Making Whoopie

Halloween has officially come!  Goblins and ghouls will be roaming about this evening in search of mischief, mayhem and candy…lots of candy.

For me Halloween is about the tradition of pumpkin carving, scary movies and eating sweet things.  I know many people who are avid costume junkies, spending months planning every detail of their ensemble, but strangely I’ve never been one of those folks.  I often wonder why? I love a good theatrical spectacle, and Halloween certainly qualifies, but maybe it’s the old farmer curmudgeon in me who doesn’t want to buy the bride’s maid dress just for that one wearing…something about it doesn’t seem sensible.

Whatever the reason, I do like to see the kids coming to the door, particularly the little ones who timidly “rap rap” on the screen door, adorned in some cartoon character outfit, barely whispering “trick or treat” in that nervous “don’t talk to strangers” voice.  It makes me smile and I have to ask them, “Who are you supposed to be”?  I get a response that either makes sense or makes reference to a television superhero I haven’t had the good fortune of seeing just yet.

All this makes me realize I used to be that age, wandering around the town I grew up in. My cousins and I would use my aunt’s house as home base to drop off stores of accumulated goodies, the plastic hollowed out pumpkin as my constant candy-grabbing companion.  The houses I liked visiting most seemed to have cobwebs lit up with black lights (reason, unknown).  There was one home in particular which had a screened in porch.  Inside there were hulking monster figures hooked up to a series of pulleys and cords attached to the screen door.  When you opened the door the monsters would rise up or move their hands.  It was very creepy to me as a kid, but I loved it.

I always had a penchant for scary things.  For better or worse my dad and I watched a lot of horror movies together when I was a kid.   Sure, most 6 to 8 year olds shouldn’t be watching Friday the 13^th, Poltergeist and John Carpenter’s Halloween, but Dad enjoyed it and I was his movie watching buddy…and so it goes.  Those movies cemented for me a deep love for all things twisted and macabre, and to this day I still try to watch “Halloween” every year as part of my tradition.  The score never fails to creep me out and I just love a young Jamie Lee Curtis running around in fear…as opposed to selling me healthy yogurt. 

Dad also loved to carve pumpkins and decorate.  He really enjoyed giving people a fright and a good laugh…and he certainly loved his candy.  All things considered I get most of my Halloween traditions from him.  It’s fun getting the porch ready for that most haunting evening of the year, and this year was no exception.  Though Dad isn’t around any more, the memories live on and bring a smile to my face as I carve pumpkins to put out front.  According to Celtic legend, Halloween is the one night of the year the doorway between the dead and the living is most open, and seems a fitting day to celebrate the fun he and I used to share. http://www.history.com/content/halloween/real-story-of-halloween

I’m also trying to start new traditions.  I don’t necessarily think of baking when I think of Halloween, but in our house baking works for every occasion.  This year I wanted to make some treats to get everyone into a pumpkin-y, spicy, Halloween-y mood.  Yes, I’m still on that darn pumpkin theme (it’s always good to cook seasonally), I just can’t help myself.  I was looking on Martha Stewart’s website, as I so often do, and there was a video clip from Halloween 2008 when one of the owner’s of Baked demonstrated Pumpkin Whoopie Pies.  I remember thinking I needed to investigate this bakery because it’s in an area of Brooklyn called Red Hook, which isn’t so far from where we used to live.  Though I have yet to make it to the bakery, I did buy the cookbook.  The recipe comes from here:  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1584797215/ref=s9_simz_gw_s0_p14_i1?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=14SCX30PNNST1F4CW4S6&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846 but can also be found on Martha’s website: http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/pumpkin-whoopie-pies?autonomy_kw=pumpkin%20whoopie%20pie

According to the folks at work who were eating these monstrous cookie sandwiches, I believe the most used corollary descriptive word was crack…and maybe they aren’t too far off.  These babies are intense!!!  The cookie portion is very soft and chalked full of cinnamon, ginger and cloves, while the filling is nothing but beautiful cream cheese, butter, and confectioners sugar.  It’s like eating a pumpkin pie in cookie form that you frosted with cream cheese just for good measure.   I must say that I was a huge fan and will be making these again next year. 

