Tiramisu

The only country I have ever visited outside of the U.S. has been Italy.  My husband and I were fortunate enough to travel there on our honeymoon, though our trip was a mere week.  Our first days were in Rome; and, what a wonderful place that was to begin married life!  Our hotel was in walking distance of the Coliseum with many wonderful restaurants and cafes woven in between.  On the first evening of our stay, after a sound and sturdy dinner, we happened upon a quaint cafe.  The locals seemed to like the place, which made it all the more appealingly authentic.  We entered, not knowing what to say, what to order - just acting on whim (the thing that all newlyweds possess before a lifetime of committments and obligations weigh them down and make decision-making seem almost impossible). 

The glass counter, which stood as the focal point of the cafe, illuminated a bevvy of beautiful treats.  Some were familiar friends - cheesecakes, iced cakes and the like.  Others were ethnically apparent treats - cannolis, zeppoles and such.  And then there was one item in the case that particularly called to us.  Perhaps because it floated atop its plate like a mystical espresso-laden cloud.  Or perhaps because its placement in the counter assured it the best source of lighting - it looked neither flat nor rigid, still moist but not soggy.  Poetry in motion.  Dicotomy and irony rolled up in between layers of marscapone and lady fingers.  No matter.  The dessert that we wanted was the tiramisu.  And we scarfed it down with gentle delight.

At that moment in time, we would have sworn that it was the best thing we had ever eaten in our lives.  And perhaps it was.  Analyzing it now, however, it's hard to say whether or not the tiramisu we had that night was genuinely the best because it was the finest made or if it was the best because we were still floating on the high of our post-nuptual bliss.  After all, we had just arrived in a wonderful, faraway land that we had only seen in books.  We had been giddy, earlier that day, when our taxi drove past the Coliseum.  We almost jumped in delight when our tour finally lead us to see the great Sistine Chapel.  And when we had our first Italian dessert in a native cafe, we felt higher than the ninth cloud - almost ready to take orbit into another galaxy.

In our time since that blissful journey, I have tried several different recipes for tiramisu - a few were adequate, some were a waste of time, only one was truly great.  With fading memories, my taste buds have since agreed that this tiramisu is just as good as the one from our sentimental voyage.  Perhaps it is because I feel pride in cooking my own dessert.  Or perhaps it is a reflection of the happiness that has overtaken my post-honeymoon life.  No matter the reason.  It is just darn good tiramisu - and, I'm happy to share this ecstasy with others!

Ingredients:

• 3 egg yolks
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 1 cup grandulated sugar
• 3 cups mascarpone cheese (this is an Italian cream cheese)
• 8 ounces cream cheese
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 20 – 24 lady fingers
• 1/4 cup cold espresso
• 1/4 cup Kahlua coffee liqueur
• 2 teaspoons cocoa powder

Instructions:

1. Fill a medium saucepan halfway with water and bring it to a boil over medium/high heat, then reduce heat so that the water is simmering. Whisk egg yolks, milk and sugar together in a medium metal bowl, then place the bowl on top of the saucepan (you can also use a double boiler for this step). Stir the mixture often for ten minutes. After the sugar dissolves the mixture should begin to thicken and turn light yellow. Remove it from the heat to cool.
2. Use an electric mixer to combine mascarpone, cream cheese and vanilla in a large bowl. Mix until mostly creamy, but with a few small chunks remaining.
3. Add egg yolk mixture to the cheese mixture and mix just until well-combined.
4. Combine espresso and Kahlua in a small bowl. Pour this mixture onto a dinner plate. One-by-one touch the bottom of each lady finger in the espresso. The lady finger will quickly soak up the espresso/Kahlua mixture, but you don’t want the lady finger soaked — just a dab will do ya. The top half of each lady finger should still be dry. Arrange the soaked lady fingers side-by-side on the bottom of an 8×8-inch serving dish or baking pan.
5. Spoon about half of the cheese mixture over the lady fingers, then add another layer of soaked lady fingers on top of the cheese mixture.
6. Spoon the remaining cheese mixture over the second layer of lady fingers and spread it evenly.
7. Put two teaspoons of cocoa powder in a tight-mesh strainer and gently tap the side of the strainer to add an even dusting of cocoa powder over the top of the dessert.
8. Cover and chill for several hours. To serve, slice the dessert twice across and down creating even portions (the first serving is always the hardest to get out).

(This original recipe came from this site:  http://restaurantrecipesbook.com/olive-garden-tiramisu-recipe/)

Plantain Gingerbread

I love to bake.  Some could assume that, aside from my family, it is the one thing in life I love more dearly than anything else.  I love it when effort and precision is paid off with the promise of something great.   There is nothing finer, nor more poetic, than a baked goodie - an assembled mixture of loose ingredients combined to form one perfect slice of happiness on a plate.  Every culture has something that creates this level of pleasure.  Every cuisine has their version of baked bliss.  In Liberia, apparently this comes in the form of a treat called Plantain Gingerbread.

