MattBites

Mess with the pie, you'll get the...Oh just give me a damn fork.

It started simply enough: the other half felt the need to bake. For me, well, I'm no baker and the urge to do so is akin to washing my car or preparing receipts for tax purposes. I'll do it but only begrudgingly. But like many things I'm fully prepared to participate in the end result, and in this case it was a pie of monstrous proportions.

I'm not quite sure of his thought process as I wasn't in the kitchen when he found the recipe, but I know it involved tons of pecans, a spring form pan and the new oven. I was a bit relieved that I wasn't around as anyone knows to mess with a Texan's Pecan Pie is clearly not the smartest thing to do (even if said Texan lives in California.)  It's not quite sacrilege -- but it's pretty damn close.

Melissa, Lisa, please stop reading now. I won't be upset.

I understand.

"So this pie I'm baking, I found a recipe online and I'm not sure how it's going to come out," my big red-headed angel tells me.

"You're a baker, I'm sure it'll be just fine," I respond.

"I don't know about that, it's kind of a different sort of Pecan Pie."

Different sort of pecan pie. Different sort of pecan pie. DIFFERENT SORT OF PECAN PIE. DIFFERENT SORT OF PECAN PIE! Are you getting that, folks? As those words floated around the kitchen they took their sweet little time worming their way into my brain. A what type of what pie? Did I really hear you correctly? Would you like to grab an enchilada while you're at it and poke me in the eye? How about hitting me over the head with a rib bone from Tyler, Texas? Come on, I'm all yours, just do it! You already started.

I calmed myself down and told myself he was only coming from a place of love, and honestly, he's never made a bad thing, especially when he bakes. I said a prayer to the giant pecan trees that towered over our house in Austin, asking for forgiveness. I then went online to see if I could legally participate in this kitchen experiment without serving 5-7 for crimes committed against my home state (turns out George W. did enough of that himself so luckily I was off the hook).

After I finished my breathing exercises I began to think about the pecan pie and most importantly why was I such a snob about them? After all, it's only crust, nuts, and filling. That's all. And if we break it down sometimes it's so cloyingly sweet (especially when someone serves you up a slice with Texas tea) that there's really no flavor and you get a gummy, gelatinous mouthfeel with a feeble crunch. I then understood why people passed on Pecan Pies and when to Apple or Pumpkin. Why was I getting all pedantic and territorial and hella defensive?

BECAUSE I WAS BORN AND RAISED IN TEXAS, Y'ALL! THAT'S WHY!

But no matter. I was going to approach this with an open mind. Out with anger and in with love, I always say. Obviously someone created this recipe to taste good, not bad. So after this giant thing (because really, I didn't know what to call it) came out of the oven and set overnight Adam took out the electric knife and began to carve.

A beautiful, almost cookie-like crust began to open up and reveal a pie not mired in goo but with a beautiful ratio of whole pecans to filling. No chintzy pie here but a real, delicious hunk that would make any Texan proud. The recipe retained the true spirit of the pecan pie while giving it extra oooomph. Made properly a pecan pie may not need it, but in this case it sure was nice. I didn't even need ice cream, and that's saying a lot!

After spending a good 43 minutes eating and chewing one piece I realized that this Deep Dish Pecan Pie was not in fact Texan heresy but a way of changing things up just a bit while making sure the new oven works. I've since learned to relax with his experiments, enjoy the delicious outcomes, and brace myself for the Chicken Fried Steak Frittata that I'm secretly hoping he invents.

Deep-Dish Pecan Pie, Oxmoor House, January 2000

Because of its size you'll really want to chill this before slicing, and don't do what I did and serve yourself a giant piece. A little goes a long way -- a lesson I still haven't quite picked up after 37 years.

1 cup butter or margarine, softened
2 (3-ounce) packages cream cheese, softened
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup sugar
1 (16-ounce) bottle light corn syrup (2 cups)
1 1/2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
1/3 cup butter or margarine, melted
4 large eggs, lightly beaten
4 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 1/2 cups pecan pieces or halves

Beat 1 cup butter and cream cheese at medium speed of an electric mixer until creamy. Gradually add flour and 1/4 cup sugar, beating well. Shape dough into a flat disc; cover and chill 15 minutes. Roll chilled dough to a 13" circle; carefully transfer to an ungreased 9" springform pan. (We recommend covering the outside of your springform pan with aluminum foil before filling and baking this pie. It's a safeguard against leaks.) Press dough up sides of pan. Cover and chill.

Combine corn syrup, brown sugar, and melted butter in a large bowl; stir well with a wire whisk. Add eggs, egg yolks, vanilla, and salt; stir well. Stir in pecans. Pour filling into unbaked pastry-lined pan.

