Apple Pie, Straight Up

I've come to the conclusion that apple pie is all about subtlety. There's a basic ratio of apples to sugar to spices to crust, but these simple numbers tell you nothing at all of the flavors, smells and textures you can create with just a flick of a measuring cup. For this - my first apple pie - I wanted the flavors to be mine, just the way I like them. I wanted the crust to be flaky, tender and interesting. I wanted the apples to have that perfect balance of tart and sweet. I wanted the filling to be a little spicy, fork-tender and just a little gooey. Most of all, I wanted that smell, the apple pie, autumn leaves, refuge from the chill, begging for some ice cream smell that I dreamt would float out of the windows and make us so so happy.

Oh, I was so excited when I took this pie out of the oven. "Look," I said to A., "it looks and smells just like real apple pie!" He laughed, but he knew what I meant. Not having grown up in this country, it's always been a struggle to accept the best parts of American culture while keeping our own identity intact. Being able to re-create a dish that is so intrinsic to this part of the world (that over the years has become our very beloved home) while putting my own personal touches to it gave me a wonderful sense of completeness, of finally merging my two worlds into one (deliciously warm and spicy) whole.

Apple Pie

Crust (one double-crust pie)
3 cups all purpose flour
2 sticks (8 oz) butter, very cold
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoons salt
3 tablespoons ice water
1 tablespoon cider vinegar*
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)
1-2 tablespoons turbinado sugar for topping

*Helene, who is a reader and a wonderful baker, tipped me off that adding cider vinegar helps relax the dough for the rolling

Filling (for a deep dish pie)
1.5 lb Granny Smith apples (for tartness)
1.5 lb Golden Delicious apples (for sweetness)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup brown sugar (to make it a little gooey - if you don't like that, use all granulated sugar)
3-4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
dash of ground cloves
2 tbsp cold butter, cut into little pieces

People - do not be afraid of a pie crust. It's really not that bad. There's no secret to it - just be prepared and work quickly. Here's what I want you to do:

1. Take out the butter and cut each stick into 16 little cubes. Put them in the freezer for at least 5 minutes.

2. Whisk the flour, sugar, salt and cinnamon together in a large bowl. Take a glass, fill it with water and put some ice in there to make it extra cold.

3. Take out and get ready your pastry cutter, rolling pin, a pastry scraper and a tablespoon for the ice water.

4. Drop the butter pieces into the big bowl with the flour, and working quickly, cut the butter into the flour until there are large pieces and small pieces. The smallest pieces should be about the size of a pea and the largest the size of a pecan.

5. Dribble about 3 tablespoons of ice water and 1 tablespoon of cider vinegar into the flour mixture and toss it gently with your fingers until the dough stays together when pinched (there will still be dry patches, that's ok). Add more water if you need to, in 1 tbsp increments. Do this quickly so the butter doesn't get a chance to melt. Pop the bowl into the freezer for 5 minutes and take a coffee break.

6. Dump the contents of your bowl onto a large counter, flour your rolling pin and pass it back and forth over the barely-together dough. What this does is flatten out the butter and coat it with the flour so that you ensure flakiness and tenderness. Using a pastry scraper, turn over the mixture so you get to roll the butter that's on the bottom as well as what was on top.

7. Gather the dough into a ball, divide in two, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least an hour.

8. Make the filling - peel and core the apples and slice into 1/4 inch slices (I like my slices pretty thin so they become very tender and don't slide out). In a large bowl, toss with the sugars, spices, vanilla, lemon juice and flour. Turn to coat and let stand for 15 minutes, mixing several times to soften the apples. When you're ready to fill the pie, drain about half of the juices.

9. Preheat the oven to 425F, arrange a rack in the bottom third of the oven, butter a pie plate.

10. Take the dough out of the refrigerator, let it rest for 5-10 minutes to become pliable and roll out each piece between two sheets of plastic or parchment paper (I can't tell you how HUGE a fan I am of this method - no sticking, no mess, ahhh). After rolling, I like to put the crusts into the freezer for 2-3 minutes so that they are easier to transfer. Transfer one of the crusts to a buttered pie plate and prick it a few times with a fork.

11. Fill the pie with the apple filling (below), dot with the two tablespoons of cold butter and cover with the second crust. Crimp the edges together. Cut a few steam vents and sprinkle with turbinado sugar.

12. Bake on 425F for 30 minutes; then, slide a baking sheet under the pie pan to catch the juices, turn the heat down to 350F and bake for another 30-45 minutes until the crust has browned and the juices are bubbling (I found this method in Joy of Cooking and the combination of temperatures, as well as baking in the lower third of the oven, produces a perfectly baked, non-soggy crust).

