Firenze in April -day three-

Day three is usually when jet lag hits. At least for me. After so many years of it being a pattern, it is probably now a learned response. Or maybe, I allow myself to succumb to it. Likely because, it is something I can say to people
and they won’t judge. Which is how we found ourselves giving rip van winkle a run for his money. After a long sleep, a long walk seemed in order. We cruised the streets of Florence until it seemed a respectable time to look for lunch. I was craving roasted chicken and potatoes. We found it on the menu of a place that looked really nice. Except they were playing Sade and I can’t stand Sade.Really, I can’t. No specific reason, just can’t tolerate her music. Reminds me too much of jazz, i think. I like a hook. Sade doesn’t give you a hook, so i refused to go in. Instead, I convinced myself that another place would be just as good.
I was wrong
Not even photo worthy. I will admit, Mike liked his. He got some sort of pasta and I ordered chicken with roasted potatoes. I was served, seriously, seriously, seriously overcooked anorexic chicken thigh-slash-leg, and french fries / I poked at it. At least I still had room for gelato.
But let me get ahead of myself here, don’t despair.

I had a bad meal in Italy, no biggie. I made up for it at dinner, and then some. We ate at a fun place. When i say fun, i mean…bring your sense of fun…because if you bring your >em>”that would never go in america” attitude, you.will. hate. this place, and they will hate you. So don’t go. If you still insist on going, don’t tell them i told you to, because I happen to like these people.

You must make a reservation at Il Latini, a restaurant that looks small but it isn’t. You make a reservation and queue up. Then the crowd starts building. Then the fervor starts building. Everyone starts thinking that their reservation is the most important.They open the door and it becomes a bit of a fiasco. They start calling out numbers, not names, but numbers. due, cinque, due, tre. Everyone starts pushing and throwing up their hands saying we are due, we are cinque, but mostly; they start yelling “I have a reservation.” Rest assured, everyone has a reservation and everyone gets in. And all the stress of getting in, is forgotten, when the food starts arriving. First the antipasto. Then you make choices: soup or pasta. Pasta? Do you want: ravioli, gnocchi, pappardelle, or spaghetti? Or perhaps all of them. Hubs chose ravioli, and I chose soup. did i mention that at this place they open a bottle of wine, and you pay for what you drink. Drink the whole bottle 10 euros. Drink only half, 5 euros. Drink less, pay less. I love this system.
The main course: roasted meats. You want chicken, rabbit, steak, lamb, pork, veal? All of them, some of them, one of them, none of them; you decide. And of course, the side dishes. This is what our table looked like.
loaded table
You should know, we cleaned our plates,but declined dessert. It was a good idea because, they brought out a plate loaded with cantucci and glasses of vin santo. Just as we thought it was all over they brought us a glass of moscato. You know,as you do. If you don’t know the drill
you think ahhh, they get you drunk so you aren’t freaked out by the bill. Because, come on, this kind of meal doesn’t come cheap.
Unless you are at il latini. They have reasonable in spades.

