olive oil and sherry pound cake

The children are rebelling.  They say, "no more soup, mom!"  and I say, "tough cookies."
Soup is what we've got, and after all that's what I went to all the trouble for, freezing buckets and buckets of soup so that right now, when the book was almost done and all I was making was pudding and oreos, we would have dinner.  They'll survive, I hope.

Also, life's picking up all around me in swirling eddies-  all good, all good!  But there is no time to make dinner, and so, yes, it's soup again. The good news in that regard is that I've also started working at this lovely little place.  I think I've mentioned it, but the whole story is that I started working there in December a few days a week, to supplement this and that and to learn about olive oil and cheese and mostly to get me out of the kitchen and my head every so often.  It's been really nice to be there, despite the fact that it creates a few more days when there is no time to make dinner, but now?  Now I have bread to bring home to eat with dinner, and we pop it in the oven for a few minutes and then it's like I've been home all day recreating some French bakery in my kitchen.  Then I'm home for a few minutes (luckily I've defrosted the soup-sicle in the fridge the night before), and Joey and I and maybe Sadie have soup, and Rosie has her nightly meal of a banana ("I hate soup!").  Then I'm off to some meeting at town hall (better if I've remembered to wear the correct footwear) where I try, try, try to do my best at what ever happens to be on our plates that night, and come home all wound up, and Joey's trying to go to bed, but I'm just sitting there next to him jabbering about politics and emotion, and about the people's right to rage and how to help in a rational and responsible manner.

My dreams have been crazy lately.

The girls are doing well though-- they seem to thrive as long as I can get enough hugs to them through the day, and Joey does his fair share when he sees them in the hallway at school. The other night I was tucking Rosie into her bed, and she said to me, "Mom, do you know why I always wear socks to bed?" (Truth is, I've always wondered why she's so stubborn about this. Me- I hate wearing socks to bed) And I said, "why, Rosie?"  And she answered, "Well, when I read at night after you close the door, I can use one of my socks as a bookmark."

And there you have it.

So, again, again, (I feel like I'm always saying this)  the book is almost out of my hands, and then there will be all sorts of beautiful meals to write about, and me glowing with joy and peace as I braise and sautee and chop.  But I just can't go too long without talking about an actual recipe here--it leaves me feeling unsatisfied in some sort of core way, and so I thought I'd tell you about a cake that I made at work.

Now Bizalion's has an always lovely spread of many  things.  There are enough cured meats and olives and ripened cheeses and dates and figs to keep you throwing a party every day for a year.  On the sweet side, the options are classy but a bit limited, always almond anise seed biscotti (which I have been making with great joy), and exquisite little chocolate pastries made by Audrey Sussman.  Audrey did all the recipe testing for my book, and these chocolate horns are so good--they pretty much answer all your pastry and chocolate needs.  But last week I found myself with the itch that comes when I haven't made a cake in some time, and so I asked Jean-Francoise (that is, Bizalion) if he would object if I added a cake to the mix.  And I found this cake in Pure Dessert, which continues to hold it's place as my favorite dessert cookbook for maybe two years running, which I thought would do the trick.

Bizalion's is owned by the aforementioned Jean-Francois and his wife, Helen.  In addition to the store, they are building a business around the importing of olive oil, and together with their two girls (exactly the same ages as my two girls, coincidentally), they are beginning to travel to Italy and France and Spain to where the olives are pressed, so they can hand pick the olive oils for the store.  We sell the oil in big beautiful barrels, and anyone can choose the side of their bottle or bring one in from home and fill it from the barrel.  And so there there I am, surrounded by these great steel barrels of olive oil, and so it only seemed right to open a spigot and mix it right into a cake batter.

This cake is boozey, not quite so much that you wouldn't give it to your children if they asked for it, but boozey enough that it is quite grown up.  It improves with a day or two if you have it well wrapped, and the recipe will make two loaf pans or one big bundt.  Yesterday a customer told me that this cake was good enough to retire on--it was so good.  I'll make sure to tell Alice Medrich, if I ever meet her.  But that woman keeps making the most wonderful recipes...selfishly I hope she never retires.


Olive Oil and Sherry Pound Cake
from Alice Medrich, Pure Dessert

3 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
1 cup flavorful olive oil
2 teaspoons grated orange zest (from 1 medium orange)
5 large eggs
1 cup sherry
optional (this is my own addition): 1 tablespoon orange flower water

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven, and preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease and flour two standard loaf pans or one 10-12 cup tube or bundt pan. 
Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt together.  Set aside.
Combine the sugar, olive oil, and orange zest in the bowl of a stand mixer.  Fit the mixer with the whisk attachment and beat on high speed until well blended, about 1 minute.  Add the eggs one at a time, beating after each addition.  Continue to beat until the mixture is thick and pale yellow, 3 to 5 minutes.  Stop the mixer and add 1/3 of the flour mixture.  Beat on low speed just to combine.  Then add 1/2 the sherry, and beat again for just a moment.  Then another 1/3 of the flour, beat again.  Then the second 1/2 of the sherry and the orange flour water, if using.  Then finish with the rest of the flour. 
Scrape the batter into the pan(s).  Bake just until a cake tester comes out clean, 45 minutes to an hour.  Cool in the pan for about 15 minutes before unmolding, then cool on a wire rack. 

nibby buckwheat cookies

I am a sucker for feeding people. I can't help it.
Sometimes my desire to fill the bellies of friends who come into the house feels a little bit beyond my control. Come by to drop off a book. Leave with granola. I don't even know how it happened. I just slip you a bag, even as I'm saying to myself, "Control yourself! They don't need food! This person is not hungry!"
But for the time being, my visitors put up with it, and I am thankful.

