Holiday Dessert Ideas

I'll be jumping off here shortly in favor of family time, the creation of my second Bûche de Nöel of the season, and a "Through the Looking Glass" New Year's masquerade ball, but before I do, here's an offering of some favorite desserts for your holiday table, from all things chocolate, to savory sides. Whatever your winter celebrations, sending love and light to you and yours.

Chocolate, Chocolate, Chocolate
Chocolate Orange Pie with Mascarpone Cream
Chocolate Peppermint Cream Pie, pictured top right
Katharine Hepburn Brownie Pie
Milk Chocolate & Salted Caramel Hazelnut Tart
Peppermint Pattie Tart

Fruits & Nuts
Bourbon Ginger Pecan Pie
Cranberry Goat Cheese Tart with Almond Shortbread Crust
Key Lime Pie,
Red Wine-Poached Seckel Pear Tartlets, pictured top left
Shaker Orange Tarts

Preserves & Icebox
Bakewell Tart with Apple Rosemary Jelly
Jam Cookies
Joulutorttu or Finish Jam Tarts, pictured bottom right
Meyer Lemon Honey Marmalade Linzer Torte
Speculoos Icebox Pie

Cakes
Beignets
Chocolate Almond Snow Day Cake, pictured bottom left
Cranberry Upside Down Cake
Lime Bundt Cake
Whiskey-Soaked Dark Chocolate Bundt Cake

Savory
Beef Picadillo Pie with Mashed Potatoes
Ham, Gruyère & Caramelized Onion Galette with Fried Egg
Puff Pastry Hand Pies with Goat Cheese & Hot Pepper Jelly
Tri-color Potato, Caramelized Onion, Goat Cheese & Rosemary Galette

For more ideas, visit Christmas dessert guides from 2015, 2013, 2012 and as always, you can find many more recipes via the Recipe Index.

Sweet Potato Pecan Pie

I'm a person who has difficulty with choices. Growing up, my family called me "yes/no girl" and my astrological chart, cast by my friend when I was in my mid-twenties, revealed a seesaw-- in which the planets were situated almost directly across from each other, offering an explanation for my chronic indecisiveness. On the flip side, that curse does come with the blessing of the ability to see see both sides of an issue; I make a pretty good mediator-- when my own choices aren't involved.

My frequent vacillation (most exacerbated when deciding between two good options) extends to my dessert menu making. Faced with so many possibilities, I tend to avoid a decision and make as many desserts as I can, and hence, overextending myself. "We need something with chocolate, fruit, and nuts-- at the very least!" To combat this, I've learned to seek out desserts that combine those disparate flavors into one dish-- a way to avoid a decision altogether. That's one reason why I like the Cranberry Chess Pie so much-- it's a perfect combination of the tartness of cranberries and the smooth, buttery custard of a chess pie.



The past two Thanksgivings, when my list of pies was growing long, I decided to combine the sweet potato and pecan pies on my list into one Sweet Potato Pecan Pie. The pecan filling is salty and sweet, using only brown sugar as a sweetener, while the sweet potato filling, enriched with coconut milk, adds a smooth savory note. Now to like this pie, you probably need to already be a fan of both sweet potato and pecan pie. This year, I watched as my grandmother scooped all of the pecan filling off of the top and only once that was gone, did she venture slowly, perhaps begrudgingly, into the sweet potato filling. But if you're a fan of both pies, and/or just have trouble with decisions, this is the dessert for you.

Sweet Potato Pecan Pie

Ingredients
For the crust:
Nothing in the House pie crust, halved
Turbinado sugar

For the sweet potato filling:
3 cups (2 3/4 lbs.) sweet potatoes
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup granulated sugar
3 large eggs
1/3 cup unsweetened coconut milk
1 1/4 teaspoons cinnamon
3/4 teaspoons ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

For the pecan topping:
1 1/2 cup brown sugar
3 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
3 Tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
3 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon bourbon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/3 cups pecans, halved

Directions
1. Prepare half of Nothing in the House pie crust as per the directions, reserving the leftover egg for an egg wash. Chill dough at least one hour before rolling and fitting into a greased and floured 9-inch pie pan. Let chill for 15 more minutes in the fridge. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

2. For the sweet potato filling: Poke sweet potatoes all over with a fork and place them on a large, foil-lined baking sheet. Bake for about 1 hour until tender. Let cool completely, then peel and coarsely mash. Measure out 3 cups of mashed sweet potatoes & reserve the rest for another use.

