Chocolate Pear Tart

Hey there, how's Thanksgiving prep going? Is that pumpkin pie getting a bit bored and lonely on the dessert list? Well, look no further for its companion because this Chocolate Pear Tart is going to blow your socks off. Holy heck, is this thing good! Ripe Bosc pears tenderly poached in sugar and vanilla and then nestled in an ungoodly amount of deep, dark chocolate. Are you drooling yet? If not, let's take a look at the close-up:

And now say the words: Chocolate Pear Tart. Say them slowly, imagining the aroma that will fill your kitchen. Not bad, eh? Now, back to work! But don't panic, because even if something doesn't turn out *just so* (sacrebleu, what an idea!), this tart will make everything right again.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! A. and I wish you all a wonderful, happy and warm holiday full of family, friends, laughter and love.

Chocolate Pear Tart

This tart is from Once Upon A Tart, but I hacked it a little, using a different crust and twice as many pears. I know I keep repeating myself with this book, but it's just too darn good!

You can certainly use pears from a can or a jar, but, considering that it's so ridiculously easy to poach them yourself, why would you? There are all kinds of fancy pants ways you can poach your pears, and you should feel free to use whichever way you are comfortable with. The easiest is to do it with water and sugar, and I always like to add half a vanilla bean or a teaspoon of vanilla extract to the poaching liquid.

For the poached pears
4 ripe Bosc/D'Anjour/Bartlett pears (I used Bosc)
4-5 cups water
1 cup sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, seeds and pod, or 1 tsp vanilla extract

For the crust (lightly adapted from Dorie Greenspan)
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1 stick butter, very cold, cut into 16 pieces
1 cold egg, lightly beaten

For the custard (from Once Upon a Tart)
6 ounces good semisweet chocolate, chopped
3/4 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1 tsp vanilla extract

Apricot jam to glaze (optional)

1. Make the crust. In a large bowl, whisk the flour, sugar and salt together. Scatter pieces of cold butter on top and cut in with a pastry cutter until the largest pieces are the size of peas and the mixture looks crumbly. Working quickly, drip the egg into the dough and toss with a fork until the dough sticks together when pinched. If the dough is too dry, add a tablespoon of iced water. Turn out onto a lightly floured counter and knead a few times, just to incorporate the dry ingredients.

2. Butter or spray a 10-inch tart pan. Lightly press the dough into the tart pan. The dough should cover all the sides but not lose its crumbly texture (in other words, don't work with it too much or the pieces of butter will melt). Place the tart pan in the freezer for 1/2 hour.

3. Next, peel, halve and core the pears. Bring 4-5 cups of water and 1 cup of sugar to a boil in a large saucepan and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Scrape the vanilla seeds from 1/2 of a vanilla bean into the water and put the pod in as well, or just put in the teaspoon of vanilla extract and stir to combine. Gently place the pears in the water (add more water if needed to completely cover the pears), lower the heat, and cook at a low boil until the pears are just tender when pierced with a fork (but not mushy). For me, this was around the 10-15 minute mark. Drain the water and set the pears aside.

4. Whisk the egg and the egg yolk lightly in a medium-sized bowl. Add the vanilla and whisk to combine. In a double boiler (or a metal bowl set over an inch of gently simmering water so that the bowl bottom doesn't touch the water) melt the chocolate with the cream, stirring and folding with a heat-proof spatula to combine into a smooth and shiny ganache. Stir in the 1/4 cup sugar and cook a few minutes more, until the sugar has melted. Set aside to cool.

5. Remove the tart dough from the freezer and preheat the oven to 375F. Carefully transfer your pear halves to a cutting board and, holding each pear with one hand to keep it intact, carefully slice into thin slices. To fan out the pear slices, press the wide end of the pear gently towards the narrow end. Slide the knife under the fanned pears and arrange them in a circle inside the tart pan.

6. To make the custard, slowly dribble about 1/2 cup of the chocolate mixture into the eggs, whisking constantly. This warms the eggs, preventing them from cooking. Add the rest of the chocolate in a steady stream and stir to combine.