Because my compulsion to feed my guests overwhelms the desire to feed them something fabulous, I have been known to provide strange offerings when the pantry is low. Canned olives. Cheese sticks. Carrots. To avoid this predicament, I bake.

Because wouldn't you rather I offer you a cookie than a cheese stick?

I thought so.

These cookies might be my favorite ones to have around. They get better with age, and they last a month (theoretically, if they didn't get eaten so fast). But more importantly, they are wonderful, and they seem to please everyone. They are, you might say, a crowd pleaser.

The cookies in question are Alice Medrich's nibby buckwheat cookies. They have been written about many times, most specifically here and here, because they really are a wonder. They are shortbread-y and complicated but kid friendly and not too sweet and filled with flavors that you can't quite pin down. They make a good snack with tea, maybe the best I can think of.

These are some good cookies.

The first time I had them was a ways back, a few years ago even. It was winter, and I was visiting my friend Meg. If I remember correctly she was a bit weary and possibly quite pregnant, and she roused herself from her chair to offer me a cookie.

"Cookie?"

It was not a pretty cookie. Brown and square. Funny little nibs scattered throughout. But I'm always up for a cookie, so down it went.

"Oh, my god. What is that?"

She wrote down the recipe then and there.

And now I'm writing it down for you.



Nibby Buckwheat Cookies (or Buckwheat Cocoa Nib Shortbread, if you need a better name for them, which I think that I do)
from Alice Medrich, Pure Dessert

makes about 45-50 cookies

1 1/4 cups (5.6 ounces) all-purpose flour
3/4 cup (3 ounces) buckwheat flour
1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup cacao nibs
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Whisk the flours together in a medium bowl and set aside. Beat the butter with the sugar and salt for about 1 minute in an electric mixer until smooth and creamy but not fluffy. Mix in the cocoa nibs and vanilla. Add the flours and mix just until barely incorporated. Knead the dough with your hands a few times, just until the batter is smooth.

Form the dough into a 12 by 2 inch log. Wrap and refrigerate overnight.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Position the racks in the upper and lower thirds of the oven. Line the baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone liners.

Take the dough out of the refrigerator about two hours before you want to bake it. When it is slightly soft, it is ready to cut. Use a very sharp knife and cut into 1/4 inch slices. Lay them on the cookie sheet, leaving a bit of space for the cookies to spread. You will get about 15 cookies to a sheet, and you may have to bake in more than one batch.

Bake until the cookies are just starting to color at the edges, about 12-15 minutes. Place the pans on racks to cool, or if you need the pans to bake another batch, you can slide the parchment onto the racks. Just be careful with cookies until they are completely cool. If you can, wait at least a day to eat them, as their taste improves greatly with one days age. They will keep in an airtight container for up to 30 days.

Very Tangy Lemon Bars

It's snowing today.
And I got better after being sick last week, and I felt like a god for being so healthy. I made pink cupcakes for Sadie's birthday using real red food coloring, and hosted all her favorite girls at a Chinese restaurant. I know it sounds like a disaster, but it was a great success. Here's a glimpse:




Then the pendulum really swung from the self pity and sick feeling. Over the weekend, I had the oddest dream- where I was watching myself, and I was like, "I am so cute! Just look at me. I look great!" I kid you not. And I must say, I wish this dream on you, because I woke up feeling like a million bucks. I swaggered around all day, culminating in my evening trip to the local Big Y, where (and I can't quite say why) I had my own personal supermarket party. I danced to the music, I spent ten minutes trying to find pickles without hfcs in them, I bought everything on sale- I was hot. I came back home singing.
And then on Monday I got sick again.
The lesson I should learn? Not quite sure yet. But I'm achy and grumpy again. And did I mention that it is snowing? So I'm reaching back a little to a recipe that just makes me happy and radiates the sun off the plate. I've been meaning to write about this one- I just haven't needed it's presence so much until now. So here you go- if you've never made lemon bars, they are way easier than you think.

Very Tangy Lemon Bars
from Pure Dessert by Alice Medrich

Makes 16 large or 24 small bars

For crust:

• 8 tbsp. (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

• 1/4 c. sugar

• 3/4 tsp. vanilla extract

• 1/4 tsp. salt

• 1 c. flour

For topping:

• 1 c. plus 2 tbsp. sugar

• 3 tbsp. flour

• 3 eggs

• 1 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest

• 1/2 c. strained freshly squeezed lemon juice

• Powdered sugar for dusting, optional

Directions

Position a rack in lower third of oven and preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line bottom and sides of 8- by 8-inch baking pan with aluminum foil.

To make crust: In a medium bowl, combine melted butter with sugar, vanilla and salt. Add flour and mix until just incorporated. Press dough evenly over bottom of pan. Bake 25 to 30 minutes, or until crust is fully baked, well-browned at the edges and golden brown in the center.

To make topping: While crust is baking, stir together sugar and flour in a large bowl until well-mixed. Whisk in eggs. Stir in lemon zest and juice. When crust is ready, reduce heat to 300 degrees, slide rack with pan out and pour filling onto hot crust. Bake 20 to 25 minutes longer, or until topping no longer jiggles when pan is tapped.

Remove from oven to a wire rack to cool completely. Then refrigerate for at least one hour. Lift up foil liner and transfer bars to a cutting board.

Using a long, sharp knife, cut bars into 16 or 24 daintier bars and sift powdered sugar over bars, if desired. Stored in an airtight container, bars can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.