There is no time like the present for starting a new tradition; it’s the backbone of our shared time together.  Whether you are wearing a mask or handing out candied crack to little children this year, make sure to eat a sugary sweet and think of the (hopefully) less complicated days of childhood.  I know I will, it’s just who I am.

Beauty and the Yeast

First, I would like to begin by thanking Brian for delivering such an excellent title for this blog posting.  We were riding the train to work Thursday morning, and I was talking about the baked goods I hoped to accomplish this weekend when the title practically jumped out of his mouth.  The subject of yeast had come up and I decided after last week’s successful doughnut excursion to forage ahead into the land of brioche.  Was this plan fraught without concern or worry? Oh no.

The brioche idea was planted in my head while reading the October Bon Appetit.  Dorie Greenspan has written an article on how easy making brioche can be. 

http://www.bonappetit.com/magazine/2009/10/brioche_made_easy  I learned how to make this dough while attending the French Culinary Institute, but have not attempted it since…mainly because of the yeast fears I wrote about previously.  Making the yeasty oly koeks worked out fine, but will the magical yeast work again???  It requires practice to get good at something…and yeast is no exception, but buttery brioche is so worth the effort.  I immensely enjoyed the rolls we made in school, and the leftover dough we used as a crust for a cheesecake topped with seasonal fruits…it was delicious!!!

Second…and this may seem completely unrelated at the moment, but I have been trying for a couple of weeks to get to a nearby farm to go apple picking.  The place is called Wilkins Farm.  It’s a cute little place tucked away in the hills, full of apple trees where you can go and pick your own.  They also have pumpkin patches for picking, hay rides for the kids (and kids at heart) and a small little shack where they sell fried apple doughnuts, pies, hot cider and all manner of apple related paraphernalia.  http://www.wilkensfarm.com   Unfortunately, because of weather, it hasn’t panned out.  The same thing happened again today…it’s been pouring non-stop. 

Apple picking season runs from mid September through the end of October, and next week is Halloween.  The “apple dessert” baking pressure is on, and I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t make something apple-y soon.  Thus, I decided to stop fighting Mother Nature and just go to the local farmer’s market and get my apples…like a normal person.  

But what does this apple obsession have to do with brioche?  Well, nothing really, but the other semi-eventful thing that happened this week was our humorously torturous adventure to see a play called “The Diary of Anne Frankenstein”.  As the name hopefully implies, it was a comedy starring a drag queen as a transvestite monster created by the legendary Dr. Frankenstein.  In this case, Dr. Frankenstein is affiliated with the Nazi party in 1945 and is trying to find a body in which to attach the preserved head of Adolph Hitler.  With it being so close to Halloween, seeing this show seemed like a good idea, but as it often happens the reality of the show didn’t quite live up to the concept.  Putting all that aside, I started thinking about putting things together that aren’t necessary considered a pair…like the head of one person and the body parts of another, or such as an apple tatin and brioche.

I’ve decided there are never enough hours in the day to accomplish all I would like, and what better way to combine modern science and two things I love than to create a sensual, yeast laden, sugary/tart apple brioche tatin?  Wait for it, wait for it…”IT’S ALIVE!!!!”  (Because yeast is a living thing and it really works with today’s theme).   Much like Dr. Frankenstein himself, I took my powers for good and created a spark of life resembling a very tall traditional apple tatin…about six inches in heels to be exact. 

This process brought me back to my very first day of class at FCI.  I was a nervous wreck and had never before taken a baking class.  I was dressed in my chef whites and was standing with 19 other people prepared to embark on our first mission:  the traditional French apple tatin.  Though slightly rattled, my partner and I managed to create a simple pate brisee dough and roll it out into the prescribed tart rings.  I will admit I made a few mistakes, but all were correctible and the outcome ended up being quite delicious.  I was proud of myself and knew I had to keep making more and more pastry.  That’s what happens when you find the spark.

