Friday, April 27, 2007

cherry chocolate cupcakes (cupcake bakeshop)

Cherry Chocolate Cupcakes
14 regular cupcakes / 350 degree oven

1-1/4 cups sugar
3/4 cup flour
3.6 ounces dark chocolate, 1/2 of a 200 gram bar of Valrhona 61% cocao
15 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
3 tablespoons cocoa powder, unsweetened
1 teaspoon baking powder
pinch of salt
1/2 cup dried cherries

1. Chop cherries and transfer to a small bowl. Cover in brandy and set aside to plump overnight.
2. Melt chocolate and butter over a water bath
3. add sugar and stir, let mixture cool for 10 minutes
4. Beat in an electric mixer for 3 minutes
5. Add one egg at a time, mixing for 30 seconds between each
6. Sift the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and a pinch of salt into the mixture and mix until blended
7. Fold in cherries drained of the brandy
8. Scoop into cupcake cups and bake at 350 F for 25 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean

Thursday, April 26, 2007

black-bottom cupcakes (vanilla garlic)

Black Bottom Cupcakes

Black bottom cupcakes are total classic Americana. Like chocolate and peanut butter cupcakes or tomato soup cake, many of us grew up with this classic dessert that came out of mom's oven. It's surprising you don't see these classics more often, but over time they've been pushed over by hipper, more contemporary flavor combinations.

I admit I'm guilty of this myself, new flavors can be so much fun to play with and the creation process is more entertaining than a clown car on fire, but there is something to be said for the classics.

Their elegant simplicity.

You can usually depend on your pantry for the ingredients as none of them are ever exotic or expensive. They're often simple recipes, and easy to put together. The perfect recipes for parents to teach their children.

However, the black bottom cupcake's taste is unique and unrivaled. Dark chocolaty cake, with sweetened cream cheese and chunks of chocolate? Common, throw this into an old tin lunch pail with a PB&J, an apple, and a box of juice and you are so set. It's the kind of dessert that brings out the child in you, and makes your children all the happier. You can guarantee they won't be trading lunches with any of their classmates.

I admit, I did put a bit of a modern tweak to this, I split the cream cheese mixture in half and while one half got chocolate, in the other I mixed in blackberry preserves. Fruit and cream cheese just go so well together and with chocolate cake, what's not to love? Both versions are great and should help please everyone you feed them too. They're perfect served with a big glass of milk.

If you're new to baking, looking for culinary trip down memory lane, or teaching a young baker in the kitchen this is the richest and tastiest way to go!

Black Bottom Cupcakes
Makes 21 cupcakes / 350 F oven

What You'll Need...
1 8oz package of cream cheese, softened
1 egg, room temperature
1/3 cup of sugar, plus 1 additional cup
1/2 cup of chocolate chips, roughly chopped
2 teaspoons of blackberry jam
1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour
1/3 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1 cup of water
1/3 cup of vegetable oil
1 tablespoon of apple cider vinegar or white vinegar
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

What You'll Do...
1) Preheat oven to 350 F.
2) In a bowl, combine the cream cheese, egg, and 1/3 cup of sugar and beat until light and fluffy. Split the batter in half, add the chocolate chips to one and the blackberry jam to the other.
3) In a large bowl sift the dry ingredients together. Make a well in the center and pour in the wet ingredients. Mix until just blended.
4) Fill the cupcake papers (or you can lightly grease with cooking spray a cupcake/muffin tray) 1/3 full with the chocolate mixture. Drop in a good dollop of the one of the cream cheese mixtures. Bake for 20-25 minutes. The cheese may depress into the cupcake a bit but don't worry about it.

brie and apple pancakes (passionate cook)

Brie & apple pancakes with crispy pancetta
(serves 4)

265 g plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp bicarbonate of soda
70 g sugar (I am sure you could even cut down to 40 or 30)
1 pinch salt
½ tsp cinnamon
284 ml buttermilk
2 medium eggs
90 ml milk
60 g butter (melted)
150 g brie (rind removed and finely diced)
1 apple (peeled, cored and finely diced)
butter (to fry the pancakes in)
4 dollops crème fraîche
12 thin slices pancetta

Combine the dry ingredients, the add the buttermilk, milk, eggs and butter. Just beat with a fork until thoroughly combined, do not over-work. Fold in the apple and brie dice and heat a non-stick pan. Fry the pancetta in a pan or in the microwave and leave to rest on some kitchen towel to crisp up. Ladle a quarter of the batter into the pan, cook until browning underneath and setting on the upper side, then carefully flip over and cook until golden.
Serve immediately with a dollop of crème fraîche and three strips of pancetta each.

raspberry scones (passionate cook)

Raspberry scones with vanilla mascarpone

RaspberrysconesBerries, berries, berries - always on my mind at the moment. Raspberries in particular, because they're just the most perfect fruit ever. No, really. Go to the market, buy some and sit down to admire them with awe. Perfectly formed little red balls, stuck together miraculously, each hiding a precious pearl ... and don't they have the cutest little hairs? Gorgeous, I tell you. In my next life, I want to be a raspberry. Problem is, their life expectancy is not very high. At least not in my house. So I might reconsider and reincarnate as something else.
Last week I was invited to a friend's house for baby chat. Couldn't help trying out a new recipe I found in Good Food magazine. These scones are a real treat as they're both easy to make and low in everything which is generally considered nasty: fat and sugar. A light and summery accompaniment for your coffee or tea and they travel well, so keep them in mind for your next picnic on the beach!

Raspberry scones with vanilla mascarpone
(makes 6 - 8 scones)

225 g self-raising flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 heaped tbsp caster sugar
50 g butter (diced)
200 ml buttermilk
100 g raspberries

Mascarpone cream (optional)
250 g mascarpone
1 vanilla pod
1 tbsp sugar

Preheat the oven to 220 C. Combine the flour, baking powder and sugar in a pan and mix through with a fork. Add the butter and rub between your hands until it has blended in and the flour mix resembles breadcrumbs. Fold in the buttermilk, again using your fork until well combined. Do not work the dough too long, though, you want it to remain light and fluffy. Take the raspberries and fold them in with the dough, using your fingers to push them in lightly without converting them all to mash. Be gentle, so the dough doesn't get too wet.
Divide the mixture in 6 - 8, only loosely shaping it to form round lumps. Do resist rolling them in your hands or pressing the dough together, the less you work it, the fluffier the scones will be. Place them on a non-stick mat and bake in the oven for 15 minutes, until golden brown and cooked through. Cool on a wire rack before serving.

For the mascarpone cream (if using) scrape the vanilla seeds out of the pod and combine them with the mascarpone and sugar in a bowl. Chill until needed.

chocolate-cherry cake (passionate cook)

Mum's chocolate & cherry "spitting"cake
(yields one 40 x 30 cm tray)

200 g butter (softened)
180 g caster sugar
4 yolks
2 eggs
120 g dark chocolate (melted)
60 g white breadcrumbs
200 g ground almonds
4 egg whites
400 g cherries

Preheat the oven to 175 C. Grease a (40 x 30 cm) baking tray and line with baking parchment.
Beat the butter and sugar until pale and creamy. Meanwhile, meld the chocolate in a bain marie or in the microwave and leave to cool slightly. Add the yolks and eggs, then combine with the chocolate.
Mix in the breadcrumbs and almonds, then beat the egg whites until stiff and fold into the chocolate dough.
Spread the dough evenly on the tray, then cover with the cherries, gently pushing them in about half-way.
Bake for ca. 40 minutes until a metal stick comes out clean when you insert it into the dough. Leave to cool and dust with ising sugar just before serving.

fudge brownies (101 cookbooks)

Moosewood Fudge Brownies

Heidi notes: I used 71% Valrhona chocolate. White whole wheat flour works great if you would like to substitute. I also added espresso powder, half of a large ripe banana, and about a cup of toasted walnuts (per Mollie's suggestions at the tail end of the recipe). I topped them with a sprinkling of walnuts before going in the oven as well.

Let soften: 1/2 lb. butter (don't melt it)

Melt: 5 oz. bittersweet chocolate. Let cool.

Cream the butter with 1 3/4 cups (packed) light brown sugar and 5 eggs. Add 1 1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract. Beat in the melted, cooled chocolate and 1 cup flour.

Spread into a buttered 9x13" baking pan. Bake 20-30 minutes (hs note: mine took 30) at 350 degrees.

Optional: chopped nuts, or 1 tablespoon instant coffee, or 1 teaspoon grated fresh orange or lemon rind, or 1/2 teaspoon allspice or cinnamon, or a mashed over-ripe banana, or none of the above.

Yet another option: instead of uniformly blending in the chocolate, you can marble it. Add chocolate last, after the flour is completely blended in and only partially blend in the chocolate. It looks real nice.

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

ricotta and orange tart (spittoon extra)

Ricotta and Orange Tart (Serves 6)
  • 200g plain flour
  • 50g icing sugar plus extra for dusting
  • 100g unsalted butter chilled and cubed
  • Grated zest of 1 orange, plus 3 tbsp orange juice
  • 2 eggs, plus 1 egg yolk
  • 350g ricotta
  • 55g caster sugar
  • 1 tbsp orange flower water
  • 140g good orange marmalade
  • 30g pine nuts
Pastry - mix the flour, icing sugar, cubes of butter and half the orange zest. Add the egg yolk and orange juice and mix until it comes together. Wrap in cling film and chill for 30 minutes.

Roll the pastry out on a lightly floured work surface and use to line a deep, loose-bottomed tin. They suggest a 35cm x 11cm fluted tart tin, mine is round. Chill for 15 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 180°C/fan160°C/gas 4. Line the tart with baking paper and baking beans and bake blind for 10 minutes. Remove paper and beans and bake for a further 5 minutes, until crisp and golden. Cool slightly.

Mix the ricotta, caster sugar and orange water, remaining eggs and orange zest. Spread the bottom of the tart with marmalade then top with the the filling. Sprinkle with the nuts. Bake for 20 minutes, until lightly set. Cool slightly and remove from the tin. Dust with icing sugar and serve warm.

duck with peaches and sesame noodles (rachel's bite)

Duck Steaks with Roasted Peaches
(serves 4)

Ingredients:
2 ripe peaches, halved and pitted
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil

2 duck breasts (about 1 1/4 pound total)
Toasted sesame oil
Cold Sesame Noodles (recipe follows)
Watercress, for garnish
Lime wedges, for garnish
Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Sprinkle the peaches all over with salt and pepper. Put them cut sides up on a baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil. Throw them in the oven and roast until the peaches are very tender when you stick a knife in them, 15 to 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, put the duck breasts on a cutting board skin side up and score all over in a tiny crosshatch pattern so that as much of the fat as possible will render and the skin will crisp. Season all over with salt and pepper and drizzle with sesame oil. Film the bottom of a large saute pan with olive oil and put the pan over medium heat. Add the breasts, skin side down, and cook slowly for about 10 minutes, until the fat is rendered and the skin is browned and crispy. Occasionally dump the fat out into a bowl. Turn the breasts and cook on the other side for 1 or 2 more minutes for medium-rare. Take the breasts out of the pan and put them on a platter to rest.


Cold Sesame Noodles
(serves 4)

Ingredients:
Kosher salt
1/2 pound dried buckwheat (soba) noodles
9 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1-inch piece of fresh ginger
2 garlic cloves
1 fresh red Thai chile or 1 jalapeno chile, minced, seeds and all
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce
6 tablespoons hot water
1 tablespoon chile sauce or 1 teaspoon sambal
1 tablespoon sesame seeds, toasted
2 scallions, white and green parts, thinly sliced on the diagonal

Instructions:
Cook the soba noodles in a large pot of salted boiling water. Cook until barely tender and still firm, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain in a colander and rinse under cold running water to cool. Drain the noodles really well, transfer to a wide serving bowl, and toss immediately with 3 tablespoons of the sesame oil.

Peel the ginger and garlic cloves and smack with the back of a knife. In a saucepan, heat 4 tablespoons of the sesame oil over medium-low heat. Add the ginger, garlic, and chile. Cook, stirring for a minute until the vegetables are soft and fragrant. Dump that into a blender along with the brown sugar, peanut butter, vinegar, soy sauce, hot water, chile sauce, and the remaining 2 tablespoons of sesame oil; puree and refrigerate until cold.

