Chocolate Truffle Squares with Candied Orange Peel

While trying to come up with a dessert to take to a pot luck buffet I attended this weekend, I remembered an intensely chocolate tart with candied clementine peel from an old issue of Gourmet. If you already have the candied peel (I did), the tart is super fast and easy to make. Since I also wanted a dessert that could be cut into one- or two-bite portions for picking up and eating out of hand, I decided to convert the recipe to fit a quarter sheet pan (or a 13- by 9-inch pan) so that it could be cut into small squares. The conversion was a simple matter of multiplying the recipe one and one half times. The dessert turned out so well that I thought I would share the recipe here.

The original tart uses a crumb crust made of digestive biscuits. Digestives are plain tea time cookies ("biscuits") from England. I love them. I suppose the closest thing we have to a digestive in this country is a graham cracker. But I have to say a graham cracker is a poor imitation—there is much more substance and flavor to a digestive than there is to a graham cracker. Having said that, I didn't happen to have any digestives on hand...if I ever have them around, I eat them...so I made a simple graham cracker crust instead. If you have the time and the inclination, the digestives are worth seeking out. McVitie's is my favorite brand. Simply use the crust recipe in the original recipe, remembering to increase it by half.

The filling of the tart is nothing more than ganache, reinforced with egg yolks. Classic ganache is made with equal quantities of heavy cream and chocolate. The cream is brought to a simmer and then poured over the chopped chocolate. The heat of the cream melts the chocolate—all you have to do is whisk or stir it until it is smooth. At room temperature, ganache holds a soft shape. Like ganache, the filling for the tart is made of equal quantities of heavy cream and chocolate, but instead of pouring the hot cream directly over the chocolate it is first combined and cooked briefly with some egg yolks. This thickens the cream and helps the final tart filling set up firmly enough to cut cleanly and hold its shape at room temperature.

Be careful when you are cooking the yolk-cream mixture. It will thicken very quickly—especially if you accidentally allowed the cream to come to a full boil before adding it to the yolks. If the yolk-cream mixture gets hotter than 180°, you will have scrambled yolks floating in cream rather than a nice thick creamy custard.

Since ganache is what truffles are made of, I decided to call my dessert "Chocolate Truffle Squares with Candied Orange Peel".   And since truffles can be flavored with all kinds of things, the possibilities for flavor variations are almost without limit. I love chocolate and orange together, but maybe next time I will make Mocha Truffle Squares, or Chocolate Truffle Squares with Praline, or...

Chocolate Truffle Squares with Candied Orange Peel

Graham Cracker Crust:
7 1/2 oz. graham crackers, finely ground (to make 2 cups crumbs)
4 1/2 T. granulated sugar
7 1/2 T. unsalted butter, melted (see note)

Line a 13- by 9-inch baking pan (or a quarter sheet pan) with foil, leaving an overhang. Butter or spray the foil. Combine the crust ingredients until homogenous and press into the pan in a compact even layer.

Use a measuring cup (or some other flat-bottomed glass or mug) to press the crumbs into a compact even layer

Bake in a pre-heated 350° oven until just beginning to brown—10 to 12 minutes. Cool.

Filling:
3 large egg yolks
2 c. heavy cream (450 g.)
16 oz. (450 g.) fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (no more than 60%), finely chopped
3/4 c. (125 g.) finely chopped candied orange peel, plus extra for garnish

Lightly beat yolks in a small bowl. Bring cream to a simmer in a 2-quart heavy, saucepan and remove from heat. Add about one third of hot cream to yolks in a slow, thin stream, whisking constantly, then pour yolk mixture into remaining cream, whisking.

Return the custard to a moderately low heat and cook, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or heat-proof rubber spatula, until it is thick enough to coat back of spoon and registers 170°F on thermometer, 1 to 2 minutes (do not let boil). Remove from heat and add chopped chocolate, whisking until smooth. Stir in chopped candied peel.

Pour filling evenly over crust and chill, uncovered, until firm, at least 2 hours. Lift out of the pan using the foil, trim the edges and cut into 48 small squares, using a thin sharp knife. For beautiful clean-edged squares, dip the knife into hot water and wipe it clean on a towel in between each cut.