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Apple & Ricotta Tartlets

My mom has been making homemade ricotta since I was a little girl. It evokes for me the scents of our small kitchen and the feel of her linen apron against my cheek as the soft, fresh whiteness of the cheese magically turned into tarts, fritters and other such delicacies that I adored. When I moved out on my own, I had this crazy idea that I should learn how to do it myself, but then I decided to take the easy way out and punted back to my mom, and she still makes ricotta for me any time I like. What can I say, I'm a spoiled kid!

To tell you the truth, what I love doing best is just eating it straight from the little glass bowl that I usually get in my goodie bag, but this time, mom outdid herself and the bowl was so large that I was practically forced to use it in other ways. There's only so much ricotta and honey on toast that a girl can take, you know.

I decided to create a little afternoon snack - to go with a cup of tea, perhaps - and since the cooler weather inevitably brings out my inner Brit, I wanted it to be a dainty confection, as fun to make as it is to eat. After I took these out of the oven, I thanked my lucky stars that I was afternoon-tea-ing by myself today because no way would I have shared any of these with anyone else. Ok, maybe I would have shared with my mom, but that's it! The tender, delicate apples cupped a custard-like nugget of sweet ricotta, and the smell of it all, of apple orchards and afternoons in my mom's kitchen, almost sent me into another world. Instead of life being like a bowl of cherries, I'd much rather that it be like these wonderful little tartlets - you know exactly what you're going to get, and it's going to be delicious.

Apple and Ricotta Tartlets
(makes about 8 servings)

8 oz fresh ricotta cheese
4 medium apples (I used Gala, but any firm variety will do)
4 tbsp sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 egg
butter for buttering muffin tin

Turn oven to 350F and butter well 8 cups in a standard-sized muffin tin. Peel the apples, cut them in half and remove the stem and the core. Then, slice the apples into as thin slices as you can manage - the thinner, the better. If the slices are too thick, they won't bend and you'll end up with a bunch of broken pieces which, although delicious, isn't what you're aiming for here.

In a small bowl, mix the ricotta with the egg, sugar and vanilla extract until everything is well incorporated.

Arrange the apple slices in overlapping circles inside the muffin cups. They will look like flowers with a large opening in the middle. Drop ricotta into the opening, doming it a little on the top.

Bake for about 30-35 min, until the apples are very tender and the filling is set and slightly puffed. Let cool for a few minutes and then gently remove with a fork or a small spatula. Serve warm.

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Saffron Tomato Soup

If I could change one thing about LA, it would be to give it more October. It's a golden month, a month of "mists and mellow fruitfulness," a brief but glorious respite between the oppresive heat of September and the November rains. It's a time of lacy shadows and leaves gently crunching underfoot, chilly nights, and mornings filled with the earthy smells of autumn. And soup - I always look forward to making soup during this month.

Like October, this soup is mellow and gentle, golden red and rich with vegetables and the fall, putting you in mind of curling up under cozy blankets and gathering wood for your fireplace. I make it all the time and use it as a base to build different flavors, depending on my mood. A. likes it with chicken, but I sometimes throw in black beans and corn for a southwestern flair; mussels seem particularly happy when snuggled together in this broth, and there have been several occasions when I've made it into a hacked version of a bouillabaisse. Most of the time, though, I like it just like I made it last night - simple, comforting, and filling my house with the warmth of autumn.

Saffron Tomato Soup

This is a very basic soup and sometimes, it feels kind of like cheating because it's so quick to make, but so very rich and flavorful. I don't buy canned food other than organic canned tomatoes, but if you don't want to use those, just dice 3-4 medium tomatoes and simmer in a little salted water until very soft, and use that instead. The combination of chicken and vegetable broths gives this soup an extra heartiness and saffron is the secret ingredient that adds a certain dimension, a goldenness and an aroma that's difficult to describe but noticeable if absent.

2 cups chicken broth (or 1 c. chicken broth, 1 c. white wine)
2 cups vegetable broth
32 oz can of organic, no-salt-added chopped tomatoes
1 large yellow onion, medium dice
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 tsp dried thyme
2 pinches of dried saffron
1 lb mushrooms, sliced (optional)
4-5 chicken drumsticks (optional)

If using chicken drumsticks, wash, dry and season with salt and pepper the night before.

