A Butcher’s Orange Rosemary Cake with Pine Nuts, Oh Boston

My brother, Eric, texted me on March 8th to say, “It’s official. Apartment hunting in Boston is the worst possible experience.” 

He is right. 

When he and his girlfriend, Amanda, entered what would otherwise be reasonable search criteria into Craigslist—namely they wanted a dog-friendly place with in-unit laundry for less than 2,000 dollars per month—one entry in all of Boston proper came up.  And it was a scam listing.

Finding an apartment here is not for weaklings.  You need about 6,000 dollars upfront, to cover first and last’s months rent plus a realtor’s fee, which often involves forking over a couple grand to a bro in his mid-twenties so he can physically open the door and lie straight to your face that the apartment comes with a dishwasher.

Eric and Amanda are planning to move here from the D.C. area and when they came to visit last weekend, we stopped into a real estate agency, hoping some face-to-face contact might improve their chances.  Eric relayed the same reasonable criteria—minus the laundry, which I assured was an illusory ambition—and the realtor made the kind of face a crummy oncologist might give before awarding you a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.

Despite all of this, as we walked around the city, Amanda said she thought the people of Boston were nice.  To which I had a good laugh. The city was founded by Puritans, after all, and boasts a proud history as a place where angry mobs literally tarred and feathered people. It was ten degrees that day, which was not breeding any benevolence from inhabitants, either. 

While the city does not coddle, it does offer some fun.  We visited one of my favorite restaurants, Hojoko, a Japanese-style spot that until a few years ago, was a Howard Johnson.  They serve an addictive okonomiyaki and also offer something called wasabi roulette, wherein a pecan-sized nub of wasabi is encased in bits of raw fish and participants take turns eating similar pieces from a rotating dish until a poor soul stumbles upon the one with wasabi. This is the type of thing that the diseased people of Boston find hilarious. 

We also visited Eataly, which has imported pasta and limbs of meat hanging from the rafters, which is what sold Amanda on Boston, I think, once we discredited her nice Bostonian theory. We ended the night at a comedy club located on the third floor of a Chinese restaurant in Harvard Square, whose floors will allegedly bow if enough people are on them.

So we toured the city, ate and drank to fight off the cold, and despite the gnarly weather and depressing housing prospects, had a good time.

Before they left for their 7 AM flight back to the land of the cherry blossoms, I tucked away a few slabs of this cake for the airport.

The recipe comes from a butcher named Dario who has a restaurant in Tuscany.  You can read more about its origin here.

To make it, you throw a couple oranges, rind and all, into the batter, along with some wine-soaked raisins. It is perfumed by fronds of rosemary and studded with pine nuts, which I never really kept around before, because I felt pecans could do the job of a pine nut when it came to pesto.  But I will now. 

The result is a fragrant, citrusy cake with a moist crumb. I typically soak the raisins in amaro along with a splash of sherry, because the recipe calls for vin santo, which I do not have. Although I have many characteristics of an eighty-year-old Italian man, drinking vin santo is not one of them.

Though the cake itself is not overly sweet, thanks to the dusting of granulated sugar, it has a sparkly top layer that looks like icy snow crystals. Plus it involves a tube pan. I love a good tube pan.

It also serves as a convenient metaphor for Boston.  Its ingredients are a bit finicky and at some points you feel like things are going all wrong.  The recipe calls for less than a cup of sugar, so it is by no means a saccharine dessert. Even the natural sweetness from the fruit is tamed by bitter notes from the orange peel and amaro.

It is a solid, reliable dessert made for sturdy people.  Just don’t call it nice.

A Butcher’s Orange Rosemary Cake with Pine Nuts

Adapted from Food52

Ingredients:

• ½ cup raisins
• ¼ cup amaro plus 2 tbsp of sherry (or 3 ounces of vin santo)
• ⅓ cup pine nuts
• 1½ oranges, unpeeled and halved (seeds removed)
• 2 eggs
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp baking powder
• ¾ cup plus 2 tbsp granuated sugar, divided
• ½ cup plus 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1½ cups plus 1 tbsp all-purpose flour
• 3 tbsp cornstarch
• 2 long fresh rosemary sprigs

Instructions:

In a small saucepan, heat the raisins and amaro-sherry (or vin santo) on high heat until simmering. Turn off the heat and let sit 30 minutes. (So the raisins can plump and soak up the liquid.)

