Do you want to make perfect, delicious shortbread? It's easy: find out how, here.
Are you hungry? A lot, or just a Liddabit?
Well, either way, Liddabit Sweets is well worth a look. This Brooklyn-based confection operation has a splendid roster of sweets, and a convenient Chelsea Market retail location where you can go in NYC and buy them all. And a book, so you can try some of their finest recipes in the comfort of your own home.
Listen, most of these photos are from their website because whoever took their photos is better than me. Thanks in advance youse guys!
They make fancy, expensive homemade candy bars (they're expensive for a reason--check out their "candy bar economics" here). And brittles. And turtles. And honeycomb candy. And fancy caramel corn. But seriously, at this moment, we are here to talk about the caramels.
Tasting them very quickly shows that these people know what they are doing, are confident in their abilities, but aren't afraid to have a little fun.
So what makes their caramels so great? They're fancy, but not too fancy. They're still accessible to all sorts of palates, bringing to mind the nostalgia of those cubes of caramel, but tasting even better than your idealized version of them.
So what's on the caramel roster?
Everyone, at this point, has been exposed to salty caramel as a flavor, so it's hardly new. But it's delicious anew when you have a particularly toothsome specimen in your mouth, and Liddabit Sweets' version does just that. They have them plain, and chocolate-covered. Try both to see which you like better.
They do have creative flavors, too, that you probably have NOT seen before, such as stout gingerbread (stout the beer, not stout like Santa Claus), apple cider (like a caramel apple spice), beer-n-pretzel (sweet and salty!), and black truffle caramels made with truffle oil (the kind the special pigs find, not the chocolate kind). It's a good mix of high and low on the menu.
And then there's my favorite, the fig-ricotta caramel. Oh, hi. When I tasted it, I was surprised by the flavor. It tasted figgy...but somehow not mellow. Creamy, yes, but with a little...something.
Well, I looked it up on their site, and as the description notes,
Loaded with sweet bits of dried fig and touched with balsamic vinegar, these caramels are one of our most sophisticated treats. A delightful addition to a cheese plate, they're also great with a sip of port - or just on their own.
Dude! That's it! Vinegar!
The vinegar is quite a brilliant addition to these caramels. It performs, flavor-wise, a similar function to salt, in that it takes away the "sweet and nothing else" characteristic that lesser caramels all too often posess. It also, similarly to salt in caramels, makes them intriguing and makes you lustful for another bite right away. I wonder if they make a special jumbo half-pound size of these caramels?
If you are a caramel lover like me, I don't believe you will be disappointed by these unique sweets.
Liddabit Sweets, shop and look online here, or go to the retail location in the historic Chelsea Market.
Recently (as in today), Craftsy published a post of mine about interesting wedding cakes from around the globe. It features about 7 interesting cakes from far-flung locales, and in my opinion, it's a sweet way to do some armchair travel and learn about some unique cakes.
But I wanted to expand upon the tradition of Bermudese wedding cakes, because I found it so darned interesting. And, the cakes are so, so, pretty. That's them, above. The photographer, Sacha Blackburne, was kind enough to share some of her images with me, which is delightful, because as you can see, she's a really talented photographer and really knows how to capture the beauty of a cake.
But on to the Bermudese wedding cake tradition. As you can see in the photo at the top, weddings are twice as nice in Bermuda, because there are two cakes. They are decorated in silver and gold, respectively, so you'll have to give me a moment here while I do some arpeggios and sing the "siiiiiiiiilver and goooooooooold" song from the TV special of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer for several moments here.
OK, I'm done. Back to the cakes.
The larger cake, sometimes referred to as the “bride’s cake,” is a large, often multi-tiered fruitcake-like confection covered with silver leaf, which I have read is meant to symbolize purity. Snazzy purity, that is!
And, of course, the fruitcake is often made using rum from the region.
A smaller cake, the groom’s cake, is a pound cake that is often covered in gold leaf. This is meant to symbolize wealth and prosperity. Once again: snazzy!
