Since my one-and-only dropped down on one knee ever so gallantly, friends have all been asking me if I plan to make my own wedding cake.  To which I have replied without hesitation, “Are you kidding?”  In a word, “no”.  That’s more pressure than any bride needs.  Yet I’ve always been fascinated by the grand architecture and fastidious craftsmanship that these masterpieces derive from.  And I’ve often wondered if my home-grown baking prowess could stand up to the ultimate challenge of flour, butter, eggs, and sugar.  So in the spirit of nuptial anticipation – and with a soundtrack of Baroque music to accompany me – I dove into this little weekend project.

First, I chose a recipe from the esteemed pages of Bon Appetit that also passed the Epicurious.com test with glowing reviews.  I felt confident that the lemony confection directions would be a boon to my little experiment. 

My first stumbling block came when I failed to make it to my trusted baking supply store before they closed up shop for the weekend, which rendered me sans cake pans – or at least, without the 12-inch and 14-inch kind I was hoping to walk out with.  The supply I have in my home pantry tops out at 10-inch, so I had to re-assess my plan.  Miniature it would be.  My cake would thus consist of four adorable tiers – from 4-inch at the top to 7-inch at the base.  Certainly not enough to feed a thriving party of 150 hungry chicken-dancers, but enough for a table of twelve to eat generously.  Besides, multiple, personalized wedding cakes seem to be the dessert trend du jour, according to my library of bridal magazines.

Having cut the recipe to a third (a somewhat risky endeavor, walking the delicate high-wire of baking science; I like to throw caution down the drain in my kitchen) I set out cutting rounds of parchment paper and buttering my pans (which sounds like it should be a cheeky double entendre, no?).  Diminutive recipe in hand, I began beating eggs and sugar with glee.  A flurry of lemon zest feathering from my rasper here; a sputter of milk and sugar on the stove there; an aerating pillow of ethereal egg whites in syncopation with the music.  The process inspired me to sing.

Baking the cakes themselves was a simple and reliably pleasant experience.  Mixing up the lemon curd and cream filling got my mojo working.  I threw together a simple lemon syrup like a true artiste and then, the frosting – a marathon whipping session (those poor stickers of butter didn’t see it coming).  Compiling all of the components to the cake was the easy part; I subscribe to the mise en place school of thought and I felt satisfied to see my fridge full of bowls containing the fruits of my efforts.  It’s the assembly that always brings on the jitters.  I’ve long been wanting to take a course in cake decorating, as it’s the vulnerable spot in my kitchen repertoire.  Though I am pretty consistent when it comes to delivering on flavor, the appearance of my desserts tends to border on the rustic side.  Which is perfectly appropriate for a galette, but not so for a wedding cake.  I found the frosting a little less than ideal for spreading, but did my best to slather on the mandatory crumb coating and then chill to a firm glossy surface before polishing each tier with another layer of buttery wallpaper.

The most precarious – though also most rewarding – part of the process was assembling the tiers together.  I had built the 7-inch and 6-inch tiers on top of one another on a 7-inch cardboard round, and did the same double-decker with the two smaller tiers.  With three dowels placed inside the larger stack for support, I ceremoniously topped them off with the smaller stack and voila!  Presto wedding cake!  A few decorative bubbles of pink and brown frosting gave the whole tower a modern and whimsical flair.

So suffice it to say, it wasn’t exactly the masterpiece I hope to have at my own wedding reception.  Still, the project was worth it for the sheer victory of starting and finishing an elaborate baker’s feat.  Next time, I’ll try it with the proper pans and craft the cake to feed fifty.  The biggest challenge will be figuring out who to serve it to.

If you’d like to try the same baking experiment in your own kitchen, here’s the modified recipe I used:

LEMON WEDDING CAKE
For cake
6 large eggs
2 ¾ cups sugar
1 1/3 cups vegetable oil
1 1/3 cups part-skim ricotta cheese
2 tbsp grated lemon peel
2 tbsp orange liqueur
3 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 ½ tsp vanilla extract
4 1/3 cups all purpose flour
1 tbsp baking powder
½ tsp salt

For lemon filling
3 large eggs
¾ cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
¾ cup sugar
½ cup fresh lemon juice
2 tsp grated lemon peel

1 ½ cups chilled whipping cream
3 tbsp sugar

For lemon syrup
2/3 cups water
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice
1/3 cup sugar

For frosting
4 large egg yolks
1 ¼ cups plus 3 tbsp sugar
½ cup plus 2 tablespoons milk (do not use low-fat or nonfat)
2 tsp grated lemon peel
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 pound (4 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into large pieces, room temperature
1/3 cup water

3 large egg whites

Make cake:
Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 350°F. Butter bottom of each pan (4-, 5-, 6- and 7-inch, each with 2-inch high sides) and line bottom of pans with parchment paper.