Set the oven to 325 degrees and roast the pine nuts on a baking sheet for 8 to 10 minutes, until they are golden brown and smell nutty. (Rotate the baking sheet halfway through to ensure even cooking.) Let cool.

Increase the oven temperature to 400 degrees.

Grease (I use butter) and flour a tube pan (or angel food cake pan), tapping out the extra flour.

Place the orange halves cut-side down and slice longitudinally into ¼-inch slices. Leaving the peels attached, chop the slices into ¼-inch cubes.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, place the eggs, baking soda, baking powder, and ½ cup plus two tablespoons of sugar.  Using the whisk attachment, mix on medium-high speed until the mixture becomes lighter in color and thicker (3 to 4 minutes).

With the speed on medium, gradually pour the olive oil down the inner side of the bowl and mix until emulsified.

Turn the speed to low and mix in one-third of the flour until it is barely visible and then one-third of the raisins until just incorporated.  Stop the mixer to scrape down the sides of the bowl.  Repeat two more times, each time adding one-third flour and raisins and then stopping to scrape the bowl. 

Remove the bowl from the stand and fold in the oranges with a rubber spatula (no bits of flour should be visible, but do not over mix). Let the batter rest for 10 minutes.

Scrape the batter into your prepared pan (it will be very thick and loaded with oranges) and gently smooth the top with your spatula.  Scatter the pine nuts over top and then sprinkle with the remaining ¼ cup of sugar.

Cut the rosemary sprigs into manageable pieces (I like mine a couple inches in length).  Stick the tufts into the batter so that they lay on the surface in a design of your choosing.

Bake the cake for 10 minutes, then turn the temperature down to 325 degrees and bake for another 30 to 40 minutes, or until the cake is golden and an inserted toothpick comes out clean. (Rotate the cake once during the process to ensure even baking.)

Place the cake on a wire rack and let cool to room temperature.

Run a knife around the inside of the pan and gently flip the cake upside down to free it, letting it fall gently into your hand (or nearby plate).  Quickly flip the cake back and onto a serving platter, so that the pine nuts and rosemary are facing up again.

Notes

1. If you have pastry flour, 1¾ cups of it can be used in place of the all-purpose flour and cornstarch.
2. The cake can be covered and left at room temperature overnight, but I would freeze any leftovers beyond a day or two.

Lucky Charms Cookies, Magically Delicious

Thirty-four was my scary age. 

The time at which, I was once told, my fertility would drop swiftly, like an Oldsmobile sailing off a cliff. The time at which being unmarried and without a mortgage would place a searing spotlight on me as an adult fraud.  The time at which I would be guaranteed to die a grim death alone, perhaps eaten by pet canaries.

This, of course, is ludicrous.

I am not alone.  Plus most of my friends are now my scary age. Which makes my impending situation less frightening. Strength in numbers.

But on the days my consciousness is dialed up, I can detect certain vicissitudes.
I notice that bodily things are starting to shift down, and spread.

I notice that my memory is not as elastic as it once was.  I find myself searching for words like chamomile and amuse-bouche.  And this can no longer be correlated with prior gin ingestion.

I notice that my friends with children have all vacated the city.  Some days it feels like an emotional fallout shelter—where cultivated adult relationships are unreachable due to nuclear war caused by the whims of toddlers and unaffordable housing. 

I notice that some places I love have vacated as well.  Like the shockingly recently departure of River Gods, a bar that offered equally good beef and vegetable-based burgers; poured decent beers; and hung things like mermaids or witches or stars from ceiling, depending on the season.  I have had multiple friends live near River Gods.  They have since moved too.

But there are new homes of old friends to visit. There are new friends too. There are new restaurants and new recipes, like this frozen negroni I recently stumbled across. Because I am nearing thirty-four and still alive and enthusiastically capable of drinking something alcoholic made in a blender. 

I also recently found a recipe for cornflake chocolate chip marshmallow cookies from Momofuku Milk Barthat I thought might distract my aging corpse.  Except Corn Flakes were a common breakfast option growing up and I felt compelled to bake with the type of cereal that I was never allowed to eat as a child.  Because I am securely an adult and can do such things.

