CrankyCakes

I have a predilection for inappropriate competitiveness that dovetails beautifully with culinary contests.  And when our fair’s Whoopie Pie competition ended up on a day I knew I’d have free, there was little chance of me missing it.

I’d been there earlier in the week, and had scoped out the scene of the King Arthur Flour-sponsored contests.  I hit the computer for a whoopie pie research and recipe.  I liked the concept, suggested by some, that the whoopie pie was sort of a working class macaron, a lovely little confection that’s always seemed entirely too fussy for me to consider making.

Knowing that my talents lie more in the region of presentation and flavor than technical baking, I decided that interesting flavors were the way to go.  I love the combo of maple and peanut butter, and thought I’d give it a whirl.

Given that KAF was the sponsor, I based my recipe on theirs.  My first try, using butter for the fat, was a failure in that the cookies ran together into flat pancakes.

Luckily, I had time for a second try, when I used organic unhydrogenated shortening to much better, more cookie-shaped, results.

I got to the fair to discover that I was the 10th of 12 contestants to enter the competition.   All I could see of the competitors’ was chocolate, and there’s no way to judge a whoopie pie from its appearance, so I sat down to wait and watch the judges with other Ladies Who Enter Fair Contests.  Together we tried to determine what the panel’s body language meant, and was it bad or good if your plate’s tag was in a particular position and other such arcane things.

Soon enough the agony was over and I didn’t win a ribbon.  When I tried the winners’ entries, I had to agree: a great whoopie pie is cakey and fairly thick; my cookies had great flavor, but were distinctly cookie-ish.   So it’s back to research to find a soft and cakey non-chocolate whoopie pie recipe, which doesn’t sound like too bad a winter’s hobby.  And in the meantime, here’s a really delicious maple-peanut butter cookie recipe for your fall enjoyment.

Maple-Peanut Butter Whoopie Pies
Adapted from King Arthur Flour
About 9 sandwiches

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly grease baking sheets.

1.  Whisk together:

• 2 cups King Arthur Unbleached All-Purpose Flour
• 3/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

2.  In a separate bowl, whip until very light:

• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter or natural shortening, softened
• 3/4 cup brown sugar, packed

When very fluffy and well combined, add in:

• 1/3 cup maple syrup
• 2 large eggs
• 1 t. vanilla

3.  Add dry mixture to wet in three parts, and stir just until combined.

4.  Drop batter by the 1/4 cup onto prepared baking sheets. With the back of a spoon spread batter into 4-inch circles, leaving approximately 2 inches between each cake.

5.  Bake 15 minutes or until they are firm to the touch. Remove from oven and let cool completely on a wire rack.

6.  While cookies are cooling, whip together until combined and fluffy:

• 1/4 cup shortening or butter
• 1 cup powdered sugar
• 2 cups Marshmallow Fluff
• 2 T. smooth peanut butter

Pipe or spread onto one cookie and top with another and serve.

(And those too-flat cookies from the first batch?  I layered them with sliced local plums and mascarpone cheese and brought it to a friends for dinner after weighting it down and letting it sit in the fridge for a couple of hours.  Good – like some kind of simple trifle or riff on tiramisu.  I would have doused it with sherry or port but thought I’d leave off the alcohol as if my kids would eat it anyway.  Right.)

This video this is supposed to be funny, like stupid ha-ha.

But maybe because it’s late, or maybe because a birthday makes a mom notice how fast time passes, I think it’s right on.

Friends, readers, loved ones, thank you for being here – whether it’s your birthday or not.  And it’s cool if you didn’t get a promotion or a new degree or cure anything or finally make a perfect meringue.

I’m just glad you didn’t die this year. Really: nice job with that.

Thanks for not jumping off a bridge in spite of these crazy oil-spill, immigrant-hating, war-mongering, Fox-news-yelling, unemployment-up-the-wazoo days.  In spite of all that’s going on in your own life that might have made it tempting.

And Z., my baby, my brilliant bubbly little shining birthday star. Thank you for coming into this world and being here with me.  Happy birthday.

Let’s have some silly cupcakes and give the whole thing another whirl.

(The fabulous Abby Dodge’s Emergency Blender Cupcakes, with Italian Buttercream Frosting, with candy-coated sunflower seeds and snipped licorice, peach gummy rings, and fruit leather.)

