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Pecan-Bourbon Bundt Cake

1 Sep

There are cakes for children, and there are cakes for adults.  Cakes for children more often than not involve some sort of chocolate, and are frequently adorned with sprinkles or, well, more chocolate.  They are simple affairs, lacking in surprise, as per the preferences of children when it comes to their food, but nearly always enjoyable.

Cakes for adults are not simple.  They can share similarities with cakes for children, mind you, oftentimes also involving chocolate, but they might also involve things that children tend to greet with wrinkled noses and tightly shut mouths.  Things like coconut, glazes, nuts, soaking syrups, creams, custards, fruits, or booze.  Whereas cakes for children are generally seen as favorable by adults, cakes for adults are most often shunned by children.

This is a cake for adults.  Made to celebrate a friend’s birthday, the cake was decided upon as a primarily adult-centric treat, being as though it features not only bourbon and chopped nuts, but also a hefty does of bittersweet and child-repellant molasses.  Rich and moist, this is a cake that is best eaten in small, thin slices, it being not only incredibly buttery and indulgent, but also highly satisfying.  You can, of course, eat more than one slice—you can eat as many slices as you please, this being a cake for adults, and adults, as we all know, are perfectly capable of knowing their own limitations, am I right?—but I would be lying if I told you that I, unofficial president of the Cake Appreciators Coalition, was able to take in more than one slice of this decadent wonder.

It’s like a self-policing dessert, really.  Its sheer level of deliciousness and fulfillment, heightened by the sweet and crunchy layer of nuts nestled within each slice, and taken nearly over the top by the thick and intense bourbon and molasses glaze on top, is exactly what makes you unable—though not unwilling—to tackle more than once slice at a time.

But not more than once slice total, mind you.  For if you miraculously have any of this cake leftover from its initial presentation, a day’s digestion will certainly facilitate your ability to greet it once more with great welcome.

Pecan-Bourbon Bundt Cake

An absolutely perfect recipe from The America’s Test Kitchen Family Baking Book

In reality, this cake was actually enjoyed by several children who did not have to be at all coerced into eating it.  However, since the thick glaze on this cake contains bourbon (as does the cake itself, but since the cake is baked, the alcohol content in the bourbon is evaporated), I recommend removing the glaze from each slice of cake before it gets served to a child.  While it is true that the small amount of bourbon included in the glaze most likely won’t have any ill effects on a child, I like to err on the side of caution.

Nut Filling

1 cup (4 ounces) pecans, toasted and chopped fine

½ cup packed (3 ½ ounces) light brown sugar

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

Cake

3 cups (15 ounces) all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ cup buttermilk, room temperature

¼ cup light molasses

¼ cup bourbon (I used whiskey this time, and it was perfectly delicious)

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

2 ¼ sticks unsalted butter, cut into chunks and softened

1 ¾ cups (12 ¼ ounces) granulated sugar

3 large eggs, room temperature

1 large egg yolk, room temperature

Bourbon Glaze

1 ¾ cups (7 ounces) confectioners’ sugar

2 tablespoons bourbon

1 tablespoon light molasses

1 tablespoon water

pinch salt

Adjust an oven rack to the lower-middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.  Thoroughly butter and flour a 12-cup bundt pan.

In a small bowl, toss together all of the ingredients for the nut filling, then set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder, baking soda.  In a small bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, molasses, bourbon, and vanilla.

In a large bowl, beat together the butter and granulated sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3-6 minutes.  One at a time, beat in the eggs and the egg yolk.  Beat until combined, about 1 minute.

Reduce the mixer speed to low, and beat in one-third of the flour mixture, followed by half of the buttermilk mixture.  Repeat with remaining half of the flour mixture, followed by the remainder of the buttermilk mixture.  Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed, then add the last of the flour mixture and beat until just incorporated.

Scrape half of the batter into the prepared bundt pan, smooth the top, then sprinkle evenly with the pecan filling.  Scrap the remaining batter over the pecans and smooth the top.  Gently tap the bundt pan on the counter to settle the batter.

Bake cake on the lower-middle rack of the oven for 50-60 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through cooking.  The cake will be done when a wooden skewer inserted in the center comes out with only a few moist crumbs attached.