Toss the noodles with the peanut sauce. Sprinkle with the sesame seeds and scallions.

chocolate banana bread (rachel's bite)

Chocolate Banana Bread

Ingredients:
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened, plus more for the pan
2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, melted
2 large eggs
3 very ripe bananas
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9 by 5-inch loaf pan. Mix together th flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt ina large bowl. IN another bowl, cream the butter until lightened, then beat in the chocolate, eggs, bananas, and vanilla. Stir in the dry ingredients just until combined; do not overbeat.

Pour the batter into the loaf pan and bake until a toothpick stuck into the center of the bread comes out almost clean, 50 to 60 minutes. Transfer the pan to a rack and cool for at least 15 minutes before unmolding.

strawberry yogurt verrine (la tartine gourmande)

Strawberry Yogurt Verrine
(For 4 glasses)

You need :

    The yogurt:
  • 2 cups plain yogurt
  • 4 Tbsp brown cane sugar
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract

The strawberries:

  • 1 lb 2 oz strawberries, diced
  • 2 Tbsp muscat
  • 2/3 cup unsalted pistachios, in their shells
  • 4 Tsp brown cane sugar
  • Zest of 2 limes and the juice
  • Mint, chopped
  • The raspberry sauce:

  • 1 cup raspberry purée (or juice)/ or berry purée
  • 1 Tbsp cornstarch, diluted in 2 Tbsp water
  • A few drops of lemon juice
    • Steps:

    • Wash and dice the strawberries.
    • Shell and chop the pistachios coarsely.
    • Chop the mint.
    • Mix the sugar, lime zest, lime juice, muscat in a small bowl.
    • Add the strawberries. Place them in the fridge for 30 min to macerate.
    • Mix the yogurt with the brown cane sugar and vanilla extract. Keep on the side.
    • Heat the raspberry purée with a few drops of lemon.
    • Dilute the cornstarch in a few Tbsp of cold water and add to the warm purée. Bring to a first boil and stir until it gets thicker. Let cool and divide between four glasses.
    • Add the yogurt.
    • Add the strawberries and serve.

    frozen cherry mousse (sweet and savory)

    Frozen Cherry and White Chocolate Mousse

    - 1 1/2 tsp unflavored gelatin***
    - 1/2 cup sugar
    - 1 2/3 cup cherry puree*
    - 1/3 cup of juice from cherries*
    - 12 ounces white chocolate, chopped
    - 2 cups whipping cream
    - 3/4 cup powdered sugar
    - 1 tsp vanilla

    *Note on the cherries: I used the jarred morello cherries from Trader Joe's. It required just over one jar to get the puree, and that provided more than enough juice. I drained the cherries, reserving the juice, then tossed them into the food processor until I had 1 2/3 cup.

    **I used two disposable foil cake pans from the grocery store for the mousse. They were 12 inches x 8 1/2 inches. I lined them with parchment paper. I am thinking that one of my large baking sheets would have worked fine.

    ***For the record, this was the first (and probably last) time gelatin has ever entered my kitchen.

    Place juice in large saucepan. Sprinkle with gelatin and allow to sit for about 20 minutes. Add puree and sugar, stir over medium heat until mixture begins to steam, just shy of a simmer. Add white chocolate and mix until it has all melted. Stick in refrigerator for about two hours, stirring about every 20-25 minutes.

    When cherry-chocolate mixture is cool, beat whipping cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla until whipped cream has stiff peaks. Fold in cherry mixture, then beat briefly for another 10-15 seconds. Pour into the two prepared pans and freeze until firm.

    pomegranate orange blossom syrup (morsels and musings)

    Muhallabiah Mousse (white chocolate and almond)
    Anna’s very own recipe. Serve 6 in small portions.
    Ingredients:

    240g white chocolate
    1½ cups milk
    1 cup cream
    ½ cup sugar
    1 cup ground almonds (almond meal)
    1 tablespoon orgeat (almond syrup)
    ½ tablespoon gelatine
    Method:
    1. Bring milk, sugar, orgeat and almond meal to the boil. Remove from heat and allow to infuse for 20-30 minutes.
    2. In a heatproof bowl, sprinkle gelatine over 3 tablespoons of cold water and allow to go spongy (about 5-10 minutes).
    3. Melt chocolate.
    4. Strain milk mixture over a fine sieve to remove almond meal.
    5. Pour boiling water from an electric kettle into a saucepan, then place gelatine mixture over steam, stirring until gelatine has dissolved.
    6. Stir gelatine, chocolate and milk mixtures together.
    7. Whip cream until firm peaks form.
    8. Fold milk and chocolate mixture into whipped cream.
    9. Spoon into serving glasses and refrigerate overnight.
    10. Serve with generous spoonfuls of Pomegranate & Orange Blossom Syrup.

    Pomegranate & Orange Blossom Syrup
    Amended from Taking Tea in the Medina by Julie Le Clerc. Serves 6.
    Ingredients:
    ¼ cup slivered almonds
    ¼ cup slivered pistachio nuts
    ¼ cup pinenuts
    1 pomegranate
    2/3 cup sugar syrup
    1-2 teaspoon orange blossom water
    Method:
    1. Place all nuts in a bowl and cover with cold water. Soak for 1 hour then drain well.
    2. Halve pomegranate and remove seeds, being careful to discard the white pith.
    3. Combine sugar syrup with orange blossom water, then mix with nuts and pomegranate seeds.
    4. Chill well until serving.

    Muhallabiah is a milk pudding served all over the Middle East, but most of the recipes flavoured with almond seem to be Iranian or Lebanese. Since I served this dessert after a main course of fesenjân, a Persian stew based on pomegranates, I have to lean towards the Iranian influence.

    vanilla honey mascarpone mousse (peabody)

    Vanilla Honey Mascarpone Mousse

    2 Tablespoon half and half
    1/2 cup mascarpone cheese
    1 TBSP honey
    1 vanilla bean
    1 egg white
    1/3 cup granulated sugar
    1/2 cup heavy cream

    Cut vanilla bean in the half. Reserve the other half for later. Scape seeds from one half of the bean into half and half. Heat half and half in a sauce pan just until it starts to bubble and take off of heat. Let cool.
    Blend together the Mascarpone cheese and the honey. Pour the milk in the Mascarpone mixture and combine.
    Scrape the other half of the vanilla bean and put in cream, whisk to incorporate. Whip heavy cream and refrigerate.
    Whip the egg white and the sugar forming a glossy but not too stiff merginue.
    Pour the mixture of Mascarpone in the whipped egg white, using a spatula,
    combine gently.
    Fold in the whip cream and combine gently.
    Refrigerate for one hour.

    honey and orange mousse (64 sqft kitchen)

    Honey and orange iced mousse:

    Recipe:
    - 1 large egg + 3 egg yolks
    - 2 tsp orange zest
    - ½ cup wild flowers honey
    - 1 ¼ cups heavy cream

    Beat the eggs with the honey and the orange zest until fluffy and well incorporated. Beat the heavy cream to a soft peak. Fold gently the cream into the mixture with a rubber spatula. Freeze for 8 h in ramequins lined with plastic wrap. The mousse will never freeze completely, even if you let it for days in the freezer. Serve with orange rinds on top.

    strawberry mousse (taste and tell)

    Strawberry Mousse

    1 pkg unflavored gelatin
    1/4 c cold water
    1 pint strawberries, hulled and sliced
    1/4 c granulated sugar
    lemon zest
    1 c cream
    3 T powdered sugar


    Strawberry Daiquiri Sauce

    1/2 pint strawberries, hulled and sliced

    2 T granulated sugar
    2 t cornstarch
    1 1/2 T light rum

    lemon zest

    1. Sprinkle gelatin over cold water in a saucepan, let sit for 1 minute to soften. Stir over low heat until gelatin is dissolved. Remove
    2. Put berries, sugar, lemon zest and gelatin in a food processor or blender and puree. Pour into a bowl, and place in the refrigerator for about an hour.
    3. Beat the cream and powdered sugar until soft peaks form. Put 1/4 cream into berry mixture and stir. Fold in remaining cream. Chill for 2 hours.

    For the sauce

    1. Combine berries, lemon zest and sugar in a food processor or blender and puree. Put in a saucepan, adding cornstarch and rum. Whisk cornstarch to remove any lumps.
    2. Cook on medium heat, stirring often, until mixture thickens.
    3. Remove from heat and place in refrigerator until ready to serve.

    I LOVED this. It felt really light and refreshing (even though I know how much cream was in it!!) I loved the addition of the lemon zest to give it just a touch of that lemony flavor. I have been cooking with alcohol quite a bit lately, and although I don't drink it, I loved the daiquiri spin on the sauce. I had some extra cream left, so I made some extra whipped cream to serve on top, and it was wonderful. I also served it with a bit of fresh lemon zest on top, and aside from looking really yummy, it tasted very yummy!!

    mousse cake (cherryleader)

    White chocolate mousse cake with little red gems

    Adapted from Gorgeous Cakes of Annie Bell

    Mousse and Fruit
    400 ml double cream
    250g white chocolate, broken into pieces
    1 pomegranate, taken seeds out

    Sponge
    100 g plain flour
    pinch of sea salt
    6 large eggs
    150 g castor sugar
    1 tbsp pomegranate juice

    Bring the cream to the boil in a small saucepan. Pour half over the chocolate in a bowl, leave for 1-2 minutes to soften, stir until it is almost melted, then pour the rest over and stir until smooth. Leave to cool, then cover and chill for at least 1 hour.

    To make the sponge, preheat the oven to 180C and butter two 23 cm sandwich or deep cake tin with removable bases. Sift the flour into a bowl and add the salt. Put the eggs in a bowl and whisk for about 8-10 minutes using an electric mixer until the mixture is almost white and mousse-like. Lightly fold in the flour in two goes. Divide the mixture between the prepared tins, and give them a couple of sharp taps on the worktop to eliminate any large bubbles. Bake for 12-14 minutes or until the sponge is light golden, springy to the touch, shrinking from the sides and a skewer inserted into the centre comes out clean. The cake on the lower shelf may need a few minutes longer. Remove from the oven and run a knife around the edges to loosen them. Leave to cool, when the cake will sink a little.

    Given the delicacy of the sponge, the cake is best assembled on the plate you want to serve it from. Loosen both sponges using a palette knife and put one on a plate. Using an electric mixer beat the mousse until it forms soft but firm peaks, taking care to stop whisking before it turns grainy. As long as it is thick enought to spread. It will firm up further on cooling. Spread one third of it over the surface of one sponge, sandwich with the second sponge and spread another third over the top. Use the remainder to coat the sides of the cake - you may need a small knife to do the bottom sponge. Clean the edges of the plate with kitchen paper. Chill the cake for a couple of hours for the mousse to set. If keeping it any longer than this, cover with clingfilm at this point.

    Just before serving, scatter the pomegranate seeds over the top of the cake. Like a trifle, the cake itself should be served lightly chilled, but the fruit is nicest at room temperature.

    rosebud creme brulee (dessert first)

    Img_1029a

    Rosebud Crème Brûlée

    makes about 6 servings in 4 1/2 ounce ramekins

    2 cups heavy cream

    1/8 teaspoon vanilla seeds, or 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

    3 ounces egg yolks (about 4-5 eggs)

    2 ounces sugar

    1/4 teaspoon Grand Marnier

    1/2 teaspoon rose water

    Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.

    Find a baking pan that will fit all of the ramekins you plan to use. The sides of the pan should be at least as high as the ramekins. Line the bottom of the baking pan with a towel.

    Heat the cream and vanilla in a medium saucepan on medium heat until it comes to a boil. Remove from heat and let sit for about 10 minutes for the vanilla to infuse.

    Whisk the eggs and sugar together in a bowl.

    Slowly pour about a third of the hot cream into the eggs, whisking all the time to prevent the eggs from curdling.

    Pour the tempered eggs back into the cream, whisking constantly until combined. Whisk gently to prevent bubbles from forming.