Bake at 375° for 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 300°: bake 2 hours and 15 minutes, shielding pie with aluminum foil to prevent excess browning, if necessary. Cool completely on a wire rack. Cover and chill, if desired. Remove sides of springform pan to serve.

Yield:  1 (9") pie

Wait wait wait don't touch it!

Things I am thankful for:

1. The wonderful people I've met over the past month. I am thanking the heavens for introducing us.
2. The people who have taken chances and hired me. Never in my wildest dreams would I think I'd ever get these kinds of assignments (much more on that later!)
3. Minus the 12 (or is it 22?) extra pounds hanging around my midsection, I am thankful for my health. Knock on wood here.
4. Finally meeting the amazing Bea when I spoke at a seminar last weekend.
4. Our new oven.

So yea, a new oven (and don't think I didn't pick up on that correlation between tight pants and new oven because I totally did.)  A brand spanking gorgeous piece of convection equipment that has made life so much easier. Granted, I've not been allowed to touch it or use it (Adam's rules, not mine) but I am the direct beneficiary of evenly-cooked, dual oven food preparation. And really, you think I'm complaining? Chickens seem to cook more evenly, roasting vegetables takes almost no time, and baking cakes and cookies seem like a snap. I say "seem" because I'm not the baker but this is what Adam tells me. Perhaps one day when he's out working I'll sneak into the kitchen and press all the buttons and have my own I Love Lucy moment.

Oh Adammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Whine whine whine. Ok, "Ricky" does sound better, but I'm not married to a Ricky. There you have it.

Among the many things he's tested over the past 2 weeks are these delightful little pumpkin cookies. You may know that my sweet tooth isn't particularly well developed and I'd rather sit down to a plate of cheese and olives or a hunk of duck rillette with a glass of wine than sugary, sweet things. Salty and savory for me, baby! But I'm digging these little cake-like cookies because oh how I love a soft cookie and they taste like little tiny muffins in my mouth. And that makes me very happy, even if I can't go near the oven.

Chocolate Glazed Pumpkin Cookies from Everyday Food by my pal Martha (yes, she is my friend, she just hasn't met me yet)

You may notice our version uses white rather than dark chocolate, and that's because I thought it would look prettier. I'm an Art Director, remember? And by golly look at those little things with white lines. How cute is that? Besides, this cookie really isn't about the chocolate but the pumpkiny flavor which is perfect for the holidays.

Ingredients
2 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and leveled)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin-pie spice
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, rom temperature
1 cup sugar
1 large egg
1 can (15 ounces) pure pumpkin purée
4 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped

method 
1. Preheat the oven to 375˚. In a medium bowl, whisk together flower, baking soda, baking powder, pumpkin-pie spice, and salt; set aside.

2. Using an electric mixer, beat together butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg; beat until smooth. With mixer on low speed, alternately add flour mixture in two parts and pumpkin purée in one, beginning and ending with flour mixture; mix just until combined (do not overmix).

3. Drop dough by heaping tablespoons onto two baking sheets, 1 1/2 inches apart. Bake until puffed and edges are golden, 15 to 20 minutes, rotating sheets once during baking. Immediately transfer cookies to wire racks, and cool completely.

4. When cookies have cooled, set them (still on rack) over a baking sheet or waxed paper. Place chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl set over (not in) a saucepan of simmering water; stir until almost melted. Remove from heat; stir until completely melted. Pour chocolate into a resealable bag. Snip off a corner with scissors or a knife to make a 1/8-inch hole; pipe chocolate over cookies. Refrigerate until chocolate is firm, 20 minutes. Store cookies in layers divided by parchment paper in an airtight container up to three days.

It's Breakfast. It's Dessert. It's Gone.

Or, alternate title: BE QUIET FOR A MINUTE, IS THAT POSSIBLE? KTHANKSBI!

This weekend Adam and I are hosting a very special guest. To say she's talented would really be an understatement -- this woman is simply amazing.  But between you and me (and you'll really keep this between us, I just know it) I'm a little worried that I'll never be able to get a word in with her. If you know her, she talks and talks and talks and talks and really won't stop.  And just when you think she has nothing left to say she starts all over again. And on and on and on and on and on. About stuff. Just stuff. Enough, I always say, let me speak, woman!

Oh my darling K, I'm only kidding. I can't wait for you to get here.

