Lessons in Less, and The Perfect List.

After years of turning out one hit wonders, I've recently become obsessed with the idea of perfecting a handful of essential recipes. The vanilla ice cream and vanilla extract recipes I last posted have already made The Perfect List. The ice cream is easily the best I've tasted, and I'd be proud to hand the recipe down to my grandkids. The buns also fulfill my TPL criteria: classic, simple and open to adaptation; a little rosemary is a heavenly option.

The intentionally-simple burgers are as good as I've had, but I'm open to suggestions. Yes, this is your cue to hit the comments after.

While The Perfect List is far from complete, I knew it had to include Perfect Roast Chicken. So I checked up on Blumenthal, and re-read my Bourdain. I trussed and I oiled; I turned the oven up high and I went way down low; but I drew the line at brining. Then I heard about The Zuni Cafe Roast Chicken, and I wondered why anyone would wait - what is it, an hour? - for something as basic as Roast Chicken. Zuni's chicken was similar to Keller's, but their concept of pre-salting was fascinating.

I had nothing to lose, and a spring chicken in my shopping basket. So this is what I did.



I washed and cleaned my chook, removing the gruesomes from inside.
Then I patted it dry, inside and out. We're talking dry as a bone, with nary a bead in sight. Both Keller and Zuni's recipes preach the consequences of a wet chicken (steaming as opposed to roasting, gasp!), and being rather neurotic in the kitchen, I used a cool hairdryer to make really sure.

Next, I loosened the skin of the chicken by wriggling my finger between the meat and the skin. This was surprisingly fun. Start from the cavity and work your way up. Then I slid 4 sprigs of marjoram wherever in the little pockets that I created.

I got out my fancy salt, and gave the chicken a gentle rub with it. I used 3/4 teaspoon of fleur de sel, which probably translates to 1/2 teaspoon of sea salt. Have you ever been to a fancy spa where they gently slough you with scented sea salt scrubs? Put that experience into practice here. Pepper the chicken generously. I also lightly seasoned the cavity with the same.

I covered the chicken with a tea towel, and then I placed it in the fridge for 18 hours. I read that the Zuni Cafe pre-salts their chicken 2-3 days in advance. I was hungry.



After the wait, I dried the chicken again, and placed it on a trivet in my roasting pan. In an oven that had been preheated to 240°C (the happy medium between Keller's 232°C and Zuni's 246°C), I placed the chicken on the middle rack, smack in the centre. After about 20 minutes, the skin started to brown and blister. There wasn't, and there shouldn't be, any smoking. Then I flipped the bird, giggle, and crisped the bottom of the chicken for 15 minutes, before flipping it back again for another 5 minutes. My 2-pound chook took about 45 minutes to roast.

The chicken was beautiful. I took some photographs, and then I lost them in a spot of desktop housekeeping. This sorry photograph of my chook resting is all I managed to locate. It definitely does not do the chicken any justice. The chicken is amazingly moist and tender. The skin papery and crispy. Perfection, in my book. To quote Thomas Keller, you'll start using a knife and fork, but finish with your fingers, because it's so good.



Optional extras:
I tossed some potato wedges in olive oil, sea salt and black pepper, before arranging the wedges around the chicken.
As the chicken roasted, the cooking juices flavoured the potatoes. The potatoes were crisp and caramelised, but inside, oh lord, creamy and moist.

The Perfect List is an idea I borrowed from fashion. Every girl purportedly needs the perfect pair of jeans, a classic white shirt, the ubiquitous little black dress... I wondered what the culinary equivalents would be. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

The Perfect List
Perfect Roast Chicken
Perfect Burger Buns
Vanilla Extract
Triple Vanilla Ice Cream
Frangelico Hot Fudge Sauce... Well?

Walking on the roof of hell, gazing at flowers

Joy:
the child laughs,
greasy fingers, belly full.

Title by Issa.
Haiku by Dee.
Buns adapted from King Arthur Flour.
Ice cream adapted from David Lebovitz.

Tried, Tested and Coming Soon:
Dark Chocolate Hazelnut Bites;
My first Brioche;
Cherry and Amaretto Jam;
And Perfect Roast Chicken.

I'll be chattier, I promise.

The Wedding Cake Fiasco Part III: The One Where Murphy Came To Play

Obviously poor shoemakers have more pressing demands that I do, because little elves didn't turn up in the middle of the night to help with the wedding cake. Didn't call or anything. Instead, our dear friend of Everything That Can Go Wrong fame paid us a visit.

Without further ado, I bring you Dee's Guide To Going Prematurely Grey.