3. In a food processor, combine butter with the granulated sugar and purée until smooth. Add the 3 cups of sweet potatoes and purée until very smooth. With the machine still on, add the eggs one at a time until each is incorporated. Add coconut milk, ginger, salt, and cloves, and pulse until no streaks remain.

4. For the pecan topping: In a medium saucepan, combine sugar and flour until well-mixed. Add the butter and place the pan over medium heat. Stirring constantly, cook until butter is melted and combined with the sugar mixture. Remove from heat and set aside.

5. In a medium bowl, whisk together eggs, vanilla, bourbon, and salt until well-combined. While gently stirring, slowly pour the warm sugar mixture into the egg mixture. Whisk until all ingredients are incorporated. Gently fold in the pecans.

6. Pour the sweet potato filling into the bottom of the chilled pie crust, until about 2/3 full. Add the pecan topping on top (depending on the depth of your pie plate, you may have some leftover filling). Brush crust with egg wash and sprinkle with Turbinado sugar.

7. Place the pie on the bottom shelf of the oven. Bake 40-50 minutes until the edges puff and the center is fairly firm, wiggling only a little when you nudge it. Filling will be browned. Let pie cool for at least 30 minutes. Serve slightly warm or at room temperature with a scoop of bourbon whipped cream.

Related recipes:
Bourbon Ginger Pecan Pie
Pecan Pie with Brown Sugar
Sweet Potato Pie with Cornmeal Crust
Sweet Potato Speculoos Pie

Peach Galette with Almond Buttermilk Crust

This May, my family all came home to Indiana to celebrate my grandmother's 85th birthday. We were sitting around the dining room table, swapping stories when my uncle Brett told us why he can no longer eat peaches:

It was summer, in rural northern Indiana, and my uncle, who was in high school, was broke. He and his friend went looking for odd jobs, and Don Eberly, the local apple orchardist and retired school bus driver (who I've written about previously here), said that he'd pay Brett and his friend to drive up to an orchard in Michigan, pick up a haul of peaches, and bring them back. Desperate for cash, they agreed, spending the last of their money on gas for the trip, north of Grand Rapids. On the way home, the back of their truck filled with peach crates, they were starving, but had no money left for food. So they hauled a crate into the cab, set it between them, and ate peaches all the way home, throwing pit after pit out of the open windows. When they got back, they got their money, but were completely sick on peaches, and to this day Brett is nauseated by the taste and smell of them.

I'm glad I've never had such an experience. To me, there's nothing like a fresh peach in the summer time. It's almost unbelievable that something so sweet and juicy is even real. I actually think I favor fresh peaches over baked, but this galette recipe allows the slices to still maintain their integrity, avoiding the goopy, gelatinous mess that you find in some peach pies when the steam captured by a double crust breaks down the fruit. You can use the standard Nothing in the House pie crust recipe for this-- it'll be flakier-- but this is more of a biscuit crust, with the added texture of the almond meal pairing well with the sweet stone fruit.



Peach Galette with Almond Buttermilk Crust

Ingredients
For the crust:
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup almond meal
1/2 Tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/2 cup buttermilk

For the filling:
7-8 peaches, peeled and sliced
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (I used bourbon barrel-aged)
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
Turbinado sugar (for dusting)
1 large beaten egg + 1 Tablespoon whole milk or cream (for egg wash)

Directions
1. For the crust In a large bowl, whisk together flour, almond meal, sugar, and salt. Cut in butter cubes using a pastry cutter or knife and fork until texture resembles cornmeal and peas. Stir in the buttermilk with a wooden spoon. Mix until dough comes together, but is not overly mixed (it should be a little shaggy). Form into a ball and flatten into a disc. Wrap the disc tightly with plastic wrap, and let chill in the refrigerator for at least an hour. 

2. In a large bowl, stir together all ingredients until homogenous. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. 

3. Roll out crust in a large circle or oval on a piece of parchment and transfer crust with parchment to a large baking sheet. Ladle peach filling onto rolled crust, leaving a 1-inch border. Fold up the pastry over the edges of the filling, leaving most of the peaches uncovered. 

4. Place galette in freezer for 20-30 minutes while the oven preheats. Once chilled, remove galette from fridge and brush the pastry with the egg wash and sprinkle lightly with the remaining 1 Tablespoon of sugar. Bake tart in the middle rack of the oven for 30-40 minutes, until the fruit is bubbling and pastry is golden brown. Let the tart cool completely. Serve just warm or at room temperature with vanilla ice cream.