We have all sorts of nifty things planned for our guest. We'll go apple picking this weekend, check out the sights around town, probably head out to an afterhours and dance until 6 am, you know, regular every day stuff.  And thanks to my wonderful partner, we'll be able to indulge in a little French Toast Bread Pudding for breakfast, which I must say is one of the most indulgent things I've had the pleasure of tasting recently. Well, it wasn't so much taste as inhale, as both dishes were gone so quickly that I was simultaneously embarrassed and disgusted for being such a pig.

But in the presence of our weekend guest I promise to be civilized and refined. Not like she'll notice anyway, she'll be chatty cathy the entire time.

.....................................................................................................................

French Toast Bread Pudding from Bon Appétit
This is a great way to use up an entire loaf of Challah. This recipe is from Bon Appétit, a magazine that has been on the brain lately. And not only because I was seated next to the lovely Kristine Kidd at a wonderful event this past Monday evening. You know why.

Ingredients
12 ounces challah or other egg bread with crust, torn into 3/4-inch pieces
7 large eggs
2 1/2 cups whole or reduced-fat (2%) milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
3/4 teaspoon freshly grated whole nutmeg or ground nutmeg

1/2 cup chopped toasted pecans
Warm maple syrup

Preparation
Butter 11x7x2-inch glass baking dish. Place bread in dish. Whisk eggs and next 4 ingredients in medium bowl to blend; pour over bread. Using spatula, lightly press down on bread to moisten completely. Cover with foil and chill overnight.

Place foil-covered dish in cold oven. Set oven at 350°F and bake 30 minutes. Remove foil and continue to bake until pudding is puffed and golden brown, about 35 minutes longer. Spoon pudding onto plates, sprinkle with toasted nuts, and serve with warm maple syrup.

 

makes 6 servings or if no one is home or looking it's for one person.

 

There are benefits to being married to the world's best partner. He's fun, he's got groovy tattoos*, he juggles three demanding dogs and a job and he likes to surprise me with tasty treats after long days at work. In fact when I got home yesterday he made carnitas. Carnitas! Damn if this white man hasn't perfected Tex-Mex and Mexican food, slowly working his way through Chile Rellenos, Mole, Tortillas and Enchiladas. You taste his cooking and realize it's made with love and talent. Thank god for my big redhead, and thank god I love to eat.

I don't remember what we were talking about but the other day I made a comment about my disdain for those mall-type cinnamon places. They make cinnamon rolls as big as your face that are purposely practically raw and so sweet you either get a stomach ache or your teeth begin to rattle in your head. Cinn-a-Raw or Cinn-a-Blech or whatever you call them. I know some people love them but I am not one of them, and trust me, I can get down-and-dirty, no food snob here! I like things a bit more balanced, which explains why I'm crazy about half-sweet desserts and the latest craze for sweet-with-salty. After going off as I'm used to do doing (opinionated? stubborn? me? me?) Adam mentioned a recipe for cinnamon rolls that are neither too sweet nor too raw, and since they are made at home from scratch one can control the level of doneness, right down to the frosting. I said "Well knock yourself out, babe!" and in true Adam fashion he took the challenge with spirit and grace.

I just didn't know how long it would take.

As you may know, I don't really bake. I eat. And boy am I ever good at that. But Adam is precise, paying attention to every nuance and step, right down to closing off the kitchen and turning on a space heater so that his dough will rise on a chilly Southern California afternoon. If that's not pure love then I shall never know it, I am convinced.

After slaving away in the kitchen over two batches of fresh cinnamon rolls while I played clean up crew (it's all about give and take, working together and compromise, ya know!), I was face to face with warm cinnamon rolls, freshly frosted and ready to eat. Of course I had to take pictures and asked Adam to whip up a frosting I could drizzle for a photograph, and wouldn't you know it he was accomodating. His rolls were so perfect I didn't even know which image I wanted to post, hence the collage of cinnamon-y goodness.

After packaging some extra rolls up for his mom and our friend, I finally enjoyed what I was craving thanks to the generousity of my man. And can I tell you what he did with the leftover cinnamon rolls? He made bread pudding. My heart be still.

Glazed Cinnamon Rolls from Baking Illustrated
The book says that since cinnamon is the predominant flavor you should use a high-quality cinnamon. You should always use high quality spices, I say.

Dough
1/2 cup milk
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter
1/2 cup warm water (about 110 degrees)
1 envelope (about 2 1/4 teaspoons) instant yeast
1/4 cup (1 3/4 ounces) sugar
1 large egg plus 2 large egg yolks
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
4 to 4 1/2 cups (20 to 21 1/4 ounces) unbleached, all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting the work surface

Icing
8 ounces cream cheese
2 tablespoons corn syrup
2 tablespoons heavy cream
1 cup (4 ounces) confectioners' sugar, sifted to remove any lumps
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch salt

Filling
3/4 cup packed (5 1/4 ounces) light brown sugar
3 tablespoons ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon salt

1. For the dough: Heat the milk and butter in a small saucepan or in the microwave until the butter melts. Remove the pan from the heat and set aside until the mixture is lukewarm (about 100 degrees).