Steps 1 & 2.
Make hazelnut praline while contemplating various chocolate cake options. Lose girlish figure while testing the outcome. Recipe here.

Step 3.
Bake a Chocolate Butter Cake from Sky High: Irresistible Triple-Layer Cakes. Bake cake in springform pan and drip batter all over counter, floor and oven. Repeat twice. Recipe follows.

Step 4.
Beg freezer space off friends and family, and freeze cake until required. Forget to collect the cakes on time. Wonder if frozen cakes can be filled. Do a DIY french pedicure while waiting.



Step 5.
Make ganache with the Belgian chocolate tablets I bought for the cupcakes. Dorie's recipe follows.

Step 6.
Cook a simple Kahlua sugar syrup. Recipe follows. All's going well, and my confidence is a red flag to Ole Murph.

Step 7.
Decide not to chance another IMBC disaster. Purchase very expensive Wilton candy thermometer, and set out mise en place in plain sight. But there is a heat wave in the kitchen, and the frosting/filling doesn't come together. It's almost midnight on Friday, and the wedding is in 17 hours. I want to cry but it's too hot.

Step 8.
We're fast running out of eggs, and I fear another IMBC batch will end just as disastrously. Then I remember Dorie's perfect party cake frosting. She's never failed me before, but it seems foolhardy to attempt an untested recipe hours before the wedding. I have nothing to lose except my sanity.

Dorie's Swiss Buttercream is so much easier than IMBC, but again all I get is a sweet soup. My palms are sweaty, my heart palpitates and I start rehearsing my excuses to the bride. I put the soup in the fridge, and soothe my fraught nerves with a long cool shower.



Steps 9 & 10.
The buttercream has firmed up beautifully so I send good thoughts to Dorie while filling the layers. I moisten the cake with syrup, and spread a layer of ganache, a layer of Frangelico buttercream and scatter on the praline.

Step 11.
All this drama has tired the poor cake out, so it rests in icy comfort while I start washing up. There go the nails.

Step 12.
Jules steps in to plaster the cake. We're short on frosting. Damn you, Murphy. I'm going to bed.

In the bedroom, Jules has laid out a beautiful negligee on the bed; my Valentine's Day gift from him. Sob.



Step 13.
It's 7am on Valentine's Day, the kid's been up coughing all night and I have long haul luggage under my eyes. My sister calls to say that mum is ill and can't have Eli over for the night. Eli's coughing has turned into a wheeze, and we have to take him in to the paed for a go at the nebulizer. At least the fondant 'pearls' that Julian has been painstakingly churning out have dried.

Step 14.
I hand-paint several dozen 'pearls' with pearl dust before I realize that tossing the pearls in the dust is faster and more effective.

Step 15.
The pearls look gorgeous. Eli has gotten his colour back. I'm still worried about my mum, but I allow myself to relax. Iarrange for Sooz to transport the cake to the beach, explain to the bride that I can't make it to the reception, and help her with her vows.

Step 16.
The fondant adhesive is made. All we need to do is cover the cake with fondant, attach the pearls and we're set. It's just after 11am. Loads of time. Right?



I knead two blocks of packaged (hangs head in shame) white fondant type icing. I roll it out as best as I can, and then it occurs to me that I do not have enough to cover the cake. I feel faint. My knight rises to the challenge, and in 20 minutes another block is delivered.

Jules takes over the rolling as my tears threaten to melt the fondant. There is icing sugar in my hair, on the floor. And. And we cannot manage to cover the cake with the entire piece of fondant without it tearing. The cake is just too large. We are just too inexperienced.

We cover the sides first. Then we cut out a circle and cover the top. It looks like the Bride of Frankenstein's wedding cake. There is actually a seam down one side. I joke that we should make fondant screws and call it a theme cake. No one laughs.

Julian pats at the seams with a wooden spoon, while I trim the edges. The phone rings. Susan must be downstairs, but I ignore her. I wonder if we can go into witness relocation.

Somehow, everything comes together, if not perfectly, then adequately. The pearls are attached. The cake made it into its carrier. What do you think?



The Recipes:

Chocolate Butter Cake from Sky High: Irresistible Triple-Layer Cakes via the Smitten Kitchen. This recipe makes one 10-inch round cake.

2 cups cake flour
2 cups sugar
1 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
8 ounces unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup buttermilk
2 large eggs
1 cup strong brewed coffee, cooled to room temperature

Preheat the oven to 180C. Butter your cake pan, line the bottoms with parchment and butter the paper.
In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. With the electric mixer on low speed, blend for about 30 seconds. Add the butter and buttermilk and blend on low until moistened. Raise the speed to medium and beat until light and fluffy for about 2 to 3 minutes. Whisk the eggs and coffee together, and add to the batter in 3 additions, scraping down the sides of the bowl and beating only until blended after each addition. Bake for about an hour, or until a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean. Carefully turn them out onto wire racks and allow to cool completely. Remove the paper liners only when the cake is cool.