Related recipes:
Apricot Galette with Cornmeal Crust
"Old Fashioned" Cherry Galette
Peach-Pecan Pie
Peach Pie with a Sweet Basil Glaze
Peach-Sorghum Pandowdy with Cornmeal Biscuits
Surry County Peach Sonker with Dip
White Nectarine Frangipane Tart with Homemade Puff Pastry

Strawberry Rhubarb Galette

Lately, I've been thinking about loss and home. Not as separate thematic entities, but rather the Venn diagram overlap of the two. These thoughts have been prompted by my move to a new state and region that has also experienced great loss-- economic, cultural, environmental and where connection to home and place is so prominent and visceral. Maybe it's because I grew up in the Midwest, or have lived so many other places, but aside from a dew special places from my childhood, that deep tie to place and state and region is mostly foreign to me. On a recent trip home for my grandma Georgette's 85th birthday, though, I was confronted by my own personal feelings on "home loss" and nostalgia, for a place I can't really return to. 

My parents and my mother's siblings and their spouses, my brother and his girlfriend, and other extended family, all gathered at my grandma's home, a mostly-retiree condo community that she moved to after my grandfather died. Their house which she moved from sat on 20 acres of woods and pasture in North Liberty, deep in Indiana farm country. My grandparents were a part of that community, but also were a little different, evidenced by their unusual home built on land between cornfields on a country road. My grandfather, a painter, lithographer, and the former art director for Studebaker, designed and built their angular, energy-efficient mid-century modern dwelling, which was tiered with balconies, decks, and the outdoor back "secret stairs" that I liked to take upon my arrival to "surprise" my grandmother who was undoubtedly waiting to greet me at the kitchen window. Their porches and yard were peppered with abstract sculptures, like the sundial "dinosaur" that stood in the center of my grandmother's flower bed, and my grandfather studio, housing his lithograph press, stood just on the other side of the driveway en route to the fishing pond. 

In Southern culture, literature in particular, there's a lot of talk about "the home place." That concept doesn't appear in the Midwest so much, maybe because so many Midwesterners were migrants with a home place elsewhere-- the south, east, or another country altogether. But that weird house on Riley Road was my home place, where extended family would gather for holidays and big Sunday meals every week of my childhood, and where my brother and I were free to roam, a thrill for us inner-city kids.

It's somewhat tangential but relevant, I think, to share that my family had actually been displaced from our original home place-- land I never knew when it was ours, but was the home of my great-grandparents, grandparents, mother and her siblings. That previous property, where my grandfather had also build a house of his own design, was taken away by the state via eminent domain for the creation of a state park that the government had hoped would bring in crucial tourist dollars. It never really did, and I have to wonder if that has something to do with the displacement of the many families who lived there and stayed in the community-- families who were also still obligated  to pay the park entrance fee to walk to land that still bears no sign that it was once theirs. Maybe I've absorbed some bitterness about it. Though that doesn't subtract from the connection I felt and still feel to the familial home I knew, it adds another inherited layer to my own sense of loss, and I imagine that feeling is even sharper for my mom and her siblings.

One of the things I remember clearly from the home place I knew were the rhubarb plants that lined my grandma's raised bed. They were the biggest rhubarb plants I've ever seen, their toxic leaves almost Jurassic, served as ample shade for the two grey cats, Blue and Pinkie, and were last-minute hiding places for our hide 'n' go seek games at dusk. The edible stalks were bright red and thick-- making the pallid and limp green and pink stalks I sometimes get at the grocery store seem like an entirely different species. 

The day before my grandma's birthday party, my mom, aunts, uncle, and I had lunch at Georgette's (or as my dad and uncles call her, "Big Gette") house. We made cold cut sandwiches, and after we were done, my grandma apologetically brought a store-bought rhubarb crisp to the table, saying it was store bought because she couldn't find any rhubarb at the store, adding that she's never found any as good as the rhubarb she used to grow on Riley Rd. When she served it, my mom and aunt refused a slice, but my uncle, now a Floridian who doesn't come across much rhubarb anymore obliged, and as a ever-rhubarb fan with an ample sweet tooth, I did too. 

