There are many different kinds of lemons. You have the common Eureka and Lisbon. Yen Ben has low seed count, the Pink Lemon well, is pink, the Asian yuzu and of course my favorite, the Meyer is a crossbreed of lemon and mandarin. But when life wants to give you those lemons, essential life just wants you to suck it.
And my god is it bitter.
And this Bitter Chick has been recently given numerous cases of lemons and has no want to make lemonade.
So my story begins. Youngest. An aspiring pastry chef in the city of Chicago, who loves five things most in life. One. Pastries. Two. Pork. Three. Good Beer. Four. Shopping. Five. Well, my mom reads this so we shall stop at four.
With that said, there are two things that scare ALL pastry chefs. One. Vegans. Two. Diabetes.
Has this Bitter Chick traded her Michael Kors for Birkenstocks and her knives for a hacky sack? Goodness no. But, I currently have been tested for diabetes.
MY initial response went something to the tone “What the….”
I’m in my mid to late twenties, thin, active, and have absolutely no family history of the disease. But apparently, diabetes fears no family legacy and claims any at will. Granted, many live long healthy lives with this incurable condition. Granted, with the help of my friends and family I know that if the hand is not in my favor, I will prevail.
I suppose I can only laugh at this ironic turn of events. As I sat there and had the doctor explain to me the tests and what exactly they were looking for, I made a decision. Regardless if I have diabetes or not, I will continue to make the best pastries I am capable of creating. I will learn moderation and NOT eat the entire log of perfectly made foie torchon with house made apricot mustardo. I will not give up my dream of eventually having my own shop nor hinder myself from dining out. (Perhaps I will limit myself to going to Alinea once a year…not twice in one month) I will not allow some silly glucose deficiency control my life nor hinder what is destiny! Vive la pastry, vive la Bitter Chick!!
Perhaps it was an epiphany, or maybe I was just lightheaded and slightly delusional due to them taking four vials of my blood….
Regardless, a lesson today was learned; and the results still not known. My love of food will not be shaken. Now give me that damn lemon. I’m going to make lemon bars.
-Youngest
Lemon Bars:
(Recipes compliments from the one and only Emily Luchetti who I had the privledge to work for at Farallon in San Francisco)
Yield: 24 bars
Crust:
1.5 cups all-purpose flour
.5-cup confectioner’s sugar
6 oz unsalted butter
Filling:
6 eggs
3 cups sugar
1 cup + 2T fresh lemon juice
.5-cup all-purpose flour
Method:
For the crust:
Preheat oven to 325F. Place confectioners sugar and all purpose flour in a mixing bowl with the paddle attachment and beat on low speed. Add the butter and continue to mix until the butter is the size of small pea, about 30 seconds. The mixture will be very dry. Gently press the mixture evenly onto the bottom of a 9X13 inch baking pan. Bake until golden brown, 20-25 minutes, then allow to cool to room temperature. Reduce the oven to 300F.
For the filling:
Whisk eggs and sugar till smooth. Add lemon juice and then the flour. Pour the filling on top of crust. Bake till set. Place I refrigerator for 1 hour. Cut into squares and dust with powdered sugar.
With the holidays approaching at a rapid speed, usually one thinks of family time, turkey, traveling, Black Friday, that creepy uncle that always hugs you a little too long….
Because I work that day, I will be serving an ungodly amount of food, mostly pie to the masses attending my hotel. Seeing the pure gluttony of Thanksgiving has somewhat jaded me about my favorite holiday and I still have yet to recover from last years experience. I still can’t look at Pumpkin pie the same anymore; post traumatic disorder doesn’t even cover it.
Regardless if I wont be stuffing my face with endless amounts of duck fat rosemary rubbed turkey, cranberry star anise orange compote or skillet cornbread, I do feel that I have things to thankful for this past year.
So here it goes.