2. In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle, mix together the water, yeast, sugar, eggs, and yolks at low speed until well mixed. Add the salt, warm milk mixture, and 2 cups of the flour and mix at medium speed until thoroughly blended, about 1 minute. Switch to the dough hook, add another 2 cups of the flour, and knead at medium speed (adding up to 1/4 cup more flower, 1 tablespoon at a time, if necessary) until the dough is smooth and freely clears the sides of the bowl, about 10 minutes. Scrape the dough onto a lightly floured work surface. Shape the dough into a round, place it in a very lightly oiled large bowl, and cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Leave in a warm, draft-free spot until doubled in bulk, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

3. For the icing: While the dough rises, combine all of the icing ingredients in the bowl of a standing mixer and blend together at low speed until roughly combined, about 1 minute. Increase the speed to high and mix until the icing is uniformly smooth and free of cream cheese lumps, about 2 minutes. Transfer the icing to a small bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate.

4. To roll and fill the dough: After the dough has doubled, press it down and turn it out onto a lightly floured work surface. Using a rolling pin, shape the dough into a 16 by 12-inch rectangle, with a long side facing you. Mix together the filling ingredients in a small bowl and sprinkle the filling evenly over the dough, leaving a 1/2-inch border at the far edge. Roll the dough, beginning with the long edge closest to you and using both hands to pinch the dough with your fingertips as you roll. Moisten the top border with water and seal the roll. Lightly dust the roll with flour and press on the ends if necessary to make a uniform 16-inch cylinder. Grease a 13 by 9-inch baking dish. Cut the roll into 12 equal pieces using dental floss and place the rolls, cut-side up, evening in the prepared baking dish. Cover with plastic wrap and place in a warm, draft-free spot until doubled in bulk, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

5. To bake the rolls: When the rolls are almost fully risen, adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 350 degrees. Bake the rolls until golden brown and an instant-read thermometer inserted into the center of one reads 185 to 188 degrees, 25 to 30 minutes. Invert the rolls onto a wire rack and cool for 10 minutes. Turn the rolls upright on a large serving plate and use a rubber spatula to spread icing on them. Serve immediately.

*PSA for the day: Many people with tattoos and body modifications are intelligent, educated people. They are doctors, lawyers, teachers, nurses, even art directors! It's always ok to ask someone about their tattoos and big earlobes–always. It's not always polite to stare and point. Modifications like big earlobes and piercings have been practiced globally for thousands of years and I always find it strange that people still freak out about it in this land of plastic surgery and facial reconstruction. Remember, we're all the same inside!

I'm in the process of moving stuff over from the old mattbites site to here. I apologize for the redundancy and thank you for those who left comments back in the day. If I knew how to move them over here I would, but clearly I ain't got no game in the programming HTML department and this will have to suffice.

Did any of you read the Serious Eats feature on broiled pizzas, using an inverted skillet and broiler to create a crispy crust? It's a method that supposedly yields that ever elusive crust - crunchy and crisp without being burned. The secret is the high temperature that is achieved with a preheated skilled. I haven't tried it, but I'm not sure I have a pan that would fit into our broiler. However, I have figured out a way to get that perfect crust, and in order for this to work you gotta take it outside.

Pizza. It's such a subjective food. In this country I've seen the discussion of thin crust versus deep crust turn violent. I've seen people terminate friendships over toppings. And I've seen intelligence whittle down to one-syllable expletives over the origin of pizza. It's a battle that I quietly and politely escape, watching from the sidelines, offering nothing more than silence.

I'll keep my mouth shut, thank you very much.

Of course if you ask me I'll happily tell you, in detail, that my favorite type of pizza involves the thinnest of crusts, no more than 3 toppings usually, baked quickly in the highest of temperatures. To me, pizza doesn't have to be a 40-minute affair that's baked in a pan big enough for paella, deep-dished to high heaven with 13 pounds of sausage and peppers and enough gooey cheese to clog the arteries of a small army. Don't get me wrong, I lived in Chicago for many years and can eat my weight in deep dish. But at home it's a different story.

