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Banana Coconut Cream Puffs

3/24/2017

Banana Coconut Cream Puffs

Today is the birthday of Mady, one of my Stage Rats, and she has a special appreciation for my cream puffs, so I thought I'd make some for the kids are her lunch table, most of whom are Stage Rats as well. Saint Bede alum Collin and I made the pâte à chou and baked the puffs last night, and Mady even helped whip the cream that I folded into banana pudding to make the filling. But she had to leave before everything was finished, so she missed out on the initial taste test. But she'll get a couple dozen for the table today.

The pudding I used was Jello's Simply Good Banana Pudding (I didn't get any compensation from them---I genuinely love this product!) because it's made with real bananas and not artificial flavorings. The instructions call for 2 cups of milk, but I reduced that by a quarter cup to get a more intense banana flavor. Then I whipped a little over a cup of heavy cream (whatever was left in the carton, essentially) and folded that into the firmed-up pudding. Filling: done!

For the drizzle on top, I whisked together a heaping tablespoon of banana pudding mix, a quarter teaspoon of coconut extract, a third of a cup of powdered sugar, and three tablespoons of half and half. After each puffs got filled and drizzled, I sprinkled on toasted sweetened coconut. Collin said of the flavors, "It's like a banana exploded in your mouth."

I know that some Breadheads will want more details on the recipe, but I pretty much made it up as I went along (remember my last "improv" blog post?) and for the pâte à choux I used the recipe in The Joy of Cooking. However, there is a very nice video tutorial for making choux puff pastry HERE. Equal parts of any flavor of pudding folded together with whipped cream make a delicious filling, and the most traditional garnish is a light dusting of powdered sugar.

As I have said many times, most people don't need any more recipes, they need reasons to bake. For example, one of my religion students saw me walking to Mady table with the banana coconut cream puffs and asked if she could earn a batch for the class with a perfect score on the day's quiz. I agreed, but if she didn't get a perfect score each classmate had to bring me a five pound bag of flour. All interested parties agreed to the wager.

I've never been so happy to lose a bet.

What would you be willing to wager for a banana coconut cream puff?

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Biscuit Improv: Buttermilk Garden Drop Biscuits

3/20/2017

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Many people don't realize that improvisational comedy like you see on "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" is not merely a cadre of witty people making things up as they go along. Improv actually has a number of rules or guidelines to keep the scene from stalling, going in circles. or just being dull. Most people have to study and practice a long time to learn how to apply the rules and, eventually, when to break them. Similarly, an experienced chef or baker often improvises to develop a new dish, based on what's in season at the market or what's in the pantry right now, and shows like Chopped give us ample evidence of how culinary know-how and creativity (and sometimes, pure dumb luck!) can combine to yield extraordinary results.

Whenever I present a bread demo and mention that I made a certain recipe up on the fly, someone always asked, "But how did you know that was going to work?" The answer, of course, is that you might not know for certain, but with enough knowledge and experience, you can increase your chances of success. I recently created a new biscuit recipe using a combination of experience, improv, and serendipity.

I wanted to bake something for supper for the feast of St. Joseph, and normally that would mean the traditional cream puffs, but we had received a donation of several trays of bite-sized desserts (left over from a shower) so we didn't need any more sweets in the house. I didn't have enough time for yeast rolls so I decided on drop biscuits, because I had buttermilk in the fridge from Irish Soda Bread. I had noticed that the chives had already sprouted in the herb garden, so Cheddar Chive Biscuits seemed in order. Alas, there was no decent cheddar in the fridge, but I did spy some some limp celery and a handful of baby carrots. From all that, Buttermilk Garden Drop Biscuits were born.

I took a basic drop biscuit recipe from The Joy of Cooking (surprisingly, there was nothing comparable in Bernard Clayton's Book of Breads) but it used 2% milk, so I knew I would need to add some baking soda to get more loft. Baking powder and baking soda are not interchangeable, as the former is activated by heat and the latter by acidic ingredients. But baking soda is much ore powerful, so only a quarter teaspoon was needed.

I also increased the amount of flour by a quarter cup, for two reasons. First, the original recipe called for shortening, and all I had was butter, which has a higher moisture content. Secondly, minced celery and shredded carrots add a lot of water to the mixture as well. I didn't want my drop biscuits to spread out into savory pancakes, so I added that little extra bit of all-purpose flour.