7. Pour the chocolate mixture into the tart pan, pouring as much as possible around the pears rather than on top of the pears. Bake for 50-55 minutes or until the chocolate custard is puffed and set (it will be firm to the touch and slightly cracked around the edges). Cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes.

8. Remove the tart from the tart pan and slide onto a plate. If desired, brush the pears with a little bit of melted apricot jam to glaze and then sprinkle with powdered sugar before serving. Serve warm with lightly-sweetened whipped cream.

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Basic Sweet Yeast Dough

I realized recently that the only place I've ever felt really at home was in Israel. Israel, with its amalgamation of cultures and flavors, with loud music and brash cabbies, with huddled market stalls and glowing Jerusalem stone, with complete strangers being all up in your business, with greenery where you least expect it and laughter that only underscores the strength of the spirit - it seems funny to think that a piece of me will always stay there, but it's the truth.

Being Jewish was kind of a dirty word where I grew up in Ukraine, and having been isolated by the Communist regime from any vestiges of religion, being Jewish was confusing here in the US. American Jews were free to be Jewish and to be proud of it, and to me, a novice, it seemed like they all spoke some different, secret language to the translation of which I was not privy. In Israel, however, I could be myself. Ironically, I felt the least religious in this Jewish state - I didn't attend services nor did we differentiate between Jews and Arabs in our weekly dinners at the Haifa Uni dorms - but it was here that I found a strong and lasting connection to my roots. Because there was no pressure to be anything or belong to any group and because the hills, the stones and the air itself are saturated with history, I discovered what it really means to have my heritage, to own who I am and make it part of myself. It's a testament to the beauty of that country and to the strength of its people that I could learn what I did and take it, carrying it with me for the rest of my life like a gift.

This recipe is a classic Jewish recipe. My grandmother makes something similar and her grandmother did too. The bread it produces is soft, moist and lightly sweet - the kind of dough you can use for almost anything, from pan dulce to challah to cinnamon buns to apple cakes like the one I baked. It made the house smell fantastic. When I bit into a piece, fresh out of the oven, I said "SHUT UP OMG" really loudly, even though I was completely alone in the house. It was that good.

Basic Yeast Sweet Dough
from sadly out of print, but wonderful The World of Jewish Desserts by Gil Marks

*1 (1/4-oz) package (2 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast, or 1 (0.6 oz) cake fresh yeast
*1 cup warm water (105 to 115 degrees for dry yeast; 80 to 85 degrees for fresh yeast), or 1/4 cup warm water and 3/4 cup warm milk, or 1 cup warm water mixed with 1/4 cup nonfat dry milk
*1/3 cup sugar
*1/3 cup vegetable oil, peanut oil or softened butter
*2 large eggs
*1 teaspoon salt
*About 4 cups high-gluten flour or unbleached all-purpose flour

For apple topping
5-7 medium baking apples (I used Gala), peeled, cored and sliced
2 tablespoons of butter, melted
1/3 cup sugar
2 teaspoons cinnamon

In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast in 1/4 cup warm water. Stir in 1 teaspoon sugar and let stand until foamy, 5-10 minutes (if your yeast isn't foaming, start all over with fresher yeast).

Add the remaining water (and/or milk), sugar, oil (or butter), eggs and salt and whisk to combine. With a wooden spoon, stir in 1 1/2 cups of flour and then continue stirring in flour, 1/2 cup at a time, until the dough forms into a ball and comes away from the sides of the bowl.

Turn the dough into a well floured surface and knead, adding more flour to prevent sticking (I think I added another 1/2 cup), until smooth and springy, about 5 minutes. The dough should be soft and satiny, but you don't want to knead too long as you don't want too much gluten to develop. You can use a machine to knead, but I really like to do it by hand.

Place the dough into a lightly oiled bowl and turn to coat. Cover and let rise in a warm, draft-free place until nearly double in bulk, 1 1/2 - 2 hrs (or cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight). To test if the dough is sufficiently risen, press two fingers 1 inch deep into the center; if the indentations remain, the dough is ready.