Garnish each square with some of the reserved chopped candied peel. Serve chilled or at cool room temperature.

 (Recipe adapted from Gourmet Magazine, January 2005)

Note (added 1 Jan 2011):  Crust recipe as originally posted called for 6 T. melted butter.  I have changed it to 7 1/2 T.  The larger amount of butter makes the crust easier to work with—both when pressing it into the pan, and when slicing and serving the truffle squares.

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Brandied Fruit & Almond Pound Cake

One of the many things I learned when I lived in London (while at cooking school) was that the British actually like fruit cake—or Christmas Cake as it is more commonly called there. This surprised me because my experience with fruit cake was not at all favorable. Like most Americans I thought of fruit cake as an annual joke...something one might give as a gag gift. Something else I learned in cooking school was that if I didn't like a food, it was probably because I had never had it prepared properly.  When I discovered that Christmas cake was well-liked in England, I wanted to have the opportunity to taste a properly made cake so that I could find out if I liked it too.

An Australian friend and fellow student shared her recipe with me along with detailed notes on how to prepare it and vary it to suit my available ingredients. The following fall, after I had returned home, I made her cake. My friend had told me that her recipe was a fairly typical one and over the years as I have looked at other recipes for Christmas cake, I have found this to be true. The fruit portion of a British Christmas cake is made up mostly of dried fruits (different kinds of raisins, figs, currants) along with a smaller portion of mixed candied peels and candied cherries. In my experience it was these candied fruits that made up most of the fruit portion of American-style fruit cakes—and the candied fruits used were almost always pretty awful. The candied fruits available in Europe and the British Isles are of a much higher quality. When I made her cake, I sought out imported candied fruits so that all of the ingredients in my cake would be as fine as possible. After making the cake, I dutifully fed it with brandy every week, looking forward to when I would be able to sample my project at Christmas.

I think the fruit cake I made was probably pretty good—certainly better than any fruit cake I had ever had before. I remember that my Dad enjoyed it. But we never did eat all of it (it was a very big cake). Making it gave me an appreciation and respect for fruit cake that I hadn't had before. Today, if I were served a slice of good Christmas cake, I would eat it and enjoy it. But since I didn't grow up with it, it doesn't really seem like "cake" to me. Traditional fruit cakes appear to be mostly fruit (and nuts) with just enough cake to hold the fruit and nuts together. When I eat cake, I really want to eat cake. I love dried fruit, so the idea of a nice cake that contained lots of brandy-spiked dried fruit was very appealing to me. I was a bit disappointed to find that this really isn't what fruit cake, in its traditional form, is.

A few years later I ran across a recipe for "Brandied Currant Tea Bread" in a little book called Tea Breads & Coffee Cakes by Elizabeth Alston. In her description of the recipe, she says "This is what a fruit cake should taste like but never does." Because Elizabeth Alston was raised in England I sat up and took notice. This little cake was excellent—mostly cake, studded with brandy-soaked currants. I particularly liked the fact that the cake was made with white sugar and without spices. This actually makes the cake considerably different from the dark, spice-laden Christmas cakes of Britain. For a while, this recipe was my "fruit cake".

Several years back, Gourmet magazine published a recipe they called "Holiday Fruit-filled Pound Cake"—clearly a euphemism employed to trick fruit cake-wary Americans into trying it. In many ways it was similar to Ms. Alston's tea bread, but instead of using currants alone, it used a mixture of colorful dried fruits, including apricots, cranberries and golden raisins. This cake was good too. Interestingly enough though, it had too much fruit for me—even though it still had much less fruit than a traditional Christmas cake.

I decided to combine the two recipes. My version uses the mixed fruits from the Gourmet recipe—reduced somewhat in quantity. I have also included some homemade candied orange peel in my cake. While reading up on fruit cakes, I discovered that the flavor profile of this adapted cake is actually quite similar to a traditional Scottish fruit cake called a Dundee Cake. Named after the Scottish city of Dundee, it is a light colored fruit cake that is flavored with almonds. Like its British counterparts though, in its traditional form it has a much greater quantity of fruit than I would find acceptable.

