Tomato Kumato

February 3, 2010

I’m a Writer

Filed under: Cake Day, Cakes — Tags: , — emiglia @ 3:38 pm

The conversation is inevitable: after a few minutes of talking to a new group of people, of asking “What can I get you to drink?” and “So, where are you from?” comes the question I so loved a year ago, but that now I dread.

“What do you do?”

I take a sip from my glass. I pause. I try to decide if I should just make a joke and say I’m “funemployed” and let that be the end of it. But I suck it up. “I’m a writer,” I answer.

“Oh! Wow!” They say appreciatively, nodding. I hold my breath. The worst is still to come.

“What do you write?”

And that’s where I stop being able to answer. What do I write? Well… it all depends…

Every day, I blog. I write about things that people should be buying and places that people should visit. Never mind that I don’t buy most of the stuff I tell people to buy and I haven’t been to a great majority of the places that I research… that’s what I do, every day. And I do it in French.

I write about the places I’ve lived, like Paris, the one that stole my heart, and San Francisco the one that got away, for they are my inspiration, my muse. I write about my home of New York-Toronto-Cannes-San Sebastian-Paziols-Westhampton. Paris. sigh.

I write restaurant reviews. Somehow I got famous for this one in San Sebastian, where people, I think, had lofty visions of me being a female Calvin Trillin. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I generally get paid less per review than it costs me to go to a place, which means that 99% of the time, I only review places I was planning on going anyway: dive bars and cafés.

I do translations. I write other people’s resumes, cover letters and letters to the French bank (quelle horreur). I write letters to people I like and Facebook messages when I don’t have time, energy, stamps or stationery. I write recipes, as you all know by now. I write telephone messages. I write movie reviews. I write query letters… lots and lots and lots of query letters. I write some good stuff, but I also write a lot of bullshit. I’m OK with that, I think.

But when my fingers are aching for a pen and I answer distractedly to people’s direct questions. (”Em, you want pizza or Chinese for dinner?” “Uh… um… just a sec. One sec. One sec. Wait. What was the question?”) When I get an idea in my head that won’t shake free, when I remember why I chose this as a job: sitting at my desk with an endless cup of coffee that I microwave every few hours when I forget about it, trying to ignore Twitter so that I can actually get down to work… That’s when I write novels. Above all else, I’m a novelist; my heart lies in other people’s stories, in characters so real that I find myself falling in love with the good ones and promising them happiness and crying when I finally break their hearts on page 256.

“What do you write?” they ask. I want to answer… but I usually just shrug.

“You know. Stuff.”

Gingerbread (Culinary Concoctions by Peabody)

Peabody serves this with cream cheese frosting, which I’m sure is a dream. I chose to top mine with a Speculoos spread that isn’t available in the States, but if you ever find yourself in France, pick up a jar… it’s divine.

1 1/4 cups flour
1 tablespoon ground Ginger
1 teaspoon ground Cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup  (1 1/2 sticks)  butter, softened
3/4 cups sugar, divided
1 egg
1/3 cup molasses

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter a brownie pan and set aside.

In a small bow, mix flour, ginger, cinnamon, baking soda and salt.

In a separate bowl, beat butter and sugar in large bowl with a whisk until light and fluffy. Beat in egg until well blended.  Gradually beat in flour mixture until well mixed. Stir in molasses. Spread evenly in prepared pan.

Bake 30 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool in pan 15 minutes, then remove from pan and finish cooling on a wire rack. Spread speculoos spread over the bars. Cut into bars.

January 28, 2010

Apple-Cream Cheese Bread

Filed under: Cake Day, Cakes, Quickbreads — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 6:54 pm

“Is there anything you can’t make?” The Artist asks me as she sits in a chair in my kitchen watching me put the finishing touches on an Indian feast one of my first nights back in Paris.

The Artist and I met for the first time at my Thanksgiving celebration last year, where she waxed on and on about this Pumpkin Tarte Tatin that has become a staple at my Thanksgiving table, going so far as to make it for her boyfriend, even though she only cooks tortillas and Kaiserschmarrn.

I thought about it for a moment. “Really simple things…” I answered, reaching for a dish towel to move one pot to another burner and stirring with the other hand.