I don't blame or judge my grandma for buying a store-bought rhubarb crisp. Rather, I applaud her for, after long last, allowing someone else to do some work for her- at 85, a mother of 5, and a grandmother of 5,  and the family matriarch, she definitely deserves it. The crisp wasn't bad, but it didn't taste anything like rhubarb, the cloying taste of sugar and over-use of preservatives and thickener completely masking any of that biting tartness we were after. But as we sat there chewing, here in a house that despite its cookie-cutie exterior exudes the magic of my grandmother, I realized that what I was tasting was the taste of home and loss, and it was much too sweet. 

Strawberry Rhubarb Galette
Adapted from Food & Wine

Ingredients
Nothing in the House pie crust
2 cups (1 pint) strawberries, sliced thick
1 pound rhubarb stalks, cut into pieces
1/2 - 3/4 cup sugar, depending on your tartness preference
2 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon of your favorite bitters (I used black cardamom bitters; or substitute vanilla extract)
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
2 Tablespoons whole milk
Turbinado sugar

Directions
1. Prepare Nothing in the House pie crust as per the directions here. Chill dough at least 1 hour before rolling out into a 13-14 inch circle on a sheet of parchment paper or a Silpat. Put the rolled crust and parchment/Silpat on a cookie sheet and return it to the fridge while you prepare the filling. 

2. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. In a large bowl, mix together sliced strawberries, rhubarb pieces, sugar, flour, lemon juice and bitters (or vanilla extract). 

3. Remove rolled crust from fridge and spread the fruit filling over the pastry, leaving a 2-inch edge. Fold the edge over the filling, pleating at the corners. Dot the filling with butter pieces. Brush crust with milk and sprinkle with Turbinado sugar. 

4. Place the galette in the oven and bake on the middle rack for 1 hour or until fruit is bubbling and the pastry is golden brown. Let cool before slicing into wedges and serving with vanilla ice cream. 

Related recipes:
4 & 20 Blackbirds' Rhubarb Pie
Rhubarb Meringue Tart with Pecan Shortbread Crust
Rhubarb Tart
Simple Rhubarb Tart
Strawberry Rhubarb Pie
Strawberry Rhubarb and Wine-Soaked Fig Rustic Tart

Chocolate Almond Snow Day Cake

I'm currently camped out at my friends' house, stretched out on the couch as I look out the window to a foot of snow on the ground, with much more on the way. I've got a stack of books at my feet, a to-do list on my lap, and between my house and theirs, a stockpile of beer, wine, and ingredients for lemon bars, brownie pie, pepperoni rolls, bourbon snow creams, and leftover gumbo. In my living room, new-to-me cross-country skis are waiting to be waxed and balls of yarn are ready to be knit into a cardigan. There's something about a snow day stretched ahead of me that inspires a childlike possibility-- the hours seem longer, the neighborhood suddenly becomes a mysterious world to explore, and creations-- whether edible, textile, or otherwise-- beg to be created.

I won't linger here long in favor of all the snow day left to be lived, but I remembered this cake I made over the holidays and it struck me as a perfect wintery weather-bound project. Hearty, rich, and not too fussy, it's just the thing I'd want to pair with one of those bourbon snow creams after skiing the city streets. Most of the ingredients are those you're likely to have at home, and you could substitute the almonds for other nuts-- I imagine hazelnuts, pecans, and walnuts would all do the trick. When I made this at Christmas, my mom cut out a paper snowflake, which I put on the cake to use as a stencil for a powdered sugar dusting-- another worthy snow bound endeavor.

Chocolate Almond Cake

Adapted from Nigel Slater via The Guardian

Ingredients
7 ounces (200g) fine dark chocolate (60% or more)
1 ounce hot espresso or very strong coffee
14 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into cubes
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 Tablespoons good quality cocoa powder
5 large eggs, separated
1 cup granulated sugar
4 ounces almond meal (or finely ground almonds)

Directions
1. Butter and line 9-inch cake pan with parchment paper and set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Break or chop the chocolate into small pieces and place in the top of a double boiler or in a bowl over gently simmering water. As soon as the chocolate begins to melt, pour the hot espresso or coffee over it.  Drop the cubed butter into the chocolate and coffee, but do not stir.

3.  Keeping an eye on the chocolate, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and cocoa in a medium-sized bowl. Set aside.

4. Separate the eggs, dropping the egg whites into a large bowl and the yolks into a separate small bowl. Whisk the whites till they are thick and stiff then quickly but gently fold in the sugar with a large metal or wooden spoon and set aside.

5. Remove the chocolate mixture from the heat and stir to dissolve the remaining butter. Mix the egg yolks together then stir quickly into the chocolate, just until the ingredients come together. Fold the chocolate mixture firmly but gently into the egg whites and sugar.