When you make this Brandied Fruit & Almond Pound Cake (observe the use of the word "when"), you will notice that there is a total of 1 1/2 cups of dried fruit and candied peel in the recipe. If you prefer less fruit, I have successfully made the cake without the candied orange peel and with as little as 1 cup of dried fruit. If you like more fruit, I think that you could probably increase the total amount of fruit to 2 cups without altering the cake's pound cake-like character too much. Other dried fruits could be added or substituted for those I have used...dried tart cherries, dark raisins and chopped dried figs come to mind.

As far as the actual process of mixing up the cake is concerned, make sure that you don't short cut the creaming process. The butter and sugar should be very fluffy before you begin to add the eggs. And the eggs must be at room temperature—refrigerator-cold eggs can cause the batter to break. Insufficient creaming and/or cold eggs will result in a cake that is damp and heavy (it will still taste good, but I don't think you will like the texture). If you forget to pull your eggs out ahead of time, set them in a bowl and cover them with hot tap water for 5 minutes or so.

This cake should be served in elegant, thin slices rather than thick slabs. Those who want a larger portion (like me) can take a second slice. You should be able to get 12 to 16 slices to serve 8 to 12 people. The cake is a wonderful afternoon treat with a cup of coffee or tea. Because there is more cake than fruit, it doesn't have the keeping qualities of a traditional fruit cake. Both Elizabeth Alston and Gourmet recommend that the cake be eaten within 5 days—although I think it probably lasts longer. How much longer though I really can't say since it never seems to last longer than a week in my house.

Brandied Fruit & Almond Pound Cake

1/3 c. golden raisins
1/3 c. dried cranberries
1/3 c. currants
1/4 c. diced dried apricots
1/2 c. Cognac or brandy
1 c. plus 2 T. blanched slivered almonds (4 1/2 oz.)—see note
1 1/2 c. all purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
12 T. (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 c. sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1 t. vanilla
zest of one orange
1/4 c. diced homemade candied orange peel—optional

Place the dried fruits in a bowl and add the brandy. Let sit at room temperature for at least an hour, stirring occasionally. The fruit may be macerated several days ahead. If doing ahead, cover and refrigerate.

Butter an 8 cup (9x5x3-inch) loaf pan and then line the bottom and long sides with a piece of parchment paper, trimming the parchment level with the top of the pan. Butter and flour the parchment. Set aside.

Toast the almonds in a 350° oven until lightly colored and fragrant. Cool to room temperature. Measure out 1/2 cup (2 oz.) and set aside. Grind the remaining 2 1/2 oz. of almonds until powder fine, using a rotary nut grinder or the food processor. If using the food processor, add several tablespoons of the sugar to absorb the oil from the nuts.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt and almond flour. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream the butter with the sugar on high speed until very light and fluffy—about 5 minutes.

After 3 minutes, beat in the zest and vanilla and continue to beat for another 2 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition and scraping down the sides of the bowl before adding the next one.

Fold in half of the dry ingredients. Fold in the dried fruits along with the brandy.

Fold in the remaining dry ingredients along with the diced orange peel and reserved nuts.

Turn the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing the top. Transfer to a 325° oven and bake until golden brown and springy to the touch—about 1 hour and 15 minutes to 1 hour and 30 minutes. A tooth pick inserted in the center will come out free of crumbs. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes.

Turn out onto a wire rack to cool completely before wrapping air tight. The cake may be enjoyed freshly made, or it may be kept—well-wrapped—at room temperature for five days. The cake tastes best if made a day ahead. The cake also freezes well.

Note: If you don't have a nut grinder, you may substitute 2 oz. of blanched slivered almonds plus 2 1/2 oz. of purchased almond meal or almond flour for the total amount of almonds given in the recipe.



Candied Orange Peel

A couple of days ago I began to write a post about a recipe that included homemade candied orange peel. I realized that it made more sense to write a post devoted to the candied peel first. Because I use homemade candied peel throughout the holiday season—in cakes, pies and breads—I will probably post recipes that use it more than once...if not this year, certainly in years to come.

Besides its presence in a wide variety of traditional holiday baked goods, candied peel makes a very nice Christmas candy—plain or dipped in dark chocolate. It is an old fashioned kind of homemade treat. My mother has memories of her grandparents making it at Christmas time. To this day it is one of her favorite holiday candies—I'm sure she would be disappointed if I didn't make at least one batch.