I don’t know if our librarians could possibly know how much the summer reading program saves our sanity.

How positively alluring and magnetic we find that weekly day at the library, amidst the chaos of the disrupted schedule, the dinners with friends that stretch on into the night while mommies sip wine and can’t bear to call children in before sunset, the watergun fights and overtired, mosquito-bitten warriors on endless quests.

Library day.  So we gather whatever books we can find to return, bring in the boys’ reading lists from the past week and we toodle down the hill.  They perch on chairs and gesticulate wildly while they describe the horrible things their favorite characters have done on that week’s pages.

While there this week, E. excitedly found a past favorite, “Wild Boars Cook.” Oh, the boars (Horace, Morris, Boris & Doris) are horrible creatures, beautifully drawn and full of badness.  While in this sequel book they are neither bathing in toilets nor breaking toys nor farting, they are in the kitchen making a “massive pudding,” with ingredients I’ll leave you to discover.  Plus the book ends with a recipe for a massive cookie, and we made our version of it.

Massive Cookie
Adapted from “Wild Boars Cook”
Makes 1 cookie, about 12 servings

Preheat oven to 350.

Cream together until very well blended in a medium bowl:

• 1/2 stick (4 T.) butter
• 1/4 c. olive oil
• 3/4 c. sugar

Sift over the top of the butter mixture:

• 1/2 c. white flour
• 1/2 c. whole wheat pastry flour
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 t. baking soda

Stir thoroughly.  Then mix in:

• 1/2 c. chocolate chips

Grease a cookie sheet, then form dough into shape of a large cookie.

Bake for 15 minutes, then have one of your little boarlets carefully sprinkle over the top while you stand there nervously with potholders between your child and the pan.  Or maybe just do it yourself:

• 1/2 c. m&m type candies
• 1/2 c. gum drops or jelly beans

Bake for 15 minutes more, or until golden brown.

Cool, cut into wedges or whatever shape you like.

Have any great kids books with recipes you love?  I’d love to hear about them since, ahhhhh, our next library day is coming soon.

It is day 5 of summer vacation and I have already threatened my #1 son with juvenile detention if he doesn’t stop hitting his brother.

Homemade sugary treats with purple sparkles!

He wanted to know if he could eat hot dogs if he went to kid jail.  No hot dogs, I told him.  No good food at all.

For breakfast!

Homemade Blueberry Pop Tarts
adapted from King Arthur Flour & with inspiration from Smitten Kitchen
makes about 9

Whisk together:

• 1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 2 T. ground flaxseed
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon salt

Use 2 forks or a pastry cutter to work in:

• 1 stick unsalted butter, cut into pats

Whisk together:

• 1/2 c. olive oil
• 1 large egg
• 2 tablespoons milk

Add oil-egg-milk mixture to flour mixture and stir briskly until mostly incorporated.  You can knead it a couple of times if you like.

Divide the dough in half and shape each a rectangle.  Chill in the refrigerator for 10 or 15 minutes, then roll out first one rectangle and then the other to a rectangle about 1/8″ thick measuring 12 x 15 inches (use a cutting board or baking sheet as a guide).

While dough is chilling, prepare filling by placing in a small saucepan, stirring well and heating to a boil for one minute:

• 2/3 cup blueberry jam
• 1 t. cornstarch dissolved in 1 T. water

Let filling cool.  Lightly oil a baking sheet and set aside.

Removing dough from refrigerator, use a sharp knife or a pastry wheel to cut 9 approximately same-sized rectangles.  Repeat with second rectangle of dough.  Brush outline with:

• beaten egg

then place a tablespoon of filling in the center.  Put another piece of dough on top, then press and crimp edges with a fork and poke a few holes on top for ventilation.  Put each on the prepared baking sheet.

Preheat oven to 350.  Refrigerate pastries for 15 – 20 minutes, then place directly into oven and bake for about 30 minutes or until lightly golden.  Remove to rack to cool.

If you really want to be able to prepare these in your toaster, you probably should stop here.  But if you just want them to enjoy them without the actual use of a toaster, go ahead and make some sugar glaze and then top with colored sugar or sprinkles before eating them all in a carbo-loading festival of self-loathing and -pity at your horrible parenting surprising your little angels with them for a special breakfast treat.