6. Lightly fold in the flour and cocoa mixture, followed by the almond meal. Work slowly and firmly but lightly, making sure to not over mix. Transfer the batter into the greased and lined cake pan and bake for 25 minutes or until a skewer inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let cool, then decorate with powdered sugar if desired. Enjoy!

Related recipes:
Bittersweet Chocolate Pecan Pie
Chocolate Chess Pie
Whiskey-Soaked Dark Chocolate Bundt Cake

Cranberry Upside Down Cake

Last year I wrote about the origins of the native cranberry and the cultural history of the fruit in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, as studied by Mary Hufford for the American Folklife Center. Now that I'm in West Virginia, I've been learning more about the cranberry glades here in the state-- in Monongahela National Forest and Dolly Sodds Wilderness. On New Years Eve when I was making a a lemon layer cake with cranberry curd and garnish, and my new friend Emily told me that she had harvested some cranberries in Tucker County this year, where Dolly Sodds is located. I assumed that they were the small wild cranberries I had seen up in Maine this September, but she said those she harvested were just as big as the store-bought variety I was using on the cake.

I'm looking forward to being in West Virginia for cranberry season this year, but for this Cranberry Upside Down Cake, I used more of the regular store-bought variety. Cranberries are my favorite thing to bake with in the wintertime-- their tartness is a pie baker's dream and their red hue is a welcome bright spot during winter's doldrums. I highly recommend stockpiling cranberries in your freezer when you can-- they don't always stick around in grocery stores past Christmas.

This cake, adapted from David Lebovitz, uses the pineapple upside down cake/tarte tatin principle, in which the fruit is caramelized in sugar over the stove, the batter or crust is poured over top, and the dessert is baked upside down in the same pan, then flipped so the fruit sits atop. Like ripping off a bandaid, it's best the flip is done in one swift motion and with courage.

I made this for Christmas dessert this year, along with a Lemon Chess Pie and Nigel Slater's Chocolate Almond Cake. It was a big hit, especially with my dad, who I still don't think has forgiven my mom and me for leaving the leftovers at our friends' house the next day.



Cranberry Upside Down Cake
Adapted only slightly from David Lebovitz

Ingredients
For the topping:
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed
3/4 cup light brown sugar, packed
2 cups (1 bag) fresh or frozen cranberries

For the cake batter:
1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup coarse cornmeal
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, cubed and at room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
Grated zest of 1 small orange or lemon
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup whole milk

Directions
1. For the topping: Place the butter and brown sugar in a 9- or 10-inch skillet over low heat. Mix and melt together, stirring constantly until the sugar is liquified. When the mixture begins to bubble, remove from heat and set aside.

2. For the cake: Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

3. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the beater attachment, cream the 1/2 cup of butter, granulated sugar, and citrus zest on medium-high for 3-5 minutes until very light and fluffy. Reduce the speed of the mixer to medium and add the eggs one at a time, stopping in between to scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the vanilla extract.

4. On low-speed, add half of the flour mixture, the milk, and then the remaining flour mixture, mixing just until combined. Do not overmix.

5. Evenly distribute the cranberries in the cast-iron skillet over the brown sugar mixture (You may need to re-heat the mixture on low if it has solidified). Pour the batter over the cranberries, then use a spatula to make sure it is evenly distributed over the berries.

6. Bake the cake until the "top" is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, 50-60 minutes. Remove from oven and after 10 minutes, run a knife around the edge of the cake. Place a cake plate over the top of the skillet and flip onto the plate (have courage!) until the cake releases from the pan. Serve cake warm and enjoy.

Related recipes:
Chocolate Cranberry Chess Pie
Cranberry Chess Pie
Cranberry Pie
Pear Tarte Tatin

Thanksgiving Pie Ideas

This is the first time in ten years I'll have spent Thanksgiving with my family. This past decade of Friendsgivings, celebrated from Maine to Maryland, have always been a rowdy delight and have taught me about how to do holidays at the grown-ups table right-- I hope there are many more in store. But this year I'm looking forward to spending the day at home in Indiana. In the past few years, my family has become particularly fond of Hoosier Mama's Cranberry Chess Pie, so I expect to fulfill a request for one of those, but I'll also likely venture in to new territory-- a Pumpkin-Pecan Pie, Aurora Tart, or Apple Cider Cheesecake, perhaps? If you're also still deciding, here are a few suggestions for your Thanksgiving table-- both savory and sweet. If you don't find quite what you're looking for, check out the Recipe Index, as well as past guides from 2014, 2013, and 2012.