In a medium-sized pot, heat a few tablespoons of olive oil on medium heat. Dice the onion the way you like to eat it - I like mine medium diced for this soup, but some like it finely diced. Saute the onion for 3-5 minutes, until softened and translucent, but don't let it brown. Add crushed garlic and saute for another minute, until fragrant. (If using mushrooms, add them with garlic and saute just a little).

Add the chicken and vegetable broths (and wine, if using), and also add the tomatoes - I usually do not drain them. Pinch the dried saffron between your fingers, to break up the strains a little, and add to the soup. Toss in the dried thyme. If using chicken, also add it now.

Bring to a boil and then back down to a medium simmer, and simmer for about half an hour or until the chicken is tender and cooked all the way through. Adjust the seasoning and serve hot.

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Viennese Shortbread Cookies & Salzburg

I realized, more than a year after my trip, that I still haven't told you about Salzburg. It was one of those places, like Buenos Aires or Santorini, that I've always wanted to visit just because I had the inescapable feeling that I would find a little magic among its old, winding streets. Everyone told us not to go; they said there was "nothing to do there" (how I hate that trite, useless phrase!). We went anyway, and we fell in love.

It's hard to describe all the charm, all the gentle loveliness of Salzburg. Beyond the Mozart chocolates and the bright, colorful bustle of its plazas and markets, we found that magic I always knew was there. We found it everywhere, just underneath the surface - in the call of a half-familiar song that always seemed just around the corner, the ancient fortress watching over the stately buildings, the quick splash of the fountains and the flowers in unexpected places.

The past rulers of Salzburg seemed like people after my own heart. They encouraged commerce; built a fortress which could hold and protect all the people in a pinch; one of their palaces has sparkly chandeliers and delicious nooks and crannies, and the other, just down the street, a most magnificent garden with flower-lined paths and mysterious, shaded corners. There was a torture tower where, so it is claimed, no one was ever tortured, and though I am not naive enough to believe that all was happy all the time, I'd like to think that bad times passed by quickly in this beautiful, charmed place.

There are many stories my sister and I took away from our time in Salzburg. Disproportionately many, really, when you consider the short time we spent there. It started from the very beginning, as if the city was trying to show up all those nay-sayers who tried to prevent us from coming here. We were wandering around the 1000-year old fortress that stands on a hill above Salzburg - a mini city in itself - when we heard chanting voices. Naturally, we followed the sound, we could not resist. It was the first of many times when we would follow the sound of music in Salzburg and discover something completely unexpected. We came to a low door with red and blue stained glass. We opened it a tiny chink. It was really like a scene out of a movie - a small stone chamber with an altar and about twenty or thirty men, kneeling and chanting a prayer we did not recognize. We snuck away quietly, and then watched the men - in business suits and with briefcases - emerge from the room and leave their separate ways. Was it a meeting of a secret society? A cult? Mysterious choir practice? We never found out; in fact, we never asked. It was part of the magic that we should continue guessing.

The one thing you cannot escape while in Salzburg (and why would you want to?) is chocolate. There is chocolate everywhere, dark and light, wrapped in the most enticing array of Christmas-colored wrappers; chocolate bars and chocolate liqueurs, chocolate truffles, tarts and macarons; and of course, we brought some back with us (though *ehem* not all of it actually made it back... sorry, mom). There was a whole aisle of chocolate at the supermarket - a whole aisle! - my sister had to stage an intervention to drag me away. And everywhere we went after Salzburg, my carefully-wrapped chocolate liqueurs were unwrapped, inspected, and put back into my suitcase most reluctantly. I believe that if they hadn't been exactly compliant with airplane policies, there would have been at least a few slightly squiffy Air France employees bumping into each other at the Charles de Gaulle airport.

For people who like to "do" things, I suppose I should tell you to make your travel plans in a different place because we didn't climb any mountains or do any special activities while there (unless one considers shopping and eating chocolate an acceptable form of special activity, in which case, hey, you found your spot). We sat on benches underneath overhanging flowers, ate ridiculously good pizza, chocolate and cookies, took long walks down streets that ended in small churches and listened to a piano player play Brahms' Hungarian dances in the main plaza. We lost our hearts to this city, absolutely and without reservations, because we found music there, just when we needed it most.

*And the winner of the giveaway is:* if you've stuck with this long post this far, you're probably wondering who won the book featured two posts ago. The random number generator picked no. 6, and I was very excited to learn that it is my very good friend, Brentwood Kitchen Shopper! She loves food and I just know she is going to love this book! Congrats, BK!

