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About a month ago, a friend handed me a bag with 4 unripe avocados in it.  I had no idea what I was supposed to do with them.  We were going to Santa Cruz with her family, so I wondered if I would be forced to eat hard green avocados on the beach, Filipina-style.  I doubt that's really Filipina-style, but whatever.

It turns out they were from one of the avocado trees in her backyard, which her husband planted and tends lovingly.  I waited patiently for the avocados to ripen, and gave one to my dad since I knew a) he'd like it; b) all four would ripen at once and I'd be avocadoed out. I put one in a bag to speed it along, but heeded the advice of my friend's husband: "If you think it's ready, wait one more day."  When it was finally ripe-plus-one-day, I cut open the freshest, perfectest, most deliciousest avocado I've ever had.

I stood in the kitchen, tasting small bites of the fruit, while trying to decide what to make with it.  I considered making guacamole, but figured that was just so expected.  I thought about adding it to burritos, but didn't feel like preparing all the ingredients.  I remembered the salads we had several nights a week with dinner when I was a kid, and how I'd always steal pieces of avocado off the top while my parents put the finishing touches on the rest of the meal.  But I wasn't really in the mood for salad this night.

By the time I contemplated and rejected several dinner options, I had only a quarter of an avocado left.  It was clear that there was only one thing left to do: polish off the rest!



Leilani and Gary, I can't wait for more avocados!

Oh, and it turns out that Filipina-style avocado eating involves cutting up the avocado and adding sugar and milk.  Hmmm...

Black Pepper and Sweet Potatoes

Yep, that's what I've put in cakes lately. 

You've probably seen the movie Chocolat with Juliette Binoche and Johnny Depp (omigoditsreallyhimplayingtheguitarthatistotallyhotlovehim!), about a woman whose Maya ancestors passed on the tradition of chocolate-making and pepper-adding.  The book, by the way, ends with totally different characters falling in love.  Don't get me started on the-book-versus-the-movie.  Anyway, thanks to the movie, I knew about adding cayenne to hot chocolate, which, though it sounds vile, in fact heightens the flavor of the chocolate.  No seriously, it does.  I've tried it.  But what I hadn't thought of was adding pepper to chocolate baked goods, so when I came across this French Chocolate-Almond Cake recipe, I was intrigued.

It looks dense, but is incredibly light and melts in your mouth!  Well, practically. 

The pepper and cinnamon in this recipe are optional, according to the authors.  According to me, you can't pass up the opportunity to add black pepper to your chocolate cake and actually have it turn out well.  The first time I made this cake, I used pepper that had been sitting in my spice cabinet for way too long. I think I bought that container of pepper the last time I lived in Los Angeles.  That was what, 2005?  It was one of those Costco-sized containers. What was I thinking?  Who uses that much pepper?  Nevertheless, the cake came out perfectly, with just the right kick of pepper at the end.   For the second go-round, I decided to get a fresh supply of black pepper, which Berkeley Bowl sells in bulk.  Apparently, there is such a thing as too fresh.

My dad's old buddy, Gian (who knows EVERYTHING about food), reminded me of the cayenne-into-chocolate possibility, which he says the Spaniards do as well.  So I'm thinking that for the third go-round, I'm going to add mostly cayenne to the cake, and just a touch of too-fresh black pepper, since it was a bit strong in Cake Number Two.  I am quite certain that the particular heat of the cayenne will complement the airiness and perfect sweetness of the cake, without any of those elements being overpowering.

The same issue of Vegetarian Times that featured the Okinawa sweet potatoes had a recipe for a Chocolate-Sweet Potato Torte, which I made and which turned out well.  The two are variations of the same cake, though I prefer the pepper and cinnamon version, since those ingredients get a chance to shine, whereas the sweet potato just disappears.  Though come to think of it, that might be a good thing.



French Chocolate Almond Cake

(adapted from Moosewood Restaurant New Classics, which adapted it from Julia Child)

**Be sure to start with ALL ingredients at room temperature, including the eggs. 

1 tsp instant coffee granules

2 tbsp hot water  
(I use 2 TBSP espresso instead)                

4 oz bittersweet chocolate

1/3 c butter

1/2 c sugar

3 eggs, separated

1/3 c unbleached white flour
1/3 c finely ground almonds    
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground black pepper

1/4 tsp cream of tartar

a pinch of salt

2 tbsp granulated sugar

2 tbsp confectioners' sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Coat an 8-inch springform pan with cooking spray and dust lightly with flour.