Not like the Christmas gingerbread we Americans are familiar with, the Liberian fare tastes a little less sweet though triumphantly just as decadent.  The rich molasses in the batter makes the stout cake hold a wealth of flavor while somehow remaining as a muted backdrop to the battery of spices housed in the mixture.  Butter, and lots of it, keep the cake moist.  And the plantains, thinly layered on top of the cake, are the unassuming star of the show.  Supple, sweet, with just a bit of tang, they play together with the gingerbread to form a nice and delicate symphony of flavors. 

Truly, as always, the best things in life are the most simple.  And nothing could be more simple (or better) than this recipe!

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 cups sliced half-ripe plantain
• 2 1/3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/3 cup butter or margarine
• 1 cup molasses
• 2/3 cup boiling water
• Whipped cream (optional)

Instructions:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
2. Mix the sugar and water in a sauce pan over moderate heat, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Bring to a boil. Peel plantain and add to the boiling sugar syrup. Add the plantain and cook for about 5 minutes. Remove the plantain and drain. Butter a 9-inch square cake pan heavily. Spread the plantain slices evenly over the bottom.
3. Sift together the flour, salt, baking soda, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg.
4. Place the butter and molasses in a sauce pan over moderate heat and bring to a boil. Remove from the heat. Combine this heated mixture and the boiling water and stir. Gradually add the sifted dry ingredients, stirring, and then beat vigorously. Pour the batter over the sliced plantain.
5. Bake at 350 degrees for about 50 minutes, or until the cake tests done (Mine was done in 30 minutes). Let the pan stand for 5 minutes on a rack, then loosen with a spatula and turn the cake upside down on a serving plate. Cut into squares. The cake is topped with whipped cream. Serve warm or cooled.

(The original recipe came from this site: http://www.liberianforum.com/recipe.htm)

Ho Dduk (Korean Pancakes)

When I think of sweets, quite honestly the Asian continent does not rank high on my list of places wherein my sugar-fix might be had.  And, with North Korea being no exception, I braced myself for what I figured to be a less-than-pleasing dessert.  However, though Ho Dduk turned out to be surprisingly edible (and, dare I say, even remotely good), this version of Korean pancakes is something far removed from the western notions of what a craved dessert should be.  

Yield:
36 pancakes (A WORD TO THE WISE: Half or quarter this recipe, as it makes a large batch of these pancakes!!)

Ingredients:
10 tablespoons butter or margarine, softened
2 eggs, beaten
2 tablespoons yeast
2 tablespoons sugar
1 1/2 cups warm water
1/2 cup potato flakes
1 cup cold water
1/4 cup powdered milk
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons salt
6 cups flour
1 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons cinnamon
vegetable oil
 
Instructions:

1. Mix yeast, 2 Tbsp sugar and WARM water together in a bowl.
2. Mix Potato flakes with cold water in a separate bowl.  (Of course, I omitted this step)
3. In your mixer combine the powdered milk (or "wet" milk), 1/4 cup sugar, salt and 4 cups flour.  
4. Add softened butter, eggs, yeast and potato mixtures to mixer bowl.  Mix until well blended.  Add remaining flour in small amounts until it"cleans" the sides of the mixing bowl.  Remove from bowl and knead on a floured board for about 10 minutes (or, if you have an awesome stand mixer, attach dough hook and allow the mixer to do the work for the next ten minutes)
5. Grease a clean bowl and set the dough inside to rise for about 45 minutes.
6. Divide into 36 balls and cover with a damp cloth.
7. Mix brown sugar and cinnamon together.   Add more cinnamon if you prefer.
8. Add enough oil to the bottom of a skillet to just barely cover the bottom.   Heat over a medium flame.
9. Take a ball of dough and flatten in the palm of your hand.  Put a spoonful of the cinnamon mixture on the dough and wrap the dough around it.  Put into the hot oil and let cook about a half of a minute then flatten with a spatula.  Let cook another 30 seconds, flip and flatten some more.  Allow it to finish browning.  Remove from skillet and let cool on a paper towel.
10. Repeat the process adding more oil as needed to the skillet to prevent the pancakes from sticking.