Viennese Lemon Cookies

Why Viennese, you ask, if this post is about Salzburg? Well - we ate cookies just like that while there - tender shortbread piped into shapes with a star tip and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Their elegant simplicity reminded me so much of the city that I wanted to share them with you. The recipe comes from the always beautiful blog Fragrante Delicia, and the only thing I would change next time is to swap the whole wheat flour for all purpose flour because I think shortbread should be as sinful as possible. I substituted orange zest for lemon zest because I had oranges on hand.

Viennese Shortbread Cookies
via Leonor at Flagrante Delicia

makes 12 [I got about 16]:

50 g powdered sugar
125 g butter, room temperature
1 g salt
Zest of 1/4 lemon [I used orange]
20 g egg white
150 g wheat flour [or all purpose flour]
Powdered sugar to sprinkle

Cream the butter and sugar together. Add lemon zest and salt and beat for another minute to incorporate. Add the egg whites and whip for a minute or two, until the egg whites are fully incorporated. Gently mix in the flour.

Fit a pastry bag with a star nozzle and, over a siplat or a lined baking sheet, pipe "W"s or "S"s, about 2 inch height. Refrigerate for at least an hour.

Preheat the oven to 350F and bake for 8-10 minutes, or until cookies are golden around the edges [it took me a little longer, about 15 minutes). Cool and sprinkle with icing sugar. Best served the same day as made, but will keep in an airtight container for at least a few days.

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Chocolate Cupcakes with Strawberry Buttercream

Friends, let's talk cupcakes - dark, rich, chocolaty cupcakes; cupcakes with batter that practically begs you to lick the bowl; cupcakes which make you think, "Surely, I didn't say I'd bring all 12, right?" Draped in silky smooth strawberry buttercream, these will make you and everyone around you really happy. The beautiful thing about cupcakes is that you don't really need a reason to make them. A giant layered cake demands An Occasion, but cupcakes are your excuse to celebrate weekends, sunny days, getting-a-new-pair-of-shoes days and pretty much any day of the week that ends in "Y".

Oh, and did I mention the chocolate? And the pink strawberry buttercream? You'd better believe that these are good. I made them for my dear friend's baby shower and I wanted to tint the buttercream pink (because it's a girl!) without food coloring or any other artificial stuff. Strawberries frozen back in May came to the rescue and added just the right touch of flavor to balance the sweetness of the buttercream. Of course, strawberries and chocolate always play well together, and the girls loved them. Although, I'm pretty sure that - despite the ladylike pink color - even the most non-baby-shower-going manly man would also jump at one of these dark, rich beauties.

Chocolate cupcakes with strawberry buttercream

Cupcakes (from Cake on the Brain via Cooks Illustrated)
(makes 12 - the instructions are not to double the recipe, just make a second batch if you need more)

These cupcakes are really easy to make - they only require a whisk and a few bowls. They are light and moist, and the chocolate flavor comes through beautifully. Also, these are wonderful to decorate because they bake up fairly flat. I was extremely pleased with them, as you can tell!

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 4 pieces
2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1/2 cup (1 1/2 oz) Dutch-processed cocoa
3/4 cup (3 3/4 oz) unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
2 large eggs
3/4 cup (5 1/4 oz) sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon table salt
1/2 cup (4 oz) sour cream

Preheat the oven to 350F and prepare a standard-sized muffin pan.

In a double boiler or a heat-proof bowl set over barely simmering water (not touching the water), combine the butter, chocolate and cocoa. Heat until the butter and chocolate are melted and whisk until smooth. Set aside to cool until just warm to the touch.

In a small bowl, whisk flour, baking soda and baking powder.

In a large bowl, whisk the eggs just to combine - then add the sugar, vanilla and salt and whisk until smooth and fully incorporated. Add cooled chocolate mixture and whisk until combined.

Add the flour and sour cream in three additions, beginning and ending with the flour. Whisk only until each addition disappears into the batter. Don't overmix, but make sure the dry and wet ingredients are fully combined before proceeding.

Divide the batter evenly among 12 muffin cups and bake for about 18-20 minutes, or until a tester inserted into the middle of a cupcake comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 5-10 minutes and then set on a rack to cool to room temperature before icing.

Strawberry Swiss Meringue Buttercream

[I've had great success with Martha Stewart's recipe and this time, I scaled it down a bit and added strawberry puree for some tartness and for that lovely pink color. I was a little light-handed with the frosting, so there was buttercream left over which you can save in the freezer for about 3 months - just bring it to room temperature and re-whip before using. Don't be afraid of Swiss Meringue buttercream - it's about patience and faith. Just trust me when I tell you - if you whip it enough, it will work out.]