Stir together coffee and water in a small saucepan or double boiler.  Add chocolate and stir on lowest heat until smooth and blended.   Remove from  heat and set aside.

Beat together butter and sugar with an electric mixer or whisk until light and creamy.  Add egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Beat in reserved chocolate mixture.  Set aside.

In a separate bowl combine flour, almonds, and spices.  Set aside.

Whip egg whites (*see note below) in medium bowl until white and foamy.  Add the cream of tartar and salt, and whip until the whites form soft peaks when the beaters are lifted.  Add granulated sugar and continue to whip until whites are stiff and glossy.

Combine the mixtures: fold the flour mixture into the chocolate mixture alternately with the egg whites in two or three batches.  DO NOT OVERMIX!  The fluffiness of the egg whites are what make the cake melt-in-your-mouth-y. 

Pour batter into prepared pan.  Bake cake in center of oven for 20-25 minutes.  When done, the top will be slightly cracked, the center will be soft and slightly puffed, and a toothpick inserted about 2 inches from the edge will have a few crumbs adhere to it.  Cool on rack for 10 minutes. 

Dust lightly with confectioners' sugar and serve slightly warm or at room temperature.  

Two notes: 
1. Egg whites are finicky creatures.  If there is even a speck of yolk in them, they will not whip up properly.  Ditto for water, soap, chocolate, dryer lint, chicken grease, and tofu.
2. The cookbook actually says the secret to this cake's texture is a healthy amount of elbow grease while whipping the whites by hand with a whisk.  Who does THAT?

Okinawa

I have a thing for purple.  My bedroom was a soothing shade of lavender for years.  I own more than one pair of purple shoes.  Heck, I was even Violet Beauregard in the school play in third grade.  So when an article in Vegetarian Times (January 2010) featured varieties of sweet potato that included a purple one, I knew I had to have some.

It turns out these are not easy to come by.  I finally found them at Berkeley Bowl, selling for almost three times as much per pound as every other variety.  But, I reason, I buy less than a pound at a time and I NEVER waste them.  No, I devour them.  They are the sweetest sweet potato I've ever tasted. They tend to be a bit drier and starchier than other varieties, but that just means I add a little extra butter and milk. Truth be told, most of the time I don't bother to mash or butter.  I roast them in the pan with chicken, so they get lightly coated with the drippings, and become so sweet and tender that they practically melt in my mouth. 

Mashed, with skin on.

Add these Okinawa sweet potatoes to a laundry list of purple foods I've been eating lately.  Tomatoes.  Radishes.  Cherries.  Plums.  Bell peppers at the farmers' market when I lived in the Midwest.  Asparagus comes in purple too, but I was sorely disappointed to discover that it releases its color and turns green when steamed.  Ugh, what a waste.

Purple is so unexpected in the realm of food.  It feels somehow extra-special, powerful, surreal, as if any food that accumulates such an intense pigment has to be other-worldly and somehow magical.  Not sure I'll develop X-ray vision or superhuman strength any time soon, but I will have fun trying.

Saving Some Serious (Star)Bucks

$2.60 x 5 days per week x 4 weeks per month x 10 months per year (I'm a teacher) = $520 worth of soy lattes from Starbucks.
OR
$140 (regular price) - 30% (sale) + $15 (cute cups) + $70 (a year's worth of beans from Trader Joe's) = $185 to make my own espresso.

Translation? I was spending an insane amount of money at Starbucks on coffee (and let's be real here-- you know I also got some lemon pound cake, or an apple-walnut muffin, or some oatmeal).  I'm not one of those omigoddon'teventalktomeuntilI'vehadmycoffee people, but I do become a nicer person after one cup in the morning.  It prevents headaches (no, I'm not addicted-- the headaches came first) and helps me focus, so Starbucks became an integral part of my job performance.  But on a teacher's salary, $500 is a BIG hit.  So I hit up Macy's instead.
 

Check out this bad boy!

The only downside to this machine is its height: it fits a demitasse cup under the spouts where the espresso comes out, not a regular cup.  One could argue that really, that's the way it should be-- an espresso-sized cup fits in an espresso-making machine.  But if I want to make a latte (and I do), I have to pour the espresso into a larger mug, and then I lose a little bit of the foam, which is the best part.  There are bigger problems in the world, I know.  But still.