    Strain the mixture into a clean bowl.

    Add the Grand Marnier and rose water and let the custard cool slightly.

    Arrange the ramekins in the baking pan on top of the towel. Using a ladle, carefully, pour the custard into the ramekins, filling just below the rim. Try to fill all of the ramekins to the same height so they will bake evenly.

    Carefully pour hot water into the baking pan until it comes up about 2/3 of the way up the sides of the ramekins. Do not let the water get into the pan.

    Carefully place the baking pan into the oven and bake for about 45 minutes to an hour until set. I checked at about half an hour and at 45 minutes, but don't open the oven door too often or you'll lose all the heat and the custards will not cook. You can check the progress of the custards by sticking a paring knife into the custard slightly away from the center. If it comes out covered in liquidy custard, it's not done yet. Also, if you lightly touch the center of the custard and your fingertip comes away covered in custard it is also not done.

    When the custards are done, they should shimmy slightly when you move the pan (careful not to spill water!) but the center should not move separately. If, however, it has set like Jello and there are bubbles forming on the top it is becoming overcooked and you should remove the custards immediately. If the custards start rising at any point they have become overcooked.

    After you remove the baking pan from the oven and the ramekins have cooled enough to handle, remove the ramekins, cover them, and chill in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours before serving.

    When you are ready to serve the crème brûlées, take one ramekin at a time and sprinkle the top with sugar evenly over the top. Using a hand-held blowtorch, carefully caramelize the sugar. Keep the flame at least 2 inches from the sugar to prevent burning the sugar. You can also caramelize the sugar under a broiler.

    Let the sugar cool for a couple of minutes before serving. Do not brûlée the custards more than 20 minutes before serving or the sugar may melt.

    Tuesday, April 17, 2007

    fresh spring dessert (writing at the kitchen table)

    For dessert I wanted to celebrate the warm days so it was out with the rich chocolate puds and in with a light fruity dish, pinched from the ever-reliable Nigel Slater. Plums de-stoned and halved, the pink cavities filled with whole raspberries and then each half is smeared with a generous spoonful of creamy mascarpone cheese, gently scented with vanilla extract. This luscious dessert is then sprinkled with demerara sugar and put under a hot grill under golden and bubbling.
    What is most wonderful is, depending on what time of year it is you can alter the fruits (i.e. peaches, poaches pears) and the filling (blackberries, blueberries, ground almonds or a whole ball of marzipan) to suit what is in season or to suit your palate. And it only takes 2 minutes to make! The perfect ending.

    Monday, April 16, 2007

    April 15, 2007

    Have Spatula Will Travel

    INSIGHTS that might never occur to you while eating hot yogurt soup in a restaurant in Istanbul suddenly take on a surprising clarity when making that soup yourself in a hotel kitchen there — the combination of the delicate egg yolks, tangy yogurt, lemon and mint evoking both a past where nomadic Turks first turned milk into yogurt and a present where their descendants eat the thick and creamy creation with almost every meal.

    Two summers ago, that moment was mine. I stood in an intimate cooking class at the Sarnic Hotel, in Sultanahmet, or Old Istanbul, as the hotel’s chef guided me and four other students (my friend Carla, a Canadian couple also on vacation in Istanbul and a Japanese woman living in the city) through the preparation of a five-course traditional Turkish meal in the Sarnic’s unfussy professional kitchen.

    The melding of both culinary and cultural lessons began in the lobby of the lovely Sarnic where Eveline Zoutendijk, the Dutch proprietor and host of the cooking class, greeted us and gave a short introduction to the long history of Turkish food. “The Turks were nomads,” she explained, “which is why they eat flatbread, yogurt, cheese and grilled meats. It was the Ottomans who later used saffron, pistachios, rice and other expensive, imported items.”

    In the Sarnic’s kitchen, we tied on our aprons, took up our knives and instantly became prep and sous chefs for the morning. As cooks everywhere in Turkey do, Murat Ozdemir, then the chef at the Sarnic, began his day by deciding which of about 200 Turkish eggplant dishes to serve. He showed us how to shave zebra stripes on the eggplant with a vegetable peeler and halve it lengthwise, making two vessels to hold heaping fillings of onions, tomatoes, dill, basil and mint, and then how to braise them in luxurious amounts of olive oil. Ms. Zoutendijk told us, meanwhile, that the name of this famous dish, imam bayildi, was translated as “the imam fainted” because a certain imam was said to have swooned while eating it and the fragrant olive oil dribbled down his chin.

    As the chef demonstrated how to prepare steaming-hot, stuffed vine leaves — and we student-chefs washed and trimmed the grape leaves, rolled them up with lamb, rice and herbs and placed them in the pot to simmer — there was talk of the early Turkic empires and how they borrowed recipes from the kitchens they conquered, such as this originally Persian delight.

    By the time the dessert of saffron-rosewater pudding had cooked and cooled, and we had garnished it with pistachios and pomegranate seeds, the Ottoman Empire, with its taste for the most luxurious of ingredients, had come viscerally alive.

    We felt a bit like sultans ourselves as we lunched on our own multi-course meal in the hotel’s rooftop dining room, where we could gaze directly upon the magnificent Blue Mosque and even imagine the Hagia Sofia just beyond, its A.D. 537 Christian domes flanked by post-1453 Muslim minarets. On our table, a distinctly Turkish marriage of ingredients from east and west was paired with a glass of crisp white wine. We happily soaked in the sun as well as the fact that we had come to know this city and its incredibly rich history a little better through its food.

    Ever since a trip to Vietnam two years ago, during which I toured the exotic food markets of Nha Trang with the hotel chef at the Ana Mandara resort and learned how to make my own rice paper for spring rolls at cooking schools in Hoi An, I have been convinced that there is no better way to get to the heart of any city than through its cuisine. And that means not just eating it, but shopping for it, cooking it and beginning to understand it. Step off the expected tourist track for as little as one morning or afternoon in a cooking class and you can witness and be a part of living history, as kitchens are often the last great bastions of cultural tradition in the modern world.

    Planning my trip to Istanbul, on what would be my first visit to the city, I knew I had to find a cooking class. I promised myself that by the time I got back, I would not only be familiar with the food, I would be able to whip up authentic Turkish dishes myself.

    I am obviously not alone in my desire to use a vacation as a culinary learning experience. One glance at Web sites for either ShawGuides (cookforfun.shawguides.com) or the International Kitchen (www.theinternationalkitchen.com) and you’ll find an ever-growing list of culinary schools and vacations around the world. These vacations most often last several days and are fantastic if you have the time, money and inclination to take a more-structured trip. But as culinary destinations, hotels like the Sarnic generally require a much smaller commitment—perfect for those traveling with a noncooking spouse or friend — while offering both ease and expertise. Just head to the kitchen and get cooking with a master.

    “While there are no statistics on this, we’ve definitely noticed a surge in offerings by hotels in the past five years,” said Erik Wolf, president of the International Culinary Tourism Association. Hotels have taken note not only of the growing interest in cooking but of the popularity of TV shows on the Food Network and Travel Channel that combine food and travel. “But there are a couple different levels when it comes to quality,” he continued, “with some hotels just trying to capitalize on the trend and others doing it really well.”

    Regardless of form, all the best cooking classes dish up a little culinary history to accompany the local ingredients and cooking methods. The difference among them has more to do with how they impart that sense of culture and tradition. Some hotels offer an array of classes in the basics of their national cuisine, allowing you to come back for seconds or thirds to learn new things. Others focus on getting you out of the kitchen and into the local market to soak up the full range of the cooking experience. And while some serve their classes family-style, giving outsiders a rare look at how home cooks do it, others offer the opportunity to rub shoulders and knives with culinary stars.

    EXPAND YOUR REPERTOIRE

    The best part about taking classes in a cuisine you already tend to cook, such as Italian or Mexican, is the chance to expand on your repertoire and see how it’s done in the home country. It’s even better when you can just roll out of bed each morning and tackle a different menu, spending one day on Neapolitan-style pizza and perhaps returning on another for pasta, as you can at the Sorrento Cooking School at the Esperidi Resort on the Amalfi Coast in Italy.

    Likewise, in Mexico, you might start with chalupas and end with chiles rellenos, as did Joan Leach, a retired school administrator from Fort Worth, Tex., when she and three friends headed to Puebla last September for what she calls “serious hands-on cooking classes” at the boutique hotel Mesón Sacristía de Capuchinas. Though she admits she doesn’t often attempt the “out of this world” chiles rellenos, she does frequently make both the green and red salsas, the basis for dishes including killer chilaquiles verdes. “Chef Alonso Hernández truly wanted us to leave with the ability to cook the traditional Mexican dishes and with an appreciation for the culinary tradition,” said Ms. Leach, 62, on TripAdvisor. “He succeeded beautifully.”

    OFF TO MARKET

    Foreign food markets can be otherworldly and overwhelming to first-time visitors, and the excitement of discovering a seemingly endless assortment of new foods can be outweighed by pungent smells, shocking sights and intimidating proprietors.

    A guide can turn trepidation into sheer joy as he stops to explain what the crazy-looking dragon fruit is and what you do with it or steers you toward the best soup stall and lets you in on its delicious secrets, as one of the kitchen staff at the Amansara Resort in Cambodia is likely to do during a tour of the labyrinthine Old Market in Siem Reap. Similarly, in Chiang Mai, the foodie capital of Thailand, the Four Seasons Resort begins its class with a venture to one of the city’s legendary markets.

    And while it’s hard to top the sensory adventure of an Asian market, Rungis outside of Paris, the largest fresh-food wholesale market in the world since it replaced the legendary Les Halles, promises thrills like no other. Those outside the food trade aren’t normally allowed entry to the 573-acre market, which makes the package offered by the InterContinental Paris Le Grand Hotel a rare treat. This day-in-the-life-of-a-chef experience begins with a 3:30 a.m. visit to Rungis with the chef of the hotel’s Café de la Paix restaurant, Laurent Delarbre (or his assistant). Put your walking shoes on and dive in, winding through the various pavilions, past the 19 varieties of pears, the countless superbly smelly cheeses and the de-haired pigs’ trotters before stopping at the squirming lobsters to choose one for the lobster salad with passion fruit that will be made in class.

    FAMILY STYLE

    Even though top hotels are justifiably proud of their chefs, they also know that when it comes to the kitchen, Mama often knows best. At the the Oberoi Vanyavilas in Rajasthan, India, guests learn about both resort cooking and home cooking, with one of the chefs who grew up in the area sharing recipes handed down from his grandmother and prepared over a traditional charcoal stove. While in Morocco, guests at La Maison Arabe are taken under the wing of the hotel dada. Generations of well-off Moroccan families have been well fed by a dada, a housekeeper/cook, traditionally from sub-Saharan Africa, who has mastered the art of couscous, and you will be too.

    Or you can learn from the entire family at the Amandari resort in Bali. Its one-day culinary immersion takes place in a nearby Balinese village. The matriarch demonstrates how to make spicy sambals, or cooking pastes, and dishes simmer with meat and fruit over a charcoal stove. Just like in the United States, the patriarch will be out back grilling, or in this case spit-roasting a suckling pig, while guests help prepare and present offerings for the family temple. (Is there any doubt the gods will be smiling?)

    SEEING STARS

    Though “starred” and otherwise acclaimed chefs seldom have time for one-on-ones with devotees, there are some exceptions. The Michelin two-star chef Raymond Blanc, is one example. Though he leaves most of the teaching to his staff at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons, his English country house hotel in Great Milton, Oxford, the master does lead a class in Nutrition et la Cuisine Moderne, so he himself can disabuse students of the notion that healthy eating means calorie-counting.

    And there will certainly be no calorie-counting at the Michelin one-star La Table du Baltimore at the Sofitel Baltimore Paris, where the chef Jean-Philippe Perol leads guests in the preparation of seasonal dishes such as seabream roasted with olives or saddle of rabbit and a master sommelier guides them to wines

    No fewer than three masters step up to the plate for the Symphony of Pasta class at Villa San Michele, a former monastery on a hilltop overlooking Florence. The hotel’s own chef and those of the Hotel Cipriani in Venice and the Hotel Caruso in Ravello bring home the diversity of Italian cooking.