4 egg whites
3 sticks of unsalted butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of salt
8 oz (about 1 cup) strawberries, fresh or frozen (if using frozen, thaw)

Puree the strawberries and pass through a fine-mesh sieve; set aside.

Place the egg whites, sugar and a pinch of salt into a heat-proof bowl set over barely simmering water (make sure the bottom of the bowl doesn't touch the water and that steam doesn't get out). Whisk constantly until the sugar has dissolved and the egg whites are hot to the touch - when you rub the mixture between your fingers, it should be smooth, without granules of sugar.

Transfer to the bowl of a mixer, making sure no condensation from the other bowl gets into the egg whites. Whip with a whisk on high speed until the egg whites form stiff (but not dry) peaks and are glossy, about 10 minutes.

Cut the butter into 1 tbsp pieces and add it, one piece at a time, until it's completely incorporated. It's important that the butter is really at room temperature. Continue beating on high speed. The mixture will first look like curdled soup; then, it will look like curdled cream; then, just when you're ready to cry and give up in despair, it will magically transform into wonderfully smooth buttercream. Trust me, this will happen.

Switch to a paddle attachment and, with the mixer on low speed, add the vanilla. Beat for about a minute until incorporated. Then, still on low, gradually add the strawberry puree and beat for 3-4 minutes, until the strawberries are completely incorporated and all the air pockets are gone.

Decorate the cupcakes!

Martha says that you can make this up to 3 days in advance and store in an airtight container in the refrigerator - just bring to room temperature and re-whip with the paddle attachment until smooth, about 5 minutes. You can also store in the freezer for up to 3 months.

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Black Forest Cake, a.k.a. the Drunken Cherry Cake

I'm very late in sharing this cake with you, but that doesn't detract from the fact that this is the best damn cake I've ever made. It's kind of a big statement, given some of my previous experiments - the Strawberry Cream Cake, the Nutella Chocolate Cake or the Tiramisu Cake (dubbed "Temptation" by the birthday girl) - but this, this cake topped them all. I'm a little lost for words to describe it, though, which is kind of embarrassing for a food bogger and a lawyer. Let's first start with the perfect combination of ingredients - soft, light as air chocolate sponge cake that's been soaked in kirsch; big, juicy, tart brandied cherries; perfectly sweet whipped cream cushioning said cherries; and cold, crunchy chocolate curls. I mean, it just doesn't get much better than this.

This cake was for my dear dad's birthday, so you can imagine the days I spent flipping through recipes to find something that reflects his strength, wisdom, kindness and overall mench-ness. It just so happened that at the same time, I was reading "Confections of a Closet Master Baker" that I told you about in the previous post, and as I was getting deeper into the book and the author's remembrances about her family and the kuchens her German mom and grandmother used to make, the idea for a Black Forest Cake took over my mind and didn't let go. It seemed the perfect cake for my dad - complex and dark, full of strong flavors, and also, totally and completely liquored up. It was an awesome cake, best cut and shared in big, dramatic, drunken slices.

Black Forest Cake
Sky High: Irresistible Triple-Layer Cakes
(makes 3 9-in layers)

3/4 cup plus 2 tbsp cake flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
7 eggs
1 3/4 cups sugar
3 cups heavy cream, chilled
1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
Brandied cherries (1 lb cherries, 1/2 cup kirsch [I used 1 cup])
Chilled chocolate curls, for decoration

The night before: Pit the cherries and halve them, reserving 9 or 10 whole cherries for decoration. Submerge the cherries in kirsch. I found that 1/2 cup was not enough and I used 1 cup (I figured, I could always drink the leftovers later). Leave in the refrigerator at least overnight. Prepare the chocolate curls and put them in the refrigerator to chill. (The authors also suggest you could use frozen cherries - thaw them and then combine the cherries and their juices with the kirsch)

The day of: Preheat the oven to 350F and line the bottom of the pans with parchment paper. Do not grease pans.

Sift the cocoa powder and cake four together, set aside. In a large bowl, beat the eggs on medium high for about a minute, to blend. Slowly add 1 1/2 cups of sugar and beat on medium high for 3-5 minutes, until the eggs are a light yellow color and the stream of eggs, when the beater is lifted, leaves a thick ribbon.

Sift the cocoa powder and flour into the eggs in 3 additions, gently folding after each addition. Take care not to deflate the batter, but make sure that no large pockets of dry ingredients remain. This is kind of tricky, so just make sure to fold thoroughly and have a very light hand when folding.

