Yellow Peach of Texas

One of the 25 or 30 food blogs in my RSS feed is the Homesick Texan, who has a cookbook coming out shortly. A few weeks ago, in the midst of being temporarily overwhelmed with peaches, an industry newsletter I receive highlighted one of the recipes from this book, for peach cobbler. M. was coming over for dinner, and this seemed like the perfect complement to the light, summery main course we had planned.

Truthfully, I can never remember the difference between a cobbler, a pandowdy, a buckle, a slump, a brown betty… The list of ridiculous and not-very-descriptive fruit desserts can go on forever. I usually stick to crisp and clafoutis, but every once in a while, I like to branch out, and this cobbler sounded lovely, and a little out of the ordinary with respect to the technique.

I altered the recipe slightly, opting to use my adorable bright red Staub mini-dishes instead of a big cast-iron skillet, so we’d get individual servings. And I cut it in half, to make four servings instead of eight (mostly since I only have 4 of the aforementioned adorable mini-dishes).

So peeled & sliced peaches get tossed with cinnamon & ground ginger, and sit while the butter is melted and poured directly into the dishes. This is the part where it’d probably be easier to make one big one, unless you’re better (or less concerned) than I am at portioning out 1 tablespoon of melted butter into each dish.

Then mix up the impossibly simple batter–even simpler because the butter is separate–and pour that into the pools of melted butter, which wind up rising to the top anyway. Toss the peach slices on top of that (or carefully arrange them in a way that reflects the shape of the dish, if you’re into that kind of fussiness), and bake. The smaller dishes definitely result in a shorter cooking time, which is kind of nice in July.

Dinner, in case anyone is curious, was a lentil-radicchio salad that I totally made up on the spot, and zucchini crudo, with dill, lemon juice, and almonds, a dish I wound up making at least three more times during the Season of Endless Summer Squash.

Playing with Fire, part 2

I have a kitchen torch that doesn’t get as much use as you might guess. It’s a great tool, and fun to use, but there are only so many things I want to set on fire most weeks. And then I saw Lottie + Doof had this post about raspberries and sour cream and knew it was time to pull it out of the back of the cabinet. Plus it fit with the menu after scorching the eggplants on the stovetop.

The farm grows raspberries, but they don’t travel well so we don’t get them. We do get peaches, though. Lots and lots of them. And I had a hunch that they’d go just as well with sour cream as raspberries. 

Be forewarned: this dish is a work in progress. I did not take the advice to keep things very simple and let the perfect fruit speak for itself. Also, one or two of my peaches were not really ripe yet, necessitating a little help with some honey and lemon. And some opal basil. 

We let that macerate a while, C. giggled when I said “macerate,” and then we poured the peach slices into two of my adorable little Staub mini dishes. On top, we slathered some sour cream. Full fat, if you please.

Then comes some brown sugar, and the kitchen torch.

C. had sort of way too much fun with the torch, but she did manage to spread her brown sugar more evenly (she had the mini-pie plate, I had the mini-lasagne pan). 

Lessons learned for next time: 

-don’t accidentally tip in three times as much honey as you intended

-try some fresh vanilla bean in place of basil as the flavor

-use supremely, perfectly ripe fruit so you don’t need the honey or the added flavor

-teach C. to load the torch with gas (we somehow found ourselves making torch-toasted marshmallows the next day–I have a feeling it’s going to be empty after a few more of those)

Abracadabra

It surprises me how few of my friends have learned to perform the following simple magic trick:

Step 1 (the pledge): email me a link to a recipe
Step 2 (the turn): say something like, “Mmm, doesn’t this look good?”
Step 3 (the prestige): sit back and wait for me to invite you over to try the food in question

Ok, so it’s not really magic. Even so, my friend S. once employed it with the Unfussy Apple Cake recipe from 101 Cookbooks, and I liked the finished product so much, it became part of my regular repertoire. It is not apple season at the moment, but it is very definitely peach season. And it occurred to me, as I was thinking of what to make as a gift to my hostess in the Hamptons this past weekend, that the recipe could be adapted to peaches very easily.

On the night in question, I was slightly thwarted by the fact that my building was having some power issues. My stove is gas, so that was ok, but the lights in my kitchen? They are definitely electric. So I was forced to use a flash, which I KNOW makes for really ugly food photography, but what are you gonna do?

Begin with some peaches, like these flash-heavy white donut ones.

Rinse off the fuzz, but keep the skins on, and cut them into roughly 1/4″ cubes. You’ll need 2 cups.

A bowl of flour never looks very interesting, but especially not when it’s been blasted with a camera flash. Also baking powder, cardamom (which I think goes better with peaches than cinnamon), brown sugar, and a little salt.

Then, like magic, the power comes back on. But true to stubborn form, there’s a disinclination to turn on all the lights after getting used to working without most of them, so here are some decidedly under-lit peaches, flour mix, and yogurt whisked with eggs and melted butter:

The peach bits get folded into the batter:

and then some coarse-grained sugar sprinkled on top.