Bittersweet Ganache Filling from Dorie Greenspan

Place 8 oz Belgian chocolate in large bowl. Bring 1 cup and 2 tbsp of heavy cream to a simmer. Pour cream over chocolate; let soften 30 seconds. Gentle whisk from the centre outwards until the chocolate is smooth. Using the same circular motion, whisk in 4 tbsp of soft butter a little at a time. Cool, then cover and chill overnight. Keep chilled. Bring to room temperature before using.

Kahlua Sugar Syrup

Stir 1/4 cup sugar into 1 cup of water, and heat until the sugar dissolves. Cool for 10 minutes, and stir in 2 tablespoons of Kahlua. Brush onto cake prior to filling to keep cake moist. The Kahlua brought out the hints of coffee in the cake.

Frangelico Buttercream adapted from Dorie Greenspan

1 cup sugar
4 large egg whites
12 oz butter, at room temperature
3-4 tbsp Frangelico liqueur

Put the egg whites and the sugar in a large bowl set over simmering water, and whisk the eff out of it. At some point after 3 minutes (Dorie says) or 6 minutes (I say) it will look like shiny marshmallow cream. Remove from heat, and with your hand mixer on medium, beat until the mixture is cool to the touch. Another 5 minutes or so. Once the mixture is cool, beat in the butter a little at a time. Our mixture didn't curdle but it remained soupy despite (or because of) the constant whisking. If this happens, place the bowl in the fridge to cool down. It will thicken. Then beat in the Frangelico until it comes together.

Since I've been as much of a nightmare as the cake has been, I'm making it up to the boys with some Man food tomorrow. Burgers, corn on the cob and hot fudge sundaes. Then I'm going to have a long soak in a Jingle Spells bath bomb from Lush. And then I'm going to slip into my satiny present, and give Julian a belated Valentine's Day. I won't tell you all about it.

Heaven is a plate on earth

Well, hello again.



We didn't miss our flight this time, as you might have gathered. I'm a bit sunburnt, a little fatter and a lot poorer. And tired. Oh boy, am I knackered.

We arrived at the Coolangatta airport in the Gold Coast, and then we drove. We drove to the dreadful (not my words*) Surfer's Paradise. We drove to dreadful (ditto) Brisbane. We drove to the yup, you guessed it Tambourine Mountain. We drove to Eumundi. This was surprisingly permissable. And we drove to the uh huh Noosa. And then we drove back. With the scowling five year old in the backseat.

(*Much to the family's horror, we turned out to be consummate tourists, drawn to the Traps like moths to a flame. I had no choice but to bribe them with copious amounts of alcohol, and bath products from Lush.)



How is it that the scores of Japanese tourists we came across all had the most well-behaved children ever? While my kid was rooting about in every EVERY patch of grass/soil/trash, theirs sat quietly with their hands clasped demurely on laps. How? Seriously. Drugs?



Thankfully, we know the way to our son's heart: toys and sugar.

In Brisbane, there was rumour of a dessert restaurant somewhere in town. I caught whispers of Heavenlys and Oh My Gods on the street. I eavesdropped in cafes, and finally got two words. Free. Style.



The easier, more obvious course of action would be to ask for directions, but oh no, Jules and I like to earn our food. So we drove around in circles, paid too much in parking, and walked for half an hour with the now fuming kid. Then we arrived in air-conditioned Heaven.



A Chorus of Angels burst into song as our server brought in Eli's Vanilla Creme Brulee with Biscotti, Pistachio Toffee and Pistachio Ice Cream, and my modest Sticky Date Pudding with Warm Caramel Fudge Sauce, Pecan Caramel Ice Cream and Sticky Toffee. They were all divine. Truly.

And to think we actually contemplated having lunch for lunch.



Freestyle Tout is located at The Emporium, on 1000 Ann Street in Fortitude Valley. If you're ever in that particular neck of the woods, I urge you (no, really) to indulge. But if Brisbane seems a little too far to travel for cake, here's something that's a little more accessible.

Just before I left, I spied this recipe on the Smitten Kitchen site. I usually ponder a recipe through before attempting it, but this time, I walked straight into the kitchen and started measuring out ingredients. Yes, just like that.

Bittersweet Chocolate and Peach Cake adapted from Al Di La Restaurant’s Torta di Pere via the Smitten Kitchen



Browned butter. In a dessert. How cool is that?
And eggs that are beaten within an inch of their lives until they are smooth and velvety and ribbony.