If there’s a food habit I could break, it would be stealthing food into my children.

I’d so much rather have them happily eating their own vegetables to the tune of,

“Oh mama, how we do appreciate the organic local goodness you get for us, never mind the expense.  Could you pass the broccoli and sesame sauce for dipping?  It’s simply divine!”

I’ve seen children like this.  I see the looks their parents give me when I tell them what my #1 son’s food repertoire consists of.  Oh yes, I see the looks they exchange with their friends, smug and sure that their superior parenting skills have produced adventurous eaters.    I’m sure they’re right, and not for one minute do I wish anything unpleasant upon them, like maybe a child who develops a midnight yodeling habit or becomes possessed by the spirit of Vlad the Impaler.

I try.  I put the vegetables on the table in a casual way, and when the caterwauling begins I nonchalantly suggest they try one bite.  Then, while they’re convulsing on the floor and crying, I shrug.  I say, “It’s up to you how you get your three healthy choices.”

But I want them to eat vegetables.  So it’s squash in this and spinach in that and carrots in some other thing.  Like these scones, which embellished a King Arthur mix that someone had given me at the holidays.   They would have been good on their own (though I’d prefer that King Arthur leave the “natural flavoring” out of their mixes and just let real ingredients shine through), but the additions made them really yummy indeed.  And healthy enough that I fed them to the boys for dinner while guests were here this weekend, all of us happy that we had gotten away with something.

Carrot Cake Scones
Makes 8

Preheat oven to 425.

• 1 mix or basic recipe for 8 scones
• (please consult recipe for the amounts of butter, milk, etc. you’ll need for that)

Add to the mixed batter:

• 1/2 c. pureed pumpkin or butternut squash
• 1 c. shredded carrots
• 1/2 c. yogurt raisins (it’s what I had around – use what you like)
• 1/2 t. each ginger, cardamom

Press the dough into a circle 8 – 9″ on a baking sheet.  Cut nearly through into 8 pie-wedge type pieces.

Bake for 15 – 20 minutes, or until golden brown.  Frost with anything, or nothing.  I had some cream cheese frosting around from cupcakes last week, which was pretty darned good.  In fact, that was the only part Z. ate, proving that I just can’t win.

Why am I making sweets during a week that includes Restaurant Week, a foodie tour with a food-blogger who just moved to the area, AND our elementary school’s biggest sugarfest of the year?  Just no self-control around here at all, I tell you.

Still, the freezer clean-out continues while the local farmers are showing up with great fresh food and what’s a food-loving mom to do?

So it was 5-Minute Ice Cream with:

• 12 oz. apple pie filling from the freezer (you could freeze your own if there’s none lurking in yours)
• 2/3 c. soy milk
• 2 T. maple syrup

And it was Rhubarb Coffee Cake from the FarmPlate blog, using Champlain Valley Mill pastry flour, and olive oil for all but 3 T. of the butter.  (That’s Glenn Russell from the Free Press in the background beside E. eating his lunch.   Glenn was over to get a shot of a local food blogger in action.  E. insisted he also get a picture of his 2-hot dog, 3-strawberry lunch – we’ll see what makes the cut.)

And now for more eating.

I’ve long wanted to make this cake,  which I first had years ago at a celebration dinner with friends.  But  though it combines two of my very favorite flavors (strawberries and almonds), I was intimidated by making genoise, the classic European sponge cake that provides its layers.

My mother inspired me recently though, telling me that even though she didn’t think of herself as much of a cook, she could do fairly complex things because she knows how to follow the steps of a recipe.

I thought, I want to do that too.  And before I knew it it was Mother’s Day, and since these are tastes my mother also loves, Z. & I got in the kitchen.  We followed the recipe, making it just a bit healthier, and it was very, very good.

Fraisier Cake
(adapted from Joy of Cooking)
12 servings

Preheat oven to 350.

Grease and flour the bottoms of two 9 x 2″ round pans.

