Pumpkins!

Here they are. Aren't they beautiful? Imperfections and all. It's that time of year...Halloween is around the corner. Pumpkins will line porches and sit on window sills, as they are or with carved faces on them. Pumpkin muffins, pumpkin fudge, and best of all fresh pumpkin pie. (As in cooking the pumpkin, and making your own puree. Mmmmm....)


This is the rustic Fairy Tale pumpkin. Can you imagine this turning into a coach drawn by horses that were once mice?



A close up of the Jarradale.



The bright orange French Pumpkin.

How about these guys? Super Freak Pumpkins.


And this is a Swan Gourd.

When the Freezer Stops Freezing...

You have in mind your production schedule for the day. It is the afternoon and you have already baked off the morning pastries and cookies. You've iced the brownies and piped ganache on the chocolate cupcakes. Two quiches have been baked off for the lunch specials. You've even had time to test out a new pumpkin muffin recipe. The chocolate stout cake has cooled and you are ready to put them in the freezer to be used at a later date.

But the freezer smells funny. You put your hand in and it feels, strangely, warmer. You start poking at different product, expecting your finger to hit a wall of frozen items. But everything you touch give way to the pressure you apply. There is condensation on the inside wall of the freezer.

Great.

Problems happen all the time. I've always found that the problems that arise in the kitchen forces one to be creative. Much of the time, I have to stop what I am doing and find a solution of some sort. Because there's really no other choice. How perfect it would if everything came out the way you wanted. If all ovens behaved the same, if freezers didn't break down, if the temperature and humidity were just perfect, etc.

So what do I usually have in there? Unbaked product such as scones and cookie dough, cakes waiting to be iced, nuts to keep from going rancid, fruit purees, pate brisee wrapped in plastic wrap, puff pastry, and ice cream samples.

The rest of my production was put on pause for the rest of the day. I scrambled to find freezer items temporary homes in other freezers and fridges. And I made it work.

You just have to.

Alfajores

I 've been spoiled.

I can't just have any cookie. I recently nibbled on a brand name oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. My reaction: No. Can't do it. Bleh! I think I've stopped eating store-bought cookies altogether. I remember my childhood favorite: Oreo's, Pepperidge Farms' Milanos, Famous Amos, and Chips Ahoy. Nope. Not for me.

With that out into the open, on to alfajores.

Alfajores are cookies from South America. Imagine dulce de leche sandwiched between two biscuit like cookies. A layer of powdered sugar elegantly dressed onto the top layer. The cookie part is rich and crumbly, and at first makes you feel like you need a glass of milk, but when you taste that ooey, gooey dulce de leche, your need for counterbalance is satisfied. The experience melting away in your mouth.

My sister had brought some for me from her trip to Argentina. She had bought me a box and had it waiting for me at my family's home. But my aunts and uncles would come by and peak in the pantry. And before you know it, only four individually wrapped cookies were left. They were my first alfajores and I enjoyed each one. Yes, they were the store-bought kind, and they were dipped in chocolate. But that was years ago. I had forgotten what they tasted like, but I remember I liked them

Then I came across Monica's alfajores. It is a Peruvian recipe, and they are freshly made. Yes! I have found a supply. I just love how they melt in my mouth. And, as they disappear they leave me with an expression of delight.

Fall Begins

Labor Day has come and gone, and school is back in session. The maple leaves are slowly starting to change their shades and flutter to the ground, the first breaths of autumn before it awakes.

The change from summer to autumn is a bittersweet time of year. We start to give way to our shorts and beach trips for sweaters and raking leaves. I start to say goodbye to my beloved summer fruits: the juicy hunks of honeydew, the sweet flesh of peaches, and the fragrant strawberries. There will be no more free-form blueberry tartlets or Sharlyn melon agua frescas.

The shadows begin to lengthen, and the air gets a little chilly. The skies become a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks at sunset.