Beat eggs, sugar, and oil in large bowl of heavy-duty mixer at medium-low speed 5 minutes. Increase speed to medium and beat until mixture is very thick and falls in heavy ribbon when beater is lifted, about 5 minutes. Whisk cheese, lemon peel, liqueur, lemon juice, and vanilla in medium bowl until well blended. Add cheese mixture to egg mixture; beat at low speed until just blended. Transfer to large bowl.  Sift flour, baking powder, and salt into separate bowl. Sift dry ingredients over batter in 5 additions, whisking to blend after each addition. Transfer batter to each pan (batter should be of equal depth in all pans).

Bake cakes until golden brown and firm (tops may crack) and tester inserted into center comes out clean, rotating pans occasionally for even baking and covering loosely with foil if browning too quickly.  Baking times will be approximately as follows:

4-inch = 30 minutes

5-inch = 40 minutes

6-inch = 45 minutes

7-inch = 50 minutes

Transfer to racks; cool completely.

Make lemon filling:
Whisk eggs to blend in medium bowl. Combine butter, ¾ cup sugar, lemon juice, and peel in heavy medium saucepan. Stir over medium heat until butter melts, sugar dissolves and mixture comes to a boil. Gradually whisk lemon mixture into eggs. Return to same pan. Stir over medium heat until curd thickens and just begins to bubble, about 3 minutes. Strain curd into large bowl. Chill until cold and thick, stirring occasionally, about 4 hours.

Beat cream and 3 tablespoons sugar in medium bowl until firm peaks form. Fold into curd in 4 additions. Chill filling until very cold, about 2 hours.

Make lemon syrup:
Stir all ingredients in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat; bring to boil. Chill syrup until cold, about 1 hour. (Cakes, filling, and syrup can be made 1 day ahead. Cover cakes; store at room temperature. Cover filling and syrup; keep refrigerated.)

Make frosting:
Whisk yolks and ¾ cup sugar in large bowl to blend. Bring milk and lemon peel just to boil in heavy large saucepan. Gradually whisk hot milk into yolk mixture. Return to same saucepan. Stir custard over medium heat until thick, about 3 minutes (do not allow custard to boil). Strain custard into large metal bowl; add vanilla extract. Using handheld electric mixer, beat custard until custard lightens and cools to room temperature, about 15 minutes. Gradually add butter; beat until well blended, scraping down sides of bowl often. (If buttercream appears curdled at any time, place bowl directly over heat for several seconds. Remove from heat and beat well; repeat warming and beating as necessary to achieve smooth texture). Set buttercream aside at room temperature.

Stir ½ cup sugar and 1/3 cup water in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Attach clip-on candy thermometer to side of pan. Increase heat and boil syrup without stirring until thermometer registers 240°F, occasionally brushing down sugar crystals from sides of pan with wet pastry brush, about 7 minutes.

Meanwhile, beat egg whites in large bowl of heavy-duty mixer until stiff but not dry. Gradually add 3 tbsp sugar and beat until firm glossy peaks form. Gradually beat hot sugar syrup into egg whites. Continue to beat 2 minutes longer. Place bowl of meringue into larger bowl filled with ice and water. Using handheld electric mixer with clean beaters, continue to beat until meringue cools to room temperature, about 10 minutes. Gradually add meringue to buttercream, beating until well blended.

Assembly:
Cut around sides of cakes to loosen. Invert cakes onto surface. Peel off parchment.

Using long serrated knife, cut off doomed top of each cake to level. Cut cakes horizontally into 2 equal layers. Place bottom cake layer, cut side up, on 7-inch cardboard. Brush bottom with lemon syrup and spread with lemon filling. Place top cake layer, pressing lightly to compact. Brush with more syrup. Repeat with other tiers, also placing the 5-inch layer on a 5-inch cardboard round.