Into the oven for a bit, and voila! Cake! Suitable for even the most discerning of Hamptons hostesses.

Unfussy Peach Cake
adapted from 101 Cookbooks

2 c peaches, fuzz washed off, skins on, cut into 1/4″ dice
1 c whole wheat pastry flour

1 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 tsp cardamom
1/2 c packed brown sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 eggs
1 c plain yogurt (not Greek-style; alternately, buttermilk)
1/4 c butter, melted
2 Tbsp turbinado sugar (coarse grain)

Preheat the oven to 400F. Butter and flour an 8″x8″ or 9″x9″ baking dish.

Mix the flour, baking powder, cardamom, sugar, and salt in a bowl. In a smaller bowl, whisk the eggs and yogurt together. Add in the melted butter (slightly cooled). Pour the yogurt mixture into the flour mixture and stir until just combined (don’t overmix). Fold in the peaches.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan, mushing it around to spread into the corners. Sprinkle the turbinado over the top. Bake for about 25-30 minutes, until just set and lightly browned. Note that the smaller dish will need a little extra time in the oven, and that this cake is better a bit underdone than overdone.

Not the World’s Greatest Muffins – or – Try, Try Again

Sometimes I need to see someone else do something before I can clearly see what a good idea it is. For example, I cook very frequently from Deborah Madison’s Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. This is a book that lives in my cookbook stand; there is no point in putting it away because inevitably I’ll just pull it off the shelf again tomorrow. (I sort of feel the same way about making my bed…)  That said, I have learned over the years, through observing other people who own the book, that I have a tendency to ignore her section on baking.  In my defense, the book is about a hundred thousand pages long (actually 742), so I’m sure there are many other sections I’ve ignored, too. (Wait, that doesn’t actually sound like a defense at all…)  When I saw the book on my friend M.’s shelf, I asked her what she makes the most often, and the answer was a molasses-buttermilk quickbread that I’d never noticed at all (and which is delicious).  And just a couple of months ago, Pinch My Salt made some nectarine muffins using the basic buttermilk muffin recipe, variations of which take up two entire pages in the book. Pages I had never even seen.

So when I was looking for something quick and easy to make with my soon-to-be-overripe white donut peaches, the answer was waiting for me in the cookbook stand. 

First, some fuzzy donut peaches, which need to be peeled and diced. (I needed a cup altogether, which was not quite all of these, though if you’re using regular peaches it would be even fewer.)

Then the batter: mix up flour, baking powder, baking soda, and a little salt.  And in a separate bowl, buttermilk (usually I use plain yogurt, but this is milk + lemon juice in a 1 cup:1 tsp ratio, which is also an acceptable substitute), eggs, vegetable oil or melted butter, brown sugar, and flavorings. I went with a little vanilla and a little orange flower water, because I’m obsessed with it and because I think it goes very well with white stone fruit.

Wet gets mixed up, then combined with dry. 

And finally stir in the diced fruit.  This batter seemed suspiciously runny to me, but by now I trust Ms. Madison implicitly (with mixed results).

In spite of the fact that I had been looking for a simple recipe, I decided to complicate things with a streusel topping. This is a mix of flour, rolled oats, brown sugar, butter, and (in this case) lime zest and cardamom. I wasn’t sure if I’d added a few too many flavors, but by the time I was second-guessing myself, it was too late to go back because I’d mixed everything together and I’d used up the last of the brown sugar. So a big spoonful of topping on each muffin cup, and into the oven for 25 minutes. 

Here’s the thing: 25 minutes was too long in my oven. And also I think I cut out too much sugar from the batter. Following M.’s example (different M.), I have been significantly reducing the sugar in most things I bake, with generally excellent results. But I think it was a mistake here, for some reason. Even with the (fully sweetened) crumb topping, there wasn’t enough flavor in the muffins. And they were dry. Which just means I’ll have to try again, and tweak a little more–maybe use my usual yogurt instead of milk + lemon juice, maybe use melted butter instead of sunflower oil, maybe add some cinnamon or cardamom to the batter…

That said, I think the lime/cardamom/orange flower combo was a winner.  So I won’t tweak TOO too much. 

And one interesting thing I learned: the recipe was supposed to make a dozen muffins, but I wound up with enough for 13. Since my muffin tin naturally only has spots for 12, I decided to pop another muffin liner into a small ramekin. And look what happened:

One short, squat muffin, with a larger ratio of muffin-top to -bottom, which I’m told is desirable by many people.

White Peach Muffins

1 1/2 c all-purpose flour
1 c whole wheat pastry flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1/2-3/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1 1/3 cups buttermilk
1/3 c vegetable oil
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp orange flower water
1 c diced white peaches

Streusel topping
1/4 c flour
1/4 c rolled oats
1 1/2 Tbsp lime zest
1/3 c packed brown sugar
1/4 tsp cardamom
4 Tbsp butter

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Grease a 12-cup muffin tin or line with paper liners.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, and salt until well combined.  In a separate smaller bowl, whisk together the eggs, buttermilk, brown sugar, melted butter, vanilla extract, and orange flower water.  Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir until just combined.  Gently fold in the diced fruit.

