I have realized that this coffee cake was, in fact, a babka (greater, rather than lesser); the Waldorf was sort of intentionally (I think) non-ethnic; it certainly had a clientele from all over the city. But then, so did Rosenbloom's, and various other specifically Eastern European and/or Jewish-identified shops. I really don't know why it wasn't labeled a "babka"-perhaps they just thought some people wouldn't know what that was. You just kind of had to see one in the glass case to know you wanted it, anyway.

All this babbling was brought on by Joan Nathan's recent babka article in the NY Times. I do believe that's a permalink for you there. It includes the recipe I used, from one Anne Amernick, which has a filling which besides the chocolate, contains apricot. Instead of pound cake crumbs, I used the cake crumbs I had, from an excellent pannetone (how I do love Costco). It had bits of candied peel, very tiny, and sultanas in it, which I did not remove, feeling that they couldn't hurt in a babka filling. Also, I finely grated a little bittersweet chocolate over it while it was still hot- for pretty, as the Amish supposedly say, and also to advertise the chocolate inside. I think they did that at the Waldorf, but possibly I'm imagining this.

Initially it was my plan to do it in a bundt pan, so as to make it more Waldorf-ian and glamorous. The recipe offers the option of a bundt, or a more mundane, 2 loaf end product. I reluctantly went with the loaves, because Ms. Amernick- or Ms. Nathan-or their "adapter" at the Times- called for a streusel which gets applied before baking, but, according to the recipe after the bread goes into the pan to rise. Re the bundt pan- this is an anomaly, no? I mean, who wants a bundt cake which is larger on top than bottom. And anyway, how the hell could you hope to remove it from the bundt pan without turning it upside down, and dumping the streusel everywhere?*

I am an admirer of Ms. Nathan, and choose to believe this is not her doing. Recipe writing is certainly a demanding craft, and not one that I'm especially good at, myself. So I shouldn't be throwing stones. But I've got to say that Maida Heatter or Dorie Greenspan (goddesses of baking recipes, both) would not leave a person in such a fix. The Waldorf version was bundt shaped, and had streusel on top. I can only assume that either 1) the streusel went into the bundt pan first, or 2) at some point during the baking, the cake came out of the pan, got put on a baking sheet , streusel applied, and finished baking. I did not want to risk all those eggs and butter guessing which one to try.

There is however, much though I hate to admit it, having enjoyed my grousing, a silver lining. I can show you the inside, whilst keeping one whole cake in the freezer to serve to friends in one piece. This has the added virtue of keeping me from eating the whole damn thing myself. Maybe. These are the first photos with my new camera and new computer. Clearly, I am way over-enamoured with the gizmos for changing stuff around and need to spend some time to learn to use this equipment in a non-geeky manner. But in the meantime, it gives you some idea what the loaf looks like, inside and out. As you can see, I didn't roll tight enough- so there are gaps. Tastes very, very nice, especially the second day, but not as good as the Waldorf one, not at all.

Further babka experiments must insue. I am eagerly awaiting the advice of experienced babka-ists, as well as corrections from Pittsburghers who remember the old stuff better than I. Happy New Year, y'all. Pittsburgh is 250 years old this year. For europeans, that is as the blink of an eye. But for us here, a good long time, where the Allegheny and Monongehela meet to form the Ohio River.

*Actually, it turns out that the streusel is pretty well soldered on, but we still have the big on top problem with the bundt.

Panade in a Bean Pot, But I Digress

My lovely brand new imac is all hooked up. I can't take any new photos though, because the memory card I got for my also lovely and brand new (and blue!) splendid Christmas present camera is The Wrong One, as the very verbal camera itself informed me, when I installed it. Ooops. While I wait for the replacement card, and nurse a New Year's headache (not caused by any reveling, purely random), I decided to try making something soothing in my nice old beanpot. You've seen it before, but it's been a while. So you're seeing it again. Not as pretty as the new blue camera, but a sweet pot.

I thought it would be good for the panade, which is based on a Paula Wolfert recipe from some years back-( I forget which book), which called for a "deep earthenware casserole." Narrow and deep it is, compared to the average baking dish. And it has homely qualities suitable to the panade.

Some baked bean purists believe that it is detrimental to the development of an heirloom beanpot to cook anything else in it. They theorize (I'm not making this up, but I can't cite a sourse- maybe John Thorne?) that the pot makes better beans the longer it has been in use as a beanpot, rather like those special Chinese clay teapots which you are supposed to use with only one kind of tea, because they absorb the flavors of the fine teas, and send 'em right back atcha.

As I get older, and my cupboards get more crowded, I subscribe more and more to the theory propounded by Alton Brown, to wit: An object which has only one use has to be pretty damn special indeed. So even though I have one of those teapots, I make any kind of tea I like in it, assuming that any echoes of teas past will just make things a bit more interesting. I don't, you know, simmer sardines in it or anything too off-track. Likewise, I figure that anything a person might eat with beans won't ruin the beanpot either.

Considering all the holiday eating around here, it's amazing that I'm hungry at all. But after all the delicious holiday goodies, sweet and rich, I was hankering for something warm and plain. I cannot claim that it is particularly healthy- it is basically something between a thick bread and cheese soup and a silky savory bread pudding. It's not like I was eating a strict green salad, or something improving of that sort, to make up for recent indulgences. But it is plain and sturdy and hit the spot with me and my sore head.

Also, in its favor-unlike many a Paula Wolfert spectacular, this one does not require special ingredients, or a million steps. It does, however take a bit of time. But that's okay, because my other plans for the day involve sitting around and reading. So, for supper, this is what I made, in my 2 qt beanpot:

If you want to make it you will need:

2 small leeks
an onion, chopped
5 sliced garlic cloves
olive oil
salt
pepper
fresh lemon juice
1 quart of 1 inch cubes of dried crusty bread, dry them in a warm oven if they are not a bit stale
a 5 oz. package of baby arugula and a head of romaine lettuce, shredded- about 5 cups altogether, you can substitute another combo of greens, but remove any tough stalks
grated nutmeg
2 cups of milk, heated to almost boiling in the microwave, or otherwise
1/4 lb finely grated gruyere

Preheat oven to 250F. Heat some olive oil in a heavy big pot, and cook the leeks, onions, and garlic until they are well wilted, over a medium heat. Add the greens, salt, pepper, and nutmeg, cover, and cook over a very low heat for 30-45 minutes. Squeeze some lemon juice over all. Oil a 2 qt, deep baking dish. Put a third of the bread in, then 1/2 of the greens, another third of the bread, the rest of the greens, and the last of the bread. Heat the milk, and pour it slowly over all. Spread the cheese on top, cover with a pot lid, foil or both, and cook for 2 hours. Remove cover, turn oven up high, and cook for 15 more minutes. Let it sit 20 minutes before serving, and it will set nicely, plus, your lips won't be melted off.

After this, you will be wanting a piece of fruit, I suspect. I was given a great big fancy pear from someone's nice gift box, so I'm having that. Happy New Year!