Punch down the dough. Fold over in three like a letter, give it a half turn and fold over like a letter again - this redistributes the yeast and its food. Let stand for 10 minutes to relax the dough.

While the dough is relaxing, peel, core and slice the apples, melt the butter and combine the sugar and cinnamon. Butter or spray a 9"x13" pan or two 9" round pans.

Arrange the dough in the prepared pan(s), stretching gently so that it touches all the sides and is more or less uniform in height. Arrange the apples on top, brush with butter and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar. Cover and let rise until nearly double in bulk, about 50 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375F (350F if using a glass pan). Bake on the middle rack for 30 minutes or until puffed and golden (this cake has quite an oven spring!). Cool in the pan for 10 minutes and then cool on the rack for 20 minutes (aha, good luck with that). I like this cake warm with a cup of coffee or tea.

This cake can be frozen for up to 2 weeks. Reheat unthawed on 350F for 20 minutes.

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Cinnamon Swirl Raisin Bread

A's grandma made cookies for every family holiday. It was kind of "her thing," the dessert she was known for in the family. They were something of a cross between an oatmeal raisin cookie and a brick, but no one ever complained because dipped in tea, they were divine, and the leftovers had a multitude of uses (hammering nails, scaring squirrels out of the lettuce beds... kidding, kidding!). The point is, she always brought the cookies, and somehow, we always looked forward to them. Such is the magic of grandmas, I think, that whatever they make becomes an indelible part of the family lore.

This will be a year without the requisite plate of cookies on the Thanksgiving table, and our hearts are very heavy. I think because of that, I've been craving the flavor of these cookies and eating everything in sight that even slightly reminds me of them. I made this bread having very few expectations and no idea how it would turn out beyond that it would have cinnamon and raisins in it, and I have to say that the flavor is simply wonderful. Like other Peter Reinhart's breads, the texture was more like that of a hearty bread rather than a decadent dessert, which is exactly what I was looking for, and the crunch that comes from brushing the top with melted butter and sprinkling it with cinnamon sugar is OUT OF THIS WORLD good. Like, wow. When this came out of the oven, all tall and golden, we couldn't wait for it to cool and cut thick slices of it to have with a cold glass of milk. Even though this bread is nothing like cookies, it carried the same feelings of home, of a sturdy family tradition that tastes like it's made with love. I really think A.'s grandma would have approved.

Cinnamon Swirl Raisin Bread
The Bread Baker's Apprentice
recipe can be found here
Makes two 1 1/2 pound loaves

For the bread
3 1/2 cups (16 oz) unbleached bread flour
4 teaspoons (.66 oz) granulated sugar
1 1/4 teaspoon (.31 oz) salt
2 teaspoons (.22 oz) instant yeast
1 1/4 tsp (.16 oz) ground cinnamon
1 large (1.65 oz) egg slightly beaten
2 tablespoons (1 oz) shortening, melted at room temp. (I used butter)
1/2 cup (4 oz) buttermilk or whole milk, at room temp.
3/4 cup (6 oz) water, at room temp.
1 1/2 cups (9 oz) raisins, rinsed and drained
1 cup (4 oz) chopped walnuts (optional - I omitted)

Cinnamon Sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 tbsp cinnamon

In a large bowl or a bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together the flour, sugar, salt, yeast and cinnamon. Add the egg, shortening/butter, buttermilk and water and stir together with a wooden spoon until the dough comes together in a ball. Adjust flour or water if the dough is too sticky or too dry/stiff.

Knead by hand for 10 minutes or with a stand mixer for 6-8 minutes on medium speed. The dough should be soft and pliable, tacky but not sticky. [My dough was very sticky, so if your dough is sticky, add more flour at this point.] Knead in the raisins and walnuts by hand to distribute evenly. The dough should pass the windowpane test and register 77 to 81F.

Lightly oil a large bowl and transfer the dough to the bowl, rolling it to cover lightly with oil. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a towel and let rest until the dough doubles in size, 1-2 hours (mine was ready in 1 hr).