“For awhile I didn’t like my tomato sauce… and I still can’t make latkes.” I kept thinking for another moment as I made a spice blend for the dal. Suddenly, it hit me.

“Bread,” I answered. “Anything with a yeast dough.”

I know it’s not an uncommon difficulty, but for me, it’s a very frustrating one. I bake all sorts of quickbreads, muffins and cakes with ease, and then the second I try to mix yeast, flour, water and salt, four simple ingredients, all Hell breaks loose and I end up with a rock-hard-on-the-outside, kind-of-raw-on-the-inside ball of tasteless yuck.

Oh well… someday I’ll figure it out, maybe. Until then, I can content myself with being good at this: I do love a nice quickbread, and this one is no different. It’s very light in texture–my father compares it to the inside of a cupcake. It’s all gone now, so I assume that’s a compliment.

Apple-Cream Cheese Bread

1-1/4 cup flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 pinch freshly ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp. cloves
1/4 tsp. cardamom
1/4 tsp. black pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2/3 cup (packed) light brown sugar
1/3 cup white sugar
2 large eggs
2/3 cup unsweetened applesauce
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 apple, chopped
1 8 oz. block of Neufchatel cheese (or regular cream cheese)
1/3 cup (packed) light brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Prepare a baking pan (I used a tart pan and an 8×8 brownie pan) by greasing the interior and lightly dusting with flour. Set aside.

Combine the dry ingredients in a medium bowl. In a large bowl, combine the melted butter and sugars with a wooden spoon until well combined. Add the eggs, one at a time, and mix until completely encorporated and slightly lighter in color. Add the applesauce and vanilla to the wet ingredients and mix to combine.

Add the dry ingredients to the wet, mixing until just combined. Add the apple and fold into the batter. Pour the batter into the prepared vessel of your choosing.

Combine the cheese with the remaining brown sugar, and dollop in small amounts over the top of the batter. Bake for 25-30 minutes, until the cake is set in the middle. Cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then remove to a rack to finish cooling.

January 12, 2010

Lime-Raspberry Quickbread (Lactose free!)

Filed under: Cake Day, Cakes, Quickbreads — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 10:53 pm

I think I should set up an office in a train.

I can have a seemingly perfect setup at home: a desk, a bottomless cup of hot coffee, headphones, a blanket… and I’ll still sit in front of the screen, the cursor blinking at me, taunting me. So I distract myself with something else–one of my myriad of freelance jobs or a webcomic or messing around in the kitchen for awhile–and my characters stay in suspended animation in their unsaved wod document, waiting, waiting, waiting for me to get back to them.

But be it a half-empty subway car, the New Jersey transit train that takes me from Penn Station to Princeton, the LIRR that I ride home from the Hamptons, the RER C that I used to take out to Breuillet on the weekends, or the five-hour train ride that I so love—the one that takes me from north to south, from my beloved Paris to my beloved Cannes–the second I set foot on a train—any train—I’m scrambling for a pen and a notebook or the inside cover of a paperback or a crumpled receipt (or even my arm, as some of you may remember all too well) to jot down sentences and half-baked thoughts that I’ll come back to later, when I have time to think. When my hand has time to catch up to my racing brain.

I notice when I reread what I’ve written that the ideas I was sure about–the ones I had already been chewing in the back of my mind–are clear and sure. The things I don’t know about yet, the word vomit that spills so fast that I can hardly get my hand to write fast enough before the words are gone, that writing is riddled with errors, barely legible. I hope I can read it, when I finally sit down at sunrise and decode purple scribbles on the lined pages, crawling from within, their prison like vines on an iron gate. This is what I write when I’m on the train.

A billboard in Belleville : one must be wary of words.

A billboard in Belleville : one must be wary of words.

It’s not just stories–it actually hardly ever is. Most of the thoughts I write on the train are detached from any other reality. Sometimes they’re phrases, descriptions of things I never realized I’d thought of before. Sometimes they’re characters–someone who doesn’t yet have a place in any of the worlds I’ve created, but who, someday, may integrate themselves somewhere. Whatever it is, it’s not until I bring it home that I realize what I intended.