The traditional topping? No figurines of a smiling bride and groom here. The traditional cake topper is a real sapling, which is then planted by the couple as a symbol of their growing love and life together. Decoration including other vines, leaves, etc may accentuate this theme.
To the uninitiated, Tarte Tatin is an upside-down apple tart which is famous in France. It's upside down because it's baked with a slurry of apples, butter, sugar and some spices in a pan, with the pastry bottom on top. After it's baked, you flip the pan, and the yummy gooey stuff drips down on top of the apples to form a caramelly, buttery awesome apple topping on a pastry crust. It's easy and good eating, for sure.
Among its many fine points, it's also largely viewed as a precursor to America's beloved pineapple upside-down cake.
So how did the tart get its start? Well, one thing is for certain: the ones who made it famous in the 1880s were the Tatin sisters, Stephanie and Caroline, proprietresses of the Hotel Tatin, located about 100 miles south of Paris.
How, exactly, the tart was developed depends on who you ask. There are several stories; I'll share a few with you.
Some say that it was a flub where sister Stephanie was cooking some apples on the stovetop and misjudged how quickly they were cooking. To try to chill out the fast-cooking pommes, she tossed a pastry crust on top and tossed the whole thing in the oven to slow the cooking. When she extracted it, the inverted tarte was well-received, and a new classic was born. In another similar variation, she simply forgets to put the crust below the apples so decides to put it on top and bake.
Other versions of the story make out Stephanie as a kitchen novice, accidentally assembling the tart in the wrong order before baking but deciding to go with it. Yet others include an unfortunate incident in which a tart is assembled and soon before baking, is accidentally flipped upside down, but she decides to go with it anyway.
If you've heard another variation of the story, or a slightly different version of any of the above, I'm not surprised. As I found out while writing my second book, The Secret Lives of Baked Goods: Sweet Stories & Recipes for America's Favorite Desserts, many of the stories behind popular baked goods are like playing a game of telephone: they're slightly different depending on who tells the story.
It's also probable that it wasn't an accident at all, but a matter of the baker following baking trends, since it's probable that the concept of upside-down desserts actually preceded the sisters Tatin. In his Le Pâtissier royal parisien, published in 1841, the famed pastry chef Marie-Antoine Carême had already referenced "gâteaux renversées" , or "reversed cakes", made with various fruits.
But to me, this is the most interesting part of the story: it wasn't even the sisters Tatin who made the tarte famous. In fact, it was a matter of word of mouth.
Maurice Curonsky, a French author and gourmand, adorably nicknamed "the Prince of Gastronomy"was the first to famously revere the tart, referring to it in his writing as "tarte des desmoiselles Tatin". To the best of my high school French knowledge, "desmoiselles" is a more kind term than "old maids", but it does refer to their unmarried status. Word of the "tarte Tatin" spread, and this became its nickname--it had not previously been referred to by name like this.
Sealing the tarte's fame was the love of Louis Vaudable, an influential foodie and owner of Parisian restaurant Maxim's. According to the official Tarte Tatin website, Vaudable is said to have written "I used to hunt around Lamotte-Beuvron in my youth, and had discovered in a very small hotel run by elderly ladies a marvelous dessert listed on the menu under tarte solognote. I questioned the kitchen staff about its recipe, but was sternly rebuffed. Undaunted, I got myself hired as a gardener. Three days later, I was fired when it became clear that I could hardly plant a cabbage. But this was long enough to pierce the secrets of the kitchen. I brought the recipe back, and put it on my own menu under "Tarte des Demoiselles Tatin".
As the website continues, however, "Unfortunately, Mr. Vaudable was born in 1902, and the sisters retired in 1906. They died in 1911 and 1917, while Maxim's was purchased by the Vaudable family in 1932." So while it's a cute story, it doesn't quite line up.
Nonetheless, the tarte did appear on the Maxim's menu, and became a popular favorite.
Today, you might not see tarte tatin on restaurant menus with great regularity, but it's a delicious and worthwhile experience to make your own. It's fairly simple--if you've ever made an apple pie, and if you've ever flipped a Pineapple upside-down cake, you're well equipped with all the skills you need.