Divide the dough in 2 equal pieces and lightly oil two standard size loaf pans. These are mine. Gently roll each piece of dough into a 5x8 rectangle. Whisk the 1/2 cup sugar and 2 tablespoons of cinnamon together and reserve about 2-3 tablespoons for the tops of the loaves. Sprinkle half of the remaining mixture on one rolled out piece of dough and sprinkle the other half on the other rolled out piece of dough.

Starting at the short end, roll each loaf tightly, pinching the ends together as you are rolling. The dough will expand in length as you are rolling. When finished, place the loaves seam side down into the loaf pans, spreading the dough gently so that it's touching all four sides of the pan. Mist the tops lightly with oil, cover loosely with plastic wrap or a towel and let proof at room temperature for 60-90 minutes, until the dough crests above the lips of the pans and is nearly doubled in size.

Preheat the oven to 350F with the oven rack in the middle shelf. Bake for 20 minutes, rotate the pans 180 degrees and bake for another 20-30 minutes until the tops are golden brown and the breads register 190F in the middle. They should make a hollow sound when thumped on the bottom.

Remove bread from the pans onto a cooling rack. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter, brush the tops of the loaves with butter and sprinkle with the reserved cinnamon sugar.

The instructions say to wait 1 hour before slicing or serving. I'm telling you now that, considering the way this bread looks and smells, it's not going to happen. I'd give it at least 10 minutes, though, just to make sure you don't burn your fingers while cutting the bread.

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Crazy hard

I know it's been a few weeks since I last posted and a bunch of you have written to ask what's going on. Thank you for your concern - it's lovely to be missed and I really do appreciate it. Sadly, these past few weeks have been very difficult for our family - A.'s dearly beloved grandma passed away, and though she lived a long, full and wonderful life, her passing was unexpected and shook us to the core. We've spent this time with our family, trying to accept the fact that at the next dinner, at the next birthday, she will only be watching us from above. It's crazy hard.

I haven't really felt like picking up my camera, but I saw something the other day that I know she would have really liked and I want to make it and share it with you. I hope it will be soon.

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Amazing Spiced Pumpkin Bread

Guys, I've always been straight up with you, right? This thing we have here, you and you and you and me, it's a relationship based on trust, right? So trust me now when I tell you - this is the pumpkin bread dreams are made of.

I won't beat around the bush - if you're not fond of pumpkin-based sweets, try to fast forward yourself to about Christmas, when it's cold for real and chocolate is the only answer. But if you crave that subtle, golden sweetness that pumpkin brings to desserts, if you love the way it makes quickbreads taste undeniably - but not overwhelmingly - of fall and hearth, of gently falling leaves and crisp blue skies, this is the pumpkin bread for you.

I felt a bit like a witch mixing up this bread. It really doesn't take very long, but the spirit of Halloween was in me, with the orange batter and all, and I kind of prolonged the pleasure by singing "double double toil and trouble" while stirring. I also pretended that the toasted walnuts and dates were eye of newt and [unmentionable] part of frog... that got me some reeeeally weird looks from A. You would think he'd be used to it by now! Seriously, though, please please make this bread. It's soft, it's moist, it's fragrant and goes amazingly with a cup of tea or coffee. And, as an added bonus, it's dairy free. I mean, it just doesn't get any better than this.

Spiced Pumpkin Bread
adapted very lightly from Bon Appetit, Nov. 1995
(makes two loaves)

1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
3 large eggs, room temperature
16 oz. pumpkin puree
3 cups all purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts, toasted (optional)
1 cup coarsely chopped pitted dates

Preheat oven to 350°F. Prepare two 9x5x3-inch loaf pans.

Whisk the sugars and oil in large bowl to blend. Make sure to get at all the clumps of sugar. Whisk in eggs and then pumpkin puree until the batter is uniform and all the ingredients are thoroughly combined.

In another bowl, whisk flour, spices, baking soda, baking powder and salt to combine. Stir into pumpkin mixture in 2 additions, folding only until the flour disappears. Stir in chopped dates and walnuts.