Trains are also where I do some of my best thinking: this cake, for example, was envisioned on board a train, when I was trying to decide what to make for a lactose intolerant friend. I scribbled a bunch of things in the margins of the recipe I’d printed, and by the time I’d arrived home, it was easy as pie. Or cake, as the case may be.

Lime-Raspberry Quickbread (adapted from Culinary Concoctions by Peabody)

1 ½  cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 1/4 cup plain soy yogurt
1 1/3 cups sugar, divided
3 extra-large eggs
2 tsp grated key lime zest
½ tsp pure vanilla extract
¼  cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup lime juice
1/3 cup raspberry jam, heated with a bit of water until pourable

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a loaf pan.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into a medium sized bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 1 cup sugar, the eggs, lime zest, and vanilla. Slowly whisk the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients. Fold the vegetable oil into the batter.

Pour half the batter into the prepared pan. Spread raspberry jam evenly over the batter. Add the remaining batter on top of the raspberry jam.

Bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester placed in the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup lime juice and remaining 1/3 cup sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is clear. Set aside.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pour the lemon-sugar mixture over the cake and allow it to soak in.

October 20, 2009

Gâteau Basque

Filed under: Cakes — Tags: , — emiglia @ 3:14 pm

I don’t know if the universe has a plan: I may be cocky at times, but I’m not nearly cocky enough to pretend I have any idea what the universe may or may not be planning for me or for anyone. All I know—all I really can know—is that things have a way of working themselves out, even when you think that there’s nothing that can be done to make your situation better.

I live a life of extremes: I’m not an optimist nor a pessimist, but I can be both in the span of five seconds. I can convince myself that everything is wrong with the world, that I’ll die lonely and bored, that I’ll never make it as a writer and I may as well just hunker down in my pajamas and eat oatmeal until I run out of money… and one little phone call or text message can completely change my outlook on life, make me want to take a shower (to cheers from the rest of the population), comb my hair and actually drag myself out of my desk chair and away from my novel (or, more frequently, web comics with the word document containing my novel opened behind them) and out into the world.

Case in point: I woke up this morning after a weekend spent like jet lag: nights I couldn’t sleep and days I couldn’t stay awake. I was all set to spend Sunday in my pajamas with an episode of House running in the background of what was sure to be on the less-productive side of my productivity scale (yes, I have a productivity scale), when I got a call from a friend and an invitation to go on a hike.

My younger self would haved died at the mere suggestion of exerting myself to climb up a hill (mountain, actually), but this self was up and in the shower in five seconds flat–what had started out as a grey day spent indoors turned out to be the sunny fall day that had made this my favorite season long ago and that is a rarity here in the famously rainy and gray Basque region.

We set off in the car towards the border with France, and we soon reached Peñas de Aya, a mountain near the French border that, according to legend, was kicked up by a Basque mythical character called Sanson, inspired by the Biblical persona of Samson, a character I’ve loved ever since seeing the opera Samson and Delilah at fourteen and even more so ever since I discovered that Regina Spektor and I share the same soul.

It reminded me, strangely enough, of another famously cloudy city: San Francisco. When we moved there for a year, I was twelve, and my father used to pack the four of us (my youngest sister was six) into the green Land Cruiser he drove at the time to wind the snakey turns up to Muir Woods, just over the bridge in Marin County. He would force-march us through the mulchy trail, exclaiming over every massive Redwood, “Isn’t it incredible?” And it was… the first dozen times.

But here, I was the one exclaiming, the one whipping out my camera at every turn to take a picture of the pitching cliffs that extended over grassy fields and out to the towns nearby. From afar, we could see San Sebastian, like Rio with its Jesus standing over the city. It looked so small from up so high–it hardly seemed possible that the last six weeks could have been spent in a place so small, that everything I’d done and all the memories I’d created were restricted to that little town, which looked like a model town from Mr. Rodgers.


When we reached the top, we stood for awhile, looking out at the view, before another group, this time a group of Spaniards, plopped themselves down next to us and pulled out a packed lunch. They ripped pieces off of baguettes and made mini sandwiches with ham and cheese. They swigged wine directly from a bottle they passed around, a habit I had picked up long ago in Cannes that the French had always scoffed at, claiming that if they were ever caught at a picnic without glasses, they would forego the wine altogether.