The result is a cookie with not one, but two forms of marshmallows.  It is a sweet dessert, for sure, but also salty and chewy and thereby addictive to any human with taste buds and a childhood rooted in the mid-twentieth century or beyond.

Through some research I learned Lucky Charms are more or less glorified Cherrios (another Gelsomin sanctioned childhood breakfast) with added marshmallows.  These confections are officially known as marbits and were originally based on circus peanuts.  Circus peanuts!  Which I hate.

So there you have it, another story about getting older. More or less a collection of the truths we sell, stories mixed with the circus peanuts of youth and the Lucky Charms of adulthood. It is probably best not to take your marbits too seriously.  As Anne Lamott once wrote “the truth is we are all terminal on this bus.”

So I guess the new truth is that thirty-three plus is not a scary prospect at all, if you stay curious and adaptive. In fact, given some recent evidence, it’s magically delicious.

Toasted Lucky Charms Marshmallow Chocolate Chip Cookies

Inspired by Momofuku Milk Bar by Christina Tosi

Ingredients:

for the toasted Lucky Charms crunch

• 100 grams (¼ cup plus 3 tbsp) butter
• 125 grams (3¾ cups) separated Lucky Charms oat cereal (without marshmallows)
• 30 grams (¼ cup plus 2 tbsp) dry milk powder (see notes)
• 20 grams (1½ tbsp) sugar
• 3 grams (¾ tsp) kosher salt

for the cookie batter

• 225 grams (2 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature
• 250 grams (1¼ cups) sugar
• 150 grams (2/3 packed cup) light brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 2 grams (½ tsp) vanilla extract
• 240 grams (1½ to 2 cups) all-purpose flour (see notes)
• 2 grams (½ tsp) baking powder
• 1½ grams (¼ tsp) baking soda
• 5 grams (1¼ tsp) salt
• 230 grams (all the recipe, or about 3 cups) toasted Lucky Charms crunch (see instructions)
• 100 grams (1 cup of ¼-inch pieces) dark chocolate (see notes)
• 30 grams (about ¾ cup) mini marshmallows
• 45 grams (about 1½ cups) separated Lucky Charms marshmallows (marbits)

Instructions:

to make the toasted Lucky Charms crunch

Set the oven to 275 degrees.

In a small saucepan, melt the butter on medium to medium-low heat, swirling the pan occasionally, until it starts to caramelize and smell nutty (about 5 to 7 minutes).

Meanwhile in a medium bowl, place the separated Lucky Charms oat cereal and crush it with the end of a rolling pin until it is one-quarter of the original size (it is okay if pieces vary slightly in size). Add the milk powder, sugar, and salt and mix to combine. Pour in the butter and toss to coat (the mixture will get moist but not enough to clump together).

Line a sheet pan with parchment paper and spread the cereal mixture on the paper.  Bake for 30 or 40 minutes or until fragrant and slightly toasted in color. Let cool. (This can be made ahead of time and stored in an airtight container.)

to make the cookies

In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the softened butter, sugar, and brown sugar; cream together with a paddle attachment on medium-high for 2 to 3 minutes.  With a spatula, scrape down the sides and then add the egg and vanilla and beat for about 8 minutes.

Meanwhile in a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Reduce the mixer speed to low, add the sifted dry goods and mix until the dough just comes together. Remove the bowl from the stand and, with a spatula, add in the Lucky Charms crunch, chocolate, and both types of marshmallows; mixing until just incorporated.

Line a sheet pan with parchment paper and portion out heaping ¼ cup size scoops (about 50 to 60 grams each). Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate (ideally overnight but for a minimum of one hour).

When you are ready to bake, set the oven to 375 degrees.  Line a sheet pan with parchment paper and arrange the scoops of cookie dough four inches apart. (Two sheet pans can be prepared and baked at a time.) Bake for about 18 minutes or until the cookies brown along the edges and the centers are no longer pale and doughy.

Cool the cookies on the sheet pans.  (They will harden as they cool, forming crisp edges and soft middles.) Transfer to a plate or container.  Repeat until all the cookie dough has been baked off.

Makes about 20 cookies

Notes:

1. I like Meyenberg goat milk powder.
2. For the flour, I went with the gram measurement (the book said 240 grams was 1½ cups but using my measuring cup it was closer to 2 cups).
3. I used Wild Ophelia 70% dark chocolate laced with BBQ potato chips, because why not?
4. Oh the picture?  We are celebrating a birthday of thirty-four, in the Boston Harbor.
    