Every Wednesdays while I was in culinary school, I would pass by the farmers' market. I found the best plums and peaches here for a great price. I became hooked on dried mission figs. Over time I would notice the changes in produce as fall came around. The change was subtle as the quality and quantity of summer fruits began to fade and make room for apples, pears, and persimmons.

Autumn is that time of year for candied apples, poached pears, and everything pumpkin. It's that time of year for cranberry compote, roasted figs, and maple pecan pie. And as much as I love the summer, autumn is my favorite time of year as it alludes to the holidays. The weather is cool, yet we still catch one last hint of summer heat as Indian summer makes it way through. There is nothing like having a hot cup of coffee with apple cranberry muffin, scooping out pumpkins seeds as the rays of the setting sun pour into my kitchen, or walking outside on my way to work and seeing puffs of breath as I exhale.

Slow Food Nation

I made the mistakes of not buying my tickets early. I think for the most part because I was unsure if I would be able to make it.

Slow Food Nation was a celebration of food that took place this past Labor Day weekend in San Francisco. There were opportunities to taste samples from different farmers and producers, to learn about food-related issues, and see cooking demonstrations.

What is Slow Food? Well, what is fast food? Fast food, much of the time, is junky, unwholesome, and unsocial in this speed-of-light time that we live in. Slow Food USA is a movement that focuses on good wholesome food, linking the environment and the community. It’s about getting food back to be being good for us, not just the consumer, but for every component along the way: whether it is the soil that our produce comes from or the workers in the field.

I was disappointed for not jumping on the opportunity earlier. But, I received word of one event that was happening today: a US Artisanal Chocolate Makers Roundtable. Basically, it was a discussion between five chocolate producers in the United States. I made my way to Fort Mason to learn more about what it means to be "artisanal." What was the difference between their chocolate and companies such as Hershey's and Ghirardhelli?

The panel included representative from Taza Chocolate, Amano Chocolate, Askinosie Chocolate, Patric Chocolate, and DeVries Chocolate. I definitely learned a lot about the art of chocolate making: about production, about single origin beans vs. blending, and about issues regarding larger chocolate makers.

I think what really struck me the most was how much each person really valued keeping the purity of the cacao beans: bean to bar. This means not having extra additives in their chocolates, but protecting the flavors of the beans. The flavors of the beans depend on variables such as where they are grown, how they are fermented, and even how they are roasted.

Shawn Askinoisie of Askinoise Chocolate focused on his strong belief on building the relationships with the providers of the beans, with having fair net profit share with them. (He once was a criminal defense lawyer who pursued his new passion.) Steve DeVries, of DeVries Chocolate, spoke about how he would fly out to Costa Rica for the harvesting of the cacao beans to insure quality.

Perhaps that is why these chocolate are expensive: the care that goes into the production and the purity of the ingredients. I must note that artisanal chocolate making is fairly new in the US. (Scharffen Berger being perhaps one of the earlier pioneers that paved the way.) And though I have yet to try the brands represented in the panel, I am not likely to use their chocolate for baking purposes. (For $8 a bar?) These chocolates are meant to stand alone, not melted to make a mousse or chopped up for cookies. That would go against the principles of these artisanal chocolates.

Dim Sum with Po Po

Hmmm. I have noticed that this blog has made a course quite different than I had planned. I thought that I would be writing about my experiences with pastry, but that has only become a small part of this short-lived blog.

But who cares...and now onto dim sum with Po Po (the Cantonese word for maternal grandmother.)

What would food experiences be without a good dose nostalgia? Growing up Chinese American, dim sum has such a deep rooted part of my childhood, and it it not just to food, it's the whole atmosphere.

I don't get to see my Po Po too often, and I had a feeling that it was that time to make time. We ventured to Mayflower Restaurant and Lounge, a restaurant that my family have been long time patrons to. So long, that my grandmother gets the hook up with extra dishes. We sat down at a small round table for five, the three other seats for an unrelated uncle and two aunties.