Since candied orange peel is easy to make there is no reason to settle for the inferior stuff that is sometimes sold commercially. Choose a day to make it when you have other activities to attend to at home. Once started, it doesn't take a lot of attention, just your presence in the house during its quiet and lengthy simmer on the back of the stove.

In addition to orange peel, lemon and grapefruit peel also candy beautifully. Whatever fruit you choose, seek out specimens that have thick skins so that the white layer of pith—which softens to a chewy, gumdrop-like texture during the cooking process—will be nice and fat. After multiple blanchings in boiling water, most of the natural bitterness of the pith is gone and the peels will have begun to soften. The transformation from a fibrous, bitter rind—suitable only for the compost heap—is made complete by a long slow simmer in a simple sugar syrup.

When the pith is translucent, the candying process is finished. I like to drain the now-thick syrup off and spread the peels out on wire racks to dry. When they have dried to the point that they are just slightly tacky to the touch—usually overnight, I like to toss them in granulated sugar. They can then be stored airtight at room temperature and eaten as a snack or diced and added to baked goods. If you are only going to be using them to bake with, they can be stored in their syrup in the refrigerator until you are ready to use them.

Candied Orange Peel

2 navel oranges (thick skinned oranges are best)
2 1/4 c. sugar, divided
1 3/4 c. water
1 T. freshly squeezed lemon juice

Top and tail the oranges and quarter them lengthwise. Pull the rind away from the flesh—scrape away any membrane that remains attached to the rind. Set the orange flesh aside for another use or a snack. Lay the pieces of rind on a cutting board and slice them lengthwise into 1/4-inch strips.

Place the strips of peel in a medium saucepan and add water to cover by an inch. Bring to a rapid boil. Simmer for 5 minutes. Strain the peels and discard the water. Cover the peels with more cold water and bring to a boil again, simmering and straining as before. Repeat one more time with fresh water.

After three blanchings

In a clean medium saucepan combine 2 cups of the sugar with 1 3/4 c. of water and the lemon juice. Heat until the sugar is dissolved. Add the peels and bring to a simmer. Reduce the heat to medium-low. The goal is to cook the peels at a bare simmer—you should only see a bubble or two on the surface of the syrup as the peels cook. Cook until the peels are translucent—about 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

After 1 1/2 hours

Strain the citrus peels and place them, so they are not touching, on a wire rack. Let sit overnight to air-dry. Toss the candied peels in the remaining 1/4 cup sugar, coating them thoroughly.

Strained finished peel

Spread out to dry

Tossed with sugar

Makes about 40 pieces of candies orange peel. Store the peels at room temperature in an airtight container.

(Recipe adapted from Four-Star Desserts, by Emily Luchetti)

A Minor Kitchen Disaster, a Wayward Cat and Spicy Roasted Sweet Potatoes

I had intended to post my recipe for pumpkin-cranberry scones today, but when I mixed up the dough, I forgot to add the baking powder. Since I didn't discover my mistake until the scones were in the oven, they were a complete loss. A picture of them as they whirled down the disposal might have been an entertaining addition to my post, but I didn't think of it at the time.

Last night, instead of mixing up the dry ingredients for my scones before I went to bed (as I frequently do—it saves quite a bit of time in the morning), I should have probably just gone on to bed. I was exhausted. Like most chefs, I am almost always tired from Thanksgiving through New Years. But in addition to the normal work-related fatigue, I was tired because I had been up for several hours the previous night worrying about my cat.

Born feral, his independent habits have caused me many sleepless nights. But recently his desire to be out gallivanting while the temperature is below freezing has diminished. Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise to me that he would suddenly feel the need to spend the night out after several days in, but it was. I went to bed late, slept fitfully and woke up at hourly intervals to check to see if he had turned up. He finally did. He came inside a bit hesitantly and then woke me up an hour and a half later to be let back out.... His sleep the next day was deep. Unfortunately, my schedule wouldn't allow me to share in the luxury of taking an all day nap.