The Twenty Things this Bitter Chick is Thankful For:
20. Aioli. The perfect companion to fries. Ketchup never stood a chance.
19. Smores cupcake at Molly’s Cupcake. Sitting on the swing.
18. Grilled Cheese Bacon Sandwich at Foor Moons with Sparky bringing me my Blue Moon.
17. Lost in Translation at The Drawing Room. A delicate Yuzu cocktail and an adorable Charles Joly making it.
16. Buenos Aires and their Havana Chocolate Treats in which I filled my suitcase up with when I departed.
15. Monday night Swirls with The Puerto Rican Princess.
14. Vive la Frenchie screaming “no titties” when I make macarons.
13. Alinea’s bacon nougat and to Chef de Cuisine Dave Beran’s ability to deal with Princess Katina’s friends.
12. Katina (my moral compass), Dom, and Pizza
11. The Bristol Boys and their fine establishment
10. Chef Norman Love and his static application on chocolate
9. Our new oven in our shop and The Good German who believes in his staff and bought it for us.
8. Mango Rice Cake at Urban Belly
7. Schwa- for beating out WD-50 and giving me a great story to tell. (To the best worst meal ever)
6. Olivia’s beef carpaccio and of course, Chef Morgan “Dish” Angelone at the helm.
5. My staff that has stuck it out this year with all the changes and challenges- you know who you are and lets keep it up.
4. My 20” wedding cake cutting knife I found at Midwest Cutlery. Buttercream has met its match.
3. Chef Celine Plano. She saved my life and pastry soul this year. Hands down.
2. Homemade Biscuits on Mica’s deck with my roommates. (grated frozen butter into the dry mix…pure flaky genius)
1. Eldest
I have been considered to be a competitive person; I don’t necessarily agree. But then upon reflection, I have been known to say “In it to win it.”
My three partners in crime had decided that we had gone too long without a night out. So, The Puerto Rican, The Grecian, The White Girl, and myself set a date.
Where was this absurd quartet outing to take place? None other than one of the most respected and outstanding restaurants this side of the Mississippi.
Alinea.
24 courses. Wine Pairings. Pre-game cocktails. In heels.
The winner. Gets a pony.
These ladies were going to be difficult to beat. They were true competitors; well despite the Puerto Rican. She only weighed in at 102.
I can’t remember the last time I actually sat down and had more than five courses. That and I hadn’t seen the inside of my gym in three weeks…ok, dammit six. And then there was the dress and heels part. Fine, give me a pair of sweatpants, my couch; Game Time. But no, not only did I have to dress well, I had to behave well. We all had friends that worked there and made us swear we would be on out best behavior as they pleaded, “PLEASE, go to Schwa! Anywhere but here!”
To prepare for the evening I visited my local Banana Republic and favorite gay personal shopper. We planned to look great, but also made a conscious effort to pick an outfit that could fit what my ladies and me call our “food babies.” Next up, Neiman Marcus for NARS makeover. Unfortunately for me, my regular girl was off so I made the dumb idea to try another. One hour later, I looked like a raccoon or a Russian hooker (the results from the poll are not yet in, and no offense to Russian hookers but they do love their black liner!) and quickly hurried home to scrub my face off.
The night started with Krug and cheers to one of the most memorable evenings of 2009. Well, we hoped to remember it.
Honestly. After working in fine dining for years, I don’t care to have endless courses, snobby service, and high price tag experiences. Alinea is none of these- perhaps not the price tag. But, well worth it.
Dave Beran, the Chef de Cuisine, is remarkably talented. The food was fun, beautiful and MOST importantly, flavor forward and balanced. Our wonderfully attentive Captain, Colleen, made sure that we received everything perfectly and timely. Last but not least, Richard, our sommelier who beckons the spirit of Edward Scissorhands sans scissorhands, was informative and a perfect gentleman. (Despite calling me a light weight. I suppose I shall forgive him.)
The highlights: (a.k.a. things that were badass)
Pork Belly with Thai Distillation
White Truffles with Scrambled eggs, and risotto, and mashed potatoes, and taglitelle.