Suddenly, we realized we were hungry.

Into the car we went, off towards the French border, which we crossed, our destination a tiny town called Sare in French and Sara in Spanish. When we arrived, I was struck by how different it seemed–the Spanish side of the Basque Country–el país vasco–seems just that: Basque. The French side, however, is strikingly, purely French. Perhaps less than Hendaye, which I had visited last year–at least here, the signs were posted in both French and Euskara, but I felt strangely back in my element as I ordered a café noisette instead of the café cortado I’ve become accustomed to ordering here in San Sebastian (both consist of a shot of espresso with just a little bit of foamed milk on top.)

To go with our coffee, we split a gâteau basque, a rich and buttery cake filled with a layer of either jam or cream–we opted for cherry jam, which was sweet and perfect against the sandy, barely sweet cake. The three of us finished a cake meant for four in record time and soon were back on our way towards Spain. With a bonne soirée instead of my now typical agur, we were back outside, stopping in at a small, local church before heading off on our way.

In the impeccably kept cemetery, we ran into a French woman devouring her own gâteau basque, this one filled with cream. She spoke no Spanish: although the border is only minutes away, people from each country tend not to be able to switch languages with as much facility as one might think. “I mean no disrespect to the cemetary,” I translated later for my English friends, “But it’s such a beautiful day.”

One thing had nothing to do with the other, and yet I understood.

October 5, 2009

Decisions, decisions…

Filed under: Cakes — Tags: — emiglia @ 3:34 pm

I used to make decisions with no regard for anyone or really anything.

I’m not talking about little decisions, like whether to buy light wash or dark wash jeans or whether to order steak or fish: those decisions take painstaking deliberation and time and wringing of hands and other things that completely negate my nearly constant mantra of, “Emily, remember: you need to eradicate stress from your life.”

I’m talking about life-changing decisions: decisions to move somewhere, to buy a plane ticket for the weekend, to change my major, change my school. The decisions I should be wringing my hands over and tying my stomach in knots as I debate the pros and cons… those are the ones I tend to jump into blindly, like so many summers attempting back flips off the diving board. “Move to France? Sure, why not.”

That’s how it’s always happened in the past… so how did I get here?

Paris was over and done with for me at Christmas of 2008. I was ready to say my goodbyes, to move on to somewhere new: at the time, Naples was the place of choice, but I’ve since learned that the destination has little if anything to do with my desire to move. But in Paris I stayed, as months came and went, trying to stay in love with Paris and still sure that there was somewhere else I was meant to be, something else I was supposed to be trying.

I came to Spain as something temporary: my things stayed in Paris, and I kept my old address. And that’s how it always happens, or so I’ve learned. I felt the familiar creeping of my wanderlust, allowed it to come up from behind me and envelop me and announce my new destination with fanfare heard only by my ears: “Argentina. Go to Argentina.”

I don’t ask where these ideas come from… they just appear. (Name that 90s film…)

So why is it so hard this time? I’ve looked for jobs, announced my plans forcefully and happily to those around me. I’ve decided on a city, researched plane tickets, and tried to figure out if I’ll have enough money to both eat and buy a second-hand surf board (the answer is barely, but I’ll survive).

And yet, there’s something clawing at me, something new. Something that isn’t letting me make this decision as easily as some of my others. Part of me, I think, is afraid that if I head down to South America, that will be the end of Europe for me. And as much as I love to move, to delve into the next big thing, I’ve been living in Europe for nearly three years, and had my heart in Europe for much longer.

And then there’s the other worry, the one that’s always there, that accompanies the ticking clock of my 18-month itch: the knowledge, as little as I want to allow it to be there, that I can’t do this forever. Someday, I’ll have to end up somewhere, and the endless list of places that I’ve always told myself I’ll live someday–Naples, Ireland, Arizona, Vermont, Australia–will be suddenly cut short. I am struck with the realization that picking the next place on the list may also be picking the last: each time I do this, it only gets harder, and I’m going to have to stop somewhere. How do I know that that place will be the right one?

Decisions aren’t easy… and they’re only getting harder. Which is why, when all is said and done, it is crucial to my existence to have a few things to fall back on. These brownies are one of those things: something I can whip up and be sure that each time they will be amazing and leave other people swooning, distracting them from the whirring of my decision making inside my own crazy head.

