fruit filled french toast

I have been promising J I would make him some more stuffed french toast for the last couple of weeks. School, work, the ever-present mountain of laundry rising up out of the hamper in the corner... somehow, getting up and making breakfast on the weekends get lost under the covers.

This time I was making good on my promise. And boy was it good...

You can use whatever fruit you like for the filling. If it slices well like bananas or pears then they can go right in, as is. For berries, they should be macerated first.

I just so happened to have some extra cream cheese frosting leftover from cupcakes I made for class earlier in the week. Thanks for the recipe, La. The cream cheese frosting was actually J's idea. And for topping I chopped up craisins and pumpkin seeds and had 2 varieties. The Joy of Cooking strikes again!

Cream Cheese Frosting: (makes 2 cups)
8 oz cold cream cheese
5 Tbsp soft, unsalted butter
2 tsp vanilla
2-4 cups confectioner's sugar (I didn't use as much as Rombauer calls for because I wanted the flavour of the cream cheese to be more present. Plus I don't like having things too sweet. This is going on cupcakes and french toast after all...)

Step one: Beat together vanilla, butter, and cream cheese.
Step two: Sift in sugar in batches.
Step three: Stir, stir, stir! Or if you are lucky and have an electric mixer or food processor... well then... that's just a lot easier, isn't it?

For french toast: (this is for two, multiply as needed)

4 slices of bread (I like challah or sliced country loaves)
Arrange your bread slices like butterflies and spread 1 Tbsp of cream cheese frosting on each facing slice.

Layer banana slices so that they rest overlapping but still inside the edge of the crust.

How to macerate berries:
Rinse and dry raspberries... or blackberries, or blueberries (you get the idea.)
Place in a bowl.
Mash for 10 seconds or until the once-berries are now kind of in between recognizable fruit and jam.

Squeeze about 2 tsp of juice from a lemon. See this post for a tip on a quick, easy, clean way to juice a lemon without any fancy gadgets.

Sprinkle 1-2 Tbsp of fine or superfine sugar. Mix together and check for balance of sweetness, acidity, and berry flavour.

Let stand briefly before spreading over the already existing layer of cream cheese on one side of the butterflied bread.

In a medium sized flat-bottom dish, prepare a mixture of 3 eggs, salt, cinnamon, and a splash of milk and stir vigorously with a fork.

After closing each sandwich, press firmly together before placing the bread in the egg mixture.

Wait for the bread to soak up the egg before flipping and repeating the soak up time.

Prepare a large non-stick pan, melting about 1 Tbsp of butter over medium heat until sizzling.

Transfer bread from egg dish to hot pan. Fry on both sides until golden and no longer releasing egg when poked with a spatula.

J and I wanted to try 2 different kinds of filling so when it was ready to come out of the pan I quickly cut each one in half and served up combo plates. They were quickly doused in maple syrup and whipped cream and gobbled down with indulgent glee.

Now I ask you, if pizza is a vegetable, is raspberry and cream cheese filled french toast a serving of dairy and of fruit?

Remember when I posted about the things I want to try this blustery winter season... well, the Roving Taster is a woman of her word. I've started making my way through the list. Some wonderful meals, deals, and steals I've been reading, eating, and writing about.

lavender/rosemary/candied ginger shortbread -

I got this recipe from a site called allrecipes.com. For years I have known them as a great reference library slash jumping off point slash inspiration board, especially of baking recipes. So I was not surprised to find this among one of the most highly used and reviewed off all the shortbread recipes I poured over.

I changed the rosemary it called for to some dried lavender I bought at Planet Organic when I was stocking up on spices the other day. I also used the lavender in a honey infusion that I basted a roast chicken with the other day. More to follow on that meal, my god...

molasses -

I use this in my sisters' sort of thrown together version

of ginger cookies. It changes pretty much every time I make them, but the same basic ingredients are there - molasses, butter, eggs, flour, powdered ginger, cinnamon, and cloves. Then I elaborate from there - usually Cognac, or vanilla, or other spices.

consommés -

As it turned out, a slow cooker I put on last Friday called for beef stock, and I had a trusty can of Campbell's Beef Consommé in the pantry so I used that in my Provencal Beef Stew. So good. Made a total bonehead mistake though. I grabbed cilantro instead of Italian flat leaf parsley so the stew was missing a little bit of something fresh to

pep it up at the end before serving. Might try to make my own consommé still.