Pisa-Lucca in April–day two

Saturday in florence is like Saturday in any city. Locals pouring into town to do their weekend shopping and tourists milling about in large groups, staring upwards. Just an all around crowded situation. Which is why we got out of town. Pisa and Lucca the destination. Turns out, it wasn’t such a bad idea. The weather had turned runny just as we took our seats on the excursion bus. Rain began pouring down. I never think i am a fan of the organized tourist train/bus/walk, but i nearly always give them a try. I am hardly disappointed; except when it includes food. Which is a big bad bust, most of the time. Those i avoid, because as you know, I am all about the food. Speaking of which. We had steak and eggs for breakfast.There are no photos, because i forgot. By the time i remembered it didn’t look so appetizing. Just trust me; leftover bistecca fiorentina with a couple of fried eggs and hunk of bread, is money.
In Pisa we did a tour of the church, which is beautiful but dark. Too dark to take photos. Because in churches, you can’t wear a hat and you can’t use a flash. The real draw in Pisa is the tower. A leaning tower.I love all the great photos that people fashion; holding the tower up, grimacing under the supposed weight. They never cease to humor me.However, I rarely see this maneuver.
Someone kicking the darn thing over.It is funny, right? That is my husband. He enjoys a good laugh as much as I. We hooted over this one for hours.
Time for lunch. In a tourist town, where restaurants actually name themselves restaurant tourista, getting a good meal is a bit dubious. We found one just outside the main tourist area called Trattoria Bruno.
Mike’s penne pasta with rabbit and boar was outstanding.
rabbit pasta
My handmade pasta with porcini mushrooms was also delicious. The pasta so thin, you could almost see through it.
porcini
From Pisa we got back on the bus and headed to Lucca; a medieval city that is usually quite lovely.However, on a rainy Saturday with many of the venues closed for the afternoon,
there was little to see. After getting a bit drenched in the rain we stopped for a hot chocolate. In this part of Italy, hot chocolate is more like warm chocolate pudding, than chocolate water. You decide if it sounds better or not.
e poi
which means and then not the poi you eat in Hawaii, which is not Italian by any means. Despite having the same name
winery
We visited a winery just outside of Lucca, where it turns out, they make the house wine for one of my favorite places in New York City. Sant. Ambroeus. When i was getting married
my dress came from vera wang. Before my first appointment and subsequently all my fittings, I would have coffee and a little something at sant ambroeus. So when the proprietor of this winery in Lucca off-handedly mentioned the restaurant I perked up with “on madison avenue!?!” Sje and i had a bonding moment. It is her brother’s place and all the “house wine” comes from here.
It is pretty good. A tasty drinkable wine. I was set to buy quite a bit, but then my new friend the owner gave me the name of their american distributor, so i wouldn’t have to pay for shipping. Which now means, i’ll probably buy a whole case.
After the wine and the food and the travel by bus, we were pretty wiped out and without plans for dinner. We grabbed a quick porchetta sandwich and called it a night. Actually,a night and half a day,since jet lag reared its ugly head. We slept about 12 hours. Waking up just in time to search out lunch….

Chocolate Eclairs

While in Paris last fall Mike and I made a quick stop at Lauduree; a beautiful pastry shop known world-wide for gorgeous confections and beautiful tea salon. Only in Paris for the afternoon; arriving via chunnel from London in the morning
and scheduled on a sleeper train to Barcelona, later in the evening. We were making a whirl-wind day of it. While waiting in a very long taxi queue, I spotted a gentleman with a car for hire. Because it was Mike’s first time in Paris and we wanted to see as many sights as possible, in our short stay, I made a unilateral decision. A hired car was definitely the way to go. Thankfully Pierre was a good sport and negotiated fairly with me, despite my butchering of his beautiful language. As I waved Mike from the taxi queue, I saw a look I have never before seen; one that perfectly combined the relief he felt that we would be on our way, and worry that I had blown our entire travel budget on a frivolous luxury. He was partly right.
The day was perfect. We climbed the Eiffel Tower, stood under the Arc de Triomphe, glided down the the Champs-Elysees, spent hours in the Louvre, relished in a languid lunch with a bottle of wine, and shared afternoon tea with well dressed dames at Laudree. Drunk with culture and satiated with sweets, I eagerly purchased the Laudree Sucre Cookbook. It is a beautiful tome with a cover of suede, presented in a gift box so beautiful and full of promise, I tucked it away for the rest of our journey and promptly forgot about it. Recently I discovered this little jewel and became inspired. Which is why on a whim, I made eclairs.

Chocolate Eclairs
Bake the eclair shells up to 2 days in advance. If you see that they are beginning to get soft, you can place them back in the oven to crisp. do not place back in the oven once coated or filled. Once filled, they should be kept in the refrigerator until eaten.
Allow the pastry shells to cool completely, then dip in the ganache to cover the tops. Place in the refrigerator to allow the chocolate to harden. When ready to fill, spoon the pastry cream into a pastry bag fitted with a “filling” tip, push the tip into the short end of the shell and slowly squeeze the filling in. You will see the pastry plump up a bit, but be careful to to over-fill as the cream will push out through the sides and make a mess if you do.

