Cake Talk

Half Slovenian

I t's my birthday on Saturday and I'm a bit nostalgic. Something made me pull this cookbook off the shelf. It belonged to my dad's mother, and was published the year I was born.

Grandma Cesar was born in Ljublijana, Slovenia in 1904. Her father was a master cabinet maker, and worked in Southampton, England around the time the Titanic was being outfitted. But that is a whole other story. She emigrated to the United States as a young woman in 1921. 

Grandma's English was difficult to understand. She had a very strong accent and was always reminding us of our Slovienian heritage. I tried to correct her once, saying we were Yugoslavian, as Slovenia (at the time) was part of Yugoslavia and not an independent country. She was a tall, slender woman, but she was very strong. She took me firmly by the shoulders and looked me straight in the eye. Very matter-of-factly and without a hint of a smile, SHE corrected ME. "You are NOT Yugoslavian, you are Slovenian." It was many years before I truly understood and appreciated the distinction.

Woman's Glory: The Kitchen is dedicated to the pioneer members of the Slovenian Women's Union of America. It was not her only cookbook, but it was certainly the one I remember the most. Not only did it contain recipes for almost every Slovenian dish I had ever eaten, but the pages were also filled with her own handwritten recipes, some in English, many not.

Grandma Cesar was the kind of person who made everything from scratch.

Plus, she grew her own vegetables and boiled (and ironed) her underwear. 

And if you knew what was good for you, you NEVER, EVER brought store-bought cookies or bread into her house.

As if all that was not enough, and like every true Slovenian woman on the planet, she made potica (ronounced "puh-teet-sa).

Potica is a rich yeast bread with a mixture of walnuts, cream and honey rolled in. It is traditionally baked in a round glazed terracota pan (similar to a bundt pan), or a long loaf pan, and served in slices to guests, and at holidays. If there were such a thing as a national food in Slovenia, it would be potica. 

The cookbook has an entire section on poticas, with four dough recipes. After grandma died, I remember my dad and aunts agonizing over the recipes in the book, and comparing them with their memories of how she made the dough. She never used a recipe that I remember and nobody had ever dared ask her which dough recipe to use.

So when the grandchildren were given the chance to pick one item from the house to remember grandma, I picked the cookbook.

And making potica reminds me that I am half Slovenian.

Grandma's recipe is in the Mary's Cakes cookbook, but here's the potica recipe , along with detailed instructions, from the Slovene National Society.

 

When Life Hands You Lemons...

Mom and dad have a lemon tree in their backyard. As fate would have it, I visit once a year, in January when the lemons are ripe.

And, there are only so many lemons my parents can use or give away. Especially in California, where every other house has a similar tree.

So in the suitcase they go.

Future lemon squares at Mary's Cakes and Pastries!

They are pretty easy to make, you just need fresh lemons. Don't even THINK about using bottled lemon juice.

I like them when they are heavy on the lemon custard and light on the crust. Tart and sweet at the same time. Makes them almost seem healthy. Here's a closer look.

Want the recipe? No mixer required, we make this ENTIRELY by hand in the shop so there is no fighting over Rosie (the new 60-quart Hobart mixer we won in the Get Back To Scratch contest last summer). The recipe is also in our cookbook.

You can use the crust recipe below or press unbaked shortbread dough into the bottom of the pan. Shortbread dough will make the crust firmer and stronger.

Mary's Lemon Squares

For the crust:

12 oz. butter or margarine (3 sticks)
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
3 cups all purpose flour

For the filling:

4 eggs
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup all purpose flour
3/4 cup fresh lemon juice (with zest from lemons)

For the crust: Cut the margarine into pieces. Add the margarine (or butter), brown sugar and flour to a large mixing bowl and mix with a fork, pastry cutter, or your hands until incorporated and the margarine or butter is in pea sized pieces. Press into a half sheet (12" x 18") pan. Do NOT line the pan. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes or until set. Crust will be slightly soft. Remove from the oven and let cool for about 10-15 minutes before pouring the filling over the crust. Lower heat in the oven to 325.

For the filling: While crust is cooking, combine eggs and sugar in a bowl and whip with a hand whisk. Then add flour, lemon juice and zest. Mix with whip until combined and the mixture is lump-free.  Pour lemon mixture over cooled crust and return to oven. Bake at 325  for 20-25 minutes or until set. Do not brown or create a hard crust on top.

When totally cooled, dust with confectiiners' sugar and cut into squares. Makes 48 2-inch squares (or more if you cut them smaller).