Dried Spicy Peanut Butter
Matsuake with Toro
Hot potato Cold Potato
Bubble Gum in a tube (don’t mind the noise… and Grecian Princess screaming to Puerto Rican Princess “You have to suck harder” as the dining room went quiet.)
Chocolate with BACON NOUGAT. (In caps because it was the most amazing thing I have EVER had….still waiting on the recipe from Sir Beran.)
My appreciation for the individuals that work so diligently at Alinea is endless and the experience that they provide is truly astonishing. Complements to the Chef and a warm thank you to the service staff.
But allow me to get to what is most important.
Who won the pony?!
In brief, after a four-hour dinner, numerous drinks at other fine establishments and back to Alinea to have after shift drinks (or bottles) with their crew; at 5am my little Grecian took the prize.
We are so very proud of her.
-Youngest
[The topic of this article was initiated by the Youngest in order to instigate the Eldest to finish it off. And that, she did. Thanks, Yo.]
- The Eldest
Over the years I have acquired quite a cookbook collection. Perhaps that is an understatement.
Correction. A cookbook library.
These are not just merely for decoration, or to have for random references to pull out on game night. These beautifully bound pages chronicle different styles, techniques, moments of my journey through Pastryland. Each one offers a friendship and hope that help me through creative block moments. As each page unfolds my eyes grow wider. New inspiration unleashes itself and an idea is born.
I can admit that I went through what I would like to call my “snobby” phase. Only fine dining cookbooks would suffice my urges and of course all the Pierre Herme collection. Then there was the “informational” phase; the one stop scientific shopping, Harlod McGee’s On Food and Cooking and The Sweet Kitchen. Vintage was in and Maida Heatter was all the rage. Books over $250 was a brief addiction but due to the lack of funds a quick kick in Martha Stewart and then a right hook into everything Spanish. The green monster, Ramon Morato’s Chocolate, as I call it, still leaves me breathless and bursting with creative fruit flavor.
But overall, the book that I at times crawl into bed with and slowly turn the pages of after a hard service or a fight with a friend…
The Last Course by Claudia Flemming. She is my Judy Bloom.
I will never forget the day I came across her book. I was living in Boston and was cruising the cookbook section of Borders. Basically, the porn isle for chefs.
A simply cover with three miniature pictures on front. A delicate blueberry tart, perfectly caramelized pineapple, and a mouth watering waffle. Perfect. Delicate. Simple. The book fit perfectly in my hand and all the way to the register.
Claudia Flemming, the former pastry chef of Gramercy Tavern, is an inspiration to me. Sure doesn’t use fancy hydro-collides, or use high-tec equipment. She uses the basic knowledge of good pastries, great products and gracious execution as her guide. But more importantly, for me at least, is that this book reached out to me and made me realize pastries could be simple and sexy. After working in ultra-fine dining you think a completed plate has fifteen components, when really it could just have one and be just as mind blowing. From her chestnut honey Madelines to the salted caramel chocolate tart all to her goat cheesecake, this book consistently provides foolproof recipes that any cook, professional or home, would be proud to create.
So, I leave you with a recipe from Mrs. Flemming. Jot it down, save it for later. But I promise you will be pleasantly surprised at the pure brilliance of her work.
You can thank me later.
-Youngest
Lavender Lemon Pound Cake:
1cup butter
4T dried lavender
5 eggs
1.5 cup sugar
1.5 cup + 2T cake flour
¼ t salt
1T lemon zest- grated
1t vanilla extract
¼ cup lemon juice
Method:
Preheat the oven to 350F. Butter and flour a 9X5 loaf pan. Melt 1T of butter and steep the dried lavender with it for 10 minutes. Strain and cool.
With the whisk attachment- whisk the eggs and 1 cup sugar until thick and pale.