Unlike Dr. Frankenstein, my brioche/tart creation did not come after me with a vengeance, trying to destroy my whole life and take away every bit of happiness I once possessed (thankfully).  Maybe it’s because I celebrate it’s beauty, fawning over it and treating it with gentle respect, whispering sweet nothings to the yeast in the hopes of a rising worthy of the Gods.  If Dr. Frankenstein had done that with his monster things might have turned out differently.  The creature might not have been a monster at all, but a friend.  It’s all about honoring our creations, and I like to honor mine by eating them.  It’s just who I am. 

Pumpkin Bread

I think I must have been a pumpkin farmer in my former life. 

Every year around this time I just get so darned excited to see them.  I love the shape, textures and all the different colors they dress themselves in.  Just going to the farmer’s market right now sends a shiver down my spine, a tingle of a rekindled love that is pure and innocent.  Ahh, the pumpkin…and in particular the grey-green varieties.  

When I’m buying them at the market I’m inevitably asked the question by a passer-by, “how do you cook with them”, or “what do those taste like”?  I coyly smile and say in an animated way (but with a straight face) “Oh, I only use them to decorate with”.   This response usually warrants a nod of amusement…possibly because they too would never consider eating them, or because my delivery is so full of my passion for fall decorating.  Either way I am rewarded with several prized pumpkin possessions, which will stay with me through Thanksgiving.

Their appearance also marks the exciting start of the yearly pumpkin/squash baking festivities.  The smell of ginger, nutmeg and cloves hold a promise of better days to come…of holidays that are soon on the way and all the eating and gathering that go along with them.  As I peeked outside today it was truly a gloomy sight, nothing but rain and grey as far as the eye could see.  I figured there’s nothing like a pumpkin quick bread to blast away the blues of a dreary day.

 I stepped onto the sidewalk and went about my merry way to the grocery store to pick up the essential ingredient I was missing, the ever-faithful canned pumpkin.  I don’t use a lot of canned items, but this is one I will not bash nor cry out about the necessity of cooking down your own pumpkin.  Would this be a great thing to do?  Of course.  Am I going to take that kind of time today?  No way.  A lot of times I’m even too lazy to roast the seeds of the pumpkin I’m carving, so you can imagine I would have to be in a pretty rare frame of mind to cook the whole thing. 

As I was walking back from the store a most amazing thing happened.  The gloom and doom sky had opened up in the west and an incredible post storm sunset was revealed.  The sky was lit up, and in particular one of our neighbor’s trees.  The light was striking so pointedly that the tree looked like it was on fire, and paired with the smoky aroma of burning logs from neighborhood chimneys it became a beautiful surreal moment.  As the last of the suns rays faded I went in to bake my bread.

I really do love quick breads.  As the name implies they are super fast, and this one in particular took me about 20 minutes to prepare and 45 minutes to bake.  http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/ginger-pumpkin-bread  This bread smells strongly of ginger and pumpkin, but isn’t overwhelming.   Much like me after I bake, spicy-ness and warmth flood the house in a comforting manner.  It’s just who I am.

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

The smell still hangs heavily in the air…the scent of oil and nutmeg cloyingly mix together, alluding to the creation coming from a now darkened kitchen.  A pot of canola stands somberly alone and cold under the single bulb of the stove hood. For your consideration I present to you the oly koek!!!!  What???

An oly koek, as I learned earlier this week while reading "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow", is the pre-cursor to the American doughnut.  It’s a Dutch word meaning “oily cake”.  Considering the amount of oil called for in the frying, the name aptly fits.

I began my week with the now annual re-reading pilgrimage of the  “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” by Washington Irving.  I am one of those people who believe in tradition, and often my traditional observance takes the form of reading a seasonally related tale year after year after year.  There is something magical about coming back to a story and trying to recapture the spark you felt the first time you read it.  For me, Washington Irving is always worthy of a return visit.