Pate A Choux
1 cup water
4 oz unsalted butter cut into pieces
1 cup flour
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
3 extra large eggs (about)
Sift sugar, salt and flour together. Place water and butter into a saucepan Heat and bring to a simmer, you want the butter to incorporate into the water, not just float on top. Remove from heat and add flour mixture all at once. Stir vigorously with a wooden spoon, until it is all mixed together. Place back on heat and continue to stir until the mixture begins to come from the sides of the pan. You do not want to dry out too much, but you want to reduce the amount of moisture a bit. Stir over heat about a minute or two. Place mixture into the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment. Turn mixer to medium speed to assist bringing the temperature down a bit, but not fully cooled. Add eggs one at a time, mixing thoroughly after each addition. After adding the last egg check for consistency. You want the mixture to be a bit firm, and sort of webby. When I say webby I mean it has a consistency where is stretches between the parts sticking to the sides of the bowl and what is on the paddle. 3 eggs should be enough.
Place in pastry bag and pipe in 6″ rods approximately 1″ wide, onto a lined pastry sheet. You can use this same batter for cream puffs, or deep fry for delicious donuts. The batter can be refrigerated for a max of three days before using.

Vanilla Pastry Cream
Bake in a preheated 425 oven for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat to 375 until the eclairs are browned and crispy. The interior needs to be dry. Let cool
6 large egg yolks
5 Tbs cornstarch
2 1/2 cups milk ( i used 2%)
1/2 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1/4 tsp salt
4 Tbs unsalted butter
For pastry cream: Whisk the egg yolks and the cornstarch in a bowl. set aside. In a saucepan, simmer milk, sugar and salt.
Once it is simmering, temper the eggs with the hot milk. Return to the saucepan and whisk continuously until the custard begins to thicken.
When you see large bubbles coming up through the middle of the pot, remove from heat. Pour into a clean bowl
(use a sieve if you feel you have overcooked), and stir in butter and vanilla. Place clingfilm over top and refrigerate until ready to use.
Allow to cool completely before filling the eclair shells.

Chocolate Ganache
1/2 lb bittersweet chocolate–chopped
1/2 cup cream
1 Tbs granulated sugar
1 Tbs corn syrup
2 Tbs butter
Heat cream with sugar and corn syrup over medium heat. Once cream begins to simmer and sugar is dissolved, pour over chocolate and butter.
Let chocolate melt and then whisk together until it is thick and shiny.

Caramel Cake

Warm and sticky. Like a rainbow lolly half eaten, forgotten in the crease of the car seat. Three showers a day couldn’t keep me felling fresh. Add to it a severe case of chiggers; itchy feet with my face swollen to near paralysis, and you find yourself smack dab in the middle of one of my favorite food moments.
Mississippi 2010–My Husband’s Family Reunion

I had been obsessed about caramel cake since reading about Minnie’s version of it, in the novel The Help. It is a beautifully written story about fictitious people, weaving through real life. It was captivating. Almost as captivating as its descriptions of food.

I can’t help myself.
I spent the whole “girl with the dragon tattoo” trilogy wondering if people in Sweden actually eat that many sandwiches.

but I digress

Mike and I were mid-stop in our three week southern states road trip, when we hit Mississippi. I had long forgotten my barbecue binges in Texas and my creole cravings in New Orleans. We were crossing the state line, and i needed caramel cake. As we drove through some of the most beautiful country; green as the hills of Ireland, with scattered towns, population merely a blip, I frantically dug through travel books/notes/the web, looking for a bakery, or a sign touting BEST CARAMEL CAKE EVER!
nothin’

We were in Mississippi for a family reunion, not a cake walk. So, I settled in. Kind of. Not really

About 3 days in, the men went golfing. The remainder of the family was doing other things. I’m not sure, I didn’t ask, I was on a mission. I spent an hour that morning with one last ditch effort, searching the web. I spotted it. A place called Buck’s One Stop in Calhoun City
a mere 70 miles away. Hey, I’m from Los Angeles. It takes and hour to go 15 miles. 70 miles on open roads? Total breeze.