Divide among 3 9-in round (or 8-in square) pans and bake for 20 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean. The cake is very fragile, so you need to cool it in its pan for at least an hour before attempting to take it out. When cool, gently run a knife around the cake edge and (again, gently) flip over onto a cake board. Remove the parchment paper.

Make the whipped cream: in a chilled bowl, beat the heavy cream on medium-high speed for one minute, until frothy, and then, still beating, slowly add the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar and the vanilla extract. Beat until hard peaks form and the cream is fairly stiff.

Drain the cherries and reserve the liquid.

Assemble the cake: Place one layer on a cake board or cake plate. With a teaspoon or a pastry brush, soak the layer with about 1/3 of your cherry brandy (for me, that was about 1/4 cup). Spread a thin layer of whipped cream on top of the layer. Then spread half of the cherries and cover with a little more whipped cream. Place the next layer on top and repeat. Place the third and final layer on top and soak it with the remaining cherry brandy. Now, frost the cake with the remaining whipped cream. The cake is really crumbly, but since you will be covering the sides with chocolate shavings, you do not need a crumb layer. Once frosted, decorate with chocolate shavings and the 9-10 whole cherries you set aside in the beginning. This cake is better left standing for at least 4 hours or overnight before serving so that the layers can really soak through and the flavors can meld.

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Giveaway: Confections of a Closet Master Baker

Having this blog is rewarding in so many different ways. There are you guys, the best and most wonderful readers ever. You guys make me so happy! There's the way that I can just pull up some of my snappiest dinner ideas from myself... a little weird, but still happy. There's also the fact that I sometimes get books for free. Books! For free!!! I can imagine very few gifts better than that. Certainly, it was a fantastic gift to receive Confections of a Closet Master Baker for a virtual book club event hosted by the lovely Cath from A Blithe Palate.

I tore into my book impatiently and it was, indeed, a fun and lovely treat. Which is why I'm sharing it with you, the readers that make me so happy. See how it comes full circle there? All you have to do is leave a comment on this post and I will use a random number generator (or maybe the number of red chocolate M&Ms in my bag) to determine a winner, to whom I will send my copy of this book.

In lieu of a book review, we were all asked to bake something inspired by the book (very cool), and hooo boy, did I ever! I'll share that a few days from now, but meanwhile, the author of the book, Gesine Bullock-Prado, graciously consented to give a small interview about her book. I was thrilled to be able to "chat" with her. Thank you, Gesine, for letting us read your book and thank you, Cath, for including me in this great event!

Here's my interview with Gesine:

What inspired you to write about your transition from working as a Hollywood exec to opening your own bakery and cafe?

I moved to Vermont to write as much as bake. Once the shop opened and took every last vestige of energy I had, I stopped writing. But I missed that outlet, so much so that I nudged a customer/friend/fellow writer to start a writing group with me to force me back to the page. I'd also been asked through email, letter, phone calls and personal visits at the store the same question every day, many times a day: "How did you manage to start over and pursue your dream?" So when our small group met in the shop after hours, I'd have pages. I already had what I felt was a compelling story to tell, I just had to structure time to tell it.

I was particularly touched by your description of a baker as someone who brings out the little, impish kid in all of us and who makes the masks of adulthood melt away into the genuineness of a smile. I've definitely experienced that, on both sides of the table. What are some of the other things you find rewarding about baking for others?

Baking is a universal celebration. Birthdays, weddings, anniversaries. We share cake to mark these occasions. We break bread with our neighbors. We save room for dessert. We dodge traffic and break at least 9 state laws in pursuit of the Good Humour truck. Food memories linger. Being in charge of not only feeding someone but feeding someone a creation whose very purpose is to symbolize an event is huge. It's an honor and a burden both.

In the book, you talk a lot about your close relationship with your sister and your memories of your mom. I really enjoyed reading about it and I found myself chuckling over several scenarios and conversations that I could really see happen within my own family. When you think about your family, is there a certain food that you associate with them or are inspired to make? What food-related or food-inspired memories would you want to pass down to the next generation in your family?

There's something about ritual that stays with me. Those times when my mother would declare that we'd have kaffee und kuchen at 3pm was a rare treat. And often we'd go to the local patisserie and choose a few things to share. We weren't marking a specific occassion but that's what made it magical. We sat together sharing a few beautiful morsels, drinking fresh brewed coffee from the good china, and enjoying each other's company. Strangely, it's the coffee that plays the most prominent role in these memories. Fresh ground beans, carefully brewed and savored in bone china. That I'd happily pass along.

