Just Baking

Somehow every Wednesday, and sometimes Friday, I find myself in the kitchen baking. I love baking. I really do. When my mother would entertain a crowd, I was the one in charge of baking dessert, setting the table and frying Dauphine cheese. My brother always teases her about her redundant dauphine cheese and how he can tell that we are expecting guests only at the sight of cheese dauphine … and mushroom sauce. They are very good, though.

A lot of people are afraid of baking. I understand it. I get afraid of baking, too; especially when it involves cakes and tarts. The failures I had with these too are more than I can count and handle. A few months before I got married, I invited my then soon-to-be sister-in-law and her husband for an afternoon tea. I wanted to impress them by making one of my mother’s signature tarts: Pear and walnut cream tart. (Actually, I wanted my then soon-to-be sister-in-law to be impressed so she would call my then soon-to-be husband and tell him how lucky he is to have such a talented baker. What a lame plan!)

I read the recipe, set my ingredients on the countertop and began kneading my dough to have it come together. The recipe said: “work flour, butter and water together until your dough comes together.” “Until my dough comes together?” That’s what I did. I might have worked the dough a tad longer, and added more flour to speed up the process, but how was I supposed to know! I garnished my tart, baked it, and served it to my guests. I was sitting next to my then soon-to-be sister-in-law when she tried to take a piece of my disobedient tart with a fork and her little portion of tart literally went flying past my shoulders and landing on her husband’s lap. We all looked at each other, looked at our portion of tart, and started laughing. (Needless to say that my plan to impress her was a fiasco and that I made her promise not to say a single word about my rebellious flying tart to my then soon-to-be husband. She kept her promise. I ended up telling him the story anyway, this exact same day. We laughed about it. He still wanted to marry me!)

A few days ago, it might have been a Wednesday, too, I don’t remember, I went to make one of the many cakes both my mother and grandmother would make for our afternoon snacks: Semolina and raisin cake.

As I started reading the recipe, I was afraid this was going to be yet another baking fiasco to add to my résumé. The recipe says: “1 small bowl of semolina” Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve never felt comfortable with these kind of recipes. “A small bowl?” How small? Is there a standard for small bowls that I wasn’t aware of?

(My mother told me the other day that every time a friend of hers would give her such recipes that involved small bowls and small cups, she would ask them to give them the exact bowl that they used for their recipe. She now has all kinds of mismatched bowls and cups, and she remembers which one goes with which recipe. Now, that’s smart!)

Not having my mother nearby to “borrow” her small bowl, I turned my web cam on and asked her to tell me which of my bowls she thinks was right for this recipe. After too many “No! That’s too big! Your bowls are too big!” and having all my kitchen cabinets emptied out on my desk, she finally gave the verdict that my small cup of coffee was the right “small bowl.” Confusing, I know!

This cake is one of my favorites growing up. Despite the confusing “small bowl,” which I weighed to make it easier for everybody, it is a fairly easy cake for novice bakers. The cake yields a moist, smooth, and delicate crumb that is a fusion between cheesecake and clafoutis. The preparation is quite similar to making baked polenta or rice pudding. Here the semolina is added in a stream to the boiling milk and cooked for a few minutes until creamy and smooth. The remaing ingredients are added to the milky mixture away from the heat, then the batter is turned onto an oiled pan to bake until a nice, chewy golden crust, which happens to be my favorite part, forms on top. And then all you do is let it cool a bit, slice it with a butter knife without being afraid of flying pieces, and enjoy this glorious moment – until next Wednesday, at least.  

Semolina and Raisins Cake

Recipe:

- 4 cups whole milk
- 4.5 ounces fine semolina flour
- 6 tbsp granulated sugar
- 1 tbsp butter
- 4 eggs, at room temperature, lightly beaten
- 1 tsp orange zest
- ½ cup black raisins

Scald the milk, then add semolina in a thin stream, whisking. Cook over moderate heat, whisking constantly, for 10 minutes, until the mixture looks like a smooth porridge. Away from the heat, add sugar, butter, eggs, orange zest, and raisins, and whisk until well incorporated.

Turn the batter into an oiled square or rectangular pan and spread it evenly with a spatula. Bake at 375F for 25-30 minutes or until golden brown on top.

Serve warm or at room temperature.
 

Gateau de Semoule et Raisins In Français Please:
- 125g de semouline (semoule fine)
- 1L de lait entier
- 6 c.s de sucre en poudre
- 4 oeufs, a temperature ambiante, légerement battu
- 1 c.c de zeste d’orange
- 50g de raisins secs, noirs
- 1 c.s de beurre Porter le lait à ébullition, puis verser dessus la semoule en pluie en remuant avec un fouet. Laisser cuire sur feu doux tout en remuant pour éviter de bruler le fond, environ 10 minutes, ou jusqu’à ce que le mélange ressemble à de la bouillie. Hors du feu, ajouter le beurre, les oeufs, le zeste d’orange et les raisins secs, et mélanger pour obtenir un mélange homogène.

Verser la pate dans un moule carré ou rectangulaire bien beurré et lisser bien la suface. Cuire à 180F pendant 25-30 minutes ou jusqu’à ce que la surface soit dorée et qu’un cure-dents inséré à l’interieur en ressort sec.

Servir tiède ou à temperature ambiante.