Since everyone is tired and rushed this time of year, I thought I would use this space today to share a simple roasted sweet potato side dish that can be incorporated easily into a busy schedule. It is tasty, nutritious, and so easy that it doesn't require a recipe (or a lengthy blog post). The reason it is worth writing about at all is that sweet potatoes can be a bit tricky to roast because of their high sugar and moisture content.

In the past, I have roasted sweet potatoes at relatively high temperatures (425° or so) in an effort to make them crisp.  It never seemed to work very well.  When roasted at the higher temperatures appropriate for roasting most root vegetables, sweet potatoes tend to darken quickly and the exterior tends to get tough rather than crispy.   It is only recently that I have discovered that they truly roast best around 375° (or even 350°).   At lower temperatures, they will take longer (45 minutes to an hour), but when they are cooked through, the exterior will be a light golden brown. They may or may not be crispy, but either way their interior will be soft and sweet.

Olive oil, salt and pepper alone would be sufficient seasoning, but I think the sweet potatoes are especially good with the addition of some spices. My favorite combination is paprika and cumin. Sweet potatoes are also good with ground dried chili, fennel and coriander. It isn't even necessary to measure the spices—when you toss them with the olive oil and salt & pepper, simply add spices of your choice in combinations and quantities that suit your whim.

To obtain uniformly sized pieces from a vegetable that tends to be varied in size, I cut the sweet potato first lengthwise into halves or quarters and then cut these pieces crosswise into 1/2- to 3/4-inch slices. This creates nice stout chunks that can be eaten with a fork or picked up with your fingers. We have been enjoying them as a sort of "oven fry" to accompany hamburgers. I'm sure they would be equally good with chicken or pork. However you choose to enjoy them, I hope that you will be pleasantly surprised at how something so very easy can be so good.



Ingredients and baking dish ready to go







Seasoned with olive oil, salt, pepper, paprika & cumin





Spread in a snug single layer in a baking dish





The finished product--tender, golden & sweet



Baked Penne with Cauliflower & Two Cheeses

Because my blog posts in November were almost entirely devoted to Thanksgiving recipes, I find that I haven't posted a pasta yet this month. I guess that today has to be the day. Last night I had a head of cauliflower in my refrigerator that I needed to use and I wasn't feeling terribly creative about what to do with it. It seemed like a good day to prepare an old favorite. I have been busy testing recipes for an upcoming class and it is so relaxing to be able to prepare something that is a familiar favorite.

I have been making this particular pasta—really nothing more than a variation on macaroni and cheese—for at least 10 years. I believe the original is from one of Molly Katzen's books—possibly The Enchanted Broccoli Forest—but I can't be sure which one, because I picked the recipe up from a fellow chef. For some reason my cookbook library doesn't include any of Ms. Katzen's books. If this recipe is a typical example of the kinds of recipes included in her books, I'm probably missing out.

I'm not even sure that the recipe bears much resemblance to the original, because I have adjusted it regularly over the years until it is what it is today. I know the original included a healthy dose of fresh basil, but since I don't tend to use fresh basil in the winter (and I don't usually eat macaroni and cheese...or cauliflower, for that matter...in the summer) the basil has never appeared in my version of this dish.

I have always told people in my classes that this pasta dish could be a good way to get kids to eat cauliflower, but sadly my own experience makes me believe that this might not be true. Several years ago I prepared a large batch of this pasta for a family gathering. It has been long enough ago that most of my many nephews and my niece were under ten...they are mostly older than that now. When we sat down to eat, one of the smaller boys eyed his plate suspiciously and asked loudly "What is this stuff?" His father informed him that it was macaroni and cheese and that he would like it. He continued to examine it and soon let loose with "This isn't macaroni and cheese...this is fake macaroni and cheese!" I have thought of this pasta as "fake macaroni and cheese" ever since. At the same meal, one of the other boys—a slightly older one—was plowing through his serving, obviously enjoying it, when he turned to me quietly and said with the air of one making a discovery, "you put cauliflower in this, didn't you?" I acknowledged that I had. He then stifled a smile, nodded, and kept eating. So maybe this dish is a good way to get slightly older children to eat cauliflower.

The dish that my small nephew would no doubt have recognized as "real" macaroni and cheese is what many of us grew up eating...something out of a box that came with a powdered "cheese" packet or actual homemade macaroni and cheese made with a processed cheese like Velveeta. The lack of brilliant orange coloring must have been the tip-off for my nephew (that, and the visible pieces of tomato floating in the sauce).