What is the one thing about your job that makes getting up in the morning worth it?

Baking.

When writing, it's always extremely difficult to skate that line between being personal and revealing too much - how did you decide which memories and which recipes to release into the wild?

I'm a private woman from a very private family. But there are universal truths that we all share and one of them is our common search for meaning and fulfillment. When an experience related to my journey, I wove it into the narrative. Originally, I wrote the book without recipes. When I was convinced to add them, I made sure to choose a concoction that was relevant to the chapter and to the story as a whole. I also thought about my customers who'd really dig getting their hands on, say, Starry Starry Nights or Golden Eggs.

What is your favorite dessert to eat? To bake?

Changes with my mood, my location and the season.

Do you come back to Los Angeles, and also now that you're out of the Hollywood microcosm, do you enjoy any other aspects of the city? And to follow up on that, what is your favorite city and why?

I genuinely like Los Angeles, I just don't like the Hollywood Industrial Complex. I'm in awe of the kind and stable souls who play well in it's confines without losing their minds. There are lovely people who work in the industry, enjoy it and don't let the pervasive douchebaggery get them down. I'm not made of that mettle, so I wasn't able to enjoy the great things the city had to offer because I was seething most of the time. I can visit now and enjoy the place. And whether I like it or not, I did a lot of growing up there and I'm inescapably part LA girl.

As for my favorite cities, honestly I'm a mountain and lakes sort. Give me a steep hill to climb with a body of water to fish and swim. As long as there's a beautiful boîte tucked away where I can have a beer and cake, I'm very happy. But if I had to choose a favorite city, Fez and Paris. Fez for magic of the souk and Paris for being Paris.

And finally, what is the one question you wish someone had asked you about the book, and how would you have answered it?

I'd hope that instead of having questions, people are compelled to bake something with love after reading the book. But you have to share.

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Tomato and corn salad with basil

I had big plans for you guys today, I really did. I was going to tell you about a cake, and also about a book - a book about cakes. And about my dad's birthday, which was where the whole cake idea started. But I got home, and it was [some insane number] of degrees outside and just the thought of talking about cake made me stick my head into a refrigerator for a good, long while.

So instead, I made you a salad. I know, it's not really a substitute for chocolate and whipped cream, but if there was an equivalent of chocolate and whipped cream in the vegetable world, this would be it. Despite the heat, I can feel summer waning, and this salad is just the right transition to carry us over into the next season. There is so much summer goodness in here - ripe tomatoes, at the peak of their season, sweet corn, cool, smooth avocado, a touch of red onions for the bit of bite and a good sprinkling of basil. And yet, instead of longing for summer to come back, it made me anticipate fall and the goodness that will come with the harvest.

Tomato and corn salad with basil
(serves 2)
2 large, ripe tomatoes
1 avocado
2 ears of corn, cooked
1/4 red onion (or more, to taste)
a handful of basil
salt
basil & olive oil

Cut the tomatoes into thinnish wedges and arrange on a platter. De-seed the avocado and slice it so that the pieces are not too large, but there's still a bite to it. Cut the kernels off the corn, break them up a little and scatter over the tomatoes and avocado. Slice the red onion thinly and also scatter over the salad. I like to chiffonade my basil, but you can chop it roughly or even leave the leaves whole. Sprinkle salt over the salad and dress with your favorite vinaigrette or a dash of olive oil and aged balsamic vinegar.

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Look, Ma, I gots technology!

Just a very quick note to tell you all that I'm now firmly in the 21st century and Confessions of a Tart has a Facebook page and a Twitter account (I know, I can't believe it either)! Search for "Confessions of a Tart" on Facebook and "TartConfessions" on Twitter.

So come on, don't be shy - let's be friends! You know, where you can actually talk back to me and not just in the comments. :)

I'll be back with a new recipe on Sunday, and whoa baby, you guys are gonna love it! I'll just say that it involves cake, chocolate, whipped cream and brandied cherries. You may now drool.

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Penne with shrimp, salmon, asparagus and sundried tomatoes

Friends, I think I'm getting old. Yes, laugh all you want, but turning 30 did something to me, messed with some brain cells maybe, I don't know. Even when all the synapses are firing, it feels like the receptacles took a lunch break and then a coffee break and then went to happy hour for some carne asado and margaritas.