As one can tell from reading the recipe, there are a lot of steps involved in making Ho Dduk.  Of course, this shouldn't frighten the brave cook.  Most of the steps are fairly similar to the process of making bread.  Yeast is involved, as is a specific amount of time necessary to knead the dough.  There is some flour, sugar, water - all typical dough stuff - and then, the thing to throw you for a loop, potato flakes and powdered milk.  Potato flakes?!  Powdered milk?!  That's what the recipe said.  Potato flakes.  Powdered milk.  Interesting.  Of course, most of us don't just have these items laying around in our pantries.  And, I don't want the absence of these two ingredients to discourage anyone else from trying this "dessert"....so, I encourage anyone interested to improvise as I did.  Instead of powdered milk, I used regular 2% milk.  And, instead of potato flakes, I used...well....nothing.   Call it poetic license.  Send me to recipe jail.  I did what I had to do.  And despite my omission, they still turned out fairly well.

 (this picture is from original recipe page - mine looked similar to this, though I didn't have my camera handy)

The end result fell pretty much in line with my expectations.  They were pancakes.  With some cinnamon-brown sugar melted on the inside.  Fairly delicious.  Vaguely reminiscent of a cinnamon roll.  Enjoyed by my husband.  Loved by my two-year old (though, honestly, this is not a hard task - she can find contentment in a few stickers and an empty box).  I am not sure if this will end up in our current repertoire of eating or if it will remain an interesting footnote about "that one time when we tried..."; but, I can say, it was (as always) a wonderful departure to try new and unexpected things.  So, thanks for the pancakes, North Korea!

(The original recipe came from this link:  http://recipes.wikia.com/wiki/Ho_Dduk_(korean_Pancakes))

Poached Pears in Red Wine

Fruit as a dessert.  We found ourselves entering into foreign territory with this recipe.  Dessert, for my family, brings about connotations of chocolate cake, candy bars or bowls of ice cream.  Fruit, seeming to be a paltry option, is one for which we heavily scoff - in part, due to the fact that we are sugar addicts and fructose is not nearly as sweet as the things we crave.  But, also, I think even more for me than for my husband, I tend to see dessert as a reward or occasional moment of weakness - in which case, fruit would never dawn on me as being either.  Fruit is the good stuff, the day-to-day food that we eat for health.  Craving it when our horns go up seems like a waste of good badness.  Or bad goodness.  Or, simply, wrong in either context.  But, new countries, new foods, all equates to new things.  Thus, I figured I would add this famous Dutch pseudo-side dish/dessert to our meal one evening.

Pears are a favorite, no matter what is done to them.  Poaching fruit seems to be a relatively easy way of adding a hinted undertone of flavoring to a common item.  And, with no great difficulty, it all turned out as planned.  Simple.  Elegant.  Food.    

Ingredients:
8 stewing pears
1 bottle of red wine
3 cloves
2 cinnamon sticks
1 Tablespoon dark brown sugar
The grated zest of one orange
The grated zest of one lemon
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
3 to 4 drops of pink food coloring

Instructions:

1. Carefully peel the pears, leaving the stalks intact. Cut a straight slice off the bottom of the pears so that they can stand upright easily.
2. Tightly pack them into a large pot. They should fit snugly. Pour the wine to the tops of the pears. Add cloves, cinnamon sticks, sugar, zest, nutmeg and food coloring.
3. Bring to the boil and then reduce heat to a gentle simmer for 1 hour, or until soft but not mushy. Remove the poached pears carefully using a spoon -- do not lift by the stalks.

Even though it is still hard for me to classify this as a dessert - despite the better coaxing of Dutch culture - I embrace poached pears with a true belief that maybe someday, with enough repetition in action, I will seek this out in place of its less-healthy counterparts.  Perhaps.  As long as there is no chocolate in our house.

(The original recipe came from this link:  http://dutchfood.about.com/od/dessertssweets/r/PoachedPears.htm)

Honduran Banana Bread

This is a yummy dessert bread from Honduras.  Great for breakfast - a wonderful snack!  It's a nice twist on typical banana bread that most people are used to due to the subtle undertones of the flaked coconut.  Even my husband, who hates coconut, thought this bread was the best!  The original recipe called for a sprinkling of pecans on the top, which is something I like to add for a nice, professional appearance.  Also, it called for a lime/rum icing to be drizzled on top.  This, of course, can be omitted - it's not necessary; although, be aware, it does add an interesting taste!

Yield: 1 loaf - 12 slices

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons butter, softened
2 tablespoons neufchatel cheese
1 cup sugar
1 egg
2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup mashed banana
1/2 cup skim milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup coconut, flaked

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350. Cot loaf pan with cooking spray; set aside. Beat margarine and Neufchatel cheese at med. speed in mixer; add 1 cup sugar, beating well. Add egg, beat well.
2. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt; stir well.
3. Comine banana, milk and vanilla; stir well.
4. Add flour mixture to creamed mixture alternately with banana mixture; mix after each addition. Stir in coconut.
5. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake at 350 for 60 minutes. Let cool and enjoy!

(The original recipe came from this link: http://www.recipezaar.com/recipe/print?id=293737)