Sift together 3 times and return to the sifter:

• 1 1/4 c. whole wheat pastry flour or cake flour
• 1/4 c. sugar

Melt in a small saucepan:

• 1/3 c. clarified butter (I used 2 T. butter, and the rest olive oil)

Whisk together in a large heatproof bowl:

• 6 large eggs
• 3/4 c. sugar

Set the bowl over a skillet of very lightly simmering water, and whisk constantly until the mixture is warm to the touch (110 on a thermometer).  Remove bowl from the heat and and beat on high speed until very lightly colored and tripled in volume.  This will take about 5 minutes with the whisk attachment of a stand mixer, or 15 minutes with a hand-held beater.

In 3 additions, sift the flour mixture over the top and fold in with a rubber spatula.  (Unless your children relentlessly steal your rubber spatulas, no matter how many times you replace them, in which case you can use a wooden spoon like I did.)

Reheat butter until warm, and fold into

• 1 1/2 c. of batter, with
• 1 t. vanilla

until completely incorporated.

Fold into remaining egg mixture, then scrape into pans and spread evenly.  Bake until cake begins to pull away from sides of pans and top springs back when lightly pressed.  The JoC recipe says this should take about 15 minutes, but in my oven it took about 22.

Let cool on rack in pans for 10 minutes, then run knife carefully around edges to detach from pan, then let cool on rack completely.

While cakes are cooling, clean and slice in half:

• 3 c. strawberries

Set aside and whip until fairly stiff:

• 1 c. whipping cream
• 1 t. sugar

Get a rolling pin, and roll out until nice and flat (alternately, if you can’ t find your rolling pin no matter how you try, you can get a nice big cutting board and use your hands to create a nice flat circle that’s the same size as your cake):

• 1 tube of marzipan

Once cakes are cooled, place the marzipan disc (use a spatula to lift it from the board) on top of one cake.

Then place the strawberry halves, flat side down and cut side facing out, in concentric circles on top of the marzipan.

Place whipped cream on top, and then top with top layer of cake.  You can decorate the top with strawberries or extra marzipan or more whipped cream if you like.  It’s also traditional to drizzle some chocolate over the top.  I was told to put the plain round circle on there so that’s what I did.

And we ate it and were very happy.  Then Z. said it was time to, “put your hand way out and take a picture of ourselves hugging,” so I did that too.  Hope your Mother’s Day was just as sweet and silly.

It’s a cool night, the boys are sleeping, and the woolly caterpillar living in the bug house on the counter is nibbling on a clover leaf.  Why have I grown so fond of this thing?  Last night I actually found myself baby-talking it as I handed in new greenery.

Things are anyway mellow around here, and it seemed like a good night to start on my goal of using the cool nights to bake and freeze some stand-by favorites to have even when it’s too hot to bake.  I’m aspiring  to have a few dozen muffins, a big old batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, maybe a banana bread or two on hand.

Plus these biscuits, which are vegan, mostly whole grain, and a big favorite of E.’s.  With a kid like him, it’s nice to have a few argument-proof things in the freezer to throw on the table with some fruit and milk when whatever thing I’ve made for dinner is the cause of consternation.

Flax-Butternut Squash Drop Biscuits
Makes 24

Preheat oven to 475.

Whisk together:

• 1 c. whole wheat pastry flour
• 2/3 c. white flour
• 2 T. ground flax seed
• 1 T. baking powder
• 1/2 t. kosher salt

In a separate small bowl, whisk together well:

• 1/4 c. pumpkin or butternut squash puree
• 2/3 c. soy milk (or regular milk)
• 1/3 c. vegetable oil

Add the liquid ingredient mixture into the dry ingredients and stir just until combined – it will still be sticky.  Use two spoons to form walnut-sized balls and place on a baking sheet about 1 1/2″ apart.

Bake 8 – 11 minutes, until the bottoms are golden brown.  Cool and serve, or freeze.

While mine cool, I’m headed out for more fresh clover for our little pet.

What I probably should have made was strudel.   Sticky soft things do not go into baklava.  Nutty, crunchy, crumbly, sweet: yes.  Gooey and tart: no.

But today it was my turn to make the meal for our cohousing neighbors and I found myself stunned with spring sunshine and a taste for fresh food.  There was dessert to consider.  What if I made something with rhubarb?  But not a cake, and I didn’t feel like custard, and I wanted something to go with the Greek veggie burgers I was making.   Baklava is actually so easy to make, and why not with rhubarb?  Why not maple?