Archetypal Brownies

Note: This recipe comes, as so many great ones do, via Molly aka Orangette. I can’t leave well enough alone, so I add a tablespoon of strog coffee to the batter and sometimes a quarter teaspoon of cayenne, cinnamon or nutmeg. I can’t very well commit to a decision, now can I?

1 ¼ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter
4 ounces best-quality unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 ounces best-quality bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 cups granulated sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
4 large eggs

Optional : 1 Tbsp. strong coffee OR 1/4 tsp. cinnamon OR 1/4 tsp. cayenne OR 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

Center a rack in the oven, and preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour and salt; set aside.

Melt the butter and the chocolate together in the top of a double boiler over—but not touching—simmering water (or in a metal bowl over a saucepan of simmering water), stirring frequently. When the chocolate and butter are both melted and smooth, add 1 cup of the sugar to the mixture, and stir it for 30 seconds; then remove the mixture from the heat, and stir in the vanilla extract. Pour the mixture into a large bowl.

Put the remaining 1 cup sugar and the eggs into a medium bowl, and whisk by hand to combine. Little by little, pour half of the sugar and eggs into the chocolate mixture, stirring gently but constantly with a rubber spatula so that the eggs don’t scramble from the heat. Beat the remaining sugar and eggs on medium speed until they are thick, pale, and doubled in volume, about 3 minutes. Using the rubber spatula, gently fold the whipped eggs and sugar into the chocolate mixture. When the eggs are almost completely incorporated, gently fold in the dry ingredients.

Pour and scrape the batter into an unbuttered 8-inch square pan (I’ve found a heavy nonstick metal brownie pan to be ideal, although the original recipe recommends ceramic or glass). Bake the brownies for 25-28 minutes, during which time they will rise a bit and the top will turn dry and a bit crackly. After 23 minutes, stick a knife or toothpick into the center to see how they are progressing. They should be just barely set—not too raw, but still fairly gooey (mine generally take the full 28 minutes, if not a touch more). Cool the brownies in the pan on a rack. When they’re completely cool, cut them into rectangular bars to serve.

June 14, 2009

Cake Day: Birthday Cake

Filed under: Cake Day, Cakes — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 5:04 am

My birthday has always fallen right on the cusp of summertime. School is out, or is going to be out in a few days. People are making summer plans–in New York, this means they’re heading out to Long Island or to the Jersey shore. We were Long Islanders, and so every year, the weekend closest to my birthday was reserved for me being able to take a few friends out to our house, to open the pool, to swim and welcome summer.

As I got older, and especially once I went to boarding school, I didn’t bring anyone out to Long Island, but my birthday still always felt like that marker that ushers summer in. I had my siblings, and we had a group of family friends that had houses near ours on Long Island, so my birthday was always celebrated together, this day where everyone started wearing their sundresses and my brother fired up the pizza oven.

I’ve been away from home for three birthdays in a row now, something that would have been unthinkable in high school, where I counted down to my birthday, not because I was that excited about getting older, but because of what it meant: summer, lemonade, the pool, pie, the beach, tanning while reading junky magazines.

This year, I was supposed to be in the Congo for a journalism job: long story short, it’s not going to happen, and the month of June has no idea what it is planning for me. I let myself continue the way I was for a week or so, watching my birthday come and go without much fanfare at all. I made my own birthday cake, as many of you out there do, and Alex and I enjoyed it over the course of several days: my favorite birthday cake, bright with the summer flavor of lemon and soft and moist and perfect. Alex, the chocoholic, requested it for his next birthday. When it was gone, I checked out tickets to the beach on the French train website and closed the window as quickly as I’d opened it–apparently, the rest of Paris had the same idea as I had, and prices had skyrocketed.

But yesterday… yesterday was different. Yesterday, as I sat in my apartment with the windows opened, trying to work but my heart not really in it, I remembered a summer from a few years back, where June felt empty, and it was only me and my sister to keep one another company. We didn’t have a ride to the beach, so we’d biked to the library to pick up huge stacks of books–eight apiece–and set up camp by the pool in the backyard. We made giant glasses of iced coffee and tanned and read, every so often, jumping in to the pool to cool down. It was one of the best summer months I’ve ever had.