Pumpkin, Squash & Sweet Potato
Delicata Squash Pie (pictured, top right)
Drunken Pumpkin Bourbon Pie with Mascarpone Cream
Pumpkin & Chai Spice Nut Butter Pie
Sweet Potato Pie with Cornmeal Crust
Sweet Potato Speculoos Pie

Fall Fruits
Apple Pie with Salted Caramel Glaze
Cranberry Chess Pie
Cranberry Pie
Red Wine-Poached Seckel Pear Tartlets (pictured, top left)
Persimmon Pie

Chocolate & Nuts
Bittersweet Chocolate Pecan Pie
Bourbon Ginger Pecan Pie
Chocolate Chess Pie
Cranberry Chocolate Chess Pie (pictured, bottom left)
Pine Nut & Honey Tart

Custard & Cheese
Cranberry Goat Cheese Tart with Almond Shortbread Crust
Kentucky Lemon Chess Pie
Maple Bourbon Buttermilk Pie with Apple Syrup
Pumpkin-Ginger Cheesecake Pie
Salty Honey Pie

Savory
Celery Ham Tart aka Pissaladière
Gordy's Cherry Pepper Spread Galette
Pear, Gruyere & Caramelized Onion Hand Pies 
Puff Pastry Hand Pies with Goat Cheese & Hot Pepper Jelly (pictured, bottom right)
Swiss Chard & Goat Cheese Galette

And whether from this list or not, I'd love to hear what you'll be making this Thanksgiving-- I may even have to borrow your idea. 

Whiskey-Soaked Dark Chocolate Bundt Cake

The first aluminum Bundt cake pan was cast in 1950 by H. David Dalquist, who owned the Minneapolis, Minnesota Nordic Ware company. Similar cakes were of course made before the aluminum pan was cast. Prior to that, traditional cast-iron Kugelhopf pans were used to make tube cakes, and "Bunt" or "Bun" cakes appear in Jewish-American and German-American cookbooks as early as 1889. Dalquist, however, is credited with making the pan affordable and accessible and his version grew to popularity in 1966 when the "Tunnel of Fudge Cake" won the Pillsbury Bake-off.

By the time I was growing up in Indiana, Bundt cakes were ubiquitous, at least in the Midwest, from what I could see, and my grandma would often make them as a quick Sunday dinner dessert. When I was back in Indiana last Christmas Eve, with 2 pies on the docket for Christmas dinner, I wanted to make some other type of dessert for that evening-- something that wouldn't take too much time or extra ingredients. So I opted for this Bundt, adopted only slightly (just a little less sugar in mine) from Molly of Orangette. It paired perfectly with a nip of Bailey's that night, as well as some strong coffee the next morning. I think my dad and brother may have sprinkled on some extra whiskey the next day, but I'll let that remain their little secret.

Whiskey-Soaked Dark Chocolate Bundt Cake
Adapted only slightly from Orangette (originally from the New York Times)

Makes 10-12 servings

Ingredients
2 sticks (8 oz.) unsalted butter, softened, plus more to grease the pan
2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more to flour the pan
5 oz. unsweetened chocolate
1/4 cup instant espresso powder
2 Tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1 cup bourbon, rye, or other whiskey, plus more for sprinkling
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 large eggs
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
Confectioner's sugar, for garnish (optional)

Directions
1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F. Grease and flour a 10-cup capacity Bundt pan (or 2 8- or 9-inch loaf pans).

2. In a heatproof bowl, set over but not touching a saucepan of simmering water, melt chocolate until just-smooth, stirring occasionally. Let cool.

3. Put espresso and cocoa powder in a 2-cup (or larger) glass measuring cup and add enough boiling water to come to the 1-cup measuring line. Stir until powders dissolve, then add the whiskey and salt. Let cool.

4. Using an electric mixer, beat the butter until fluffy. Add the sugar, and beat until well-combined. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the vanilla extract, baking soda, melted chocolate, scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula. 

5. With the mixture on low-speed, beat in a third of the whiskey mixture. When the liquid is absorbed, beat in 1 cup of the flour. Repeat additions, ending with the whiskey mixture (batter will be liquid-y). Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean, about 1 hour and 10 minutes for a Bundt pan (loaves will take less time-- start checking them after 55 minutes). 