Using offset spatula, spread thin layer of frosting over top and sides of each cake to anchor crumbs. Place 6-inch cake atop 7-inch cake, and 4-inch cake atop 5-inch cake.  Refrigerate cakes on their cardboard bases until frosting is firm, about 1 hour.  Spread additional layers of frosting over each double-decker cake, running spatula over top and sides until frosting is smooth.  Chill in between spreading as needed.

Insert 1 dowel straight down into center of larger double-decker cake to cardboard base. Mark dowel about ¼-inch above top of frosting. Remove dowel and cut with serrated knife at marked point. Cut 2 more dowels to same length. Press 3 cut dowels into cake, positioning about 1 ¼ inches inward from edge of cake.  Place smaller cake atop dowels on larger cake.

Using pastry bag fitted with small plain round tip, pipe small dots or flowers of frosting decoratively around edges, as you wish.
Modified from Bon Appétit Cooking Class June 1997

If you happen to strike it lucky at your local grocery store and come upon a good stalk of rhubarb, your biggest dilemma may be what to do with it next.  The unfortunate thing about being such a high maintenance plant with a complex love-it-or-hate-it flavor is that it often gets shunned in the recipe department.  Typically, strawberries are sent alongside to rescue rhubarb from itself.  But when you’re buying great rhubarb, you should taste it in its pure form without the patronizations of more popular fruit.

So here’s a recipe that showcases rhubarb – both with eye appeal and mouth appeal.  The pistachios give a nice accent color and a snappy little crunch for contrast.  And at this more dismal time of year, the summery flavor is quite a boon.

RUSTIC RHUBARB TART

Ingredients

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, separated
1/3 cup plus 3 tablespoons sugar, separated
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 sticks cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
2 tablespoons ice cold water
1/3 cup unsalted pistachios
1 tsp cinnamon
3/4 lb rhubarb stalks
2 tsp lemon zest

In large bowl, stir together 1 cup flour, 1 tablespoon sugar, and salt. Blend in butter with a pastry blender to get those familiar “pea-size lumps” recipes always talk about.  Add the ice water and mix dough with a fork.  Add additional water in teaspoon amounts if necessary to keep dough holding together.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and smash it with the heel of your hands – this will move the fat (butter) around and distribute it evenly.  Do this a couple times, then gather dough and form into a ball.  Flatten the ball into a disk and wrap in plastic wrap and stick in the fridge.  Chill it for at least an hour and up to a day.

Take the dough out of the fridge, unwrap and place between two sheets of wax paper.  Using a rolling pin, roll out into a circle – about 9 or 10 inches in diameter.  Don’t worry if it isn’t a perfect circle.  This is a rustic tart; leave your pretensions at the door.

Chill the circle of dough, still between the two sheets of wax paper, for about fifteen minutes.  Meanwhile, prepare your filling. 

Mix your pistachios, remaining flour, 2 tablespoons sugar, and teaspoon of cinnamon in a food processor.  Pulse to a coarse powder. 

Cut the rhubarb into thin slices, as if you were cutting celery for a salad.

Now it’s time to assemble.  Remove one sheet of wax paper from the dough and invert it onto a baking sheet, then remove the other sheet of wax paper.  Pull the edges of the dough in and fold over to create a border of crust (almost an inch wide) all the way around the circle.  Sprinkle the pistachio mixture over the dough (avoiding the crust), then top with the rhubarb.  You can arrange it in concentric circles, or any other way you fancy.

Score the edge of the crust with a small knife and chill the tart for another fifteen minutes.

While it’s chilling, preheat your oven to 375.

Sprinkle the lemon zest and 1/3 cup of sugar over the rhubarb and bake in the oven (on a lower shelf), for about 35 minutes.  The crust should be golden brown and the rhubarb should be soft when pierced with a fork.

Cool your gorgeous, pink and green tart on a rack for about fifteen minutes before serving.  Enjoy it warm or at room temperature, with whipped cream, cinnamon ice cream, or classically plain.

A dessert party is a unique take on entertaining, with the ever important food element, but also a hint of naughtiness that everyone should be allowed to indulge in now and then.  It’s a great stage for whimsy and elegance.  You can make it a sit-down affair or opt for cocktail style, but the main ingredients must all be of the sugary persuasion.

Most meals start with the bread basket passing hands.  For your dessert party, serve ramekins of bread pudding instead.  Keeping in mind the many courses ahead, the pudding should be simple and enhanced with fruit rather than chocolate.  Try a bread pudding with dried apricots or raisins and orange zest.  Set out dishes of sugared walnuts or chocolate-covered lentils for munching on, too.  Then it’s on to the “salad” course: strawberries with balsamic sauce and goat cheese are a great starter, or melon balls sweetened with basil mint syrup. 