Oh yes, and the slow cooker beef stew also called for a sliced bulb of fennel.

mulled fruit - I have yet to figure a way to include this into my cooking in the coming days. But I have a hunch it will likely involve mulled wine... Maybe, dear readers, if you're lucky, you'll be able to share some with me.

brulée-ing things -

I saw a kitchen blow torch for brulée-ing in the Lee Valley catalogue. A pilgrimage may be in order.

parsnip soup - was on the menu as the soup of the day at The Highlevel Diner today. I should have had it instead of the quiche of the day which was sadly uninspired but lacked any real flavour or texture. Boo quiche. Yay parsnip soup. I must make it myself to keep the cream and butter under control. I will try to keep it healthy yet delicious for the health-conscious among me with whom I plan to share this dish.

stuffed roast chicken -

I already mentioned that this bird was possibly the most delectable creature I've ever cooked. Seriously. And I cook with meat fairly often. For now, it must suffice to say that there was a lot of butter and honey involved. Oh yes, and it was lavender infused honey.

osso bucco -

I had this at another restaurant who's fault I don't think it was. But I was unhappy with it. It wasn't actually what I wanted. They were out of what I wanted (which was mussels...) so I ordered the braised lamb shank which was the osso bucco. But it just wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't what I felt like that night and it was a bad impulse. Don't you hate that? When you run out of time or have to change your order just before your turn because someone else at the table already ordered it... Maybe that's just me. I think if I try this then I will attempt a tomato base to cook the meat in after browning and then add olives as a feature flavour in the sauce. I think their saltiness will hold up to the robust flavour of the lamb.

Note to self: keep an eye out for osso bucco cuts at the market in the coming weeks. My hours have changed so now I can try to grocery shop for the week at the Saturday market.

homemade cannelloni -

I have a recipe in a copy of Cook's Illustrated I've got tucked away in a folder somewhere. I have discovered that I own more cookbooks that I have room to store them. New Year's resolution number 7: buy more shelves. Resolution number 8: learn to build IKEA shelves once ad for all.

chocolate and cheese soufflé (though not necessarily together) -

This one definitely should be photographed. Those who have expressed interest in photographing my cooking at home, this would be a very fun one to capture. Anyone interested?

lentils - I must learn my sister's recipe. She'll show me over the holiday, I'm sure.

flambé -

I should probably buy a fire extinguisher first. And know where it is in relation to my flambéing at all times.

something that when assembled spells my name -

I don't rightly know what made me put this in. Do-over. I don't really care if I eat or make something that required assembly in order to be a megalomaniac statement. If I suggested something with my name written on it, I think that would be just as interesting...

layer cake - maybe an apple crumb cake with caramel in between... or rootbeer icing... will commence my recipe research.

easy avocado enchiladas

I just learned that enchiladas were one of the recipes included in the first definitive Mexican cookbook, El cocinero mexicano ("The Mexican Chef"), in 1831. Wikipedia told me this when I went looking for info on the origins of this marvelous dish. They were informed, by the way, in "Tacos, Enchiladas and Refried Beans: The Invention of Mexican-American Cookery" published by Oregon State University.

Enchiladas are essentially any mixture of meat, fish, vegetables, or beans wrapped up in a soft (usually corn) tortilla and baked in a chili sauce. I have had them in many restaurants in Canada and even in Mexico. None have been all that memorable, save some that I once had cooked for me essentially out of someone's kitchen at a little beach snack bar somewhere near Manzanillo.

The enchiladas I like to make come from Mollie Katzen's "The Enchanted Broccoli Forest." First she explains the enchilada's basic components and construction. Then she gives three different recipes for fillings: Cheese with Surprises, Avocado, and Zucchini and Pepper. Honestly, as soon as I laid eyes on that avocado recipe my heart skipped a beat. I've never even tried the other two, though "with surprises" intrigues me a great deal.
Combine:
1/2 C fresh lemon juice
4 ripe avocados, coarsely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, minced
6 green onions, finely chopped (greens and whites)
3/4 C fresh cilantro (didn't have any so I used Italian parsley)
2 ripe tomatoes, diced
1 tsp salt
3/4 tsp ground cumin

Make this just before you're ready to assemble the enchiladas and fit them into a casserole to be baked.

Mollie Katzen also gives two different recipes for enchilada sauce - a salsa verde, which requires green tomatoes (perfect for a big crop in summer) and the red sauce which can be made as long as you have access to a few basic supermarket ingredients like ripe tomatoes and a red bell pepper. Sometimes I blend it smooth but today I left it chunky for a nice texture.