    Carolyn Landolfo, a cardiologist from Augusta, Ga., took a course last May that was a Christmas gift from her husband. “We each ground our own flour to make whole-grain pappardelle with sheep cheese and fresh herbs from the garden,” she said. Not only does she still make most of the recipes she learned—including the octopus, which she “never in a million years would have tried at home before the class”— but she also took away techniques for making savory dishes with only a few simple ingredients. “And when I got home,” said Dr. Landolfo, 44, “I planted an herb garden because I felt like I couldn’t live without them.”

    Cooking abroad really can change how you cook at home. Carla and I left our Istanbul cooking class and headed straight to the 400-year-old Spice Bazaar, armed with our newly gained knowledge of Turkish ingredients as well as market tips from our teachers and fellow foodie travelers. Though I watched in disbelief as Carla bought a kilo of red pepper flakes (that’s right, 2.2 pounds) and had it vacuum-packed to take home. We also stocked up on dried mint, lemony sumac and long, flat, metal kebab skewers that were worth the extra interrogation at the airport X-ray machine.

    I now use those ornate mini-swords for grilling just about everything, but particularly for eggplant, in just one of my now-numerous recipes using Turkey’s favorite vegetable. I fire-roast them, I braise them, I drench them in olive oil, I serve them with yogurt, and I swoon like the imam when I eat them.

    “Ellerinize saglik,” or “Health to your hands” I think to myself each time, remembering how the Turks begin a meal not just by blessing the food, but the cook as well. “Ellerinize saglik.”

    TAYLOR HOLLIDAY is a frequent contributor to the Travel section.

    Friday, April 13, 2007

    honey-rose ice cream with pomegranate syrup

    Honey-Rose Ice Cream
    Tools: sauce pan, strainer, ice cream maker

    Ingredients:

    In a medium mixing bowl, beat the honey with the egg yolks until thickened and pale yellow. Set aside.

    Add the rosewater to your milk, bring the mixture to a simmer in a heavy medium-sized sauce pan. Remove from the heat and slowly beat the hot liquid into the honey mixture. Briefly rinse your saucepan and rub dry with paper towel or cloth. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan and place over low heat. Stir constantly with a whisk or wooden spoon until the custard thickens slightly. Be careful not to let the mixture boil or the eggs will scramble. Remove from the heat and pour the hot honey custard through a strainer into a large, clean bowl. Allow the custard to cool slightly, about five minutes, then stir in the cream and vanilla. Cover and refrigerate until cold (about 5 hours) or overnight.

    Stir the chilled custard, then freeze in 1 or 2 batches in your ice cream machine according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Add 1/4 cup candied rose petals to the machine when the cream is semi frozen. Allow the machine to mix in the flowers.When finished, the ice cream will be soft but ready to eat. For firmer ice cream, transfer to a freezer-safe container and freeze for at least 3 hours.

    Variation: Instead of rose water you can use orange blossom water. Instead of candied rose petals you can also use candied violet petals.

    4 cups pomegranate juice
    1/2 cup sugar
    1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

    For Syrup: Place the pomegranate juice, sugar and lemon juice in a 4-quart saucepan set over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the sugar has completely dissolved. Once the sugar has dissolved, reduce the heat to medium-low and cook until the mixture has reduced to 1 1/2 cups, approximately 50 minutes. It should be the consistency of syrup. Remove from the heat and allow to cool in the saucepan for 30 minutes. Transfer to a glass jar and allow to cool completely before covering and storing in the refrigerator for up to 6 months.

    honey-vanilla challah (baking and books)

    Honey-Vanilla Challah
    Adapted from “The Bread Bible” by Beth Hensperger, “The Good Enough to Eat Breakfast Cookbook” by Carrie Levin, “The Bread Baker’s Apprentice” by Peter Reinhart and “The Bread Bible” by Rose Levy Beranbaum.
    Ingredients: Makes 1 Loaf

    • 1/2 tablespoon active dry yeast
    • 4 tablespoons granulated sugar
    • 1 teaspoon salt
    • 4 1/4 to 4 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
    • 1 cup of warm milk (whole is best, low-fat is ok too)
    • 2 eggs + 1 for the glaze
    • 4 tablespoons of olive oil + 1 teaspoon for greasing the bowl and another for the glaze
    • 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
    • 1 tablespoon honey

    In a large bowl combine the yeast, sugar, salt and 1 cup of flour. Add the milk, 2 eggs, 4 tablespoons of oil, honey and vanilla. With a whisk, vigorously mix the ingredients until smooth, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl halfway through. Add the remaining flour, 1/2 cup at a time, switching to a wooden spoon when necessary. Continue mixing the dough until it is too stiff to stir.

    Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until soft and springy and a layer of blisters shows under the skin, about 4 minutes. Dust with flour only 1 tablespoon at a time as needed to prevent sticking. The dough needs to be slightly firm so that you can braid it later on.

    Place the dough in a deep container greased with 1 tsp of olive oil. Turn the dough once to coat the top and cover with plastic wrap. Allow it to rise at room temperature until doubled in bulk, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

    Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it with non-stick spray. Gently deflate the dough. Turn out onto a lightly floured surface. Divide into 3 equal portions, and roll each portion out into a smooth, thick strip about 20 to 25 inches long, with the ends slightly thinner than the middle. Lay these “snakes” side-by-side, not quite touching. Beginning in the middle and working towards you, braid the lower half. To braid, alternately move the outside braids over the center one - left over, right over, left over -until you come to the end. Now go to the other side of your working space and braid the other half, this time moving the outside braids under the center one. (If you’re unsure how to braid you may want to practice with some rope beforehand.) Braid tightly - you don’t want any gaps - and when you finish braiding each side crimp the tapered ends together, then tuck them under.

    Place the braided dough on your baking sheet, cover loosely with plastic wrap and let rise until almost doubled in bulk 30 to 40 minutes. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.

    Just before the rising time has finished whisk together 1 egg and 1 teaspoon of olive oil, this is going to be the glaze for your bread. Gently brush the dough with a thick layer of it. Place the dough in the oven and bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the bread is a deep golden brown and sounds hollow when you thump it on the bottom. Transfer to a baking rack to cool. Allow to cool completely before slicing - or at least wait until it’s warm, not hot - then enjoy!

    from 64sqft kitchen

    Chocolate crepes: Pierre Hermes recipe
    - 3 oz of all purpose flour
    - 3 ½ tbsp unsweetened cocoa
    - 1 ½ tbsp sugar
    - 2 large eggs at room temp
    - 1 cup of whole milk
    - 3 tbsp orange juice at room temp
    - 2 tbsp melted butter

    In a saucepan, heat the milk just until warm. Put the flour, the butter, the eggs, the sugar and the juice in a blender and blend until all combined. Gradually, add the milk. Blend for another 15 sec. Cover the batter and set aside for 1 h.
    For the cooking, follow the cooking instructions of the vanilla crepes.


    vegan cupcakes for graem

    Cookies 'n' Cream Cupcakes

    Related Story The Washington Post, November 29, 2006
    • Cuisine: American
    • Course: Dessert

    Summary:

    These vegan cupcakes, which will make you nostalgic for childhood, are simple to prepare.

    1 dozen

    Ingredients:

    For the cupcakes
    • 1 cup flour
    • 1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (Dutch process or regular)
    • 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
    • 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
    • 1/4 teaspoon salt
    • 1 cup soy milk
    • 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
    • 3/4 cup sugar
    • 1/3 cup canola oil
    • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    • 1/2 teaspoon almond extract, chocolate extract or more vanilla extract
    • 10 vegan chocolate cream-filled sandwich cookies, such as Newman-O's, coarsely chopped
    For the frosting
    • 1/2 cup nonhydrogenated shortening
    • 1/2 cup nonhydrogenated margarine, such as Earth Balance
    • 3 1/2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted if clumpy
    • 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
    • 1/4 cup plain soy milk or soy creamer
    • 5 vegan chocolate cream-filled sandwich cookies, such as Newman-O's, finely mashed, plus 6 of the cookies, cut in half, for garnish

    Directions:

    For the cupcakes: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and line 12 muffin cups with paper or aluminum foil liners.

    In a medium bowl or on a large square of waxed paper, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

    In a large bowl, whisk together the soy milk and vinegar; set aside for a few minutes to curdle. Add the sugar, oil and vanilla extract and other extract, if using, and beat until foamy. Add the dry ingredients in 2 increments, and beat until no large lumps remain (a few small lumps are okay). Add the chopped cookies to the batter, stirring just to combine. Spoon the batter into the liner cups, filling them three-quarters full. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

    While the cupcakes are cooling, make the frosting: In the bowl of a stand mixer or in a large bowl using a hand mixer, beat the shortening and margarine on medium-high speed for about 5 minutes, until well combined and fluffy. Reduce speed to low to add the sugar until incorporated, and then increase to medium-high speed to beat for about 3 minutes. Add the vanilla extract and soy milk or creamer; beat on the same speed for 5 to 7 minutes, until fluffy. Add the cookie crumbs, mixing well.

    To assemble: Frost the cupcakes generously and top each cupcake with half of a sandwich cookie by inserting the cut end into the frosting. Store in a sealed container for up to 3 days.

    Recipe Source:

    Adapted from "Vegan Cupcakes Take Over the World," by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero (Marlowe & Co., 2006).

    cherry confit (to go with duck) WaPost

    Dried Cherry Confit

    The Washington Post, March 14, 2007
    • Cuisine: American
    • Course: Condiment
    • Features: Fast

    Summary:

    There are nice and easy sauces to be made from the drippings and flavor stuck to the bottom of a skillet just used to cook duck breasts.

    4 servings

    Ingredients:

    • 1 teaspoon rendered duck fat (rendered from the pan-fried duch breast preparation)
    • 1 medium medium shallot, finely minced
    • 8 ounces dried cherries
    • 2 cups Marsala or Madeira wine
    • 1/4 finely chopped thyme leaves
    • freshly ground black pepper
    • salt (optional)
    • lemon juice (optional)

    Directions:

    Heat the duck fat in a skillet over medium heat. When the duck breasts have finished cooking and have been transferred to a plate to rest, drain all but 1 teaspoon of fat in the pan and add the shallot, cook for 2 minutes over medium-low heat, stirring until translucent. Add the dried cherries and Marsala or Madeira and increase the heat to medium to bring to a low boil. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the cherries are soft and glazed and the liquid has almost evaporated. Add the thyme, and pepper to taste. Remove from the heat; add salt to taste and a squeeze of lemon juice, if desired.

    Recipe Source:

    Adapted from “The Improvisational Cook,” by Sally Schneider’s Morrow 2006, $34.95)

    Thursday, April 12, 2007

    cherry jam (david lebovitz)

    No-Recipe (yikes!) Cherry Jam
    line
    June 15, 2005 | Comments (15)

    Stand back. This is gonna get messy.

    Since it's just about the end of cherry season, you might (or might not) want to preserve some as jam.
    But unlike shucking fresh peas, which recipes blissfully suggest that you do while reminiscing with old friends while sitting on vintage rocking chairs that you bought at a barn sale on your front porch watching the laundry dry in the Hamptons with iced tea and fresh-baked snickerdoodles, pitting cherries needs to be safely done in the kitchen away from anything upholstered or Armani.

    pittedcherriesblog.jpg

    So I'm going to teach you how to make something without a recipe.
    Before you freak, remember that your grandmother made lots of things without recipes, before Food Network and Martha and food magazines that preach measuring everything down to the last 5/9ths of a teaspoon. Just breath. That's right, it will be okay.

    jampot1blog.jpg


    No-Recipe Cherry Jam

    Buy as many cherries as you feel like pitting.
    Usually I have the patience for about 3 pounds, but it's up to you. Figure one pound of cherries will make one good-sized jar of jam. Plump, dark Bing cherries work really well, although Burlatts are good, and if you can find sour cherries, your jam will rock.