It wasn't until my first few visits to Europe that I realized how spontaneous, how simple and pleasurable a small, quick pizza can be. However, recreating the perfect crust and combination of unique ingredients proved to be a bit challenging. I was willing to give up the experience of eating with friends while staring into the Mediterranean ocean and drinking wine (somehow my backyard doesn't quite compare), but damnit, I wasn't going to give up the flavor. I was on a mission.

Three ovens, 4 pizza stones and two BBQ grills later I do believe I've come close.

It's all about the grill.

As it turns out, pizzas baked in high temperatures and dry heat taste the best. There's a reason why pizzas are baked in big brick and stone ovens, and until I win the lottery and have one installed in my home, I'm sticking with my BBQ grill. BBQ Grills reach a much higher temperature than home ovens, and it's this temperature that makes all the difference in a thin, crunchy delicious crust or a sad, chewy one. And in case your wondering, no, it doesn't make your pizza taste like a big giant BBQ'd slab of ribs, but come to think of it, that wouldn't be all that bad!

Pizza protocol for outdoor grilling is a slight bit different. You can't simply load up toppings on your crust and call it a day. No, it doesn't work that way. A grilled pizza crust must be brushed with olive oil, grilled quickly until nice large bubbles appear, carefully flipped and repeated. You'll have to really keep an eye on it too, as it only takes a few minutes over medium heat. Once you've done this you can place your toppings on the crust, but I'm not that daring. I remove the crust from the grill and add my ingredients off of the flame. Ouch.

If you're using sauce, it pays to heat it up a little bit before it hits the crust. Add your ingredients, and remember that less is definitely more. Once dressed, place back on grill, close the cover and cook for 3-5 minutes. Check underneath the pizza after a few minutes for desired doneness. The crust should be a nice, brown color. And if you're using herbs, they can be placed on top right before serving so that they don't become back and burned. (Although I've noticed that due to the high heat of the grill and the very short cooking time it's ok to add herbs before grilling. They'll be just fine.)

I'm not an exact type of cook and that is why these are all basic guidelines without a recipe. Besides, everyone has their favorite dough recipe and preference for pizza toppings. After all, it's fun to experiment, isn't it? If you make a mistake (as I have thousands of times), well, just eat it. You'll be too busy to argue about the history of the pizza with your mouth full.

This is why I'm so not a baker.

After spending some time reading one of my favorite sites on earth, I was inspired to get in the kitchen and bake after a long day at work.  I had everything needed to make these savory little bites, but I did not have a romantic, historical connection to these lil French pastries like one of my idols Bea did.  And I was ok with that. In fact, I only recently tried Gougeres for the first time this year, and it was one of those moments where I had to slap myself silly and wonder why our paths didn’t cross sooner. I’ve always loved cream puffs and profiteroles, and everyone knows my love of cheese, so it was a natural.  But for some odd reason, I know of no bakery near me that makes them, so I rolled up my sleeves and got busy.

I found a very simple recipe in Sunset Magazine, that symbol of fine Western living where people are happy, slightly outdoorsy and where everyone lives in beautiful spacious homes. Somehow they skipped over me, but it’s cool Sunset, I’m ain’t hating on ya - I’m far too busy these days anyway.

Hehe, yea right.

The method is simple enough. Take basic choux pastry, add cheese, and voila! Irregular, alien-like blobs are yours in no time! Ok, so I admit they weren’t as pretty as I’ve seen, but anything with cheese is delicious, and as funny as my sad little gougères looked, they tasted just fine. They puffed up, hollow as should be, filling the house with that undeniable smell of cheese. Now I know why they’re enjoyed with champagne and wine. Me, well, I couldn’t make up my mind, so I had both.

Gougères from Sunset Magazine
Preheat over to 425°. Heat 1/2 cup butter and 1 cup water in a medium saucepan over medium heat until butter is melted and mixture comes to a simmer.  Turn heat to low, add 1 cup flour, and stir vigorously until mixture forms a ball that pulls away from pan sides, about 1 minute. Remove pan from heat. Add 5 eggs, one at a time, stirring vigorously after each. Dough will separate after each addition, keep stirring until it forms a smooth paste. Stir in 1 cup grated gruyere, 1/2 cup grated parmesan, 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard, and 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper. Drop mixture in heaping tablespoonfuls onto 2 buttered baking sheets. Bake until puffed and brown, about 30 minutes. Cut slits in sides of puffs, return to oven, and lower heat to 350°. Bake for 10 minutes. Makes about 50.

It does work. Oh my goodness does it ever. Each and every time.

The New York Times has some additional information about the No-Knead Method that, like everyone else, we're crazy about. Having made about 8 loaves so far with success (even adding extra ingredients like nuts and sugar), it's nice to see some additional information. It's crazy good, yo.