The enchilada sauce can be made ahead of time.

Simmer in a pot:
5 ripe tomatoes, diced
1 large red sweet pepper, finely diced
1 tsp. salt
5 cloves of garlic, minced
1/2 tsp crushed rep pepper, or chili pepper flakes
1/2 tsp. ground cumin

It's not in Mollie's recipe but I like to top the enchiladas with mozzarella or jack cheese before baking in the oven. Also, she covers with foil before baking and I leave the dish open to brown a little on top.

Tonight I paired the hot casserole with a quick spinach salad with chopped kalamata olives, big chunks of Starkrimson pear (a new discovery and positively delicious!), chopped green onion, and crumbled chevre. I made a vinaigrette of maple syrup, honey Dijon mustard, balsamic vinegar, and olive oil.


via Wikipedia:
Oregon State University -
http://web.archive.org/web/20070718154326/http://food.oregonstate.edu/ref/culture/mexico_smith.html. Retrieved 2008-07-14.

feels like fall

What an incredible autumn morning. This weather feels like no September that I can recall. Certainly not any September this far north. While I dream of butternut squash soup and cinnamon spiced things, I figure I might as well enjoy these warm, lazy mornings and make something special. So I am slowly baking a chocolate cake and leaving it as a surprise for a friend who put me up for the night. It's a getting random things done sort of day, so I get up early, clean her kitchen (which she will love even more than the cake, I imagine) and then get down to business.
This recipe came to me from a wonderful cookbook called The World Food Cafe, by Chris and Carolyn Caldicot. These two have traveled the world, seeking out authentic, inspired vegetarian dishes from Africa, India, and Asia. They have a restaurant in London that is spoken very highly of in online reviews from veggie sites, and I am eager to try the place myself next time I am in town. The Caldicots round out their beautifully photographed cookbook with a recipe that seems to come somewhat out of the blue. At the very end of the dessert seciond, before the ingredient guide and index there is a recipe for French Chocolate cake, or flourless chocolate cake. This cake, they write, is a staple for dessert in their resto, and so they thoughtfully listed it in their book. And lucky for me they did!
The cake is beautiful to will into its practically perfect existence. Simple, pure ingredients will always improve the quality of the dish being prepared, so I would always recommend substituting organic, locally, and or ethically produced food. Chocolate, butter, sugar, and eggs are just a few things that you are going to have on hand in your kitchen anyway. So why not try to be conscientious about where they come from. The bottom line of this aside is this: every little bit helps and the cake will taste better using better ingredients, not to mention the feeling such efforts instill in you.
Now, returning to the cake. watching the chocolate and butter melt and combine in a double boil gives you the indication that what you are making here is something special. The velvety mixture that results is every bit as decadent as the cake will be. Today I whipped the egg whites by hand, with a little help from my friends when my arms got too tired, which is in itself a magical sight to behold. Watching a substance change its constitution in front of your eyes is like watching a baby take its first steps (I imagine) and even though electric beaters get the job done faster, hand whisking will give you an appreciation for what those egg whites have just been through in order to puff up and remain suspended in stiff peaks. Adding sugar and yolks creates a rich, dense, custardy mixture. Then the chocolate and butter are combined with the egg and sugar. Darkness and light mingle together, swirling and marbling around the bowl as they combine and incorporate, fusing bittersweet chocolate with granulated sugar and eggs and milk. The whole mess goes into a greased spring-form pan and down into the hot oven.
While the cake does its thing I make notes on what's just occurred. I walk in my friend's garden, examining late summer tomatoes and basil. I clean up after myself, taking secret glee in cleaning the dishes in my own special order, knowing that I'm doing something nice for someone and she doesn't even know it. I sit and think and sip tea, watching over my beautiful cake as it does something amazing. With about ten minutes to go, I look inside the oven and see that the cake has been utterly transformed over the last hour of baking. From its humble start as a few simple ingredients, into a rich, liquid, velvety batter, to this puffed up, important, remarkably metamorphosed object in the presence of heat and time - I realize how baking is both science and wonderment all at once - to ultimately form cracks along its puffed up surface. These cracks will later become delicious when I take the cake out of the oven and the chocolate tower descends into dense, sunken secrets. This is not a souffle that wants to stay puffed for presentation's sake. This cake longs to retreat into the depths of the pan, sinking deeper into itself, into the dark chocolate places. This is a cake for an autumnal afternoon.