Allow the cake to cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then flip it out onto a wire rack.  Let the cake cool completely, at least 2 hours, until applying the glaze.

Once the cake has almost completely cooled, make the glaze by whisking all of the glaze ingredients together until smooth.  Allow the glaze to sit until thickened, about 25 minutes.  Drizzle the glaze over the top and sides of the cake, then allow the glaze to set before serving, at least 25 minutes.

Grilled Peaches and Sausages with Almond Herb Bulgur

21 Jul

There is a fierce debate amongst people concerning whether or not sweet and savory foods belong together.  I imagine this debate is much like the fracas surrounding the polarizing opinions people have about cilantro (It tastes like soap!  No, it’s delightful!), and, to be completely honest, I totally understand why.

Up until a few years ago, I, too, was not a fan of mixing my sweet foods with my savory or salty foods.  Oh, sure, I was amenable to a nibbling of sweet and salty roasted nuts, but, really, who isn’t?  My aversion to sweet foods that mingled with savory foods was more an issue of one component of the meal taking precedent over every other flavor aspect.  Salted caramels were always too salty, and sprinkling brown sugar or maple syrup on winter squash always seemed like a bit much to me.  If you tried to talk to me about pairing fried chicken with waffles and maple syrup, you could be sure that I would shut you down immediately.  No.  Don’t even talk about it

Then, right around the end of 2005, newly pregnant and completely and wholly averse to all foods everywhere, something happened to my taste buds.  At first I was repelled by food, unable to glimpse any food at all without feeling like my stomach was going to violently force itself out of my body.  Then, after 100 solid days of nausea, I emerged from my unintentional fast as a timid and cautious eater.  Cut to around six months in, my taste buds all out of whack and not craving certain foods so much as certain sensations, and suddenly I could be found standing in the middle of the kitchen, spicy grilled chicken breast in once hand, bowl of vanilla yogurt in the other, dipping meat into what was essentially tart vanilla pudding and imploring people to try this new concoction of mine because, oh, man, it was so mind blowingly good, you just couldn’t believe it.  Sad to admit, I ended up enjoying that particular combination of foods on more than one occasion.

Five-plus years later, I’ve now developed quite an affinity for the savory and the sweet combined together, though in much subtler form.  Though I still don’t see the point of sweetening up a nice, innocent winter squash, I definitely see nothing wrong with letting the sweet mellowness of fruit sit alongside a piece of grilled meat.  Peaches, in particular, with their affinity for being grilled, are a perfect companion for savory grilled sausages, and, when sharing a plate with a light and herby side dish, it’s tough to imagine a more perfect combination of savory, salty, and sweet.  Well, unless you choose to eat this, of course.  Or this.

Grilled Peaches and Sausages with Almond Herb Bulgur

2 peaches, cut in half and the pits removed

4 link sausages (I used chicken fontina sausage, which was fantastic)

1 cup fine bulgur

2 ½ cups boiling water

½ cup gently packed fresh herbs of your choice (I used parsley, mint, and basil), finely chopped

¼ cup whole almonds, coarsely chopped

½ tablespoon butter

salt and pepper to taste

In a medium bowl, combine bulgur with boiling water.  Stir to combine, then cover tightly and allow to stand for 30 minutes.

Heat an outdoor grill or a grill pan on top of the stove to medium high heat.  Brush the surface of the grill with vegetable oil.  Place peaches on the grill, cut side down.  Place sausages on the grill.  After 3 minutes of grilling, gently turn over one peach to see if grill marks have formed.  If grill marks are visible, turn over the remaining peaches, and continue to grill for another 3-4 minutes, until peaches appear juicy  and soft.  Remove peaches from grill, and continue to grill sausages, turning occasionally, until they are cooked through.  After being cooked, both peaches and sausages should be removed to a plate and covered.