Sift the flour and salt. Fold the lemon zest and a third of the flour into the egg mixture till combined. Fold the rest of the flour in two batches. With one cup of the batter whisk with the melted butter and vanilla extract. Pour back and mix into the original batter. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Bake the cake until tester comes out clean. Meanwhile, combine ½ cup sugar, lemon juice, and ¼ cup water to a simmer. When the cake comes out of the oven brush the lemon juice mixture on top, when slightly cooled take the loaf out and brush again (top and bottom) with the lemon glaze.
My Love/Hate Relationship:
There is a very thin line between love and hate. Because both emotions require such a large amount of energy from oneself; they are somewhat one in the same. The truly scary part is how easily the transfer can be made. It can happen in an instant- and you weren’t even aware anything transpired.
There are two things in this world that I love and hate the most.
Macaroons and boys with tattoos.
You see, macaroons are one of the most beautiful and fickle things in the world. You could do everything right from blending your TPT flour to the proper consistency to folding your whites in correctly but still they refuse to give you that perfect uniform foot. You just want to cry and bang your head against the table. Why would they do this?! Such betrayal! It’s heart breaking really! I just don’t understand… I did everything right!
But in that moment where you see them uniformly rising in the oven like perfect discs you raise your hands to the gods and praise yourself for such amazing ability. When you get to take them out of the oven and fill them, you notice how perfect and delicate each one is. This is a truly religious experience.
The same thing applies with boys with tattoos. Well, more or less.
I have seen macaroons made a hundred different ways. One to two to three additions of egg whites in some sort of fashion be it in a meringue or just plain whites. Mixing, straining, pulverizing your almond flour, silpats, fiber glass, parchment paper, flat sheet pans, metal trays, rationale or convention oven, air or proofer drying, you name it, I’ve tried it. And I think I found the perfect way. You see, I have found it best to use old egg whites, at roomtemp. Using a convention oven with a low fan. Super flat metal sheet trays with very thin fiber mats. And for the one real trick that is the opposite of what I have always been told. Don’t be gentle and easy when folding in meringue. Beat the living shit out of it. Look for a beautiful shine and proper piping consistency. Allow to dry out- place in oven and bake till set. Pure perfection.
Which comes to my second love/hate relationship.
Boys with tattoos.
I’ve tried all things, being aloof, super “fun girl”, self sufficient, one of the guys, inappropriate, thoughtful, and still haven’t found the perfect way to woo. Boys with tattoos, and perhaps even ones without, are indeed super fickle. I can’t dry them out in a 240F oven hoping that they will mature or hell, blend them to the proper consistency so they don’t act so self-important. Trying different sheet pans attempting to make them more consistent in their affection and altering drying out times to see if maybe they learn how to take a proper girl out. Perhaps, changing the ratio of sugar will keep them from being so mean sometimes. I’ve even tried beating the hell out of them like my beautiful macaroons and again, NOTHING.
I’ve come to the conclusion that macaroons are overall the better of the two. They are beautiful, delicious, and if you treat them right, they never let you down.
Boys with tattoos... Well, piss off.
-Youngest
By Eldest
I usually leave all blog writing to the Youngest and stick to what I know, which is not much. But I had an itch to share something that has come to my recent attention.
When did it become socially acceptable to have important personal conversations solely via technology?
I am sure this topic is not new to you. Tons of articles have been written on this very subject. New human psychologies are being developed because of such a phenomenon.
Yes, technology has brought people together in ways we could never imagine. The world is moving faster than ever before, and we need technology to stay connected.
So, yes, we are lucky. We have the Internet, text messaging, the Facebooks, the MySpaces, the Tweets to help keep us together.
OK, fine.
But where do you draw the line between using technology to stay connected vs. using it to hide or deal with personal matters? Aren’t there just some things that are better dealt with live?
Perhaps, it is just me. But I think we have an epidemic on our hands. OK, perhaps I am being melodramatic, but I think we have a new recipe for social disaster.
It’s called the “Modern Chicken.” **
Modern Chicken Recipe
Prep: 20 min (the amount of time it takes “Modern Chicken” to draft his/her sorry ass message).