    Wear something red. Or black. Rinse the cherries and remove the stems. Using the handy cherry pitter that I told you to buy a few weeks ago and pit the cherries. Make sure to remove all the pits since everyone is so litigious these days. Chop about ¾ of them into smaller pieces, but not too small. Leave some cherries whole so people can see later on how hard you worked pitting real cherries. If you leave too many whole ones, they'll tumble off your toast and stain your pajamas.

    Cook the cherries in a large non-reactive stockpot. It should be pretty big since the juices bubble up. Add the zest and juice of one or two fresh lemons. Lemon juice adds pectin as well as acidity, and will help the jam gel later on. See how smart I am?
    Who says I'd never amount to anything?

    Cook the cherries, stirring once in a while with a heatproof spatula, until they're wilted and completely soft, which may take about 20 minutes, depending on how much heat you give them. Aren't they beautiful, all juicy and red?

    cookedcherriesblog.jpg

    Once they're cooked, measure out how many cherries you have (including the juice.) Use 3/4 of the amount of sugar. For example if you have 4 cups of cooked cherry matter, add 3 cups of sugar. It may seem like a lot, but that amount of sugar is necessary to keep the jam from sprouting green whiskers after a few weeks in the refrigerator.

    Stir the sugar and the cherries in the pot and cook over moderate-to-high heat. The best jam is cooked quickly. While it's cooking, put a small white plate in the freezer. In spite of the fact that you may need to use the bathroom or lower the volume on Judge Judy when she screams her verdicts, remain pretty vigilant and stir the fruit often with a heatproof utensil. Wouldn't it be a shame to burn it at this point? Scrape the bottom of the pot as you stir as well.

    And no matter how good they look, resist popping a warm cherry into your mouth. They are really hot, take it from me, and you will burn your mouth. Yes, take it from me. Ouch! It hurts.

    Once the bubbles subside and the jam appears a bit thick and looks beginning to gel, (it will coat the spatula in a clear, thick-ish, jelly-like layer, but not too thick) turn off the heat and put a small amount of jam on the frozen plate and return to the freezer. After a few minutes, when you nudge it if it wrinkles, it's done.

    nudgeblog.jpg

    If not, cook it some more, turn off the heat, and test it again. If you overcook your jam, the sugar will caramelize and it won't taste good and there's nothing you can do. Better to undercook it, test it, then cook it some more.

    Are you beginning to understand why all those gourmet jams are expensive?

    jamblog.jpg

    Once it's done and gelled, add a bit of kirsch if you have it, clear cherry eau-de-vie which will highlight the flavor. Or add a few drops of almond extract, but not too much, or it will taste like a cheap Italian cake. Ladle the warm jam into clean jars and cover. Cool at room temperature, then refrigerate.

    See, you did it!

    baked cherries and nectarines (david lebovitz)

    Nectarine and Cherry Compote
    Four to Six Servings

    I prefer my fruit less-sweetened, but you can add the larger amount of sugar if you like. If you don't have a vanilla bean, just add a few drops of vanilla extract.

    4 nectarines
    1 pound (450 g) fresh cherries, stemmed and pitted
    1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
    4 to 6 tablespoons sugar
    optional: 2 tablespoons rum or kirsch

    Preheat the oven to 375 degrees (190 C).

    Split the nectarines in half and pluck out the pits. Put them in a 2-quart baking dish with the cherries. Scrape the vanilla seeds into the fruit.

    Mix in the sugar and rum or kirsch, if using.

    Turn the nectarines so they're cut side down, arranging them in an even layer with the cherries and tuck the vanilla bean underneath.

    Bake uncovered for 45 minutes to 1 hour, opening the oven door twice during baking so you can jostle the baking dish to encourage the juices to flow. The fruit is done when a sharp paring knife easily pierces the nectarines.

    Remove from oven and serve warm, or at room temperature with a nice scoop of the White Chocolate and Fresh Ginger Ice Cream.

    Storage: The compote can be refrigerated for up to 3 days.


    (Note: Please excuse any funny phrases or incomprehensible sentances in this post. Due to the soaring and devastating heat here in Paris (see weather strip on the left), it's impossible to keep my computer on for long periods of time. To cool down, I can eat ice cream, but I don't think it's very good for my Mac.)

    baked doughnuts (101 cookbooks)

    Baked Doughnuts

    Don't over bake these, if anything, under bake them a bit - they will continue baking outside the oven for a few minutes. You want an interior that is moist and tender - not dry. Also, be sure to cut big enough holes in the center of your doughnuts - too small and they will bake entirely shut. Remember they rise, and they rise even more when they are baking. These really need to be made-to-order, but you can make and shape the dough the night before if you want to serve them for brunch. Instructions: after shaping, place doughnuts on baking sheet, cover and place in the refrigerator overnight. Pull them out an hour before baking, and let rise in a warm place before baking.

    1 1/3 cups warm milk, 95 to 105 degrees (divided)
    1 packet active dry yeast (2 1/4 teaspoons)
    2 tablespoons butter
    2/3 cup sugar
    2 eggs
    5 cups all-purpose flour (alternately, white whole wheat might work - haven't tried it yet)
    A pinch or two of nutmeg, freshly grated
    1 teaspoon fine grain sea salt

    1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
    1 1/2 cups sugar
    1 tablespoon cinnamon

    Place 1/3 cup of the warm milk in the bowl of an electric mixer. Stir in the yeast and set aside for five minutes or so. Be sure your milk isn't too hot or it will kill the yeast. Stir the butter and sugar into the remaining cup of warm milk and add it to the yeast mixture. With a fork, stir in the eggs, flour, nutmeg, and salt - just until the flour is incorporated. With the dough hook attachment of your mixer beat the dough for a few minutes at medium speed. This is where you are going to need to make adjustments - if your dough is overly sticky, add flour a few tablespoons at a time. Too dry? Add more milk a bit at a time. You want the dough to pull away from the sides of the mixing bowl and eventually become supple and smooth. Turn it out onto a floured counter-top, knead a few times (the dough should be barely sticky), and shape into a ball.

    Transfer the dough to a buttered (or oiled) bowl, cover, put in a warm place (I turn on the oven at this point and set the bowl on top), and let rise for an hour or until the dough has roughly doubled in size.

    Punch down the dough and roll it out 1/2-inch thick on your floured countertop. Most people (like myself) don't have a doughnut cutter, instead I use a 2-3 inch cookie cutter to stamp out circles. Transfer the circles to a parchment-lined baking sheet and stamp out the smaller inner circles using a smaller cutter. If you cut the inner holes out any earlier, they become distorted when you attempt to move them. Cover with a clean cloth and let rise for another 45 minutes.

    Bake in a 375 degree oven until the bottoms are just golden, 8 to 10 minutes - start checking around 8. While the doughnuts are baking, place the butter in a medium bowl. Place the sugar and cinnamon in a separate bowl.

    Remove the doughnuts from the oven and let cool for just a minute or two. Dip each one in the melted butter and a quick toss in the sugar bowl. Eat immediately if not sooner.

    Makes 1 1/2 - 2 dozen medium doughnuts.

    Tuesday, April 10, 2007

    WTSIM....#4 - Bread

    Bread. Bread in all it's yeasty, aroma producing, glory. That's the theme for the next round of Waiter There's Something In My...

    I'm looking for Rye bread, Potato Bread, plain white rolls and simple milk loaves, ale loaves, scrumpy buns, sweet brandy buns, wheatgerm bread, soda bread and sunflower breads. Loaves studded with raisins, onions, herbs, olives or little pieces of meat. Perhaps a walnut loaf or a chestnut and hazelnut bread. Maybe some saffron breads or a lemon barley cob. Or how about a fougasse, a puff ball, a focaccia or ciabatta, a flatbread or wholemeal loaf, a pain de campagne or even a pain viennois..the choice, as they say, is yours.

    Three Bread Rolls

    Entries should be in by the end of the 25th of April. Please Link to this announcement (and the round-up, once it's up) email entries only with the subject as BREAD. (If you don't do this the likelihood is that the email will get lost) Please include your name, your blog's name, the name of the bread and a permalink to your post.

    SHF #30

    Sugar High Friday #30 - Flower Power

    Posted on April 2nd, 2007 in Sugar High Friday, Blog events by Monisha
    Sugar High Friday #30

    I’m excited about hosting this month’s Sugar High Friday - a worldwide blog event created by the divine Domestic Goddess herself, this event has had some terrific themes in the past including Caramel, Coffee, Ginger and of course Dark Chocolate.

    This month’s theme is inspired by the beautiful Spring weather we’ve been enjoying recently, hopefully those of us who are still struggling with winter blues can shrug off those warm scarves and get in the kitchen to participate in this month’s theme - Flower Power. This theme has little to do with psychedelic rock music and a lot more to do with using flowers or floral extracts in any shape or form in a sweet treat - go crazy with roses, lavender and saffron; make and use ethereal candied flowers and if all else fails, pipe delicate violets and daisies on your favorite cupcake. Derive inspiration from anything that is blooming and full of life this Spring, the ideas are endless, let your inner flower child loose!

    Here’s what you do to participate -

    • Write about your SHF #30 entry on your blog by April 23rd, including a link to this post.
    • The deadline for submissions is April 23rd and the round-up will be posted on April 27th.
    • Please send me an email at mona[dot]coconutchutney[at]gmail[dot]com with the following details - Name, Blog’s Name, Permalink and Location.
    • Include a 100 * 100 pixel image of your entry.
    • Non-blogger’s please email me your recipe, name and location and I’ll be glad to include that in the final round-up.
    Sugar High Fridays

    dorie's strawberry marshmallow tart - marshmallows use rose water!!

    Monday, April 9, 2007

    wild mushroom pierogi (smitten kitchen)

    deb's plate, cream not vinegar

    Wild Mushroom Pirogies
    Gourmet, February 2001

    For filling
    1 cup boiling water
    2/3 oz dried porcini mushrooms
    1 medium onion, quartered
    2 garlic cloves, crushed
    6 oz cremini mushrooms, quartered
    1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter
    1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

    For onion topping
    1 lb onions, chopped
    1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter

    Accompaniment: sour cream

    Special equipment: a 2 1/2-inch round cookie cutter

    Make filling: Pour boiling water over porcini in a small bowl and soak until softened,10 to 20 minutes. Lift porcini out of water, squeezing excess liquid back into bowl, and rinse well to remove any grit. Pour soaking liquid through a paper-towel-lined sieve into a bowl and reserve.

    Finely chop onion and garlic in a food processor, then add cremini and porcini and pulse until very finely chopped.

    Heat butter in a skillet over moderate heat until foam subsides, then cook mushroom mixture, stirring frequently, until mushrooms are dry and 1 shade darker, about 8 minutes. Add reserved soaking liquid and simmer, stirring frequently, until mixture is thick, dry, and beginning to brown, about 15 minutes (there will be about 1 cup filling). Stir in parsley and salt and pepper to taste. Cool completely.

    Roll out dough and fill pierogies: Halve dough and roll out 1 piece on a lightly floured surface into a 15-inch round, keeping remaining dough wrapped. Cut out rounds (about 24) with floured cutter. Put 1 teaspoon filling in center of each round. Working with 1 round at a time, moisten edges with water and fold in half to form a half-moon, pinching edges together to seal. Transfer pierogies as assembled to a flour-dusted kitchen towel. Repeat with remaining rounds, then make more pierogies with remaining dough and filling.

    Cook onions and pierogies: Cook onions in butter in a large heavy skillet over moderately low heat, stirring frequently, until golden brown, about 30 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and keep warm.

    Cook pierogies in a large pot of lightly salted boiling water until tender, 12 to 15 minutes. Transfer with a slotted spoon to skillet with onions. Toss gently to coat and serve immediately.

    Epicurious’ notes:

    • Filling can be made 2 days ahead and chilled, covered.
    • Filled pierogies can be frozen 1 month. Freeze on a tray until firm, about 2 hours, then freeze in sealable plastic bags. Thaw before cooking.

    Makes 6 (main course) servings.