I imagine the changeover from real cheese to processed cheese as the cheese of choice for American-style macaroni and cheese took place gradually and for the usual reasons (convenience, the latest thing, "progress", etc.). The unfortunate thing about this is that eventually people forgot how to cook with real cheese. Real cheese and processed cheese behave very differently when you cook with them. Processed cheese can practically be boiled and it won't curdle.  Many real cheeses will curdle when subjected to too high a temperature for too long a time period. If you add a real cheese to a white sauce that is still on the heat and stir and stir until melted, and then toss it with noodles and bake it until it is "bubbling all over", you will likely end up with a dish of noodles floating in something that looks like greasy cottage cheese. Of course, this method produces a beautiful creamy dish of macaroni and cheese when Velveeta or some other processed cheese food is used. A delicate natural cheese just won't stand up to this kind of treatment.

The best way to add a natural cheese to macaroni and cheese—or any baked casserole—is to simply fold it in last, after all the other ingredients and right before the casserole is transferred to the oven.

The cheese will begin to melt as you fold it in and it will continue to melt into the white sauce as the casserole bakes. Also, remember that everything that has gone into the macaroni and cheese is already cooked—it doesn't need to be cooked again, just heated through. So when the casserole is beginning to bubble around the edges, it's done. If it has not turned the beautiful golden brown that you like, simply run it under the broiler for a minute or two. Your final dish will be hot and creamy...just like real macaroni and cheese.

This vegetable-laden macaroni and cheese makes a great dish to serve to a hungry crowd. But even if I'm only cooking for my small household, I always make the whole recipe.  It uses one head of cauliflower and one can of tomatoes, so it makes sense to make the whole thing.  Since it freezes very well, I just divide it into smaller baking dishes, bake one for dinner right away and freeze the remaining one(s) to be baked after thawing. Along with a green salad, it makes a warming and comforting dish for a chilly winter night.

Baked Penne with Cauliflower & Two Cheeses

2 T. olive oil
1 large onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
1 14- to 15-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 head of cauliflower, cut into small (1/2- to 3/4-inch) florets
Juice of half a lemon, or to taste

1 qt. whole milk
4 T. butter
6 T. all-purpose flour

1 lb. penne pasta
6 oz. Gruyère cheese, coarsely grated
6 oz. sharp white Cheddar, coarsely grated
1/2 c. grated Parmesan or breadcrumbs


Preheat the oven to 350°. Butter a 13x9-inch baking dish and set aside.

In a large sauté pan, sweat the onion and garlic, along with a pinch of salt, in the olive oil over medium heat until the onions are very tender and translucent—it's OK if they are beginning to caramelize.

Add the tomatoes and bring to a simmer. Add the cauliflower, stirring to coat the cauliflower in the tomatoes and onions. Season with salt, cover, reduce the heat and simmer until the cauliflower is just tender—about 15 to 25 minutes. Taste, correct the seasoning and add the lemon juice to taste. 

While the vegetables cook, prepare the béchamel. In a large saucepan, bring the milk to a simmer; keep hot. In another large saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. When the foam subsides, whisk in the flour. Cook stirring constantly for a few minutes—the roux will be bubbly and straw yellow.

Remove from the heat and pour in half of the hot milk, whisking constantly until smooth—it will thicken immediately. Add the remaining milk. Return to the heat and stir constantly until the sauce returns to a simmer. Taste and season as desired with salt and pepper.

Cook the pasta in 6 quarts of rapidly boiling water seasoned with 2 to3 T. salt. Stir occasionally and cook until the pasta is al dente. Drain.

In a large bowl, combine the vegetables, pasta and the béchamel.

Stir to combine. Add the cheddar & Gruyère and fold in just until evenly distributed—the cheese does not have to melt. Transfer to the prepared baking dish and scatter the Parmesan or breadcrumbs over the top and place on a baking sheet.

Bake until hot through and bubbling just around the edges—about 20 to 25 minutes. If necessary, place under the broiler (about 4 inches from the heat) until the top is golden. Serve immediately. Serves 6 to 8.

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