Now it’s time to introduce the main event – try a dessert with nuts, such as mini pecan tartlets or a hazelnut-crusted cheesecake dressed with caramel.  Serve sautéed apples in martini glasses on the side.

Next, cleanse your guests’ palettes with a lemon or watermelon granita, served in carved out lemon halves.  They can be prepared ahead and look delightfully elegant.

Since dessert is the theme of the day, there’s no true “dessert” course, but this is the stage to put chocolate on display for a grand finale.  Try a trio of chocolate mousses scooped onto small silver dishes and dusted with shaved chocolate.

Of course, you’ll also need libations to accompany all these sweets.  A very dry white wine will work, as will the more festive choice of champagne.  Chocolate martinis are practically a course unto themselves, or serve coffee in tiny tea cups decorated in vibrant patterns.

For displaying your desserts, use cake stands and tiered platters of varying heights.  Decorate tables with solid shades such as bright purples, greens, reds and pinks.  They’ll perk up your guests and stimulate the appetite, too.

A dessert party is innately all about indulgence.  Nonetheless, portions must be small.  These courses are designed to be tastings; no one likes walking away feeling uncomfortably bloated.  With this in mind, flip through the cookbook Gale Gand’s Just A Bite for inspiration.  It’s full of great recipes for bite-sized desserts ranging from kiddie style to retro favorites to rich and sophisticated takes on the classics.  Select five to seven of them and you’ll be well on your way to a “Midwinter Blues”-busting extravaganza.  Cheers!

This year it was a chocolate chestnut cake from the pages of a 2005 issue of Bon Appétit magazine (and found online at http://www.epicurious.com/).  Chestnuts just say ”Christmas”, and this dessert is well worth any spectacular holiday celebration.  The recipe itself is nothing any comfortable pastry chef would wrinkle an eyebrow at.  The steps are relatively simple, though abundant.  It’s the final presentation and knock-out taste that makes it worthy of any discerning baker’s repertoire.

It starts with a cake, baked in an elegant square shape with chestnut spread in the batter.  Sweetened chestnut spread, to be precise, which eluded me completely despite my gallant efforts to track it down at every gourmet shop within a fifty mile radius.  I found it online through one purveyor but the astronomical shipping charge rendered it ridiculous, so instead I craftily pureed my own.  Boiling jarred chestnuts in a little water with a few tablespoons of sugar, then pureeing them with vanilla extract in my faithful food processor did the trick.  The chestnut puree imparts a light, sweet flavor to the cake and helps achieve a delicate crumb.  But that’s only the foundation.

The cake then gets brushed with a sinful brandy syrup and swathed in a delicious chocolate-caramel ganache (one of the best I’ve had).  Spend the extra money on a good milk chocolate; it really makes a difference.  Chopped chestnuts are sprinkled on top of the filling before another layer of cake is added.  Then the whole cake is gloved in a dark chocolate glaze for a sophisticated finish.  As the recipe suggests, I decorated the border of the cake with whole chestnuts, but again had an ingredient issue when I decided that spending nearly thirty dollars on edible gold leaf was not worth it.  I purchased edible gold glitter instead and it was a nice, cost effective substitute.  Just one tip – if you do use the edible glitter, wipe the chestnuts dry before you sprinkle, as the moisture will cause the glitter to melt and the result is not so pretty (speaking from unfortunate experience).

Ultimately, this is a cake even a novice chef could handle.  The biggest commitment is the time it takes for creation and assembly, but based on the heavenly “mmmms” resounding from the dessert recipients, I’d attest that it’s a worthwhile cause.

 DARK CHOCOLATE-CARAMEL CAKE WITH GOLD-DUSTED CHESTNUTS

Caramel ganache

9 ounces high-quality milk chocolate (such as Lindt or Perugina), finely chopped
3 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
6 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons water
1 cinnamon stick
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (21/4 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature

Cake

2 cups cake flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
1 1/4 cups (packed) golden brown sugar, divided
4 large eggs, separated
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup sweetened chestnut spread with vanilla
1/4 cup whole milk

Brandy syrup

1/4 cup brandy
2 tablespoons golden brown sugar
24 jarred peeled whole chestnuts; 12 coarsely chopped, 12 left whole (about 7.25 ounces)