 

Julia Child and the Art of French Cooking

I bought two Julia Child cookbooks at an estate sale today. One of the books, Julia Child and Company, is a first edition which I plan to sell at Mary's Cupboard.

The other, her first book, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, is a softcover edition from the 1980s, but a classic nonetheless.

Originally published over 40 years ago, it contains 547 recipes and recently catapulted a blogger to fame through the book and movie "Julie and Julia" (the first major motion picture based on a blog).

Having spent time in France, I totally understand how the French (and Julia Child) take food so very SERIOUSLY. Enjoying dinner is an evening's total entertainment, and preparing dinner is much, much more than the means to an end; it is a well respected art.

Racing through over 500 recipes in less than a year, as Julie Powell did, trivializes the deep traditions contained in the art of French cooking. It's like turning a multi-course feast into a hot dog eating contest.

My own passion for French cooking was spawned in the 1970s, apprenticing in commercial kitchens in Paris. For a year-and-a-half as a teenage apprentice, I was allowed to do little more than prep vegetables. Peeling endless piles of carrots, onions and potatoes, and cleaning more leeks and mushrooms than I can count, I stirred a sauce only ONCE, and made vinaigrette only a handful of times. Like Julia, I didn't attend culinary school until I was older (in my 40s, she was 37). I still had the passion, but also the maturity to appreciate how professional training could complement that passion.

This is the first time I have actually owned the book, and I'm keeping it. It represents a labor of love, and many years of her hard work and dedication. I will probably never make all of the recipes it contains, but will savor and appreciate every recipe, description and helpful hint in the spirit in which it was intended.

Vintage, anyone?

Some day, when I am gone, I hope people go through my stuff looking for treasures... 

I spent some time at an estate sale this morning. The lady was an avid cook and had collected lots and lots of kitchen items. Her stuff was much more interesting than my stuff.

There were scores of cookie cutters, many still in their original box, but there were also a couple of large tins of wonderfully fascinating shapes in metal and plastic. These were the cutters she actually used to make cookies.

Who wouldn't want a cookie in the shape of George Washington or Abraham Lincoln? Or all of the animals in Noah's Ark? Or the 12 days of Christmas? Or a dozen barnyard animals, including a goat and pigeon? 

There were several cake carriers and dozens of vintage pans, in all shapes and sizes. Cake pans, brownie pans, cookie pans, pie pans, muffin pans, corn stick pans, and many old Wilton shaped pans including Holly Hobby and Strawberry Shortcake. Three different easter egg pans, and a set of pans in the shape of an open book (remember that April 1 is International Edible Book Day).

More pans, plus many cookbooks from manufacturers of sugar, flour and baking powder. I truly, TRULY want to try some of these recipes.

Want to see the entire collection? Just come on down to Mary's Cupboard. It'll all be there tomorrow, and until these lovely items are adopted by new owners.

Rhubarb Pie

"Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie.
Mama's little baby loves rhubarb, rhubarb,
Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie. "

Beebopareebop Rhubarb Pie is a fictitious sponsor of A Prairie Home Companion, a National Public Radio program.  While you can listen to it on Alabama Public Radio, it really speaks all things Minnesota.

Like rhubarb.  Which doesn’t really grow in the south although I have heard there might be a variety that does.  But it's probably why most folks here have no idea what it is, or what it tastes like.

And it probably also explains why the local grocery store here, Publix, sold it with the poisonous leaves still attached, but I am getting ahead of myself.

I like rhubarb.  I love rhubarb pie.  It's tart and sweet at the same time.  Not too gooey.  Holds together nicely when you cut it.  Until I moved south, I always had access to it.  We grew it in California.  Had friends who grew it in New York.  Even had friends who grew it in Finland.  But it doesn't grow in Alabama, too hot and humid.  Which is a problem for me and all the other Yankee transplants (aka "damn yankees") that know and love it.

Most people cook it, it makes great jams, jellies or puddings.  And pies.  And you only eat the stalks.  The leaves contain oxalic acid, and you can't eat them cooked or raw.  You can read all about it at this website.  Anytime I have purchased rhubarb at the supermarket, the leaves were removed.  The Super Target in Tuscaloosa sometimes carries it.  And I found it last week at Publix, leaves intact, for $4.99 per pound (ouch!).

We had promised rhubarb pie to a customer so I spent $17 for enough rhubarb for three pies.  Our normal suppliers can't get it, but one of my chef friends has a produce supplier who is supposed to deliver a case on Tuesday.  So we'll have rhubarb pies next week.