The GPS was slightly off and took me to a dead end street, in a not so friendly neighborhood. I thought to myself, this is the South, it could be that Buck was making cakes in his garage. It could happen. I almost knocked on the door, then thought better of it. Because I was alone and without cell coverage, I figured i’d best to make one more pass down main street. No buck’s one stop. No buck anything. I did, however, happen upon a parking lot crowded with cars. A make-shift sign on the front door of the building named the place Bubba T’s. It seemed nice. Actually, it seemed like a community center, possibly serving meals to the homeless. It was a buffet, housing really hearty meals of richly smoked meats and slow braised greens in an all you can eat fashion–self portioned, from a modge podge of steam pans.

I got in line. Half wondering if perhaps, this wasn’t an invitation only, memorial luncheon for Bubba T.

I gathered my courage while filling my plate, silently practicing my lines and voice inflection. The minute I opened my mouth, I was a tell. Not from around here, certainly not Bubba’s kin. Thankfully, I noticed a small cashier’s sign in the far corner of the room. Behind the register sat the most adorable Priscilla Presley circa 1968 look alike. While she tallied my bill, we made small talk. Yes, I am from out of town, yes, it is hot enough for me, no, I don’t need napkins. And then I did it. I asked if she knew Buck’s One Stop. Her reply, “Yep. The Texaco. You need gas?” First of all, I was standing there, paying for a loaded plate of food, including some sort of pudding-I wasn’t going to admit I was looking for more food. Secondly, I was embarrassed. Embarrassed that I had driven 70 miles to buy cake I had read about in a book and that I may or may not have crashed a funeral lunch. So, I lied. Yes, I need gas.

I almost didn’t stop at the Texaco which, by the way, was no longer Buck’s, it had been sold to Mark. But in the spirit of optimism, I held out hope. I’ve experienced great food at truck stops in Italy, it could happen in Calhoun City.

Nearly a full year has passed yet that day remains an indelible memory. I can see the patrons, hear the sounds, feel the arctic blast of air rushing me like a wave as i opened the grimy gas station door. At first glance it looked like every road-side station snack shop–cigarettes, candy, gum, chips. And then I saw it. I felt like Tony Orlando, but instead of yellow ribbons, I saw cakes and pies. Right there, in the Texaco station, in the township of Calhoun City, population 1770, were the most beautiful, freshly baked cakes I had ever laid eyes on. Including, the object of my obsession. Caramel Cake. It was sky high and drenched in icing–a single slice flanked by strawberry cake and coconut cream pie.

Behind the counter was the proprietress, amply bosomed, kind-faced and seemingly unaware that people drive miles for her confections. As she and I locked eyes over the counter, my heart sank. Just one piece remaining. A generous slice, but a single slice, none-the-less. How was I going to eat the slice of cake while still sharing it with others? Apparently,my lips were moving and I was muttering it out loud. To which the nice lady gave me a great big smile and pointed at a floor to ceiling shelving unit, stacked with pink boxes.

pink boxes of cake

My heart jumped. I may have shed a tear. I think I giggled a bit. I was prepared to sell my soul. And had this been Los Angeles, I might have had to. Because I walked out of there with 2 whole cakes–one caramel, one strawberry–an additional slice of each (for tasting purposes), and maybe some pie. I’m not exactly admitting to the pie. I’m just saying, they sold pie too.

My version of caramel cake tastes pretty close to what I remember from Calhoun City. It combines a tender crumb white cake with a rich and sugary poured icing.