As if to further delve into “The Legend” and get into the baking spirit of things I decided to get up bright and early this morning and head to Sleepy Hollow cemetery.  We live about 10 minutes away from the famed resting place, and as it’s my third fall season here and have yet to photograph the site I thought it would be a perfect time to remedy this.  The cemetery was quiet, a cool breeze blowing through red tinged leaves bouncing off a grey sky.  The pungent smell of cedar trees and fallen leaves was overwhelming and reminded me of the woods I used to play in as a kid growing up in Missouri.  I casually walked by the head stones, looking at dates and thinking about ghosts, taking photos and making my own memories of a place where others come to celebrate the memories of people they used to know.  I loved it.  I made my way to Washington Irving’s grave and then continued on, up and down the hills of markers until I came to a creek with the old wooden bridge where Ichabod met his end.  It may sound hokey, but for me it was fantastic.  I walked across that bridge and smiled, cementing for myself the memory of the day.

The “Legend” isn’t quite the way my Disney miscellaneous memory recalls it from childhood.  Growing up I remember feeling sympathy for poor Ichabod Crane who is tormented by the larger than life Brom Bones.  It’s the classic case of the school bully versus the underdog.  In actuality, Ichabod from the book is seemingly more of an overly punishing schoolmaster who weasels his way into the houses of local farmers, eats their food, and ogles their young daughters.  He is out to get the Van Tassel fortune, which includes a beautifully described farm and surrounding lands along the Hudson River (not to mention Katrina).  Washington Irving’s strength comes from his use of adjectives.  It’s the detail he lends not only to the farm, but the characters and the Hudson River Valley that make the story a joy to return to year after year.  There is also quite a lot of time spent writing about the harvested bounty of food loading up the sideboard of the Van Tassel farm.  One item in particular is the Pigeon Pie.  For the most fleeting of seconds I considered trying to recreate this peculiar sounding dish, continued to ponder, thought of what that would entail (the incredible pigeon guilt I would undergo), changed my mind and continued on reading the story until I came to the section on cakes.  Ahhh…safety, until I found a word I didn’t know…the oly koek.

I took it upon myself to hit the old Google and figure out what the heck an oly koek is?  The simple answer is a lovely fried ball of dough.  As Ina would say, "now how bad can that be" ? After finding a reasonable recipe I decided to tackle this Dutch delicacy with grim determination.  My main fear really encompassed two things.  1) Yeast 2) A big vat of frying oil that could cause permanent bodily damage if there was a Dutch dough related accident.  It may seem crazy that I’m intimidated by yeast, but I haven’t really used it since pastry school a couple of years ago and I always seem to avoid it.  Today, happily, was not a day for backing down.  With the courage of Ichabod creeping along a lonely moonlit hill I marched to the store and bought 3 quarts of canola oil and the necessary dry yeast the recipe calls for.  I placed the yeast in warm water with a little sugar and happily it came to life rather smoothly.  As a tip, if you are going to make this recipe, make sure you have all your ingredients at room temperature.   The recipe I found doesn’t mention this, but it will help keep your butter from “seizing” and all your little yeasties happy.  http://www.bestlifeonline.com/literategourmet/11_irving.html

The other challenge was the frying.  I’ve never deep-fried anything before!  I have a vague recollection of being a kid and my mom making doughnuts.  There was a crock-pot like contraption (most likely a fryer) involved.  I remember her dropping spoonfuls of dough into the oil and then rolling the outcome in powdered sugar.  I should check my facts on this because I could be making it up based on a TV show or something…the mind does tend to play tricks from time to time.  In my case, I just filled a large pot with the oil…as opposed to lard or Crisco recommended by a few other oly koek recipes I read…I just couldn’t justify making anything with lard and still respect myself in the morning.

The result:  a crispy, yeasty, spicy mixture somewhere between funnel-cake and a bear claw.  It’s surprisingly light and savory until you roll it in confectioners sugar, then it becomes a delicious savory/sweet blend that deserves to be in a place of honor on the Van Tassel buffet line.  I can see why Ichabod would have liked it and why Irving refers to the Dutch lasses as being voluptuous and curvy, I would be too if I ate too many of these things.  The recipe makes about 2 dozen- so pack up a basket and go visit your neighbors.

I can’t think of a better way to spend a moody October day than wandering among the graves of the dead and making baked goods for the living.   It’s just who I am.