6. Transfer the cake, still in the pan, to a cooling rack. Unmold after 15 minutes and sprinkle warm cake with more whiskey (about 3 teaspoons worth-- or more!). Cool completely before serving, and garnish with Confectioner's sugar, if desired. 

Related recipes:

Apricot Kuchen

Chocolate Chess Pie

Pecan Layer Cake with Salted Caramel and Vanilla Buttercream

Peppermint Pattie Tart

Apple Cider Doughnuts

Growing up it was an annual fall tradition to make the trip to Eberly's Orchard, near my grandparents' house in North Liberty, Indiana. Don Eberly was my mother's school bus driver, and ran an orchard and cider mill on his family farm. I have such fond memories of walking into the barn and watching the apples go up a long conveyor belt to be pressed into cider that would come out fresh from the spout and into tiny Dixie cups for sampling. While no orchard can quite compare to the one of my childhood nostalgia, I consider it a necessary autumn ritual to make a trip to a nearby orchard with friends.

While Eberly's didn't have doughnuts that I can recall (I'd likely remember if they did), I got used to them as orchard treat from my time in Michigan and Vermont. When I moved to North Carolina, I was shocked that I couldn't find apple cider donuts anywhere, so I started making my own. In the past few years, they've become a staple for backyard shows, brunches, and Halloween parties. 

I use smitten kitchen's recipe, adapted only slightly, the main difference being that I like to add a little cardamom to my dough and to the sugar coating. Getting the hang of frying can be tricky at first if you've never tried it-- don't be afraid to sample the first few to make sure you're hitting the sweet spot of a little crisp on the outside while still soft and cakey on the inside. 

Apple Cider Doughnuts

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Makes 1 1/2 dozen, depending on size

Ingredients:

1 cup apple cider

3 1⁄2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 scant teaspoon cinnamon + 1 1⁄2 Tablespoon additional for topping

1⁄2 teaspoon sea salt

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon cardamom

4 Tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar + 1 cup additional for topping

2 large eggs

1⁄2 c. buttermilk

A lot of veggie oil for frying

Directions:

1. Pour apple cider into a medium-sized saucepan, and over medium heat, bring cider to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low so the cider is gently simmering. Let simmer about 30 minutes until it has reduced to about 1⁄4 c. set aside and let cool.

2. In a medium bowl, combine all dry ingredients except for sugar and extra cinnamon and set aside.

3. With an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar on medium-high until smooth and creamy. Add the eggs, beating after each addition. Once the mixture is well-combined, reduce the speed to low and add the reduced apple cider and buttermilk, beating until just incorporated. Add the dry ingredients and mix until the dough is well-combined, smooth, and begins to come together in a ball.

4. On a cookie sheet lined with floured parchment paper, roll out the dough to about 1⁄2-inches thick. Move the dough and paper to a cookie sheet and put it in the freezer for about 20 minutes. Once the dough has firmed up in the freezer, remove and cut with a doughnut cutter (or ball jar and a shot glass). Place the doughnuts onto another cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Once you’ve cut all the doughnuts, place them in the fridge for about 20 minutes while you prepare your oil.

5. Now before we get to any hot grease situation, make sure you are wearing closed-toed shoes and are properly clothed—hot oil can be dangerous so be careful!  Using a pot or pan with tall sides, pour in enough veggie oil to reach a depth of approximately 3-inches. Put a candy thermometer in the side of the pan and slowly heat the oil over medium heat until it reaches 350 degrees F.

6. Meanwhile, prepare your post fry set-up: stack a few layers of paper towels on a plate for doughnut blotting. Mix the 1 cup sugar and 1 1⁄2 Tablespoon cinnamon (I like to add a pinch of cardamom too) together in a wide shallow bowl and set aside.

7. Now you're ready to fry. Add a few doughnuts at a time (3-4) to the hot oil and fry until they turn golden brown (this may take some testing and sampling), approximately 1 minute. Flip the doughnuts over and fry the other side for about 30 seconds-1 minute. Use a metal slotted spoon to remove the doughnuts from the grease and blot them on the paper towels. Then dip them into the cinnamon-sugar. 

8. Though tempting to eat right away (and you should definitely eat them while fresh and warm) try stringing the doughnuts using a sturdy rope or twine and tie them up, like a hammock, between two trees or posts. Challenge your pals to eat them from the string, no hands. Just a way to make a party that already has doughnuts, even better.