Caramel Cake

white velvet butter cake
from rose levy birnbaum
4 oz egg whites–room temperature
1 cup whole milk–divided–room temperature
2 1/4 tsp vanilla
3 cups sifted cake flour
1 1/2 cup sugar
1 Tbs + 1 tsp baking powder
12 Tbs unsalted butter-room temperature
1/4 tsp kosher salt (my addition)
In a mixer combine all the dry ingredients, and mix for about 30 seconds. Add the butter and mix until the flour gets crumbly. Stir in 1/4 cup of the milk and bring the speed to medium high and beat for about 30 seconds. In a bowl, stir together the egg whites, milk and vanilla. Add to the dry ingredients in 3 additions, scraping down the sides and beating for about 5-10 seconds after each addition. Do not over mix, but make sure it is all incorporated. Pour into 2-7″ cake tins, which you have parchment lined and greased. Smooth the batter and bake in a preheated 350 oven for approximately 35 minutes. Bake until a tester comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10 minutes, then turn over onto cooling rack and allow to cool completely. Slice each round into two horizontally to make 4 layers total.

caramel icing
2 cups light brown sugar
1 stick unsalted butter
1/3 cup whole milk
2 Tbs real maple syrup
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 cups confectioner’s sugar
1 cup chopped toasted pecans
Bring brown sugar, butter, milk, maple syrup and salt to a simmer. Simmer just until the sugar is no longer grainy, don’t let it boil. Remove from heat and add vanilla, stirring constantly. Allow to cool just slightly…so that it isn’t scorching hot, but nicely warm. Whisk in powdered sugar. You have to work fast, this will set up rather quickly. Pour icing on each layer as you stack it, you don’t want it to completely pour over the sides, but it can drip over without issue. once all the layers are set, pour the remaining icing over the top using a ladle. use the bottom of the ladle to coax the icing over the sides to cover completely.
sprinkle pecans on top

*full disclosure
i love this frosting, so i make 1 batch and allow it to cool a bit, then spread like frosting between the layers. this gives me a bit thicker layer of filling. i then make a second batch and completely bathe the cake in it. it is my preferred method…but 1 batch of icing will work as well.

How I Celebrate

Today is my birthday. Kind of a big one, but not a milestone. If I live a nice long healthy life; today is the day I hit mid-life. Not too long ago, I heard someone say mid-life is not for a crisis but for readjustment. I like the idea. Look back
see what worked well, what didn’t, and maneuver the next half of my life applying what I’ve learned. This year in celebration Mike and I slipped away. We are spending a few days on a sheep farm. Lambing is in full swing. Today the bleat of new babies is the only song I wish to hear.

The Newly Born


Mike and his new BFF

Sweet Barcelona

Just a little bit of what we found on our walkabout town this evening. Just off La Rambla sits La Boqueria where they sell beautiful produce, meats, fish, and my favorite of all sweets. Beautiful, tasty sweets. Enjoy I know I did.

Granola Pancakes

I’m not sure why I seem to believe that every time I make and/or eat pancakes it is a blog-worthy event. Even I am beginning to tire of me*grin*.
But listen, the reason these pancakes are so special is that they were inspired by breakfast at a general store in Noank, Connecticut. when we walked into Carson’s General Store, it was like walking back in time.

In this fairytale town adjacent to Mystic, we sat at a small table at the back of the store watching the old-timers in their morning ritual of chatting and collecting their daily read. Carafes of coffee emptied as the village crier did her position proud. This family-owned spot is over a 100 years old makes a damn fine granola pancake. This is NOT the recipe, because that is one piece of gossip they wouldn’t tell. I came up with my own facsimile….which is a bit less fluffy because I’m a less fluff and more substance kind of gal.

Granola Pancakes

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
pinch salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/3-1/2 cup dark brown sugar (i use less sugar because we use a lot of maple syrup around here, and I don’t like them getting too sweet)
2 eggs
2 cups milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup (approx) granola
butter or pan spray for cooking
Mix all ingredients except the granola together and let rest for about 30 minutes.  After you pour the batter to the desired shape/size sprinkle granola across the top–it will cause the pancake to spread a bit.  Cook as normal and flip when ready.  serve with a bit of butter and lots of maple syrup.