    Pierogi and Vareniki Dough

    1 cup all-purpose flour plus additional for kneading and rolling
    3/4 cup cake flour (not self-rising)
    2 large eggs
    3/4 teaspoon salt
    1/4 cup water

    Stir together flours in a bowl. Make a well in flour and add eggs, salt, and water, then stir together with a fork without touching flour. Continue stirring, gradually incorporating flour into well until a soft dough forms. Transfer dough to a lightly floured work surface and knead, adding only as much additional flour as needed to keep dough from sticking, until smooth and elastic, about 8 minutes. (Dough will be soft.) Cover with plastic wrap and let rest at room temperature at least 30 minutes.

    Epicurious’ note: Dough may be made 2 hours ahead, wrapped well in plastic wrap and chilled. Bring to room temperature before using.

    Makes enough for about 48 pierogies or 32 varenikis.

    they could literally teach this in public schools and journalism classes, it is so well-written

    Pearls Before Breakfast
    Can one of the nation's great musicians cut through the fog of a D.C. rush hour? Let's find out.

    By Gene Weingarten
    Washington Post Staff Writer
    Sunday, April 8, 2007; W10

    HE EMERGED FROM THE METRO AT THE L'ENFANT PLAZA STATION AND POSITIONED HIMSELF AGAINST A WALL BESIDE A TRASH BASKET. By most measures, he was nondescript: a youngish white man in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a Washington Nationals baseball cap. From a small case, he removed a violin. Placing the open case at his feet, he shrewdly threw in a few dollars and pocket change as seed money, swiveled it to face pedestrian traffic, and began to play.

    It was 7:51 a.m. on Friday, January 12, the middle of the morning rush hour. In the next 43 minutes, as the violinist performed six classical pieces, 1,097 people passed by. Almost all of them were on the way to work, which meant, for almost all of them, a government job. L'Enfant Plaza is at the nucleus of federal Washington, and these were mostly mid-level bureaucrats with those indeterminate, oddly fungible titles: policy analyst, project manager, budget officer, specialist, facilitator, consultant.

    Each passerby had a quick choice to make, one familiar to commuters in any urban area where the occasional street performer is part of the cityscape: Do you stop and listen? Do you hurry past with a blend of guilt and irritation, aware of your cupidity but annoyed by the unbidden demand on your time and your wallet? Do you throw in a buck, just to be polite? Does your decision change if he's really bad? What if he's really good? Do you have time for beauty? Shouldn't you? What's the moral mathematics of the moment?

    On that Friday in January, those private questions would be answered in an unusually public way. No one knew it, but the fiddler standing against a bare wall outside the Metro in an indoor arcade at the top of the escalators was one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made. His performance was arranged by The Washington Post as an experiment in context, perception and priorities -- as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste: In a banal setting at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?

    The musician did not play popular tunes whose familiarity alone might have drawn interest. That was not the test. These were masterpieces that have endured for centuries on their brilliance alone, soaring music befitting the grandeur of cathedrals and concert halls.

    The acoustics proved surprisingly kind. Though the arcade is of utilitarian design, a buffer between the Metro escalator and the outdoors, it somehow caught the sound and bounced it back round and resonant. The violin is an instrument that is said to be much like the human voice, and in this musician's masterly hands, it sobbed and laughed and sang -- ecstatic, sorrowful, importuning, adoring, flirtatious, castigating, playful, romancing, merry, triumphal, sumptuous.

    So, what do you think happened?

    HANG ON, WE'LL GET YOU SOME EXPERT HELP.

    Leonard Slatkin, music director of the National Symphony Orchestra, was asked the same question. What did he think would occur, hypothetically, if one of the world's great violinists had performed incognito before a traveling rush-hour audience of 1,000-odd people?

    "Let's assume," Slatkin said, "that he is not recognized and just taken for granted as a street musician . . . Still, I don't think that if he's really good, he's going to go unnoticed. He'd get a larger audience in Europe . . . but, okay, out of 1,000 people, my guess is there might be 35 or 40 who will recognize the quality for what it is. Maybe 75 to 100 will stop and spend some time listening."

    So, a crowd would gather?

    "Oh, yes."

    And how much will he make?

    "About $150."

    Thanks, Maestro. As it happens, this is not hypothetical. It really happened.

    "How'd I do?"

    We'll tell you in a minute.

    "Well, who was the musician?"

    Joshua Bell.

    "NO!!!"

    A onetime child prodigy, at 39 Joshua Bell has arrived as an internationally acclaimed virtuoso. Three days before he appeared at the Metro station, Bell had filled the house at Boston's stately Symphony Hall, where merely pretty good seats went for $100. Two weeks later, at the Music Center at Strathmore, in North Bethesda, he would play to a standing-room-only audience so respectful of his artistry that they stifled their coughs until the silence between movements. But on that Friday in January, Joshua Bell was just another mendicant, competing for the attention of busy people on their way to work.

    Bell was first pitched this idea shortly before Christmas, over coffee at a sandwich shop on Capitol Hill. A New Yorker, he was in town to perform at the Library of Congress and to visit the library's vaults to examine an unusual treasure: an 18th-century violin that once belonged to the great Austrian-born virtuoso and composer Fritz Kreisler. The curators invited Bell to play it; good sound, still.

    "Here's what I'm thinking," Bell confided, as he sipped his coffee. "I'm thinking that I could do a tour where I'd play Kreisler's music . . ."

    He smiled.

    ". . . on Kreisler's violin."

    It was a snazzy, sequined idea -- part inspiration and part gimmick -- and it was typical of Bell, who has unapologetically embraced showmanship even as his concert career has become more and more august. He's soloed with the finest orchestras here and abroad, but he's also appeared on "Sesame Street," done late-night talk TV and performed in feature films. That was Bell playing the soundtrack on the 1998 movie "The Red Violin." (He body-doubled, too, playing to a naked Greta Scacchi.) As composer John Corigliano accepted the Oscar for Best Original Dramatic Score, he credited Bell, who, he said, "plays like a god."

    When Bell was asked if he'd be willing to don street clothes and perform at rush hour, he said:

    "Uh, a stunt?"

    Well, yes. A stunt. Would he think it . . . unseemly?

    Bell drained his cup.

    "Sounds like fun," he said.

    Bell's a heartthrob. Tall and handsome, he's got a Donny Osmond-like dose of the cutes, and, onstage, cute elides into hott. When he performs, he is usually the only man under the lights who is not in white tie and tails -- he walks out to a standing O, looking like Zorro, in black pants and an untucked black dress shirt, shirttail dangling. That cute Beatles-style mop top is also a strategic asset: Because his technique is full of body -- athletic and passionate -- he's almost dancing with the instrument, and his hair flies.

    He's single and straight, a fact not lost on some of his fans. In Boston, as he performed Max Bruch's dour Violin Concerto in G Minor, the very few young women in the audience nearly disappeared in the deep sea of silver heads. But seemingly every single one of them -- a distillate of the young and pretty -- coalesced at the stage door after the performance, seeking an autograph. It's like that always, with Bell.

    Bell's been accepting over-the-top accolades since puberty: Interview magazine once said his playing "does nothing less than tell human beings why they bother to live." He's learned to field these things graciously, with a bashful duck of the head and a modified "pshaw."

    For this incognito performance, Bell had only one condition for participating. The event had been described to him as a test of whether, in an incongruous context, ordinary people would recognize genius. His condition: "I'm not comfortable if you call this genius." "Genius" is an overused word, he said: It can be applied to some of the composers whose work he plays, but not to him. His skills are largely interpretive, he said, and to imply otherwise would be unseemly and inaccurate.

    It was an interesting request, and under the circumstances, one that will be honored. The word will not again appear in this article.

    It would be breaking no rules, however, to note that the term in question, particularly as applied in the field of music, refers to a congenital brilliance -- an elite, innate, preternatural ability that manifests itself early, and often in dramatic fashion.

    One biographically intriguing fact about Bell is that he got his first music lessons when he was a 4-year-old in Bloomington, Ind. His parents, both psychologists, decided formal training might be a good idea after they saw that their son had strung rubber bands across his dresser drawers and was replicating classical tunes by ear, moving drawers in and out to vary the pitch.

    TO GET TO THE METRO FROM HIS HOTEL, a distance of three blocks, Bell took a taxi. He's neither lame nor lazy: He did it for his violin.

    Bell always performs on the same instrument, and he ruled out using another for this gig. Called the Gibson ex Huberman, it was handcrafted in 1713 by Antonio Stradivari during the Italian master's "golden period," toward the end of his career, when he had access to the finest spruce, maple and willow, and when his technique had been refined to perfection.

    "Our knowledge of acoustics is still incomplete," Bell said, "but he, he just . . . knew."

    Bell doesn't mention Stradivari by name. Just "he." When the violinist shows his Strad to people, he holds the instrument gingerly by its neck, resting it on a knee. "He made this to perfect thickness at all parts," Bell says, pivoting it. "If you shaved off a millimeter of wood at any point, it would totally imbalance the sound." No violins sound as wonderful as Strads from the 1710s, still.

    The front of Bell's violin is in nearly perfect condition, with a deep, rich grain and luster. The back is a mess, its dark reddish finish bleeding away into a flatter, lighter shade and finally, in one section, to bare wood.

    "This has never been refinished," Bell said. "That's his original varnish. People attribute aspects of the sound to the varnish. Each maker had his own secret formula." Stradivari is thought to have made his from an ingeniously balanced cocktail of honey, egg whites and gum arabic from sub-Saharan trees.

    Like the instrument in "The Red Violin," this one has a past filled with mystery and malice. Twice, it was stolen from its illustrious prior owner, the Polish virtuoso Bronislaw Huberman. The first time, in 1919, it disappeared from Huberman's hotel room in Vienna but was quickly returned. The second time, nearly 20 years later, it was pinched from his dressing room in Carnegie Hall. He never got it back. It was not until 1985 that the thief -- a minor New York violinist -- made a deathbed confession to his wife, and produced the instrument.

    Bell bought it a few years ago. He had to sell his own Strad and borrow much of the rest. The price tag was reported to be about $3.5 million.

    All of which is a long explanation for why, in the early morning chill of a day in January, Josh Bell took a three-block cab ride to the Orange Line, and rode one stop to L'Enfant.

    AS METRO STATIONS GO, L'ENFANT PLAZA IS MORE PLEBEIAN THAN MOST. Even before you arrive, it gets no respect. Metro conductors never seem to get it right: "Leh-fahn." "Layfont." "El'phant."

    At the top of the escalators are a shoeshine stand and a busy kiosk that sells newspapers, lottery tickets and a wallfull of magazines with titles such as Mammazons and Girls of Barely Legal. The skin mags move, but it's that lottery ticket dispenser that stays the busiest, with customers queuing up for Daily 6 lotto and Powerball and the ultimate suckers' bait, those pamphlets that sell random number combinations purporting to be "hot." They sell briskly. There's also a quick-check machine to slide in your lotto ticket, post-drawing, to see if you've won. Beneath it is a forlorn pile of crumpled slips.

    On Friday, January 12, the people waiting in the lottery line looking for a long shot would get a lucky break -- a free, close-up ticket to a concert by one of the world's most famous musicians -- but only if they were of a mind to take note.

    Bell decided to begin with "Chaconne" from Johann Sebastian Bach's Partita No. 2 in D Minor. Bell calls it "not just one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, but one of the greatest achievements of any man in history. It's a spiritually powerful piece, emotionally powerful, structurally perfect. Plus, it was written for a solo violin, so I won't be cheating with some half-assed version."

    Bell didn't say it, but Bach's "Chaconne" is also considered one of the most difficult violin pieces to master. Many try; few succeed. It's exhaustingly long -- 14 minutes -- and consists entirely of a single, succinct musical progression repeated in dozens of variations to create a dauntingly complex architecture of sound. Composed around 1720, on the eve of the European Enlightenment, it is said to be a celebration of the breadth of human possibility.

    If Bell's encomium to "Chaconne" seems overly effusive, consider this from the 19th-century composer Johannes Brahms, in a letter to Clara Schumann: "On one stave, for a small instrument, the man writes a whole world of the deepest thoughts and most powerful feelings. If I imagined that I could have created, even conceived the piece, I am quite certain that the excess of excitement and earth-shattering experience would have driven me out of my mind."

    So, that's the piece Bell started with.