Regarding apples: The French Calville apple is the specimen of choice for this recipe; however, if you can't find those, try Pippin, Cortland, or Gala apples. Interestingly, some older recipes call for unpeeled apples, though the recipe I suggest calls for Granny smith apples, cored and peeled. I have used Gala when I have made this recipe, but you choose your own bliss. You're not going to be wrong if you use Granny smith.
Regarding pans: You know, there actually exists a tarte tatin pan. But if you don't want to make the investment...go ahead and use an oven-safe skillet.
Regarding serving: Although old versions call for serving the tarte warm, by itself, go ahead and serve it with ice cream if you wanna (you probably do, right?). You won't regret it.
Want a recipe? I will tell you, I have used the New York Times recipe pretty exactly, so I won't even try to adapt it here--rather, I will give you a link.
Have you ever tried Tarte tatin?
I understand that sometimes you want a pinkies-out, delicate and beautiful dessert.
And other times...you just wanna stuff your face with cake.
A week or so ago, I was having one of those days. And almost as if it was a sign from the heavens, I opened up Taste of Home Magazine--you know, to gaze at the feature which included my mini pies. Here I am with the spread:
Listen. The cake in the magazine looked like this.
I am not a photographer...but here is mine.
The photos in this post prove that. But I hope that my words can convince you that in spite of the "not ultra pinnable" images, this cake is worth giving a try. Because gosh-darn was it good. It is such a rich cake that I am honest, a slice will do it for you. It's almost like the cake part of a crumb cake, swirled with chocolate. So buttery, so creamy.
And then, the frosting. I sort of improvised with it, and decided to try a sort of sour cream frosting. It was a good decision--the slight tang of the frosting worked so beautifully with the rich cake. The overall result was richer than a king's ransom, and far tastier.
The decorating was fun, too. Swirling chocolate in the frosting was surprisingly easy, and looked pretty. It also gave a wonderful flavor contrast, adding a solid, dark undertone to go with the sweet and buttery stuff.
Please, please tell me you'll try this cake. It's like having your birthday again, no matter what day of the year.
Marvelous Marble Swirl Cake
Adapted from Taste of Home
For the cake
- 4 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
- 1 tablespoons, plus 1 1/4 cups butter, softened, divided
- 2 cups sugar
- 5 eggs
- 3 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
- 2 teaspoons baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 cup sour cream
- 1/2 cup chocolate chips
- 3/4 cup sour cream
- 6 3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
- 2 teaspoons vanilla
- some milk on hand, to thin if needed
- 2 tablespoons chocolate chips
- In a metal bowl over barely simmering water, melt the chocolate and 3 tablespoons of butter; stir until smooth. Cool to room temperature.
- Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 F. Line the bottoms of two 8-inch round baking pans with parchment paper; grease the paper, too.
- In a bowl, cream the remaining butter with the sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla. In another bowl, whisk flour, baking powder, and salt; add to creamed mixture alternately with the sour cream, beating well after each addition.
- Remove 2 cups batter to a small bowl; stir in cooled chocolate mixture. Drop plain and chocolate batters by tablespoonfuls into the prepared pans, dividing the batter between the pans.
- Bake for 20 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the pans 10 minutes before removing to wire racks. Peel off the parchment, and let cool completely.
- When you have a feeling the the cake will be cool soon, begin on the frosting. In a large bowl, cream the sour cream with the confectioners' sugar until nice and smooth but thick. If it gets too thick and stiff, add the milk as needed to thin.
- If the cakes have rounded tops, level them with a serrated knife.
- Place one cake layer on a serving plate; spread with 3/4 cup frosting.
- Top with remaining cake layer. Apply a thin crumb coat and let chill for 20 minutes to lightly set.
- Now, put a nice dollop on the top of the cake. Drop the remaining chocolate on top, and spread the frosting in a circle so that it is woven with chocolate, too. Yum.
- Ice the sides with the remaining (plain) frosting.
What would Elvis eat? Um, these. For sure.