Breton Fleur de Sel Buckwheat Cake, Sun in the Sky

I have accepted this time of year tends to be a bit bland for my taste.  The grayness that lurks in the crevice of February and March usually forces me into hibernation.  During this time I keep to myself, and try to keep out of trouble.  This year I failed, miserably. 

The two-day affair I had with an unforgiving frozen yogurt recipe is one I would rather forget.  An encounter with a slab of pork belly shot me straight out of a dead sleep, our earlier romance lingered violently on the cold bathroom floor for the next few hours. In a last-ditch effort, I looked for solace in a lackluster bouillabaisse, wasting saffron and drinking too much wine in the process.

Of course none of this helped.  I just felt puffy.  I stopped interacting with others. Bright lights became irritating.  I growled at people showing signs of affection.  I began to wonder if maybe I had Asperger’s. 

But then I made this cake. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon.  As the sugar and butter fluffed up, I started to breath again.  Once the smell of cinnamon and dark rum crept through my apartment, I stopped grinding my teeth. 

When I took the cake from the oven, its glossy, yellow crosshatched pattern smiled at me with a cakey gap-toothed grin.  For the first time in quite a long while, I did not feel compelled to scoff. 

I heard Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good” start up in my head.  Fish in the sea, you know how I feel.  Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel.  Everyday cake lovers, you know how I feel.

This is a rich cake that uses nutty buckwheat to its advantage, playing off the butter and rum.  The fleur de sel melds these flavors, supports them, and serves as a salty backbone for the cake. 

It is a simple cake.  A very pretty cake.  A special cake that looks and tastes far better than its ingredients would lead you to believe. 

And so I am leaving my hole.  Winter recluses, you know how I feel.  The end bits of February never seem very pleasant.  Not that this cake is a cure-all, but it is certainly a welcoming recipe. A worthy end of winter companion.  Amazing what a little butter and buckwheat can do.

It’s a new dawn.  A new day.  And a new cake.  And I’m feeling good.

Breton Fleur de Sel Buckwheat Cake

Adapted from Diary of a Locavore

Ingredients:

for the cake

• 1 cup buckwheat flour
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• a scant ¾ tsp fleur de sel, plus a few extra grains to sprinkle on top of the cake
• ¼ tsp cinnamon
• ½ pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup light muscovado sugar
• 4 large egg yolks
• 1 large egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 tbsp dark rum

for the glaze

• 1 large egg yolk
• 1 tsp milk

Instructions:

Set your oven to 350 degrees.  Grease a 9-inch pie pan with butter. 

In a small bowl, sift the flours, ¾ tsp salt, and cinnamon.  Combine the butter and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat until the mixture is light and fluffy. 

While the mixer is on low speed, add the egg yolks one at a time and finally the whole egg. Then add the vanilla and rum.  Mix in the dry ingredients, a third of the flour mixture at a time.  Stir the mixture with a rubber spatula until it just comes together and the flour is no longer visible.

Pour the batter into your prepared pie pan (it will be thick).  Use your spatula to smooth it over.

Whisk the egg yolk and milk together for the glaze.  Brush it generously on top of the cake and then, using the tines of a fork, rake three parallel lines across the cake in one direction and three parallel lines in the other direction. 

For a picture of this, see here. 

Sprinkle the cake with just a little bit more of fleur de sel, a pinch or so; use your judgment.  Bake the cake for about 25 to 30 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and a toothpick or cake tester comes out clean when inserted into it. 

Let cool slightly on a wire rack.

Makes enough for 6 to 8 humans

Notes:

1. Be careful not to overbake this cake.  It can dry out if you do.
2. This recipe was originally attributed to David Lebovitz. It comes from his book The Sweet Life in Paris. Which does not surprise me in the least. (The cake also freezes brilliantly.)
3. I used muscovado because the time called for something fancy. Light brown sugar can be substituted.

Spicy Tomato Basil Soup, So Long Winter Chill

It was so cold in my apartment this past weekend.  But it was not until I realized I was wearing an ear-flapped fur hat and a bathrobe over my street clothes that I decided the heat situation needed to be remedied.  Pronto.  So I packed up my laptop, put on a scarf, and headed out to a bar that I knew had electrical outlets, and a fireplace. 

My creaky old apartment has a lot of charm.  It has high ceilings, glass door knobs, and big beautiful windows that leak out a maddening amount of heat on gray January days.  

Apparently, I have decided to circumvent this issue by drinking. I suppose I can think of worse things like, say, having to bathe with an ushanka on, but fixing up a steaming bowl of tomato basil might not be as hard on my liver.  Also, I am not actually Russian.  So, we should probably get back to soup. 