    He'd clearly meant it when he promised not to cheap out this performance: He played with acrobatic enthusiasm, his body leaning into the music and arching on tiptoes at the high notes. The sound was nearly symphonic, carrying to all parts of the homely arcade as the pedestrian traffic filed past.

    Three minutes went by before something happened. Sixty-three people had already passed when, finally, there was a breakthrough of sorts. A middle-age man altered his gait for a split second, turning his head to notice that there seemed to be some guy playing music. Yes, the man kept walking, but it was something.

    A half-minute later, Bell got his first donation. A woman threw in a buck and scooted off. It was not until six minutes into the performance that someone actually stood against a wall, and listened.

    Things never got much better. In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run -- for a total of $32 and change. That leaves the 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet away, few even turning to look.

    No, Mr. Slatkin, there was never a crowd, not even for a second.

    It was all videotaped by a hidden camera. You can play the recording once or 15 times, and it never gets any easier to watch. Try speeding it up, and it becomes one of those herky-jerky World War I-era silent newsreels. The people scurry by in comical little hops and starts, cups of coffee in their hands, cellphones at their ears, ID tags slapping at their bellies, a grim danse macabre to indifference, inertia and the dingy, gray rush of modernity.

    Even at this accelerated pace, though, the fiddler's movements remain fluid and graceful; he seems so apart from his audience -- unseen, unheard, otherworldly -- that you find yourself thinking that he's not really there. A ghost.

    Only then do you see it: He is the one who is real. They are the ghosts.

    IF A GREAT MUSICIAN PLAYS GREAT MUSIC BUT NO ONE HEARS . . . WAS HE REALLY ANY GOOD?

    It's an old epistemological debate, older, actually, than the koan about the tree in the forest. Plato weighed in on it, and philosophers for two millennia afterward: What is beauty? Is it a measurable fact (Gottfried Leibniz), or merely an opinion (David Hume), or is it a little of each, colored by the immediate state of mind of the observer (Immanuel Kant)?

    We'll go with Kant, because he's obviously right, and because he brings us pretty directly to Joshua Bell, sitting there in a hotel restaurant, picking at his breakfast, wryly trying to figure out what the hell had just happened back there at the Metro.

    "At the beginning," Bell says, "I was just concentrating on playing the music. I wasn't really watching what was happening around me . . ."

    Playing the violin looks all-consuming, mentally and physically, but Bell says that for him the mechanics of it are partly second nature, cemented by practice and muscle memory: It's like a juggler, he says, who can keep those balls in play while interacting with a crowd. What he's mostly thinking about as he plays, Bell says, is capturing emotion as a narrative: "When you play a violin piece, you are a storyteller, and you're telling a story."

    With "Chaconne," the opening is filled with a building sense of awe. That kept him busy for a while. Eventually, though, he began to steal a sidelong glance.

    "It was a strange feeling, that people were actually, ah . . ."

    The word doesn't come easily.

    ". . . ignoring me."

    Bell is laughing. It's at himself.

    "At a music hall, I'll get upset if someone coughs or if someone's cellphone goes off. But here, my expectations quickly diminished. I started to appreciate any acknowledgment, even a slight glance up. I was oddly grateful when someone threw in a dollar instead of change." This is from a man whose talents can command $1,000 a minute.

    Before he began, Bell hadn't known what to expect. What he does know is that, for some reason, he was nervous.

    "It wasn't exactly stage fright, but there were butterflies," he says. "I was stressing a little."

    Bell has played, literally, before crowned heads of Europe. Why the anxiety at the Washington Metro?

    "When you play for ticket-holders," Bell explains, "you are already validated. I have no sense that I need to be accepted. I'm already accepted. Here, there was this thought: What if they don't like me? What if they resent my presence . . ."

    He was, in short, art without a frame. Which, it turns out, may have a lot to do with what happened -- or, more precisely, what didn't happen -- on January 12.

    MARK LEITHAUSER HAS HELD IN HIS HANDS MORE GREAT WORKS OF ART THAN ANY KING OR POPE OR MEDICI EVER DID. A senior curator at the National Gallery, he oversees the framing of the paintings. Leithauser thinks he has some idea of what happened at that Metro station.

    "Let's say I took one of our more abstract masterpieces, say an Ellsworth Kelly, and removed it from its frame, marched it down the 52 steps that people walk up to get to the National Gallery, past the giant columns, and brought it into a restaurant. It's a $5 million painting. And it's one of those restaurants where there are pieces of original art for sale, by some industrious kids from the Corcoran School, and I hang that Kelly on the wall with a price tag of $150. No one is going to notice it. An art curator might look up and say: 'Hey, that looks a little like an Ellsworth Kelly. Please pass the salt.'"

    Leithauser's point is that we shouldn't be too ready to label the Metro passersby unsophisticated boobs. Context matters.

    Kant said the same thing. He took beauty seriously: In his Critique of Aesthetic Judgment, Kant argued that one's ability to appreciate beauty is related to one's ability to make moral judgments. But there was a caveat. Paul Guyer of the University of Pennsylvania, one of America's most prominent Kantian scholars, says the 18th-century German philosopher felt that to properly appreciate beauty, the viewing conditions must be optimal.

    "Optimal," Guyer said, "doesn't mean heading to work, focusing on your report to the boss, maybe your shoes don't fit right."

    So, if Kant had been at the Metro watching as Joshua Bell play to a thousand unimpressed passersby?

    "He would have inferred about them," Guyer said, "absolutely nothing."

    And that's that.

    Except it isn't. To really understand what happened, you have to rewind that video and play it back from the beginning, from the moment Bell's bow first touched the strings.

    White guy, khakis, leather jacket, briefcase. Early 30s. John David Mortensen is on the final leg of his daily bus-to-Metro commute from Reston. He's heading up the escalator. It's a long ride -- 1 minute and 15 seconds if you don't walk. So, like most everyone who passes Bell this day, Mortensen gets a good earful of music before he has his first look at the musician. Like most of them, he notes that it sounds pretty good. But like very few of them, when he gets to the top, he doesn't race past as though Bell were some nuisance to be avoided. Mortensen is that first person to stop, that guy at the six-minute mark.

    It's not that he has nothing else to do. He's a project manager for an international program at the Department of Energy; on this day, Mortensen has to participate in a monthly budget exercise, not the most exciting part of his job: "You review the past month's expenditures," he says, "forecast spending for the next month, if you have X dollars, where will it go, that sort of thing."

    On the video, you can see Mortensen get off the escalator and look around. He locates the violinist, stops, walks away but then is drawn back. He checks the time on his cellphone -- he's three minutes early for work -- then settles against a wall to listen.

    Mortensen doesn't know classical music at all; classic rock is as close as he comes. But there's something about what he's hearing that he really likes.

    As it happens, he's arrived at the moment that Bell slides into the second section of "Chaconne." ("It's the point," Bell says, "where it moves from a darker, minor key into a major key. There's a religious, exalted feeling to it.") The violinist's bow begins to dance; the music becomes upbeat, playful, theatrical, big.

    Mortensen doesn't know about major or minor keys: "Whatever it was," he says, "it made me feel at peace."

    So, for the first time in his life, Mortensen lingers to listen to a street musician. He stays his allotted three minutes as 94 more people pass briskly by. When he leaves to help plan contingency budgets for the Department of Energy, there's another first. For the first time in his life, not quite knowing what had just happened but sensing it was special, John David Mortensen gives a street musician money.

    THERE ARE SIX MOMENTS IN THE VIDEO THAT BELL FINDS PARTICULARLY PAINFUL TO RELIVE: "The awkward times," he calls them. It's what happens right after each piece ends: nothing. The music stops. The same people who hadn't noticed him playing don't notice that he has finished. No applause, no acknowledgment. So Bell just saws out a small, nervous chord -- the embarrassed musician's equivalent of, "Er, okay, moving right along . . ." -- and begins the next piece.

    After "Chaconne," it is Franz Schubert's "Ave Maria," which surprised some music critics when it debuted in 1825: Schubert seldom showed religious feeling in his compositions, yet "Ave Maria" is a breathtaking work of adoration of the Virgin Mary. What was with the sudden piety? Schubert dryly answered: "I think this is due to the fact that I never forced devotion in myself and never compose hymns or prayers of that kind unless it overcomes me unawares; but then it is usually the right and true devotion." This musical prayer became among the most familiar and enduring religious pieces in history.

    A couple of minutes into it, something revealing happens. A woman and her preschooler emerge from the escalator. The woman is walking briskly and, therefore, so is the child. She's got his hand.

    "I had a time crunch," recalls Sheron Parker, an IT director for a federal agency. "I had an 8:30 training class, and first I had to rush Evvie off to his teacher, then rush back to work, then to the training facility in the basement."

    Evvie is her son, Evan. Evan is 3.

    You can see Evan clearly on the video. He's the cute black kid in the parka who keeps twisting around to look at Joshua Bell, as he is being propelled toward the door.

    "There was a musician," Parker says, "and my son was intrigued. He wanted to pull over and listen, but I was rushed for time."

    So Parker does what she has to do. She deftly moves her body between Evan's and Bell's, cutting off her son's line of sight. As they exit the arcade, Evan can still be seen craning to look. When Parker is told what she walked out on, she laughs.

    "Evan is very smart!"

    The poet Billy Collins once laughingly observed that all babies are born with a knowledge of poetry, because the lub-dub of the mother's heart is in iambic meter. Then, Collins said, life slowly starts to choke the poetry out of us. It may be true with music, too.

    There was no ethnic or demographic pattern to distinguish the people who stayed to watch Bell, or the ones who gave money, from that vast majority who hurried on past, unheeding. Whites, blacks and Asians, young and old, men and women, were represented in all three groups. But the behavior of one demographic remained absolutely consistent. Every single time a child walked past, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.

    IF THERE WAS ONE PERSON ON THAT DAY WHO WAS TOO BUSY TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE VIOLINIST, it was George Tindley. Tindley wasn't hurrying to get to work. He was at work.

    The glass doors through which most people exit the L'Enfant station lead into an indoor shopping mall, from which there are exits to the street and elevators to office buildings. The first store in the mall is an Au Bon Pain, the croissant and coffee shop where Tindley, in his 40s, works in a white uniform busing the tables, restocking the salt and pepper packets, taking out the garbage. Tindley labors under the watchful eye of his bosses, and he's supposed to be hopping, and he was.

    But every minute or so, as though drawn by something not entirely within his control, Tindley would walk to the very edge of the Au Bon Pain property, keeping his toes inside the line, still on the job. Then he'd lean forward, as far out into the hallway as he could, watching the fiddler on the other side of the glass doors. The foot traffic was steady, so the doors were usually open. The sound came through pretty well.

    "You could tell in one second that this guy was good, that he was clearly a professional," Tindley says. He plays the guitar, loves the sound of strings, and has no respect for a certain kind of musician.

    "Most people, they play music; they don't feel it," Tindley says. "Well, that man was feeling it. That man was moving. Moving into the sound."

    A hundred feet away, across the arcade, was the lottery line, sometimes five or six people long. They had a much better view of Bell than Tindley did, if they had just turned around. But no one did. Not in the entire 43 minutes. They just shuffled forward toward that machine spitting out numbers. Eyes on the prize.

    J.T. Tillman was in that line. A computer specialist for the Department of Housing and Urban Development, he remembers every single number he played that day -- 10 of them, $2 apiece, for a total of $20. He doesn't recall what the violinist was playing, though. He says it sounded like generic classical music, the kind the ship's band was playing in "Titanic," before the iceberg.

    "I didn't think nothing of it," Tillman says, "just a guy trying to make a couple of bucks." Tillman would have given him one or two, he said, but he spent all his cash on lotto.

    When he is told that he stiffed one of the best musicians in the world, he laughs.

    "Is he ever going to play around here again?"

    "Yeah, but you're going to have to pay a lot to hear him."

    "Damn."

    Tillman didn't win the lottery, either.

    BELL ENDS "AVE MARIA" TO ANOTHER THUNDEROUS SILENCE, plays Manuel Ponce's sentimental "Estrellita," then a piece by Jules Massenet, and then begins a Bach gavotte, a joyful, frolicsome, lyrical dance. It's got an Old World delicacy to it; you can imagine it entertaining bewigged dancers at a Versailles ball, or -- in a lute, fiddle and fife version -- the boot-kicking peasants of a Pieter Bruegel painting.