I don’t have a pool, but I do have a balcony, so yesterday, I collected an equally large stack of books–Knock, A Separate Peace, The Story of French, Modern Spice, Franny and Zooey–and I climbed out onto the balcony, equipped with a towel, my iPod, a bottle of water, a pen and paper and a tall glass of iced coffee. It’s not the same, but I’ve welcomed summer anyway, even if it was a week late.

Lemon Cake with Lemon Curd and Coconut Frosting

For cake layers (adapted from Gourmet)

1 cup canola oil, plus additional for greasing cake pans
2.5 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1 Tbsp. baking powder
1 cup milk
1 tsp. vanilla
1 Tbsp. grated lemon zest
2 cups sugar
4 eggs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and grease two cake pans with canola oil.

Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl and set aside. Combine the cup of canola oil, milk, vanilla and zest in another bowl and set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk the sugar and eggs together until fully combined. Alternate adding the flour mixture and the oil mixture, starting and ending with flour. Use a wooden spoon to fully combine all ingredients.

Divide the batter evenly between the two pans. Bake on the middle rack about 30 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean. Cool the cakes in the pans for ten minutes before removing and cooling completely on a rack.

For lemon curd (Alton Brown recipe)

5 egg yolks
1 cup sugar
4 lemons, zested and juiced
1 stick butter, cut into pats and chilled

Add enough water to a medium saucepan to come about 1-inch up the side. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat.

Meanwhile, combine egg yolks and sugar in a medium size metal bowl and whisk until smooth, about 1 minute. Measure citrus juice and if needed, add enough cold water to reach 1/3 cup.

Add juice and zest to egg mixture and whisk smooth. Once water reaches a simmer, reduce heat to low and place bowl on top of saucepan. (Bowl should be large enough to fit on top of saucepan without touching the water.)

Whisk until thickened, approximately 8 minutes, or until mixture is light yellow and coats the back of a spoon. Remove promptly from heat and stir in butter a piece at a time, allowing each addition to melt before adding the next.

Remove to a clean container and cover by laying a layer of plastic wrap directly on the surface of the curd. Refrigerate until needed.

For frosting:

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup cream cheese
1 tsp. vanilla
1-3 cups powdered sugar
shredded coconut

Cream butter and cream cheese together. Add vanilla and begin adding powdered sugar by the half-cupful until desired sweetness is achieved.

Assemble cake by placing one layer, flat side up, on a plate. Spread with the lemon curd. Place the other layer on top, and frost with the frosting. Cover the top of the cake with shredded coconut.


March 28, 2009

Cake Day: Lemon Cake

Filed under: Cake Day, Cakes — Tags: , — emiglia @ 8:13 am


I’m starting to understand the distinction between what are traditionally considered “guys’ jobs” and “girls’ jobs.”

Of course, there are exceptions to all of these, but there are certain chores, certain jobs around the house that are generally considered to be one or the other.

First, an obvious one: the grill. Fire is manly, that’s easy. But maybe there’s something else? Grilling is straightforward. I know that–at least in my family–the grilling was definitely done by the man, but the pre-grilling, the menu planning, the seasoning, all of that was done by the women. All the guys had to do was throw a slab of raw animal on the grill and let us know when it was done (a feat in and of itself: I still have a hard time grilling.)

But I digress.

Some jobs are men’s jobs: grilling, driving, taking out the trash. Most of the other work around the house is traditionally considered to be “women’s work.”

(Yes, I realize this is changing, but it’s either all French men (and a few Canadians) or just those that I’ve met who seem to be stuck circa Donna Reed.)

I was thinking about this as I cleaned the kitchen and Alex took out the trash. All of the jobs that have typically been men’s work, from grilling to mowing the lawn, have immediate results and are clear from the get go: the trash is full, it must go out, now the trash can is empty: job over.

Even if cooking is now sometimes in the realm of men, one thing that seems to be staying a girl’s job is baking.