Glaze

1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup water
8 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

Edible gold dust

For ganache:

Combine milk chocolate and bittersweet chocolate in medium bowl. Stir sugar, 2 tablespoons water, and cinnamon stick in heavy medium saucepan over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves. Increase heat and boil without stirring until syrup turns deep amber, occasionally brushing down sides of pan with wet pastry brush and swirling pan, about 6 minutes (time will vary depending on size of pan). Add cream and salt (mixture will bubble vigorously). Bring caramel to boil, whisking until smooth and caramel bits dissolve, about 1 minute. Discard cinnamon stick. Pour hot caramel over chocolate; stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth. Let stand until completely cool, stirring occasionally, about 1 hour.

Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until fluffy. Beat in chocolate mixture in 4 additions. Cover and refrigerate ganache overnight.

For cake:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour 9×9x2-inch metal baking pan. Line bottom of pan with parchment paper. Sift flour, baking powder, and salt into medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until fluffy. Beat in 1 cup brown sugar, then egg yolks and vanilla extract. Beat in chestnut spread, then milk. Sift dry ingredients over and gently mix together. Using clean dry beaters, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Add remaining 1/4 cup brown sugar and beat until stiff but not dry. Fold egg whites into batter in 3 additions.

Transfer batter to pan. Bake cake until golden and tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 48 minutes. Cut around cake to loosen. Cool cake completely in pan on rack.

For syrup:

Stir brandy and brown sugar in small bowl until sugar dissolves.

Turn cake out onto work surface. Peel off parchment. Using long serrated knife, cut cake horizontally into 3 equal layers. Place 1 cake layer, cut side up, on 9×9-inch cardboard square. Brush cake layer with half of brandy syrup. Spread with 1 cup ganache. Sprinkle with half of chopped chestnuts. Top with second cake layer, cut side up. Repeat with remaining brandy syrup, 1 cup ganache, and remaining chopped chestnuts. Top with remaining cake layer, cut side up. Spread remaining ganache over top and sides of cake. Place cake rack on sheet of foil; place assembled cake on rack. Chill while preparing glaze.

For glaze:

Bring cream, sugar, and 1/4 cup water to boil in heavy medium saucepan, stirring until sugar dissolves. Add chocolate and whisk until melted and glaze is smooth. Let cool until thick but still pourable, about 4 hours.

Pour glaze atop cake, spreading evenly over sides. Chill until glaze sets.

Brush 12 whole chestnuts with gold dust. Arrange chestnuts across top of cake. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Cover with cake dome and refrigerate. Let cake stand at least 4 hours and up to 8 hours at room temperature.) Serve cake at room temperature.

Makes 16 servings.

For a baker, the choices in the chocolate category tantalize and inspire.  There is Valrhona, sexy and dark.  El Rey, exotic and perfumed.  Callebaut, sophisticated and smooth.  And now, upmarket brands are even finding their way into the aisles of national grocery stores.

Why the recent parade of premium chocolates?  Well, for starters, there’s a demand for them that wasn’t once there.  The Betty Crockers of the world used to be perfectly content to use Baker’s squares of unsweetened and semi-sweet chocolate, with the sporadic bag of Nestle chips for more playful occasions.  And Hershey was the monopolizing standby for unsweetened cocoa powder.  But in recent years, cooking has become a social obsession whose devout followers demand the best above the rest - and crave the knowledge to know the difference.   The movement is visible in the popularity of the Food Network, cooking publications of every style and flavor, and cult-favorite cooking competitions that seem to bring out the crazed chef in everyone.  These self-taught, grocery-store-patronizing gastronomes are no longer content to settle for Baker’s.  They want a chocolate that has depth and complexity.  They want the Mecca of cacao.  And chocolate producers are delivering.

Take Nestle, for instance.  Recognizing the evolution occurring in the baking aisle, it recently introduced the Chocolatier line of baking chocolates, available in 53% and 62% cocoa content.  These percent amounts are now ubiquitous status symbols for baking chocolate, indicating how truly “chocolate-y” the respective bar is.  The higher the content, the purer the product, resulting in better baked goods.  Semi-sweet chocolates with a lower percentage of cocoa often come across as cloying; not a desirable outcome for any dessert.