Halloween/Birthday precursor

As I was going through some photos from last year's Halloween carving expedition (and thinking about what to create for this year's front porch display) I came upon a pleasant discovery... a pumpkin paired seductively with a Coconut Cake!  And what a lovely pair they make, the soft, delicate white of the coconut frosting contrasting with the angry kitten face (a pumpkin painted with black floral spray).  There is an old legend about the angry kitten and the coconut cake...they only come out on Halloween night, when the moon is full and only between 11 and 11:15pm.  They just sit on the porch, staring at and taunting people who are dieting.  Luckily I managed to snap this rare photo taken on a cloudy afternoon, discreetly hiding behind a screen made of palm fronds and using cat-nip as my bait...


Q:  What do these two things really have to do with each other you might ask???  
A:  Lisa's birthday on the first of November!

In the midst of the "spooky" season ramp-up it always comes as a suprise to me that my friend Lisa's birthday is right on its coat tails.  I had the fortune of being asked to make a cake for her and felt it only appropriate to deck it out in virginal white coconut shavings as she is saintly and pure as the driven snow...unless she is watching a football game of course, then that's another story entirely.  Remembering her fondness for coconut, this cake seemed very appropriate. This auspicious occasion was also a chance to oven-roast some coconuts which I had never tried before.  Actually, I believe I conned Brian into helping me with that part, particularly the cracking the shell open portion of the process which was quite difficult and did lead to a bloody finger and a near emergency room visit if I recall...but we just passed it off as food coloring.  It gave a certain piquant aftertaste (kidding, it is almost Halloween after all).

I don't happen to have a photo of the cake when it was lit with a large number of flaming candles, but needless to say it looked like we presented Lisa with a fire-bomb instead of dessert (not giving away ages here, don't panic).  She wasn't necessarily appreciative of seeing a forest fire on a platter in her living room, but I'll bet she won't forget that cake!  The heat, like a blow-torch, melting the coconut frosting and further toasting the coconut shavings was a site to behold.

I love to Treat friends with a dessert, whether it's a birthday or Halloween.  A flaming pastry always puts a smile on everyone's face.  The Trick is keeping your eyebrows.  Happy early Halloween everyone!!!

Baking...in real time

I thought I would do a simple shortbread preparation today (this one's for you David)...something that people always seem to love.  I think the simplicity is what sells it.  In the lexicon of things I like to make this ranks up there with a chocolate chip cookie or a brownie as a pastry you can pick up and quickly gobble without feeling like you are committing a larger dessert felony such as eating a pint of ice cream or a piece of cake that is really about a quarter of the whole cake all in one setting (but I digress).

Shortbread is a traditional Scottish cookie, and when I have a craving for something buttery and rich nothing else can take its place.  Shortbread is also very easy to make and most of the ingredients are already in your refrigerator or pantry.  This recipe simply calls for butter, flour, salt, granulated and confectioners sugars.  That's it, no muss no fuss.  What I like to do to put a twist on the recipe is to use regular and browned butter.  The brown butter imparts a nutty flavor without being overpowering, and for lack of a better term, makes the cookie taste sexy.


Recipe:  (Adapted from Martha's shortbread recipe)


3 sticks of butter at room temperature (brown one of the sticks)
2 and 1/2 cups of flour
3/4 cup confectioners sugar
1/4 teaspoon of salt
Granulated sugar for sprinkling

12:15pm  Start by browning a stick of butter in a pan over medium heat.  This is the only part of the recipe you should pay close attention to.  Butter can go from browned to burned relatively quickly, so I like to stand over the stove and make sure I don't get blackened butter.  This usually take about 4 to 5 minutes.  The butter will bubble up, and browned bits start collecting in the bottom of the pan.  As the foam begins to subside, the color takes on an amber hue which will deepen to a darker brown.  Pull the butter off the burner and pour it through a strainer.  Now you are left with a nice, smooth umber colored liquid.  I take the browned butter and put in the refrigerator for about 45 minutes to let it become solid again.  You don't want your butter to be runny when you add it to the other 2 sticks of butter in your mixer.  The goal is a light and fluffy batter, not a runny one.