The recipe is simple, and in our cookbook:

Rhubarb Pie

Unbaked pie shell
Additional pie crust dough
6-8 stalks fresh rhubarb
1 tsp. cinnamon
1 C. granulated sugar
1/2 C. instant tapioca
1/4 C. water
Cream
Granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 375^o F.  Wash rhubarb and slice into 1/2 inch slices/  In a large mixing bowl, combine the rhubarb, cinnamon, sugar, tapioca and water.  Toss to combine.  Pour the rhubarb mixture into the pie shell.  It should mound 1-2 inches higher than the shell.

Roll out additional pie crust dough.  Using a pizza cutter or rolling pastry wheel, slice about twelve 1/2 inch strips of pie crust dough.  Place over pie, forming a lattice design.  Brush lightly with cream and sprinkle with granulated sugar.

Bake at 375^o F for about 45-55 minutes, or until the pie crust is lightly browned and the rhubarb mixture is bubbly.  Once the center begins to bubble and thicken, remove the pie from the oven and allow to cool completely before serving.

Makes one pie.

The Traditional Bûche de Noel

I spent a considerable amount of time living in Paris in the late 1970's,  working as an apprentice in commercial kitchens.  As Christmas approached, just about every pastry shop window was filled with some version of the Bûche de Noel, the traditional French "yule log". Christmas eve dinner would not be complete without it.

They were mostly yellow or chocolate genoise (sponge) cake filled with buttercream and covered with whipped ganache to resemble a log ready for the fireplace.  Each shop had a unique way of flavoring and decorating their Bûches, but meringue or marzipan mushrooms were pretty standard, as were sugared rosemary "pine needles."  One end of the rolled cake is usually cut at an angle and placed on the side or top of the cake to form a branch. Confectioners' sugar is sprinkled on top to resemble snow.

We make a Bûche de Noel at Mary's and you can make it at home too.  We use a chocolate sponge cake recipe (in our cookbook, page 45), chocolate buttercream (page 71), ganache (page 75), meringue mushrooms (page 137) which we piece together with melted chocolate, sugared rosemary (page 139) and a marzipan Santa (page 108).

It's not too late to order one for the 23rd, or buy the cookbook and make it yourself.

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2011 Update:

You can order a large (serves 20-30) for $39.50 or a small (serves 10-15) for $24.50. We will likely also have some in the shop on the 23rd and 24th on a first come, first served basis.

205-345-8610.

Strong feelings about Fruitcake

People harbor strong feelings about fruitcake.  They either love it or they hate it.  I love the fruitcake we make, but hate the stuff you buy at the grocery store.  Not sure sure what it is about that $2 fruitcake, but I won't waste calories on it.

I 'm not crazy about the fruitcake they make in Britain either.  My sister lives in England and is married to a Scotsman.  I spent a few holidays there with her family.  One year, her mother-in-law brought a fruitcake she had made.  It was full of raisins - at least three different kinds, had no nuts, and had never benefited from alcohol of any kind.  I ate it to be polite, but I like mine better.

Fruitcake should have lots of whole nuts, real citrus peel, and red cherries.  Not too many (or any) raisins, and should be dense and rummy.  We start making ours in September, usually during the first home football game, and soak them in rum twice-weekly until Thanksgiving.  By then, they have become a dense block of fruit, nuts and rum.  We tell our customers not to eat and drive.

I believe people who hate fruitcake have never had a really good one.  Like everything, there are good versions and bad versions.  One of my chef instructors at Culinary School used to say you should try something at least twice, with different preparations, made by different chefs, before you decide you really don't like it.

There are two basic kinds of fruitcake: light and dark.  Light fruitcake typically contains golden raisins, pineapple, apricots, almonds and has a light-colored cake base. Dark is usually made with molasses, brown sugar, raisins, dates, cherries and pecans. Our version has a light brown sugar cake base, but contains citrus, cherries, almonds and pecans, and is lightly spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, so it is somewhere in-between.

If you've never had a fruitcake you like, come in and give ours a try.  We usually have a few pieces on hand that we dip in chocolate.  And the recipe is in our cookbook.

Dog Biscuits and the Northport Barbershop

Only in Alabama.

I'm on my way to work this morning.  Almost there in fact when my cell phone rings.  It's the shop calling.  The news co-anchor from the local WVUA News (and a cameraman) are in the bakery wanting to do a follow up on our dog biscuits.