Then there’s Guittard, whose San Francisco-based chocolates have been around for over a century but are now growing more popular with the everyday cook.  The family-owned company prides itself on purity of ingredients (nothing artificial in these bars) and offers up chocolate for eating and baking.  Their white chocolate has a 31% cacao content – relatively high for a white chocolate – revealing itself in a creamy, subtle flavor.

Not to be outdone, Hershey’s is also jumping on the bandwagon with the Cacao Reserve line of chocolates, which also heralds its percent cocoa content and announces new flavor notes such as red wine and herbs.  Not necessarily ideal for baking, yet tuning in to the zeitgeist nonetheless.  This artisanal brand champions the art of savoring chocolate and tasting it with the same scrutiny as a fine wine. 

And, much like wine connoisseurs who won’t cook with anything undrinkable, many pastry chefs subscribe to the philosophy that if you wouldn’t eat it, you shouldn’t bake with it.  Testing out (read: snacking on) the different brands and cacao contents is a worthwhile activity, and varying chocolate brands is the simplest way to elevate the quality of the finished dessert.

For burgeoning and professional bakers alike, the grown-up chocolates in the grocery have helped to welcome in a more sophisticated culture of cacao.  And it tastes pretty damn good. 

Not that I have such a cynical approach to the holidays; I savor this time of year like a fine meal.  But each time the season gallops in I find myself faced with the same lesson in overextension – how many recipes can I possibly cram into six weeks?  This year it’s 31.

Here’s the dilemma: in my world, “cake mix” is a four-letter word.  I don’t believe in shortcuts in the kitchen; I shriek at the very thought of frozen pie crust or canned frosting.  It’s homemade, or bust. 

But I’d rather not pull my hair out (I find it’s not a good look on me) and stress just causes pimples (among other unattractive consequences) so I’ve taken to approaching my master baking list with the precision of a surgeon.  As a veteran over-extender, here are my personal tips for dealing with the holiday rush (Godspeed!):

• Make lists.  It’s trite, but it really works.  If you take inventory of your recipes, what you need to make and when you plan to make it, you won’t risk jolting out of bed on Christmas Eve realizing you haven’t yet started on a cake that takes three days to make.
• If it can be made ahead and frozen, do it.  There’s no shame in making things ahead only to save yourself sanity in the long run.  No one likes a cranky cook.
• The three most important words in a cook’s dictionary:  mise en place.  If you don’t know them, do yourself a favor and look them up. 
• Whenever possible, buy ingredients in bulk, on sale, and ahead of time.  You’ll thank yourself later when your grocery store is out of cranberries and there’s a mad brouhaha over the last jar of chestnuts in the baking aisle.
• If you’re saddled with the same baker’s ego that I am (“Bread pudding?  But of course I’ll make it with homemade challah!”) then go for recipes that are impressive – and fully homemade – without being foolishly complex.  Homemade truffles are simple, elegant and festive.  Cheesecakes keep nicely in the freezer and can be dressed up with fresh whipped cream and a Jackson Pollack-inspired smattering of cinnamon.  Or, make a basic cake and cut it into a six-inch size for a whimsical boutique look that appears far fancier than it is difficult.

Thanksgiving is now upon us and I’m seven deep into my thirty-something list.  With sixteen working days left (which is all I can spare around my paying day job), I’m feeling confident and relaxed.

Well, maybe not quite relaxed.  But my hair is still in place and I’m warming up for the sprint ahead. 

The fine crumbs were disastrously fragile, struggling in vain to hold onto one another.  It collapsed against the weight of cream cheese; likewise even to a smear of jelly.  The product of my bread-baking effort was, by all accounts, a sad little loaf.

I was thirteen years old.

*          *          *          *          *

For a first experience with yeast, I suppose I can’t fault myself.  Working with it can be tricky business.  But at a young age I had set my mind to learning how, inspired by the pages of my mom’s dusty Women’s Day Encyclopedia of Cookery series – pages that smelled like history; years of stirring and brining and kneading and flambéing.  To me the recipes read like fairy tales, each one full of enticing characters I yearned to know.  Celeriac.  Crème Fraiche.  Butternut squash.  Names that were spellbinding to me.  And among them, yeast – elusive and mysterious. 

What I understand now (and didn’t then) are the multitude of variables that can transform yeast from a beautiful, inimitable fungus into a cranky, volatile force of destruction.  Yeast has to be nurtured.  It requires patience.  You must be gentle with the yeast, lest it get upset.  These are things I did not know.