12:20pm  Whisk the confectioners sugar and salt together in a bowl.  As I write this I realize I am out of confectioners sugar and have to run to the grocery store.  Luckily for me this is only 3 minutes away on foot, but I am already proving myself wrong about having the necessary ingredients on hand.  This is seemingly a direct metaphor for life as a whole.  Even the most simple tasks are often peppered with minor hiccups...just gotta roll with it.


12:40pm  I return to the task at hand having procured the sugar and whisk my sugar and flour together.   Make sure when you are scooping flour into a measuring cup that you fluff it up a bit.  You don't want to scoop compacted flour because you actually get more than you really need and can end up with a dry pastry.


1:00pm  The browned butter is now solidified enough to work with and you can mix that with the other two sticks of butter in a mixer for 3 to 4 minutes (on medium high speed) until light and fluffy.  Scrape down the sides of the bowl and add the confectioners sugar.  Mix for another 2 minutes, scraping down the sides once more.  The mixture should be light and airy.  Now, with the mixer on low speed, add the flour and mix until the dough just comes together.  Place the dough in a 12x8 pan that has been buttered and lined with parchment.  Spread it out evenly with an off-set spatula (if you have one), or you can even pat it down with clean hands.  Chill for 15 minutes, or if you have to run off to a wedding like I do, we'll just see how long it has to stay in the fridge. :)

INTERLUDE:  We went to our friend Margo and Matt's wedding.  It was a really great party held at a place called Elizabeth in NYC.  We had pre-drinks at our dear friend Randy's, where she and several of Margo's girlfriends (Elizabeth, Britt, and Lynn) prepared for the wedding by dressing in their most chic 80's garb and sharing champagne toasts to celebrate the impending ceremony.  Margo, not being the most traditional gal herself appreciated their looks immensely.  Margo looked simply amazing in her gown...it was a beaded, rich little number and was STUNNING!  I myself was happy not only to see my friends share a special day, but also to see a cake created by the Cake Boss. 

http://tlc.discovery.com/tv/cake-boss/cake-boss.html  It was beautiful.  The fondant flowed like a Grecian gown and sugar flowers elegantly adorned the tiers.  The inside was both yellow and chocolate cake with chocolate filling....delicious!!!

11:37pm  Return from wedding.  Prick the dough all over with a fork (this is called docking), and place in a 325 degree oven for about 40 minutes or until golden.  The house will begin to smell buttery and fragrant...similar to the smell of sugar cookies wafting  through the house during the holidays (my favorite time of year).


12:17am  The air is pungent with the aroma of heavenly fat...golden buttery goodness is ready to come out of the oven.  The dough has contracted around the edge of the pan and looks terrific.  Top the shortbread with granulated sugar while still hot.  You could also used colored sanding sugars if making this for a holiday themed party or birthday.  Let the shortbread cool in the pan for about ten minutes then cut with a large knife and transfer to a wire rack to cool.


Okay, so what started out as a simple baking venture took a little longer than anticipated.  My guess is that most people could make this recipe in as little as 2 hours, including time for cooling the brown butter and baking time.  I kind of like the way I did it.  Not only do I have a delicious cookie to snack on with a glass of milk, but these cookies also become a tribute to a special day with friends.  

Shortbread is versatile.  It works for an elegant dessert party, or for an everyday treat.  Shortbread can also be dressed up or down.   You could add pecans to this recipe and it would elevate the flavors of fall, lavender to create a floral summer cookie, or even finely chopped rosemary for a wintery touch.  However you decide to make them, the goal is to have fun and make your taste buds happy...and shortbread can be a sexy addition to your next get together.

What makes food memorable?

After 70 years of fantastic recipes and travel stories, Gourmet magazine has come to an end.  This loss is just another thing to be annoyed about in our current economic climate.  Can't people just escape to a nice magazine full of edible goodies and fabulous travels anymore?  Apparently not...at least not with Gourmet any longer.  I'm sad to see it go, and  I know a few friends are as well.  Of all the food related rags I get this one was my favorite in terms of beautifully photographed food.  Accompanying travel related stories of a particular city or rural location helped the reader understand the culture and gave a personal history to the dishes being explored.  All of this got me thinking about the nature of food and memory.   It's said that smell brings back memories like nothing else can, and many of the smells we most enjoy are based in and around food.  Gourmet gave me a lot of good smells while cooking recipes from its pages and gave me new foodie destinations to look for around the world.  For that, I say thank you.