Cook: 40 min (time it takes to get “MC” to pull trigger… press send, return, post, etc; basting in alcohol or other liquids helps this process)
Cool: 10 min (this is what the “MC” thinks he/she is after sending out communication, which in fact he/she is not.)
Yield: 8 cups chicken and 8 cups broth, more than you will ever know what to do with
Ingredients
6 bone-in chicken breasts (about 4 pounds)
2 quarts water
1 garlic clove – optional
1 bay leaf – optional
2 teaspoons salt – optional
1 teaspoon pepper – optional
Optional items are not required since blandness is the typical form of taste for most “Modern Chickens.”
Preparation
Bring all ingredients to a boil in a Dutch oven. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 30 to 40 minutes or until done. Cool chicken slightly; remove and discard skin and bones. Chop meat, and store in airtight containers in freezer up to 3 months. Strain and reserve broth to use fresh or freeze, if desired. Broth may be frozen in airtight containers.
After cooling and prepping for storage, take your tush out for a drink with your friends or go order a pizza because you deserve WAY better than this.
We all know a Modern Chicken or two. Perhaps at certain times, you were a chicken yourself. But I have to tell you, you gotta stop. It’s not appetizing.
Modern Chickens just leave a bad taste in my mouth. Perhaps it is because I have had enough helpings for a lifetime.
My rooster of a father decided to tell me he was getting remarried in 3 weeks by sending me a voice message. A past boyfriend was too chicken shit to break up with me live, so he did it via email. And just recently, I have been asked out by a number of dry cutlets via txt message and sad Facebook pokes and postings. I have officially lost my appetite.
Seriously, is it too much to ask to pick up the phone? Or better yet, to say whatever needs to be said to one’s face? Is it the fear of someone’s reaction that is going to cook you for good? But, wouldn’t you want the same courtesy?
Have some taste for peat sakes. We would all be a lot more satisfied if you did.
The Fortune is in the Cookie:
I don’t consider myself a superstitious person. Unlike my grandmother, I carelessly open umbrellas inside, frolic across a black cat’s path, and throw salt on my food... not over my shoulder.
I now consider myself a born again Superstition.
Let me set the scene.
Its 3am in Boston and despite better judgment, Eldest and Youngest enter a brightly lit and packed Boston Chinese restaurant, Chow Chau, with friends in tow. After a disappointing selection of Chinese treats and the famous dare (which may or may not have given me “the swine flu”) the bill arrives. We all know tradition. The bill is delivered with the perfect amount of fortune cookies for each person. Everyone grabs a cookie, cracks it open to find a fortune patiently waiting for them. The tradition continues as we all go around the table sharing our Confucius words of wisdom. So I do just that. I grab my cookie, thinking in my head that I’ll probably get one that says something to the effect of “I can’t believe you just licked that.”
I open the plastic wrapper. Slowly pull out my cookie. Crack.
Two days later. I got tested for swine flu.
But low and behold a week later it all started to make sense. My boss quit, and with that, a new chef was hired with the promise of real change and a new experience. One of my best girlfriends, Ms. Asian Princess, was returning to the states and residing in Chicago. My crush finally took notice. And Banana Republic was having a sale. Life was good. Really good.
It wasn’t until about a month later, did I tempt the gods again and order Chinese takeout. Once the food came and not being the most patient person, I immediately tore open the bag to find my little treasure. I slipped the cookie out. Crack.
SHIT.
I’m pretty sure my heart skipped a beat.
My mind starts racing. Love. LOVE? I mean, am I ready for this? Will I know? What about the fact that I am 99.9% at work all the time, do I even have time for this? But then again, if you really care about something you make time, right? Besides being a closet romantic, I ‘m also a raging commitaphobic who has some serious communication issues and acts aloof half the time. What if I act like ass and really mess this up? Will I be doomed to be royally alone forever?! I’m in some serious trouble here.
Then I realized my Moo-Shu pork was getting cold and I needed to get a grip. I figured I would take it slow, see what comes along and not think about how my eternal happiness was a stake.