Baking is difficult, at least at first. There is a specific order in which you need to add things to a recipe, a specific way in which you need to combine each set of ingredients before moving on to another step. Unless you’re interested in chemistry (Alton Brown), at first, these steps can seem pointless, and I know several guys who would look at the list of ingredients and dump them all in a bowl: the first time I ever baked, I was baking cinnamon bread with my father. I was scared of yeast doughs for years after because the dough we ended up with was so expanded and so wet and messy that we dubbed it “the snot.”

Sorry, that was gross.

I have, however, managed to get over my fear of baking… enough to instate Cake Day at least, and so here’s this week’s contribution. (Remember: if you’d like your weekly baking featured here, just send me an e-mail with a permalink to your post, and I’ll include you).

This week’s Cake Day featured a Lemon Cake that I found at Nosh with Me, in honor of Lemon Day, a blog event devoted to everything lemon.

The recipe made enough for two loaf pans, but since I didn’t have two, I baked one loaf and a dozen muffins.

Then I licked the bowl. I’m not sorry.

I may be no Donna Reed, but I can definitely bake a cake.

Lemon Cake (adapted from Nosh With Me)

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
2 1/2 cups granulated sugar, divided
4 extra-large eggs, at room temperature (I used five medium eggs)
1/3 cup grated lemon zest (I used slightly less: the zest from four lemons)
3 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 cup plain yogurt

Lemon Syrup
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 freshly squeezed lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease one loaf pan and one muffin tin.

Cream the butter and 2 cups sugar. Add the eggs, combining each one into the mixture one at a time, and the lemon zest.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. In another bowl, combine 1/2 cup lemon juice with the yogurt. Add the flour and buttermilk mixtures alternately to the batter, beginning and ending with the flour. Divide the batter evenly between the pans, smooth the tops, and bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until a cake tester comes out clean.

Combine 1/4 cup granulated sugar with 1/4 cup lemon juice in a small saucepan and cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves. When the cakes are done, allow to cool for 10 minutes. Remove the cakes from the pans and set them on a rack set over a tray or sheet pan. Poke holes in the cakes with a fork, and spoon the hot lemon syrup over the hot cakes. Allow the cakes to cool completely.

March 16, 2009

Alex’s Birthday

Filed under: Beef, Cakes, Carnivorous Main Dishes, Muffins and Cupcakes, Pasta — Tags: , , — emiglia @ 7:21 am

I have a problem.

I write one post a day, usually. Sometimes, I don’t write a post at all. But I make dinner every day. And lunch most days. And pretty much everything I make is something that I want to blog about, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it. Throw in the fact that I worked for a month, during which I barely had the energy to eat what I had made, much less blog about it (ugh… remind me never to work again), and you have quite an archive of unblogged recipes.

This, of course, is how I end up blogging about Alex’s birthday, which is at the beginning of February, more than halfway through March.

This meal was definitely blog-worthy. After discussing whether we wanted to take his friends out on the town, we decided we would much prefer having a party at home. This, of course, meant that I was cooking. After Alex made a series of odd requests, like “meat cake” (which I took to mean meatloaf, something he had never heard of but now desperately wants me to make), we settled on pasta with bolognese sauce. For me, of course, this was a challenge: I was going to make real Bolognese, and I was going to follow all the rules.

The recipe I followed is outlined, in detail, here, at FX Cuisine. A very large majority of the recipes on this site have made their way onto my list of things to try, but I’ve never attempted any of them before. They always look so gorgeous, but I’ve always been afraid that a) I’d mess them up, or b) they wouldn’t be worth the hours it takes to make them properly.

I needn’t have been afraid. (Wow… I just used needn’t in a sentence. Crazy.) I followed the recipe to the letter, chicken livers included (something I had never tried to use before, but I really liked in the sauce.) It was incredible, and everyone agreed. My only regret is that I didn’t make it for someone who truly appreciates slow-cooked Italian food, like my brother or my dad. Oh well… they’ll be getting a taste of the Neapolitan Meat Sauce soon enough… like next Christmas.

I think what my guests truly appreciated were the chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting. I knew immediately that I would have to do something with peanut butter for Alex. I almost did something with Marshmallow Fluff too, a little piece of Americana that my Frenchman, somehow, absolutely adores, but I figured the rest of the French boys in my apartment wouldn’t take too kindly to liquid marshmallow in a jar. Instead, I went for this peanut butter and chocolate cake that Deb over at Smitten Kitchen made for her Alex for his birthday. I decided to make it in cupcake form, because big things like roasts and cakes scare me.