Divide batter equally between prepared pans. Bake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 1 hour 10 minutes. Transfer to racks and cool 10 minutes (this is an important step because the bread is too soft to cut right out of the oven and will break - ask me how I know). Turn loaves out onto racks and cool completely. (You can eat one loaf and freeze the other - I generally slice the bread and then triple wrap in plastic wrap. That way, I can just toast the slices and it's ready to go).

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Pumpkin-Cranberry Biscotti

Books are kind of like people, don't you think? You can tell right away if you're going to be friends with one or if you'll have a brief conversation and go your separate ways. So it was with this book - as soon as I picked it up,* I could tell that it was going to be one of my favorites. By the end, I felt like I had met Frank and Jerome and had sat with them in the kitchen of their New York cafe as they took out trays upon trays of delicious tarts, biscotti and Madeleines. I've made many recipes from this book, always with great ease and great success, encouraged by the warm tone and the friendly, quick humor on every page.

The recipes in this book are thoughtful, inventive and yet inviting and unpretentious. In fact, you get the feeling that the authors put together a list of their very favorite things to make at home and opened it to the rest of us. These pumpkin biscotti are no exception - they are simply wonderful - wonderful! If you like pumpkin desserts (and oh, I do), you will LOVE these, I promise. Crunchy, spicy, packed with golden raisins, cranberries and toasted pecans, oh goodness, I can't even really express how happy these made me. And the generous proportions of this recipe ensure that your family and friends will be very happy as well, should you choose to share (which, by the way, you totally should - these biscotti will make you many, many new friends!). Happy fall, everyone!

*Disclaimer because some people might misunderstand: I bought this book at a bookstore, just like everyone else. I was not asked nor paid to do a review of this book, but I wanted to share it with you because it has become one of my favorite books to reach for lately.

Pumpkin Cranberry Biscotti Recipe
Once Upon a Tart
Note: I used 1 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 tsp nutmeg, 1/4 tsp ground cloves
Note 2: This recipe requires a little more effort than the traditional biscotti, but I'm telling you, it's so totally worth it.
(Makes about 25 biscotti - I got a bit more)

4 1/2 cups flour (495g)
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted and cooled to room temperature (120g)
3 large eggs, at room temperature, separated
1 1/3 cups granulated sugar (230g)
3/4 cup pumpkin puree, packed tightly (183g)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
1 cup pecans, lightly toasted and chopped (150g)
1/2 cup fresh cranberries (75g)
1/3 cup golden raisins (50g)
4 tbsp of turbinado sugar (my addition, optional)

Position one of your oven racks in the center. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, spices, baking powder and salt.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat the egg whites on high speed until they form stiff peaks. With the mixer still on high, beat in about half the sugar until the egg whites are glossy. Transfer them to another bowl.

In the same bowl of the stand mixer, beat the egg yolks and the remaining half of the sugar on high speed until the eggs are pale and frothy and the sugar dissolves. Stir in pumpkin puree and vanilla to blend.

Gently fold in the egg whites into the egg yolk mixture. Also gently, stir in the melted (and cooled) butter, nuts, cranberries and raisins.

Gradually stir in the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients until the dough comes together into a sticky ball. For into two logs (flour your hands because the dough will be sticky) about 3" x 10". If you wet your fingers a little, you'll be able to smooth out the surface of the dough should you so wish to. Sprinkle each log with about two tablespoons of turbinado sugar, if using.

Bake for about 50 minutes, until the tops are golden brown and feel firm to the touch. Cool on wire racks for at least 30 minutes (this is important - if you don't cool the biscotti, they will crumble like crazy). Place the logs on a cutting board and cut into 1/2 inch slices with a long and sharp serrated knife. Do not use a sawing motion, but make decisive downward strokes.

Line the slices on the baking sheet and bake for another 25-30 minutes, until they are crisp and golden brown throughout. Allow to cool completely before eating (this is kind of hard to do, with the amazing smell and all, but believe me, they do taste better that way).

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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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