Then it happened. LOVE.
You see; it came out of the blue.
It was a busy Friday night at work and my Executive Chef, The Good German (also known as the Bad German when he’s grumpy) and my new Executive Pastry Chef, Vive la Frenchie, wanted to see me in the office.
SHIT.
They had some news for me. Important news. They were sending me to a class with the one and only Norman Love. Norman Love is one the most talented and successful Chocolatiers in the World. He is no doubt in my top three. I would have the chance to learn from him for three whole days.
I was light headed, had the biggest butterflies in my stomach, and I felt as if I was on cloud 9. This must be Love!
And it was. Three days of class. Everything Chocolate.
Day one: Cakes! We started by building our petite gateaux of confit orange, milk chocolate, sable, chocolate biscuit, raspberry white chocolate crème, the list goes on and on. Large entremets- roasted banana, crème brulee inserts, and caramel mousse…. All built with the best techniques and ingredients.
Day two: molded chocolates. Various ways to decorate your molds, from airbrush, to splatter Pollack painting, swiping, luster dust, and STATIC ELECTRICITY. We create ganaches with the most beautiful textures and at the end of the day unmolded our chocolates to find jems waiting for you to sink your teeth in with the thinnest shell known to man.
Day three: chocolate garnishes. Chocolate roses, creating your own transfer sheets, more airbrush and not to mention the shiniest sexiest glaze you will ever see on a cake. (I mean seriously, you see the reflection of the building in the cake!)
Everyday I was falling deeper and deeper. I just couldn’t stop smiling. When I left class, I felt reenergized and excited about the day. This IS love; the feeling that anything was possible, especially when it came to pastries. Being the silly girl that I am, I automatically assumed it had to be some guy. But in the end, it was the opportunity of working with one of the most respected pastry chef that I learned it was the love of pastry and what it meant to me that was my fortune.
So what’s next? I’m not sure, but I’m quite hungry. I think I’ll order some Chinese food…
Three’s Company
In most cases, people have “types”. The consistent attributes that you find in those you are attractive to which presents a reoccurring theme. He’s funny, she’s blonde, they are absolutely out of their mind. I never felt that I had a “type”; I truly believe I am an equal opportunity relationship offender. I was indeed wrong. I have come to realization that every male that I seem to find attractive or have the silly idea that they are dateable; I find one similarity.
They have all had threesomes.
Coming from a fairly conservative family, I wonder to myself- how does the situation possibly offer itself to them. They always make it seem as if it was no big deal- “it just presented itself”. I suppose when opportunity knocks, these guys open the door to find two girls.
In doing more research on my scientific findings, I took to the streets and asked some friends. My girlfriends; none. (And ultimately that is why they are my girlfriends; I suppose besides eating family style, we don’t like to share much) My guy friends, 75%. For example, my friend Mr. High-five (obviously not his real name, but you know who you are.) had two in a year- and he exclaims with pure ecstasy “it was awesome.” His thoughts are “you have to try everything, Youngest. “ Sure, I’ll try veal brains, fried cockroaches, even morels if you get me on a good day; but this, I was out of my league.
Eldest inquires, how is it that you attract these types? My only thought is that I date mostly in the industry; cooks, chefs, servers, bartenders… To which most work very hard and play even harder and generally six drinks deep. Perhaps, with the new obsession with chefs and the “restaurant” business; women are just lining up to be with someone who plays with knifes and fire all day and willing to bring their friend Candy along. Being a female in “the industry” there is an amount of absurdity that is present, and you have the choice to laugh it off or just run for the hills. Give me a few more years of this and I’ll be nicely settled in the Rocky Mountains. Come over, sit by the fireplace and I’ll make you some hot chocolate and cake.
The Hot Chocolate: a thick velvet mixture of chocolate with a hint of almond. And homemade vanilla cinnamon marshmallows, of course.
The cake, Tres Leches. Three Milks.
A buttery white cake traditionally soaked in condensed milk, evaporated milk, and heavy cream. Topped with whip cream and generously powdered with cinnamon. A truly beautiful thing when executed correctly.