The cupcakes were a huge success (although this is the embarrassing excuse for a picture of the final product that I found on my camera… this is what happens when I try to tackle Bolognese and cake in the same afternoon). I’ll have to try the full cake someday, when I’m not so scared.

This is chocolate peanut butter ganache.

It is incredible in every sense of the word.

October 9, 2008

Wedding Cake

Filed under: Cakes, Muffins and Cupcakes — Tags: , , , — emiglia @ 4:25 pm

I don’t really think I’ll ever understand dessert trends. From frozen yogurt to cupcakes to pudding bars… I just don’t see why something that’s already so good has to go one further and become “trendy.”

*Sigh.* I just don’t understand.

However, one good thing has come from the cupcake trend, and that is wedding cupcakes. Ten years ago, serving an assortment of cupcakes instead of the tiered white cake that everyone is so used to would have seemed strange, but now it’s become the norm, and at my friend Angela’s wedding in Minnesota last week, I finally understood why.

Wedding cakes have to be made in advance and then assembled, so no matter how hard the bakery tries, I’ve always been disappointed, either by a cake that’s wanting in moisture or an almost cement-like ultra-sweet frosting that tries to keep the moisture inside. These cupcakes, however, were the perfect choice for a wedding.

Angela and her new husband Chris had chosen three flavors: strawberry, pumpkin and chocolate-pistachio. They also had a small almond-praline cake so that they wouldn’t miss out on the cake-cutting ceremony. I didn’t try all four, but I have it on good authority that they were all superb. The cake was moist, the frosting was plentiful, but light and almost mousse-y instead of heavy and overly sweet. All in all, I’m thinking that this dessert trend may be something I can get on board with.

October 4, 2008

Heavenly Blueberry Loaf Cake

Filed under: Cakes — Tags: , , , , — emiglia @ 12:09 pm


You know that sound effect they use in the movies when something is incredible, like angels singing? You know how they hit it from above with a light so that it almost looks like a halo? That’s what this picture looks like to me, and it’s appropriate considering how incredible this cake is.

I found the recipe over at the Smitten Kitchen, but she originally got it from Ina Garten. Naturally, coming from Ina, this cake can’t be the best thing for you, but I made it in a way that actually isn’t half bad. I took Deb’s advice and replaced the vegetable oil with olive oil (good for you fats! Plus the taste is incredible mixed with lemon). I also used nonfat yogurt, which I wouldn’t recommend if you’re in the states (unless you can use a combination of Greek and regular yogurt), but the yaourt bulgare that we have here in France works amazingly. You couldn’t tell the difference.

When I pulled it out of the oven, I was a bit nervous: baking has never been my strongest suit, and this was the first thing that Alex was tasting that I had baked. Luckily, he loved it, which I could tell based on another sound effect coming from the kitchen: that moaning that every chef hopes and prays will happen at their table whenever they serve a meal. It even spurred a discussion about how I should open a restaurant. I’m not sure about that, but I am sure that this cake is incredible!

Lemon-Blueberry Yogurt Loaf (adapted from Smitten Kitchen)

1 1/2 cups + 1 tablespoon flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup (I used 250 g) plain yogurt
1 cup + 1 1/2 tbsp. sugar
3 eggs
zest and juice of two lemons
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup olive oil
1 1/2 cup frozen blueberries, thawed

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a loaf pan with olive oil.

In a mixing bowl, combine the yogurt, 1 cup of the sugar, eggs, the lemon zest, the vanilla and the oil. Sift the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients and mix until just combined. Mix the blueberries with the remaining tablespoon of flour. Fold the blueberries into the batter. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 50-60 minutes. When the top of the cake springs back when pressed lightly, it’s done.

Meanwhile, heat the lemon juice and remaining 1 1/2 tablespoon sugar in a small pan over medium heat until the sugar dissolves.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Run a knife along the edges to loosen it, and then flip it out onto a rack. Using a toothpick, poke holes all over the warm cake, and pour the lemon-sugar syrup over the cake. Allow to cool and then serve.

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