Gluten Free Peanut Butter Cookies, An Unconventional Valentine

There is a negative thirty-six degree wind chill in Boston today. It is Valentine’s Day.  In hopes of a nice meal, Brett and I have sacrificed three chickens for the preparation of a ramen broth from the sadistic souls at Momofuku.

In a peculiar development that speaks to the mental illness of my family, my brother—who lives in Virginia where it is a balmy fourteen degrees—is making the very same ramen.  Consequently, there was no discussion of our respective soup plans, nor was there collusion to use broth to fight the cold four hundred miles apart. 

We are simply cut from the same cloth of people who will spend, at minimum, ten ungodly hours hacking chickens and reducing steeped kombu.  Our lineage has the patience for such a task and the stupidity not to know better.

Momofuku ramen is a bitch, in the words of my brother. (Happy Valentine’s Day!)

Luckily, the people we attract—the depraved souls—find this activity somewhere along the spectrum of romance and gratuitous torment.

I do not have this recipe for you today.  You will never get the hours calculating the weight of deboned animal carcasses and rendered bacon fat back. One can only hope, for the good of humanity, there are but few humans capable of such idiocy outside the confines of a professional kitchen.

I do, however, have a very good cookie recipe for you, sane person.  One that should surprise and delight without bone cracking or blood or cursing, if done properly.

It uses only five ingredients and shamelessly declines flour, making the cookies needlessly—but deliciously—hip.  That they are gluten-free is not the point.  The point is that they are quite good and easy and suitable for your friends with celiac disease. 

The concept is fairly simple.  Take peanut butter (a winning beginning) and add brown sugar and eggs and three hundred and fifty degrees.  I thought about making them again and adding in cayenne and scraped vanilla bean seeds.  But I did not have the energy today.  You can imagine what babysitting a painfully slow simmering pot of chicken parts and pulverized mushrooms does to a person.

In essence, this recipe is about as far away as one can get from Momofuku ramen.  None of the ingredients require research, nor do you have to involve a calculator at any point in the process. (Odds are you probably have the necessary items in your pantry right now.)

There are, however, a few unifying factors worth mentioning.  Both recipes have New York origins—hailing from very popular city spaces—and are very good.

They are also both capable of heating up the joint.  Which is really the whole point on a day like today. 

Sea Salted Peanut Butter Cookies

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen and Ovenly: Sweet and Salty Recipes from New York’s Most Creative Bakery

Ingredients:

• 1¾ cups (335 grams) packed light brown sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1¾ cups (450 grams or one 16-ounce jar) of smooth peanut butter (see note)
• Sea salt, for garnish

Instructions:

In a medium bowl, whisk together the light brown sugar and eggs until smooth.  Whisk in the vanilla extract and the peanut butter until everything becomes fully combined and turns lighter in color.  It will not be as thick as regular cookie dough.

Chill the dough in the freezer for about 30 minutes. This will help the dough set and scoop well. 
Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

When ready, take out the cookie dough.  If the edges of the dough look like they have frozen a bit, stir the dough again briefly.  Scoop out about 2 heaping tablespoons of dough per cookie, setting the mounds a couple inches apart.  (Having a scooper is helpful.)  You should be able to fit about 10 to 12 cookies per sheet. Sprinkle each mound lightly with sea salt.

Place one sheet of cookies in the freezer for 15 minutes.  This is the first one you will bake.  Place the other sheet of cookies in the fridge.  Set the oven to 350 degrees.

After 15 minutes, place the freezer sheet into the oven and place the fridge sheet into the freezer.  Keeping the cookies very cold will help them keep their shape better.

Bake the cookies for 15 to 20 minutes, or until they turn golden at the edges.  The middles will still be slightly soft.  Let the cookies set for a minute or two on the hot sheet and then transfer to a wire rack to cool.  Repeat with remaining cookies. 

Let cool completely before eating.  This will help the cookies properly set so that their edges are crisp and their centers are chewy.

Makes about 20 cookies

Notes:

1. I only tried this with regular (not natural) peanut butter. Processed peanut butter is alleged to yield a better shape.
2. The longer you keep the scooped cookies chilled the longer their cooking time will be, so be flexible with their time in the oven, if necessary.