So many of my favorite meals were eaten somewhere "out on the road".  I started thinking about what I would classify as the top edible experiences of my life and realized that most were not even in the United States...sorry New York (Don't look at me like that Per Se, I still love you dearly), but I've had extra-marital food affairs on you and I'm not ashamed.  The top three things that immediately came to mind were fried calamari steaks in Costa Rica, my entire meal at Heston Blumenthal's Fat Duck and a legendary chocolate mousse at a cafe in Rome.

The calamari was just so rediculously huge and delicious, but was served at a little shack along the beach that my friends and I had passed everyday for nearly a week, not daring to enter.  Often, I find that's when greatness strikes...when you really, really, realllllly aren't expecting it.  What made the meal most special was being with Brian and our friends Kevin and Lisa (pictured covered in volcanic mud), and timidly discovering the restaurant together...not being afraid to gamble with our food in far off locations.

The Fat Duck (in the village of Bray outside of London), it may go without saying, was truly an experience.  We had a four hour lunch which took us through an amusement park-like journey from nitrogen chilled lime meringues (eaten while lime scent is sprayed above your head) through courses smelling of moss, fish eaten while a head-set plays for you ocean waves, Mad Hatter tea and Mock Turtle Soup...a continuous stream of crazy purees and combinations of sights, sounds and smells you would never dream would go together, and winding up with a bag of sweet treats containing a white chocolate Queen of Hearts.  Alice in Wonderland is one of my favorite books of all time, and to be in the presence of a chef creating something so astonishing, so firmly attached to a treasured childhood memory just sent me over the edge.  Such an experience was not to be shared alone.  Brian and I, plus our friends Randy, Edgar and Elizabeth were all together in this nearly surreal departure from "real life".  Trying to describe this meal never works for me, it's only those people who were with me around the table that afternoon who can begin to understand it in the way I did.  It's a capsule of time for the five of us which is so special.

Lastly that brings me to the chocolate mousse...oh delicious chocolate mousse.  It was not long after I met Brian we decided to take a trip to Italy.  I had been there before with my cousin Jason and fell desperately in love with it's landscapes, culture and food.  If I were ever to leave the United States permanently, I think it would be for a stone house in the middle of a lavender field in the hills of Tuscany.  I can't think of a more relaxing place.  While on our trip, we spent a few days in Rome, exploring and eating along the way.  On our last night in Rome, we were exhausted from a hot and sunny day of walking (this was during the European heat-wave in 2003), and just wanted a simple place to eat before heading back to the hotel.  We crash landed on the sidewalk patio area of a restaurant along some random side street.  I don't remember the meal, but I remember that chocolate mousse.  At the time I was eating it, I thought "I can die now".  It was just amazing...obviously, because I'm still thinking about it years after.  Was it the beautifully whipped texture, the velvety deep chocolate goodness or the breeze on that particular evening in a far off location with someone special?

What does all of this have to do with pastry?  Well, in this case I've fallen for that demon chocolate which is as near to my heart as a good croissant.  Chocolate goes in a great pastry, but is so wonderful all on its own.  Whenever I think about good chocolate...especially that chocolate mousse, I think "I could take a bath in this".  For me, that is the highest food related compliment I can give.  And as for that mousse, well I shared it with Brian on a wonderfully romantic, balmy evening in Rome and there is no one I would rather be sharing my mousse with.  In an attempt to keep my love alive (for the mousse), I whipped up a batch this evening to cure my sweet tooth.  But, how could this new mousse possibly be as special as the one I had in Rome years ago?  By resurfacing the memories of time gone by and putting a smile on my face at the end of a plain Jane Tuesday.


Gourmet, you will be missed.


Here as a link to a great quick chocolate mousse:
http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/bittersweet-chocolate-mousse?

I recommend using Valrhona 66% bittersweet chocolate.