The cake rises up, and beautifully encases the fruit and chocolate topping. And the texture, oh my. The cake is so light it's almost souffle-ish. Bake this now.

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 eggs, at room-temperature
4 oz unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
3 peaches, peeled and diced
3/4 cup bittersweet chocolate chunks**



Preheat the oven to 180°C. Butter a 9-inch springform pan and dust with breadcrumbs (Like Deb, I used flour). Sift the flour, baking powder and salt together, set aside.

Using a mixer, whisk the eggs on high speed until pale and very thick. It took me about 9 minutes. While the eggs are whipping, brown the butter. Melt the butter and cook until the butter browns and smells nutty (about 6 to 8 minutes). Scrape the bottom of the pan frequently, and do not let the butter burn. Remove from the flame but keep in a warm spot. I also strained the butter, which I'm not sure if I was meant to do.

Add the sugar to the eggs and whip a few minutes more.
Fold in the flour mixture and brown butter. Add one third of the flour mixture, then half of the butter, a third of the flour, the remaining butter, and the rest of flour. Mix until just barely combined or the batter may lose volume.

Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle the pear and chocolate chunks over the top, and bake until the cake is golden brown and springs back to the touch (about 45 minutes) or a tester comes out clean. I cooled the cake in the oven with the door open for 10 minutes before removing it.




I served the cake slightly warm with a dollop of cold and lightly sweetened whipped cream. Then later at night when the boys were asleep, I crept into the kitchen and spooned some cake right into the leftover whipped cream. Orgasmic.

** I may use less chocolate next time. Gasp. I'm also going to try the original pear with perhaps a hint of cardamom.

Soon:
Remember, the wedding cake? Yup, I gotta sort that out soon.
And there'll be more on Dee's Descent into Fatness in Queensland.

Where women glow and men plunder

All our bags are packed, and we're ready to go. I suppose I really should make you a vegemite sandwich, but would you complain too much if I made you pancakes instead?

This here, my friends, is what's known as a Dutch Baby. Seriously. Someone's been at the happy brownies, if you ask me. Anyhoos, speculation like this is best left to people who haven't left their travel adaptors in a safe place.



So without further ado. I bring you Dee's Dutch Baby Pancakes.

3-4 tbsp unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup light cream or whole milk
1-2 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp salt

Icing sugar for dusting

Preheat your oven to 425F. Whisk together the eggs, flour, sugar, salt and cream/milk. Let the batter stand for about half an hour. Meanwhile, heat the butter in a cast iron pan until the butter melts. Immediately pour the batter into the pan, and place the pan on the lowest rack in your oven. Bake for about 13 -15 minutes or until the pancake puffs up over the sides of the pan, and is golden and lovely.



Have your physician on stand-by, then dust the pancakes with icing sugar. Eat.

Once we topped a Dutch Baby with some Balsamic Strawberries. Then, a little spider spelled out Some Cook in silk. We've also had a Dutch Baby with some Caramelized Bananas; it was almost pornographic. How will you have yours?

We have an early flight to catch, so it's time to catch some Zs. Have a good week ahead!

The Wedding Cake Fiasco Part II: The One Featuring The F Word

Right, where we were? Aah, one layered wedding cake, and a hundred cupcakes. And a bride who says "Anything's fine".

So I bought five hundred gold cupcake liners because the bakeshop doesn't do hundreds, and she says silver would be a better match for the purple and green theme. Right.



Then I hunted down sugar paste roses, and made some pretty fondant flowers. But of course, shells would be so much nicer for a beach wedding than flowers. Obviously.



I managed to locate some sea shell molds. Practised with the Godiva chocolates I got for Christmas (sob!), and bought a kilo of Belgian chocolate tablets. Then she realises that the wedding package she's paid for includes cupcakes. Isn't it great that she's saved me all that effort?

I had a little fit. There was some cussing.

One F word led to another. So I cooked some tuna.
Did I say tuna? I meant Tuna; annointed with the touch of the master's hand. Tuna that's been bathed in Nobu's own Miso Magic for 2 days, and then grilled until the outside gets all caramelly, and the inside is moist and moreish.



Tuna, Nobu-style

Den Miso (this makes a LOT; I halved the recipe and had enough for 3 fillets, with some leftover)

3/4 cup mirin
1/2 cup sake
2 cups white miso paste
1 cup sugar (I suggest 3/4)

Combine the mirin and sake and boil for 20 seconds over medium heat to evaporate the alcohol. Add the miso paste and stir until it dissolves completely. Add the sugar, raise the heat to high, and stir continuously until it has dissolved completely. Remove the pan from the heat and leave at room temperature until the mixture has cooled completely.