Especially this soup.  Which I am pleased to say does not contain a drop of alcohol. 

Though, if I am being completely honest, its origins did come about after plans for making bloody marys fell apart one Saturday.  A leopard does not ever really change her spots, now does she?  I was left with a big bottle of tomato juice and some time to kill.  What resulted was a soul-warming soup. And, if I may be so bold, I have no need for any other recipes concerning this matter.

The bit of butter in the soup gives it a little richness, while the habanero kicks in some heat.  And this warmth is particularly welcomed on blustery winter days.  Do not let the tomato juice throw you, it makes the whole soup process very low maintenance.  In fact, I forgo the blender entirely and leave the sautéed onions and basil bits alone.  It is good enough this way to keep me at home, far away from cozy bar stools.

You will want to make this soup on a lazy winter day when you are looking for an antidote to the Boston chill.  You can casually tend to it on the stove top, perhaps with a drink in hand.  Though, to be clear, this soup is fully capable of warding off the cold, all on its own.

Spicy Tomato Basil Soup

Ingredients:

• about 2 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
• 1 small onion diced
• 1 garlic clove, minced
• ½ a habanero pepper, seeds removed and pepper flesh minced
• kosher salt, to taste
• black pepper, to taste
• 6 cups tomato juice
• ¼ tsp cumin
• ¼ tsp coriander
• 2 tbsp butter
• 1 tbsp flour 
• ½ cup packed basil, divided

Instructions:

Heat a large saucepan on medium heat, add the olive oil and onions and saute until the onions are nearing translucent. Add garlic and habanero, season everything with salt and pepper, and stir occasionally until the garlic and pepper soften.

Add the tomato juice and spices to the pan and stir to combine.  Mash together the butter and flour and add it to the tomato mixture.  Cut the basil into thin strips and add half to the pot.  

Let the tomato soup simmer until it thickens and gets rich in flavor, about 45 minutes or so.  Add the remaining basil. Taste and add additional salt and pepper as needed.

Makes about 5 cups

Notes:

1. This is a casual recipe, taste and adjust as you go.  It gets better the longer it sits.  This is not usually true with people that sit on bar stools.  Or maybe it is.

Oven-Candied Tomatoes, Thoughts of Fall

I have been mind cheating on summer. We have a few weeks before fall officially begins, but I have already had thoughts of beef bourguignon. I cannot wait to turn my oven on again. I cannot wait to braise.

I feel like a monster. To give up on summer like this.

My guilt led me straight to the pool this past Sunday, a last-ditch effort to rekindle what was left of my summer romance with summer. It was so cold I kept my jacket on the entire time. It was not working.

I should have seen this seasonal adultery coming. The signs were there.

Last week, I lost my cool when I sliced open a melon from the farmers’ market and its juice dumped all over the floor. I have grown emotionally distant, a tad neglectful even, with my corn, letting its sugar quietly turn to starch in my bottom crisper drawer.

I have become resentful of peaches. Tired of standing over my kitchen sink to eat them, while the juice dribbles down my chin.

Then I encountered the oven-candied tomato. It was the best of both worlds: bursting with the final flavors of summer, while still comfortingly fall-ish. The tomatoes barely lasted 12 hours. 

But it was long enough to ease the guilt. And you know what they say about guilt. It is a wasted emotion. Oh wait, that is regret. On second thought, I had better buy a bushel of tomatoes before it is too late.

Oven-Candied Tomatoes

Adapted from The Splendid Table with Lynne Rossetto Kasper

Ingredients:

• 10 plum tomatoes
• ⅓ cup olive oil
• 3 springs rosemary, chopped
• pinch red pepper flakes
• kosher salt and pepper

Instructions:

Set the oven to 400 degrees.

Slice tomatoes in half and toss with olive oil on a sheet pan. Sprinkle with rosemary and red pepper flakes. Generously season with salt and pepper.

Roast for 30 minutes and then turn oven to 350 degrees and roast for another 30 minutes. (You may need to occasionally turn the pan to ensure even cooking.)

Turn oven to 300 degrees and roast for an additional 30 minutes or until edges of tomatoes start to blacken slightly. If still not at desired doneness, turn oven to 250 degrees and roast for 10 to 15 minutes more.

Makes 20 halves

Notes:

1. I am hoping I will stumble across a glut of September tomatoes; they often become discounted towards the tail end of the season, if you can hold out long enough.
2. Theoretically, you should be able to freeze the tomatoes for a few months, should you have enough self-control to let them last that long.