When bulgur has soaked for 30 minutes, fluff with a fork and taste for doneness.  Bulgur should be soft and fluffy in consistency.  Drain bulgur in a fine mesh sieve to remove any remaining water, then return to the bowl in which is soaked.  In a small pan, heat butter over medium low heat.  When butter has melted, add chopped almonds and gently fry in butter, stirring occasionally, until almonds have started to brown, about 3 to 5 minutes.  Add almonds to bulgur.  Add chopped herbs to bulgur.  Add salt and pepper to taste, and toss to combine.

To serve, slice each sausage on the diagonal into oval coins.  Slice each peach half into fifths.  Serve peaches and sausages on top of bulgur, pouring over any juices that collected on the bottom of the plate on which the peaches and sausages were resting.

Serves 4.

Cherry Almond Strudel

18 Jul

Do you enjoy seemingly infinite layers of shatteringly crisp phyllo?  What are your feelings concerning rich, dark cherries?  How about a dash of almond in each bite playing off of the lingering almond scent of cherry pits?  You approve?  Great!  You want to make this.

But then there’s the other side of the equation.  Pitting a pound and a half of cherries.  Layering each sheet of phyllo, brushing it with butter, and then sprinkling it with a dusting of ground almonds and spices.  Repeating that process many, many times.  Maybe you don’t want to make this.

But, wait!  You do!  I know this strudel might look like something only a person who is really into self punishment might attempt, but I swear to you that, start to finish, it’s really not all that time consuming or difficult.  Yes, I pitted a pound and a half of cherries by cutting each cherry in half and removing the pit by hand, one by one, but the entire operation only took me, start to finish, fifteen minutes.  And, true, layering the sheets of phyllo and then brushing and sprinkling each one can seem like a monumental task, but, in reality, it’s not the type of activity that one needs a graduate degree in Food Science to complete.

Again, it’s a process that will take you fifteen minutes, tops, and you certainly won’t be any worse off having taken a stab at it.  In fact, at the risk of sounding like a complete loon, I actually enjoy the process of methodically layering phyllo.  Perhaps it is the repetitive nature of a rather short task that produces immediately, visible results, but I find the motions rather soothing.

But forget all of that.  Whether or not you fear the task of making this strudel, I can assure you of one sure thing: you will definitely, without a doubt, immensely enjoy eating this strudel.  Again, flakey layers of crisp phyllo.  Plump and perfect cherries.  Sweet, syrupy juice mingling with a hint of almond.  No, really. You want to make this.

Cherry Almond Strudel

½ pound of phyllo sheets, defrosted if frozen

4 tablespoons melted butter

½ cup finely ground almonds or almond meal

½ teaspoon cinnamon

½  cup dark brown sugar, divided

1 ½ pounds cherries, cut in half and pitted

2 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/8 tsp almond extract

pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.

In a large bowl, combine ¼ cup dark brown sugar, pitted cherries, tapioca, lemon juice, almond extract, and pinch of salt. Toss to combine thoroughly, then set aside.

In a small bowl, combine ground almonds, cinnamon, and remaining ¼ cup dark brown sugar.  Reserve 1 tablespoon of mixture and set aside.

Cover unrolled phyllo stack with a lightly dampened kitchen towel (this will keep the phyllo from drying out as you work).  Take two phyllo sheets from stack and lay them down on your parchment-lined baking sheet with a long side nearest you (keeping remaining sheets covered as you work) and brush lightly with butter.  Evenly sprinkle surface of buttered phyllo with a heaping tablespoon of ground almond mixture.  Continue layering, buttering, and sprinkling in this fashion until all of the phyllo sheets have been used.  The number of layers you will have will depend largely on the size of your phyllo sheets.

When all of the phyllo has been layered and prepared, spoon the cherry mixture on top of the phyllo stack, doing your best to arrange most of the cherries on the long half of the phyllo that is closest to you.  Carefully roll the cherry-topped phyllo sheets into a large log, tucking in the short ends as you go.  Arrange the roll seam side down.

Brush the top of the strudel with the last drops of melted butter, then sprinkle with reserved tablespoon of almond mixture.  Using a sharp knife, cut two or three steam vents along the top of the strudel.

Bake strudel in center rack of oven for 30-40 minutes, until cherry mixture is bubbling and the strudel is a deep golden brown.  Cool strudel on baking sheet for at least 30 minutes before attempting to cut and serve.