Two days ago, we were interviewed on the "WVUA First at 4",  local news.  I was promoting the cookbook and had brought two trays of goodies from the shop to illustrate the various recipes.  Included were a couple of dog biscuits (recipe on page 141).

Apparently, after I left, one of the anchors, Robert Stevenson, popped one in his mouth -- ON CAMERA.  He's a news co-anchor and the weather anchor.  He also files a Friday night segment called "The Northport Barbershop Report," from the local barbershop around the corner from us on Main Avenue.  It's a small-town "Mayberry-esque" piece that they have fun with. 

During the taping today, Jim Burt and the guys at the barbershop were giving Stevenson a hard time about the dog biscuits, called him Robert "Bow-Wow" Stevenson.  Seizing on an opportunity to further promote the show, he hopped across the street to Mary's to tape a follow-up.

Over and over he repeated "Three, two, one...As it says on page 141 of Mary's Cakes Favorite Recipes, dogs love 'em and people do too..." He never actually ate one, but I'm sure it will be fun to watch.  It'll be on the 6pm and 10pm news tonight.

Promoting our Cookbook on Fox6

Saturday morning I took that familiar drive to Birmingham and the Fox6 studio to promote our new cookbook.

I got up at 5 a.m. for my 8:10 segment.  Coffee is king, and I would never start the day without it.  So I sat on my porch in the dark with a hot cup of coffee in my hand and two warm dogs on my lap until I was good and ready to face the day.

If you knew my sense of direction (or lack thereof) you would understand why I left almost an hour-and-a-half of travel time for the 50 mile trip.  I still managed to take a detour through Birmingham's downtown district before finding my way to Vulcan Park and the studio, but arrived with plenty of time to spare.

The 7:48 segment was a fashion consultant from New York who was going to talk about fall fashion.  When I asked him which part of New York he was from he said smugly "Manhattan, of course."  Big whoop, I figured he could not be that hot if he was being interviewed in Birmingham, Alabama.  But he WAS wearing make-up and had two very nicely dressed (off-camera) assistants.

1. At 8:10, I glazed and decorated petit fours and talked about the cookbook for all of 4 1/2 minutes.  You can watch online, or just buy the book.  It's available in our shop, at the Kentuck Gallery, or at Barnes & Noble in Tuscaloosa, or online through our website, or through amazon.com.

Barnes & Noble vs. Books-A-Million and our new cookbook

  Tuscaloosa has two bookstores:  Books-A-Million and (only recently with the opening of the new midtown mall) Barnes & Noble.  There are of course several "bookstores" on the various campuses (University of Alabama, Shelton State Community College, Stillman College) selling textbooks, but no independent bookstores (except for the Christian Bookstore on McFarland Boulevard).

A couple of years ago, as the midtown mall was being built, our newspaper (The Tuscaloosa News) ran an anonymous letter in the "Sound Off" section (which I read for laughs every morning - it is better than the comics) where a reader complained that we did not need a new mall because we already had one, we did not need Barnes & Noble because we already had Books-A-Million, didn't need Best Buy (which was slated at the time to open in the new mall) because we already had Circuit City.  They went on and on...you get the picture.  I remember thinking at the time of the adage "better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt" (attributed at times to Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain and Albert Einstein).  Competition is a good thing, and more retail choices will only make our growing city a better place.

Fast forward to yesterday.  Our new cookbooks were delivered on Friday.  Nine hundred and fifty-three of them.  And they look great!  Sunday, my first day off, I marched into Barnes and Noble to show the book to the manager.  I had spoken with him a few months ago (also on a Sunday) and he had some very helpful suggestions about how the book should be put together (mainly getting an ISBN number and bar code so the book could be scanned, and perfect binding so the book would not "disappear" on the shelf).  It was Sunday but he was on the floor working the customer service booth.  He was excited to see it and offered to help us get it placed in his store. I could not have been more satisfied with the personal treatment, especially since Barnes & Noble is the nation's top bookseller.

Then I went down the street to Books-A-Million.  I went there because I did not want to put all my eggs in one basket.  The store was messy, dusty and almost empty.  The only visible employee was a lone cashier.  I asked him if I could speak with the manager, whom he called out to the floor.  I introduced myself, told him about the book, and handed him one.  He glanced at it and, in the most business-like-but-obviously-annoyed tone possible, explained that all their book purchases were handled by a distributor, then disappeared in the back to find me the phone number.  He handed me a sticky note with the initials and phone number of the distributor and ushered me (and my book) out of the store.

Where do you think I will do my book shopping from now on?  And if that anonymous writer a few years ago had his or her way I would not have a choice.