    Watching the video weeks later, Bell finds himself mystified by one thing only. He understands why he's not drawing a crowd, in the rush of a morning workday. But: "I'm surprised at the number of people who don't pay attention at all, as if I'm invisible. Because, you know what? I'm makin' a lot of noise!"

    He is. You don't need to know music at all to appreciate the simple fact that there's a guy there, playing a violin that's throwing out a whole bucket of sound; at times, Bell's bowing is so intricate that you seem to be hearing two instruments playing in harmony. So those head-forward, quick-stepping passersby are a remarkable phenomenon.

    Bell wonders whether their inattention may be deliberate: If you don't take visible note of the musician, you don't have to feel guilty about not forking over money; you're not complicit in a rip-off.

    It may be true, but no one gave that explanation. People just said they were busy, had other things on their mind. Some who were on cellphones spoke louder as they passed Bell, to compete with that infernal racket.

    And then there was Calvin Myint. Myint works for the General Services Administration. He got to the top of the escalator, turned right and headed out a door to the street. A few hours later, he had no memory that there had been a musician anywhere in sight.

    "Where was he, in relation to me?"

    "About four feet away."

    "Oh."

    There's nothing wrong with Myint's hearing. He had buds in his ear. He was listening to his iPod.

    For many of us, the explosion in technology has perversely limited, not expanded, our exposure to new experiences. Increasingly, we get our news from sources that think as we already do. And with iPods, we hear what we already know; we program our own playlists.

    The song that Calvin Myint was listening to was "Just Like Heaven," by the British rock band The Cure. It's a terrific song, actually. The meaning is a little opaque, and the Web is filled with earnest efforts to deconstruct it. Many are far-fetched, but some are right on point: It's about a tragic emotional disconnect. A man has found the woman of his dreams but can't express the depth of his feeling for her until she's gone. It's about failing to see the beauty of what's plainly in front of your eyes.

    "YES, I SAW THE VIOLINIST," Jackie Hessian says, "but nothing about him struck me as much of anything."

    You couldn't tell that by watching her. Hessian was one of those people who gave Bell a long, hard look before walking on. It turns out that she wasn't noticing the music at all.

    "I really didn't hear that much," she said. "I was just trying to figure out what he was doing there, how does this work for him, can he make much money, would it be better to start with some money in the case, or for it to be empty, so people feel sorry for you? I was analyzing it financially."

    What do you do, Jackie?

    "I'm a lawyer in labor relations with the United States Postal Service. I just negotiated a national contract."

    THE BEST SEATS IN THE HOUSE WERE UPHOLSTERED. In the balcony, more or less. On that day, for $5, you'd get a lot more than just a nice shine on your shoes.

    Only one person occupied one of those seats when Bell played. Terence Holmes is a consultant for the Department of Transportation, and he liked the music just fine, but it was really about a shoeshine: "My father told me never to wear a suit with your shoes not cleaned and shined."

    Holmes wears suits often, so he is up in that perch a lot, and he's got a good relationship with the shoeshine lady. Holmes is a good tipper and a good talker, which is a skill that came in handy that day. The shoeshine lady was upset about something, and the music got her more upset. She complained, Holmes said, that the music was too loud, and he tried to calm her down.

    Edna Souza is from Brazil. She's been shining shoes at L'Enfant Plaza for six years, and she's had her fill of street musicians there; when they play, she can't hear her customers, and that's bad for business. So she fights.

    Souza points to the dividing line between the Metro property, at the top of the escalator, and the arcade, which is under control of the management company that runs the mall. Sometimes, Souza says, a musician will stand on the Metro side, sometimes on the mall side. Either way, she's got him. On her speed dial, she has phone numbers for both the mall cops and the Metro cops. The musicians seldom last long.

    What about Joshua Bell?

    He was too loud, too, Souza says. Then she looks down at her rag, sniffs. She hates to say anything positive about these damned musicians, but: "He was pretty good, that guy. It was the first time I didn't call the police."

    Souza was surprised to learn he was a famous musician, but not that people rushed blindly by him. That, she said, was predictable. "If something like this happened in Brazil, everyone would stand around to see. Not here."

    Souza nods sourly toward a spot near the top of the escalator: "Couple of years ago, a homeless guy died right there. He just lay down there and died. The police came, an ambulance came, and no one even stopped to see or slowed down to look.

    "People walk up the escalator, they look straight ahead. Mind your own business, eyes forward. Everyone is stressed. Do you know what I mean?"

    What is this life if, full of care,

    We have no time to stand and stare.

    -- from "Leisure," by W.H. Davies

    Let's say Kant is right. Let's accept that we can't look at what happened on January 12 and make any judgment whatever about people's sophistication or their ability to appreciate beauty. But what about their ability to appreciate life?

    We're busy. Americans have been busy, as a people, since at least 1831, when a young French sociologist named Alexis de Tocqueville visited the States and found himself impressed, bemused and slightly dismayed at the degree to which people were driven, to the exclusion of everything else, by hard work and the accumulation of wealth.

    Not much has changed. Pop in a DVD of "Koyaanisqatsi," the wordless, darkly brilliant, avant-garde 1982 film about the frenetic speed of modern life. Backed by the minimalist music of Philip Glass, director Godfrey Reggio takes film clips of Americans going about their daily business, but speeds them up until they resemble assembly-line machines, robots marching lockstep to nowhere. Now look at the video from L'Enfant Plaza, in fast-forward. The Philip Glass soundtrack fits it perfectly.

    "Koyaanisqatsi" is a Hopi word. It means "life out of balance."

    In his 2003 book, Timeless Beauty: In the Arts and Everyday Life, British author John Lane writes about the loss of the appreciation for beauty in the modern world. The experiment at L'Enfant Plaza may be symptomatic of that, he said -- not because people didn't have the capacity to understand beauty, but because it was irrelevant to them.

    "This is about having the wrong priorities," Lane said.

    If we can't take the time out of our lives to stay a moment and listen to one of the best musicians on Earth play some of the best music ever written; if the surge of modern life so overpowers us that we are deaf and blind to something like that -- then what else are we missing?

    That's what the Welsh poet W.H. Davies meant in 1911 when he published those two lines that begin this section. They made him famous. The thought was simple, even primitive, but somehow no one had put it quite that way before.

    Of course, Davies had an advantage -- an advantage of perception. He wasn't a tradesman or a laborer or a bureaucrat or a consultant or a policy analyst or a labor lawyer or a program manager. He was a hobo.

    THE CULTURAL HERO OF THE DAY ARRIVED AT L'ENFANT PLAZA PRETTY LATE, in the unprepossessing figure of one John Picarello, a smallish man with a baldish head.

    Picarello hit the top of the escalator just after Bell began his final piece, a reprise of "Chaconne." In the video, you see Picarello stop dead in his tracks, locate the source of the music, and then retreat to the other end of the arcade. He takes up a position past the shoeshine stand, across from that lottery line, and he will not budge for the next nine minutes.

    Like all the passersby interviewed for this article, Picarello was stopped by a reporter after he left the building, and was asked for his phone number. Like everyone, he was told only that this was to be an article about commuting. When he was called later in the day, like everyone else, he was first asked if anything unusual had happened to him on his trip into work. Of the more than 40 people contacted, Picarello was the only one who immediately mentioned the violinist.

    "There was a musician playing at the top of the escalator at L'Enfant Plaza."

    Haven't you seen musicians there before?

    "Not like this one."

    What do you mean?

    "This was a superb violinist. I've never heard anyone of that caliber. He was technically proficient, with very good phrasing. He had a good fiddle, too, with a big, lush sound. I walked a distance away, to hear him. I didn't want to be intrusive on his space."

    Really?

    "Really. It was that kind of experience. It was a treat, just a brilliant, incredible way to start the day."

    Picarello knows classical music. He is a fan of Joshua Bell but didn't recognize him; he hadn't seen a recent photo, and besides, for most of the time Picarello was pretty far away. But he knew this was not a run-of-the-mill guy out there, performing. On the video, you can see Picarello look around him now and then, almost bewildered.

    "Yeah, other people just were not getting it. It just wasn't registering. That was baffling to me."

    When Picarello was growing up in New York, he studied violin seriously, intending to be a concert musician. But he gave it up at 18, when he decided he'd never be good enough to make it pay. Life does that to you sometimes. Sometimes, you have to do the prudent thing. So he went into another line of work. He's a supervisor at the U.S. Postal Service. Doesn't play the violin much, anymore.

    When he left, Picarello says, "I humbly threw in $5." It was humble: You can actually see that on the video. Picarello walks up, barely looking at Bell, and tosses in the money. Then, as if embarrassed, he quickly walks away from the man he once wanted to be.

    Does he have regrets about how things worked out?

    The postal supervisor considers this.

    "No. If you love something but choose not to do it professionally, it's not a waste. Because, you know, you still have it. You have it forever."

    BELL THINKS HE DID HIS BEST WORK OF THE DAY IN THOSE FINAL FEW MINUTES, in the second "Chaconne." And that also was the first time more than one person at a time was listening. As Picarello stood in the back, Janice Olu arrived and took up a position a few feet away from Bell. Olu, a public trust officer with HUD, also played the violin as a kid. She didn't know the name of the piece she was hearing, but she knew the man playing it has a gift.

    Olu was on a coffee break and stayed as long as she dared. As she turned to go, she whispered to the stranger next to her, "I really don't want to leave." The stranger standing next to her happened to be working for The Washington Post.

    In preparing for this event, editors at The Post Magazine discussed how to deal with likely outcomes. The most widely held assumption was that there could well be a problem with crowd control: In a demographic as sophisticated as Washington, the thinking went, several people would surely recognize Bell. Nervous "what-if" scenarios abounded. As people gathered, what if others stopped just to see what the attraction was? Word would spread through the crowd. Cameras would flash. More people flock to the scene; rush-hour pedestrian traffic backs up; tempers flare; the National Guard is called; tear gas, rubber bullets, etc.

    As it happens, exactly one person recognized Bell, and she didn't arrive until near the very end. For Stacy Furukawa, a demographer at the Commerce Department, there was no doubt. She doesn't know much about classical music, but she had been in the audience three weeks earlier, at Bell's free concert at the Library of Congress. And here he was, the international virtuoso, sawing away, begging for money. She had no idea what the heck was going on, but whatever it was, she wasn't about to miss it.

    Furukawa positioned herself 10 feet away from Bell, front row, center. She had a huge grin on her face. The grin, and Furukawa, remained planted in that spot until the end.

    "It was the most astonishing thing I've ever seen in Washington," Furukawa says. "Joshua Bell was standing there playing at rush hour, and people were not stopping, and not even looking, and some were flipping quarters at him! Quarters! I wouldn't do that to anybody. I was thinking, Omigosh, what kind of a city do I live in that this could happen?"

    When it was over, Furukawa introduced herself to Bell, and tossed in a twenty. Not counting that -- it was tainted by recognition -- the final haul for his 43 minutes of playing was $32.17. Yes, some people gave pennies.

    "Actually," Bell said with a laugh, "that's not so bad, considering. That's 40 bucks an hour. I could make an okay living doing this, and I wouldn't have to pay an agent."

    These days, at L'Enfant Plaza, lotto ticket sales remain brisk. Musicians still show up from time to time, and they still tick off Edna Souza. Joshua Bell's latest album, "The Voice of the Violin," has received the usual critical acclaim. ("Delicate urgency." "Masterful intimacy." "Unfailingly exquisite." "A musical summit." ". . . will make your heart thump and weep at the same time.")

    Bell headed off on a concert tour of European capitals. But he is back in the States this week. He has to be. On Tuesday, he will be accepting the Avery Fisher prize, recognizing the Flop of L'Enfant Plaza as the best classical musician in America.

    Emily Shroder, Rachel Manteuffel, John W. Poole and Magazine Editor Tom Shroder contributed to this report. Gene Weingarten, a Magazine staff writer, can be reached at weingarten@washpost.com. He will be fielding questions and comments about this article Monday at 1 p.m.