Thoroughly dry the fish with paper towels. Put the fish in a dish and slather with the Den Miso. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 2 to 3 days, turning the fish once a day.

Heat your oven to 200C. Remove the fish from the marinade, wipe off any excess marinade and grill or broil until the surface bubbles and browns. Then cook the fish in the oven until it's just done. It took me maybe 8 minutes.



Then I gritted my teeth, and started baking again.

After several experiments, I've decided on a chocolate cake recipe I found at the Smitten Kitchen blog because it's been Wedding Cake Tested. How fortunate.

Unfortunately, my test cake was a little over-baked, because I was doing this while playing 20 questions with Eli and trying to get some paid work done.

The cake itself was yummy. A nice tight crumb that should hold up to the abuse I will subject it to. It's Baby Bear perfect - not too sweet, not cloyingly rich and moist enough. Just right, I think. Let's hope the bride agrees.



Now what on earth will I do with the bags (and bags!) of flour, sugar and cocoa, the 1000 cupcake liners and all those flowers?

Do you really want to know?

The Wedding Cake Fiasco Part I: The One Where She Went A Little Nuts

In February of last year, It Was Decided that I was to bake a wedding cake. I said no. They ignored me.

Mid year, I was informed that it would be a chocolate cake. And cupcakes for a hundred. I ignored them.

In August, they announced to Every. Single. One. of our friends that I had offered to bake the wedding cake; I ordered a second glass of wine. Then I went on holiday.

I've learned that you cannot sweep a wedding cake under the rug. And then I learned that the stuff I've been turning out is American buttercream. This, apparently, is to be sniffed at.



There are, according to those in the know, four different kinds of buttercream frosting. The aforementioned American buttercream; Swiss buttercream which uses cooked egg whites and sugar; Italian buttercream made with uncooked egg whites; and the whole egg French buttercream.

I'm going to ignore Mousseline Buttercream and Decorator’s Buttercream and Fondant Buttercream and Neoclassic Buttercream and German buttercream because that, my friends, would just drive me to drink. Seriously.

So instead of drooling over Peter Petrelli, I sweated over Italian Meringue Buttercream. For did I mention that this wedding of the year is to be held at the beach? Yes, in the tropics. A two hour drive from my home. Perfect.

Italian Meringue Buttercream. Despite not having a candy themometer, I might add. Despite all that brouhaha about 248ºF and Soft Ball stages and Do Not Attempt Unlesses. I hadn't even been drinking. And just as everything was going perfectly, I spotted 1/3 of a cup of sugar lurking behind the paper towels.

Frangelico Italian Meringue Buttercream adapted from Dede Wilson's Wedding Cakes You Can Make

1 1/4 cup plus 1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup water
8 large egg whites
1 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 lbs. of unsalted butter, soft and cubed
3 tbsp Frangelico liqueur



Heat 1 1/4 cups of sugar with the water over medium heat until it reaches 248ºF. Before the sugar syrup reaches the desired temperature, whip the egg whites until frothy and then add the cream of tartar. ADD IN THE 1/3 CUP OF SUGAR, and whip the egg whites until stiff and glossy.

Both the sugar and the meringue should be ready at the same time (refer to this). Reduce the speed of your mixer, and slowly pour the sugar into the meringue while whisking. Whip until the mixture cools to the touch, then continue whisking in the pats of butter until completely incorporated. Mix in the liqueur.

When I realised I had forgotten to add in the 1/3 cup of sugar, until after I had incorporated the syrup into the meringue, I hastily added in several tablespoons of icing sugar. My frosting remained a little too soft, but as a filling it would do just fine. Light as a cloud fine. Glossier than a supermodel's hair fine. Eat the entire bowl and call it dinner fine.

Perhaps with some crumbled Hazelnut Praline.



So I cooked 2/3 of a cup of sugar over a low flame without stirring. First the edges started to melt, followed by the rest of the sugar. I cooked this for about 15 minutes until all the sugar had melted completed, and turned a lovely caramel. Then I stirred in one cup of toasted and blanched hazelnuts until they were coated with the melted caramel. I poured the mixture out onto a parchment-lined tray, and tried to smoothen it out. Good luck with that, by the way. Then I went to bed.



The next morning, my hazelnut praline had set. I whizzed chunks of praline until I got cous-cous sized crumbs. Then I ate some, and wasn't so mad. Then I ate some more, and blew my chances of ever being seen in public in a bikini. Such is life, my friends.

Next: A little something to hold in all that fine filling perhaps?