I'm having just one problem.  Whenever I use non-dairy milk in my coffee, I notice a metallic aftertaste.  I don't like it.  I've tried almond milk (chocolate and regular), hazelnut milk (chocolate), and soy milk (unsweetened). I don't have this problem when I use dairy milk, and I make a darn good latte with all that foamy milk from my machine.  But a) I'm lactose intolerant;  b) if Starbucks can do it without the aftertaste, dang it, so can I!  So what am I doing wrong?   Help!

The key to really good espresso is the grind of the beans.  The big grinder at the store doesn't grind them up well enough, though it's a good start.  Enter my dad's 40-year-old Braun grinder, made in Germany and made to last FOREVER.

This thing is a classic!

The cute little red demitasse cup and saucer is the perfect indulgence in the morning, and makes me feel like I'm in un bar in Italy.  OK, not really-- I hardly notice it as I gulp down the espresso because I'm almost always running late.  

Un espresso (the crema is soooooo good!)

A dairy latte, with good foam.

Lemon pound cake? Stay tuned...

Fruit Tarts and Cuisinarts

Dear Inventor of the Food Processor,
You are a genius.  Your machine is squat and ugly but dang, is it a workhorse.   The blade inside could kill someone, but I guess it has to be sharp to do its job. Like blending butter I was too lazy to defrost into flour and a touch of cream cheese to make a flaky, perfectly-browned, substantial-yet-not-too-heavy crust for my fruit tart.  Seriously, it was perfection.

My uncle gave your machine to my mom about 25 years ago, and somehow it fit right in to a 1980s kitchen (like I said, it ain't pretty).  She used it to make "cuisy gravy" as well as delicious desserts and probably some other things I can't remember.  She warned me about the blade.  I used to lick it anyway.  Probably cut my tongue more than once.

Now it's mine.  I knew all the usual tricks one could do with a food processor, but not until this tart came out of the oven did I understand just what this little machine could do.  So thanks, Inventor, for helping me make fabulous desserts that I don't even have to break a sweat preparing (omg, can you imagine cutting frozen butter into flour BY HAND? As if!). 

Sincerely,

Mia

Rustic Fruit Tart (adapted from Moosewood: New Classics)
The recipe calls this a plum tart, but I added nectarines, peaches, and strawberries.  Oh, and it's fabulous with a little dollop of whipped cream on top!
Use cold ingredients to achieve flaky pastry, and be sure to let the dough rest in the refrigerator while you prepare the fruit.  I used Tofutti fake cream cheese to reduce the dairy, and it worked quite well. 
CRUST
1 1/3 cups unbleached white flour
2 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup chilled unsalted butter
1/4 cup chilled cream cheese
2 tsp lemon juice
2 tbsp ice water


FILLING
1 1/2 pounds (about 5 cups) fruit
2/3 cup sugar (use less if you use sweet fruits)
3 tbsp cornstarch
1 tsp grated lemon peel

1 egg, optional

DIRECTIONS
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Coat a baking sheet with cooking spray.
2. Mix flour, sugar, and salt in large bowl or food processor.  Cut butter and cream cheese into 1-inch pieces and incorporate them by hand, or by pulsing in food processor until they are the size of peas.  Mix in lemon juice and ice water until mixture begins to form a dough.  Shape into a ball, flatten into a disk, wrap in plastic and refrigerate until ready to roll out.
3. Slice fruits into 1/2-inch wedges and put in a bowl.  Add sugar, cornstarch, and lemon peel and mix well.  Set aside.
4.  Lightly flour your rolling surface, rolling pin, and the dough.  Roll from the center out into a 14-inch circle, flipping and rotating directions as you go.  If dough seems too sticky or soft, refrigerate for about 10 minutes.
5. Transfer dough to prepared baking sheet or pie plate.  Arrange fruit in concentric circles, starting at center of dough.  Leave about 2 inches between edge of fruit and edge of dough.  Fold dough over fruit to make a border (center will be open).  For a pretty golden sheen, whisk egg with a tablespoon of water and brush it on pastry dough.
6. Bake for 15 minutes.  Then reduce temperature to 350 degrees and bake for an additional 25-30 minutes.  Crust should be browned and juices bubbled up.  Cool on rack for 30 minutes.  Serve while still warm.

Pomegranate plums (the darkest fruit pieces in the tart)