Related recipes:
Apple Galette
Apple Pie with Salted Caramel Glaze
Apple Slump
Cardamom Doughnut Muffins

Italian Plum & Port Crostata

I grew up going to the farmers' market most Saturdays. Now this was not the farmers' market we know today, with its hip, young farmers, high dollar artisanal products, and serenading folk musicians (not that I have anything against with those things--in fact I'm quite fond of all of them), but this market was old-school. Housed in a red barn with individual stalls occupied by Indiana old-timers, Amish, and organic farmers alike, with the smell of homemade danishes in the air, and cuts of meat hanging from rafters, the South Bend Farmers' Market first opened at its current site in 1928. Though part of the building was destroyed by a fire in 1971, it was the market where my mother grew up going to with her mother and grandparents. Every time we'd walk the long aisles, our baskets full of produce, I'd be inundated with stories about the old farmers who were still around or used to be, and be retold which stall would give my mom a piece of Claey's candy while she waited for her mother to finish socializing.

Aside from the times when I was working on a farm or was in one place long enough to maintain a weekly CSA, I've maintained that ritual of a Saturday trip to the market for fresh veggies and fruits, and sometimes eggs, bread, and meat (and oh yeah, the occasional Farmers' Daughter sunshine bun) for the week. 

A few weeks ago, Dalila from a new D.C. business From the Farmer, reached out to me and asked if I might be interested in trying out their farmbox delivery service. Never one to turn down fresh & local produce, especially when it's delivered to your doorstep, I thought I'd give it a whirl. Of course, I was immediately hooked.

As the basket arrives in the night, it felt a bit like Christmas to wake up the next morning to a bundle of colorful goods-- honeycrisp apples, bok choy, shitake mushrooms, heirloom tomatoes, fingerling potatoes, fall raspberries, and more. Similar to a CSA, but customizable, week-to-week, and drawing from multiple local farms, farm bundles like From the Farmer can be an advantageous outlet for small, specialty farms that may not be big enough to offer an entire diverse CSA. I also appreciate having my week's selection of produce picked out for me, as I'm not great at conjuring up recipes on the spot at the market. Though I'll always relish my Saturday market trips, I could get pretty use to this.

One of the offerings that was included in my first box were Italian prune plums-- the small oblong variety that are darker and sweeter than the more common round plums. I remembered a recipe for an Italian Plum & Port Crostata in Martha Stewart's New Pies & Tarts, and had some leftover homemade puff pastry in the freezer, so this tart came together quite quickly (even without pre-made crust, it's pretty simple). I LOVE the dark complexity the port reduction adds to the sweet plums, and you can experiment by adding other spices like ginger, cloves, peppercorn, or black cardamom. I brought it to the DC Square Dance and even had a slice left to share with my friend Mike, who was stopping through town on Monday with his band Hiss Golden Messenger. 

Italian Plum & Port Crostata

Adapted from Martha Stewart's New Pies and Tarts

Ingredients

Homemade Puff Pastry or Nothing in the House pie crust, halved (I used puff pastry, as I had some frozen)

1 1/2 cups ruby port

1 c. packed light brown sugar

1/2 Thai chile, seeded and minced (optional, I couldn't find any so opted out)

1 teaspoon sea salt

2 pounds Italian prune plums, halved and pitted

1/4 cup cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon heavy cream or beaten egg, for brushing

Turbinado sugar, for sprinkling 

Directions

1. Prepare whichever crust you're using as per the directions (find links to them in the ingredients list above). Chill dough at least 1 hour before rolling out into a 12-inch round and fitting into a greased and floured 9-inch pie pan, leaving a 1-inch overhang. Do not flute edges. Place pie plate in fridge while you prepare the filling and preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

2.  Simmer port and 1/2 cup brown sugar in a saucepan until reduced to about 1/2 cup, approximately 25 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and add chile, if using. Cover and let cool, 10 minutes.

3. Stir together remaining 1/2 cup brown sugar, salt, plums, cornstarch, cinnamon, and port syrup. Pour into the chilled pie shell and fold over overhang to make a rough edge. Brush dough with cream or egg wash, and sprinkle with Turbinado sugar. Bake 30 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 degrees F and bake 45-60 minutes more (Martha calls for 90 minutes more, but in my case this would have been too long), until crust is golden and filling is bubbling. Let pie cool completely and serve with honey ice cream, if desired.

Related recipes:

Plum-Cherry Crumble

Plum & Orange Flower Custard Galette

Whole Wheat Plum Crumble Tart