I am a fairly keen bread baker now, and treat the process each time as a challenge.  Whether it’s raining, or I’m trying a new recipe, or perhaps it’s simply a full moon or the winds have shifted – each time I feel triumphant when the dough rises softly like a cloud, and the end product comes out just as it should.  But there are still a number of things that can go wrong when baking bread.

Among them:

Over-kneading
Under-kneading
Rising for too long
Not rising long enough
Too much flour
Too little flour
Liquid that’s too hot and kills the yeast
Liquid that’s not warm enough and doesn’t activate the yeast

It’s a decidedly temperamental thing.  And like any good skill, it takes practice.  Still, there’s something unbeatably rewarding about pulling a loaf of warm, crusty, soft bread from the oven, so delicious it sings.  Salute it with some butter and a little drizzle of honey and you might as well pack your bags for heaven, my friend, because that’s where you’ll be headed.

If you’ve never baked bread before, you’ll need to approach it like a science.  Be meticulous and careful.  With time, you’ll start to get a feel for it.  You’ll learn to read the right water temperature simply by sticking your index finger into it.  You’ll recognize the signature bubbles of blooming yeast.  You’ll get a feel for the desired elasticity of dough.  You’ll know that by spraying water into the hot oven during baking you’ll create steam, which will help give your bread the perfect crust.  And you’ll know how to listen for the hollow tap on the bottom of the bread to signify that it’s done. 

But for a recipe that’s pretty fool-proof, I like the following one from Alton Brown.  For a simpler baking method, you can do away with the terra cotta pan in the oven and slide the dough onto a cookie sheet instead.

Very Basic Bread
Recipe from www.foodtv.com, courtesy Alton Brown, 2005

1 pound bread flour, plus extra for shaping
1 teaspoon instant rapid rise yeast
2 teaspoons honey
10 ounces bottled or filtered water
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 quarts hot water
Vegetable oil, for greasing the rising container
2 tablespoons cornmeal
1/3 cup water
1 tablespoon cornstarch

Combine 5 ounces of the flour, 1/4 teaspoon of the yeast, all of the honey, and all of the bottled water in a straight-sided container; cover loosely and refrigerate for 8 to 12 hours.

Place the remaining 11 ounces of flour, remaining yeast, and all the salt into the bowl of a stand mixer, and add the pre-ferment from the refrigerator.  Using the dough hook attachment, knead the mixture on low for 2 to 3 minutes just until it comes together.  Cover the dough in the bowl with a kitchen towel and allow to rest for 20 minutes.  After 20 minutes, knead the dough on medium speed for 5 to 10 minutes or until you are able to gently pull the dough into a thin sheet that light will pass through.  The dough will be sticky, but not so sticky that you can’t handle it.

While the dough is kneading, pour half of the hot water into a shallow pan and place on the bottom rack of your oven.

Grease the inside of a large straight-sided container with the vegetable oil.  Place the dough ball into the container and set on the rack above the pan of water.  Allow to rise until doubled in size, approximately 1 to 2 hours.

Once the dough has doubled in size, turn it onto a counter top, lightly dust your hands with flour, and press the dough out with your knuckles; then fold 1 side in towards the middle of the mass and then the other, as if you were making a tri-fold wallet.  Repeat the folding a second time.  Cover the dough with a kitchen towel and allow to rest for another 10 minutes.

Flatten dough again with your knuckles and then fold the dough in onto itself, like you are shaping something that looks like a jellyfish.  Turn the dough over and squeeze the bottom together so that the top surface of the dough is smooth.  Place the dough back onto the counter and begin to roll gently between your hands.  Do not grab the dough but allow it to move gently back and forth between your hands, moving in a circular motion.  Move the dough ball to a pizza peel or the bottom of a sheet pan that has been sprinkled with the cornmeal.  Cover with the kitchen towel and allow to bench proof for 1 hour, or until you poke the dough and it quickly fills back in where you poked it.

Place an unglazed terra cotta dish upside down into the oven and heat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Combine the 1/3 cup of water and the cornstarch in a small bowl.  Uncover the dough and brush the surface with this mixture.  Gently slash the top surface of the dough ball in several places, approximately 1/3 to 1/2-inch deep.  Add more of the hot water to the shallow pan if it has evaporated.  Slide the bread onto the terra cotta dish in the oven and bake for 50 to 60 minutes.  Once the bread has reached an internal temperature of 205 to 210 degrees F, remove to a cooling rack and allow to sit for 30 minutes before slicing.