I would treat you to a Tres Leches that has been soaked in heavy cream, condensed milk, coconut milk, and a splash of Mount Gay, Barbados Rum. Topped with whipped cream with a hint of mascarpone, shredded fresh coconut and lime zest. One can change things up a bit- you could use cajeta, dolce de leche, passion fruit, goats milk, chocolate cake, the list is endless; ultimately to create another level of flavor to enjoy. I suppose you could do that with partners as well; one blonde, one brunette. One short, one tall. Ultimately, I gather that these males are looking for some sort of adventure, a new experience. I’ll stick to the Tres Leches. My favorite threesome.
Velvet Almond Hot Chocolate:
Yields: 2 servings
5oz cocoa powder
9.5 oz sugar
12oz heavy cream
3.5oz glucose
2T water
2T vanilla extract; preferably Madagascar
.25t salt
Half a vanilla bean, split and scraped
METHOD:
Heat sugar, cream, glucose, water, vanilla extract, salt and vanilla bean. Allow to simmer. Shut off and steep for thirty minutes covering the top with plastic wrap. Bring back to medium heat and whisk in cocoa powder. Cook for about 8 minutes on low heat and whisk consistently to ensure lumps work out and sauce will thicken. Strain. (IF needed burr mix with hand immersion blender)
Hot Chocolate:
10oz whole milk
1 cup toasted almonds- dark
METHOD:
Combine both in blender to create almond milk. Strain. Reserve 6 oz of almond milk.
6oz almond milk
6oz whole milk
1.4oz Chocolate Base
2oz 64% chocolate- or if you like it bitter, try Guanaja from Valhrona
METHOD:
Heat both milks together. Add the chocolate base and chocolate. Blend with immersion blender till smooth.
Vanilla Marshmallow:
.75oz sheet gelatin
4oz water
12oz sugar
6oz glucose
6oz honey
.25oz vanilla extract
.5T ground cinnamon
METHOD:
Place gelatin in cold water till clear and soft. Squeeze out extra liquid. Place sugar, honey, glucose, and water into pot and cook till 240F. Have egg whites in mixer with whisk and mix till frothy. When sugar reaches correct temperature add gelatin. Slowly pour mixture into whites and it is whipping. Mix on high speed till whips firm and increases in volume. Place in half sheet pan with parchment that has been well oiled. Allow to set up. Cut into small squares and toss in a mixture of half cornstarch half powdered sugar.
Tres Leches:
High Ratio Cake:
Yields: 2 -8” cake pan
20.5oz sugar
20oz cake flour
.75oz baking powder
.5oz salt
9oz milk
5.25oz eggs
6.75oz egg whites
.75oz vanilla extract
12oz butter
METHOD:
Cream your butter with your sugar till light and fluffy. Group together your flour, baking powder, salt and then your milk, eggs, whites, vanilla extract. Alternate adding these groups into your butter mixture. Be sure to allow to incorporate fully before another addition and be sure to scrape down your bowl. Place into pans that have been sprayed well with non-stick spray and bake at 300F till golden brown.
Tres Leche Mix:
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup coconut milk
1 cup condensed milk
.25c Mount Gay, Barbados Rum
METHOD:
Mix all together and pour over cooled cake and allow to soak overnight. (If you can wait that long…)
Fresh Toasted Coconut:
Fresh mature coconut
METHOD:
Take a wine key and screw all three holes of the coconut. Drain coconut milk from shell. Using a hammer, yes a hammer, carefully hit coconut till opens and reveals flesh. Carefully take meat away from the shell and using a peeler peel delicate long strips.
Whipped Mascarpone Cream:
.5 cup mascarpone cream
1.5c heavy cream
2T sugar
METHOD:
Place all in mixer and whip till medium peak.
To Finish:
Cut cake into pieces. Place a dollop of whipped cream on top. Zest a lime and place on top of whipped cream along with coconut.