Fill the muffin cups nearly to the top. Put a spoonful of streusel topping on each.  Bake at 375 degrees for 20-25 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean.

This Is Not a Recipe for Peach Sorbet

What do you do with 2 pounds of perfectly, insanely ripe peaches when you are about to get on a plane for Denver in just a few hours?  You can give them away–that is always a solution.  And trust me, with peaches this good, you will find takers in a heartbeat.  That kind of generosity, however, good as it might be for your karma, does not provide an alternative to packing.  And if you are anything like me, you need constant breaks while packing a suitcase, even just for what’s essentially a long weekend.  I wasn’t always like this, I swear. I once successfully packed for a 10-day trip to the Galápagos Islands in the 45 minutes before we left for the airport.

But back to the problem at hand.  Those peaches are about to dissolve on your counter, they are so juicy.  And you can’t possibly bring ALL of them on the plane as snacks.  What are you going to do??  The only solution is to make sorbet. 

I kind of glanced at a Martha Stewart recipe for peach sorbet and said, “Yes, those ingredients make sense. But maybe I will go with honey and agave nectar instead of simple syrup (and not just because I’m out of granulated sugar). And that sounds like an awful lot of lemon juice.  How hard can this be, really?”

So I peeled the peaches (a cinch when they are this ripe), cut them into chunks, and tossed said chunks into my wonderful not-retro-actually-just-old blender, with some lemon juice.  Puree away.

Then add some agave nectar and honey.  Puree and taste for sweetness, deciding maybe a little more honey is in order.

Add a tablespoon or so of light rum (vodka would probably be ok, too), just so it doesn’t freeze rock solid.  And into the ice cream maker it all goes.

Now it’s time to get started on the dreaded packing. Count out the days and toss some underwear into the suitcase. Pull together the travel-sized toiletries. That seems like enough work to start with; now come back to the kitchen and stick a spoon in the machine and OH MY GOD that is good.

Ok, go pack some more. Bathing suit? Sure. It’s not stupidly hot in Colorado in July, so a pair of jeans sounds like a good idea. And maybe sneakers, in case you want to go hiking. And now time for another taste of DEAR LORD that sorbet is good.

David Lebovitz has advised that letting ice cream churn longer than usual can help avert rock solidity, too, so let it go a bit longer while you remember pajamas, a phone charger, and something nice to wear to the opera.

Come back, have another bite, and spoon it all into tupperware. 

Remember that it will be here when you get home from the airport next week, so no, you don’t have to eat it all right now. This was the whole point of making sorbet, right? Right.

Peach Sorbet
makes about 1 quart
all amounts (and, frankly, ingredients) to taste; try plums or nectarines or whatever; maple syrup or simple syrup; ooh, lime juice!; and maybe add some fresh mint? or sage? sage and peaches are awesome…

1 3/4 lbs. supremely ripe peaches, peeled and cut into chunks
1/4 c. agave nectar
1/3 c. honey
1/3 c. lemon juice
1 Tbsp. light rum

Combine all ingredients in a blender; puree. Taste for sweetness, adding more honey or agave nectar as desired. Pour puree into your ice cream maker and let churn for at least a half hour.

An Urge to Watch CGI Rats Cooking French Food

J. came over for dinner last night, and the plan was, essentially, ratatouille (a.k.a. pisto). We started off here: Eggplant-Pepper Tomato Sauce
and then ignored that completely and looked at a recipe card I’d written down after watching Wolfgang Puck make pisto on the Food Network maybe 7 or 8 years ago. It’s more of a list of ingredients than a recipe, but that’s what usually results in the best meals in my kitchen.

I believe it reads:
1 eggplant
1 zucchini
1 bell pepper
2 tomatoes
basil
oregano
olive oil
salt
red pepper flakes

combine all ingredients in a pot, cook for 30 minutes.

No, really. That’s the recipe.

We played fast and loose with the quantities, and varieties, nixed the red pepper flakes, and dumped in some fresh parsley instead of oregano because it turns out that is something I am out of. (Note to self: buy oregano) Then topped we it off with some eggs,

and served with some delicious rosemary bread. (Additional note to self: make this again next time I get fresh oregano, and make the Pain de Campagne, too.)

Then for dessert, I’d bought these gorgeous but not-quite-ripe peaches at the greenmarket, and I had a bottle of sauvignon blanc stashed in the fridge, so we pulled a quick David Tanis, sliced up the peaches, drizzled with just a little honey, and dumped in half the bottle of wine, and stuck the bowl in the fridge until after dinner. (This is another recipe from the Yellow Dinner meal I made for M. and R.) It’s basically white wine sangria, with the ratio of wine-to-fruit reversed. Delightful.