We had a dinner party this weekend. Nothing fancy, just good friends, good food, lots of wine and laughing until 2am. In other words, my favorite kind of party. One of the girls is lactose intolerant, so when I was brainstorming dairy-free main courses, I just knew that I had to make this pasta. It's something that I came up with on the fly a few months ago, but the deliciousness is insane. My favorite part is how the textures and flavors play off of each other, how the asparagus is crunchy and garlicky, the shrimp are succulent and juicy and the salmon (marinated in a little mayo and spicy sauce) is so soft and flaky with just an aftertaste of heat, that you don't even need anything other than a dash of good olive oil and a sprinkling of fresh basil to pull it all together. I mean, this is a winner, a dish to be brought out again and again.

But back to my misfiring synapses. So the night before the party, I went food shopping to the brand spanking new Trader Joe's that opened up right near my house. I was being really good, following my list and not stopping at the aisles with the colorful boxes that promised me easy spanakopita or mushroom turnovers. I was getting down to the last few items on my list, the very bottom, and then... then I walked by the wine aisle. Do I even need to tell you what happened next? I walked out with five bottles of wine, and when I got home and unloaded my bags, and I looked at my list, every item was crossed off except the one in the biggest letters. PASTA.

Ugh. Ok, I thought, I'll just get it tomorrow when I drive by the supermarket to raid their fantastic olive bar. All the way to the store, I chanted "pasta" in my head... And then I walked by the wine aisle again, and there was new rose from Provence, and out of the two items I had to get at the supermarket (1. olives, 2. PASTA), the olives and the rose made it home. Laughing histerically, A. ran back to the store to get the box of pasta. The moral of the story? Once you turn 30, your brain becomes more interested in wine than in pasta. That's a fact.

Penne with shrimp, salmon, asparagus and sundried tomatoes
Prep time: about half an hour
(serves about 8)
1 box (16 oz) penne pasta
1 lb shrimp
1 lb salmon (I used 2 fillets, 8 oz each)
1 bunch asparagus
1 cup chopped sundried tomatoes (I use the kind packed in olive oil)
4 cloves garlic
a large handful of fresh basil, chopped roughly
1/3 cup chicken stock or white wine
olive oil
salt & pepper, thyme or whatever else you like
fresh Parmesan for topping

For salmon marinade:
1/3 cup mayonnaise
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp soy sauce
a few dashes of any kind of hot sauce (Tabasco, Worcestershire, etc.)

Marinate the salmon at least 2 hrs before cooking (or overnight): combine mayo, mustard, soy sauce and hot sauce in a small, shallow container. Wash and pat dry the salmon and rub the marinade all over the fish. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for 2 hrs to overnight.

Cook the pasta according to the instructions on the box, but subtract about 2 minutes from the cooking time. You want the pasta to be a little undercooked, so not quite al dente. Drain the pasta and return to the pot.

Meanwhile, prepare your other ingredients: de-vein and peel the shrimp; wash the asparagus, dry it well, chop off the tough white ends and chop the stalks into about 2 inch pieces; chop the sundried tomatoes, if the pieces are too large to eat comfortably.

Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a pan (I like to use olive oil infused with either garlic or some herbs). Add the shrimp and cook for a few minutes until pink on all sides. Season with salt and pepper and add, along with the skillet oil, to the pasta.

Now, you should take the salmon out of the refrigerator. Preheat the oven, set a rack in the top third of the oven, take the salmon out of the marinade and broil it for about 10 minutes or until cooked through.

While the salmon is cooking, add another few tablespoons of olive oil to the same pan in which you cooked the shrimp. Crush all 4 garlic cloves into the skillet, stir for about 30 seconds and then add the asparagus. Here, it's really important not to overcook it (no one likes mushy asparagus), so I set my timer for 2 minutes exactly. Stirring often, cook the asparagus in olive oil and garlic for 2 minutes and add to the pot with the pasta and shrimp.

Return the pan to the heat, lower the heat a little, add the stock or wine to the pan and deglaze with a silicone spatula or a wooden spoon (when the stock/wine is added, it should sizzle a little and all the brown tasty bits will come loose under the gentle prodding of your spatula). Add the sundried tomatoes to the pan, heat for another minute, and pour the sauce into the pot with your other ingredients.

Set the pot over medium heat, throw in the chopped basil and stir everything for a few minutes until thoroughly heated through (this is why we undercooked the pasta, so it can finish cooking here and come out perfectly al dente). Season to taste. At this point, you can add a little more olive oil to help it come together. I like to add the olive oil that my sundried tomatoes were packed in to give it extra taste.

Your salmon should be pretty much ready just about now. Flake it gently with your fork into bite-sized pieces. Arrange the pasta on a platter and set the salmon on top. Serve immediately with fresh Parmesan, lots of garlic bread and wine.

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