One of the great things about living in cohousing is that my neighbors tend to be an adventurous sort.  There are hard things too, of course, because we’re a feisty and passionate bunch.  But we’re very, very good at eating food around here, at trying new things, especially when they’re sweetened.  So why not rhubarb baklava?  I couldn’t think of a good reason.

Rhubarb Baklava
about 40 gooey pieces

Defrost 1 box of phyllo dough according to package directions.

Place in a heavy pot, bring to a boil, and then cover and simmer for 10 – 15 minutes or until very soft:

• 2 lbs. rhubarb, chopped into 3/4″ pieces
• 2 cups maple syrup

Strain the rhubarb very well, saving the liquid.

Preheat oven to 350.

Mix together in a medium bowl and place aside:

• 6 C. chopped walnuts
• 2 T. maple syrup
• 1 t. of ground cinnamon

Pour into a small bowl:

• 1/2 c. olive oil

Have a pastry brush ready.

Oil the bottom and sides of a large baking pan, at least 10 x 15. Place a sheet of phyllo in the pan and brush with a little oil.   Allow any overlap to hang out the sides. Repeat until there are 4 sheets on the bottom.

Spread one half the nut mixture across the phyllo, then repeat the layers of phyllo and oil until 8 more sheets are on the top.  Spoon the drained rhubarb on the top, then cover with 4 layers of phyllo and oil.  Spread the remaining nut mixture, and then place the remaining sheets of phyllo on top with olive oil brushed between.  Do not oil the top sheet.

Score the pastry in pieces using a razor blade, and follow up with a sharp knife, cutting all the way through. To make triangles: cut the pastry into squares, then, cut squares in half diagonally to make triangles.

Bake for 45 minutes, or until golden.  While it’s baking, heat the reserved syrup.

As soon as the baklava comes out of the oven, pour 2 cups of the hot syrup carefully over the entire pan.  It will crackle as it absorbs.  This is one of the most exciting parts of making the whole thing so be sure to take a moment for a satisfied grin.  But don’t burn yourself.

Allow the baklava to cool thoroughly and absorb the syrup before serving (at least 3-4 hours).  It’ll be a little goopy, but neither you nor your eaters will mind.

This is the time of year when I always reflect on having a non-existent religious upbringing.

Spring celebrations in my family meant a new Easter dress (I have no idea why since we weren’t going anywhere but am sure I insisted on it), matzo, gefilte fish (I liked the Manichewitz stuff from the jar – what can I tell you?), and an Easter basket with marzipan fruit and a chocolate rabbit in it.

But no matter what we believe, doesn’t this time of year just demand a celebration?  The mud and the returning birds, the fuzzy buds just starting to emerge on the trees, and the tulips’ leaves reaching for the light.  Every day a bit more sunlight and some other animal or plant awakens.  The garden is calling and already the days of snowsuits are passing.  Every year, these spring days are their own renewing miracle.

Z. and I were driving around last week, and he asked me what Easter was.  I started talking about spring and how people have celebrated the Earth’s waking up from winter for thousands of years, and I talked about how half of our family is Jewish and how the Jewish people celebrate surviving a really hard time during Passover and I mentioned the seders we’ve been to, and then I talked about how Christian people believe that this is when Jesus Christ came back to life and that that’s a very important holiday for them.  I was pretty sure that I had talked entirely too much, when Z. said:

“Mommy – I know the true meaning of Easter.  The true meaning of Easter is an ogre in a bunny suit and he gives candy to kids.  He loves kids!”

“Loves like to eat, or to play with?,” I wanted to know.

“That’s silly!  Who would he have to play with and give candy to if he ate the kids.”  [disbelieving giggle]

I’m pretty sure he didn’t get this in his pre-school class at our Unitarian Church, but who knows?

And we’re gearing up for the weekend.  Today I’m shopping for ingredients for a flock of assorted macaroons:

• Lemon-Almond
• Chocolate Coconut
• Maple

I can’t promise that they’ll all be free of crazy flavors.  I’m having a minor obsession with the idea of orange and star anise in the maple, though I’m sure I should restrain myself.

And then there will be colored eggs and deviled eggs and a potluck brunch and an egg hunt and Easter baskets that contain marzipan though neither boy likes it.

And then there’s the matter of finding the ogre and a bunny suit that will fit him so he can join us as we cavort in the mud.