Waiters and waitresses dressed in their uniforms: the men either in a green vest or a peach suit jacket; the women in black vests. All have bow ties and black pants. Managers have their suits. Carts of dim sum maneuver their way around the packed tables. Trays with egg tarts, taro dumplings, and other assorted dishes make their way to every table as each member of the waitstaffs announces their featured dish.

My dim sum experience would be incomplete with my childhood favorites. The first is har gau, the shrimp dumplings that are enveloped in a thin wheat starch wrapping. Then, of course, the steamed barbeque pork bun (cha siu bo). And it must be steamed, not the baked one. Cheong fun, the rice noodle rolls filled with beef or shrimp accompanied with soy sauce. Then of course the cups and cups of tea. Going out for dim sum is also refered to yum cha, which directly transtlated means to drink tea.


And, yes, the dishes sometimes do get, well, wierd: like the barbequed chicken feet (in which B is absolutely appalled by) or duck beaks. But that is such a small part of this varietal feasts.

One more thing that is part of my experience of this tradition: the "fight" over who pays the bill.

Buttercream

Swiss meringue buttercream.

I had the hardest time learning how to make it. I mean, I can do it in my sleep now, but it took me forever to get that confidence. One thing working with pastry is that you need to learn how to pay attention to detail. You learn how to look at your product and gauge how it is coming along. Catching mistakes early saves you from upcoming headaches (and heartaches.)

I don't really care too much for frosting. To be honest, I don't really like buttercream, (whipped cream for me, please) but having a good buttercream recipe is essential. Because it involves incorporting air, it is much lighter than your supermarket frosting (which if you read the label is mostly made of shortening and sugar.)

I threw out many failed batches. But after making it over and over, I have learned a few things to make this buttercream foolproof.

Swiss meringue buttercream involves two parts: the Swiss meringue, which is egg whites and sugar, heated over a water bath and then whipped in a stand mixer. Then butter is added.


The recipe involves 1 1/2 cups sugar and 3/4 cups egg whites (a Swiss meringue is 2:1 sugar to egg white) and 1 pound of soften butter.

A quick note on the butter. It should be soft and quite maleable in your hands, but not melted. If the butter is too cool, it will not mix into the meringue and, you will get chunks of butter throughout your buttercream. (You can get this by microwaving the butter in 5 second intervals. Or, you can leave it out at room temperature for a few hours.)

Place the sugar and egg whites into a mixer bowl. Whisk it by hand. Place over a pot of simmering water. (Bowl should not touch the water.) Continue whisking, scraping the bowl as you go. If you don't, your egg white mixture will not heat evenly and you will have cooked egg whites. (Heating the meringue makes it more stable.)

Heat to 140 F.

You can use an instant-read thermometer. But if you don't have one, you can test it by touching the meringue with the back part of your finger. It should feel hot, but not burning. Think about a hot bath after a long tiring day.

Remove and place in a mixer and whisk on medium high until cool. This may take a while depending on how much buttercream you are making and the temperature of the room. It can take 10 minutes or as long as 45 minutes. Again, test by touching the meringue with the back of your finger.

The meringue should also hold its shape. (Also known as a stiff meringue.)

When it is cool, add the butter a little at a time. There should be about ten additions. Keep whisk going at medium speed after each addition.

The buttercream may look like it is not coming together, almost clumpy, but keep whisking! It should bind. When the buttercream has come together, take out the bowl of from the mixer. With a spatula scrape the bottom and finish by hand.

And there you go: beautiful buttery buttercream. At this point you can flavor it as you like: vanilla extra, strongly brewed coffee, melted chocolate, etc. (With chocolate, take a third of the finished buttercream and mix seperately with the chocolate. Then add into the bigger batch of buttercream.)

It is best to use the buttercream right away, but refrigerate or freeze if not using right away. Just leave it out at room temperature when you plan to use it.