I also knew that the veggie flavor in the biscuits would be more prominent with a little more salt, but why add just salt when you can also add flavor with a salty aged cheese? There was some excellent Romano left over from a recent pizza party which made its way into the mix. Drop biscuits mix up in about four minutes and bake in less than fifteen, so it wasn't long before these beauties were out on the counter. They were the perfect accompaniment to grilled chicken breasts---the-herb-and-veggie flavor is exquisite but fairly subtle and would overpowered by a more heavily seasoned dish. I had one with my Lenten soup today and it was a treat.

Buttermilk Garden Drop Biscuits---they smell heavenly as they emerge from the oven!

So now that you've got a basic recipe, try your own improvisation, based on what you find in the produce section, the fridge, or the backyard garden. I'd love to hear about your baking adventures.

God bless and happy baking!

Buttermilk Garden Drop Biscuits

2 1/4 cups all purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
5 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup minced fresh chives
1/4 cup finely shredded carrot
1/4 cup minced celery
1/4 cup shredded romano cheese
1 cup of buttermilk

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Stir dry ingredients together in a medium size bowl. Cut in butter using a pastry blender or two knives. Mix in chives, carrots, celery and cheese. Add milk and stir until just blended. Drop by tablespoons onto a lightly greased baking sheet. Bake at 425 degrees for 12 to 15 minutes, or until lightly browned. Cool slightly and serve warm. Makes 12 large biscuits.

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Irish Soda Bread

3/14/2017

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Here's my simple recipe for Irish Soda Bread, which is a staple for St. Patrick's Day in many places, including the houses of my mother and grandmother (and many others in the ancestral line before them!). When the Irish arrived by boat in New York, most of them were impoverished, so they has to buy the cheapest meats and vegetables, which at that time were corned beef and cabbage--hence the American-Irish traditional supper for The Saint's Day, which is hardly ever served in Ireland itself. I didn't recall eating it at home either. But Mama's soda bread was always on the table for this day.

The fecipe could hardly be simpler, and the main concern is not to overmix the dough or it will result in a loaf for tough than tender. The flattened shape keeps this bread from being doughy in the center, and the cross cut in the top keeps it from cracking during baking. I've heard people say that you cut the cross to let the devil out, but how would the devil get into your buttermilk anyway?

Irish Soda Bread
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/4 to 1 1/2 cups buttermilk

Position oven rack in the center of the oven and preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Sift flour, baking soda and salt into a medium mixing bowl and stir to combine completely. Make a well in the center and pour in most of the buttermilk. Stir, adding the remaining buttermilk as needed to make a loose dough. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead lightly, just enough to make the dough hold together. Place dough on a lightly greased baking sheet and form into a flattened round, about 1 to 1 1/2 inches thick. Cut a cross in the center of the tops using a sharp knife dipped in flour. Bake 45 to 50 minutes, or until loaf sounds hollow when tapped on both top and bottom. Remove from pan and transfer to a wire rack. Cover with a clean, dry towel and let cool slowly.

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Estate Sale

3/11/2017

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As regular readers of my blog know, I love to shop in thrift stores, second-hand shops and the like. This week at such a store, I found an embroidered hand towel to use on my next bread quilt, a square baking stone for a mere $5, and a copper-bottomed Revereware sauce pan for making caramel. And one other surprise I had not encountered before . . .

One of my cookbooks. For a dollar.

This is, I must confess, a day I have be anticipating with some unease, even though I know that my discomfort is irrational and at least partly based on a lack of monastic humility. After all, do I really have any reason to take this personally? Who knows why this particular book ended up at the thrift store? It might have been part of someone’s downsizing before moving to a retirement community, or perhaps the owner lost mobility because of age or injury and could no longer enjoy baking.

Or maybe, this book was part of an estate sale, not unlike the sale that is going on at my childhood home, even as I type this. Perhaps the previous owner had no children who were interested in baking or (dare I hope?) they already had their own copies. Perhaps they were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cookbooks in their mother’s (or father’s!) collection.

I can sympathize. I have eight xerox boxes filled with bread cookbooks from my mother’s bookcase---there were as many cookie recipe books to sort through as well, most of which ended up in the sale. I took all the bread books home so I could sort through them to determine which ones I might want, which might be used as bread demo door prizes, and which could be donated or even discarded.

I found it moving that many of the books I found were already in my collection because my mom gave them to me for Christmas, my birthday, or “just because.” A few of my mom’s copies were claimed by my siblings, sometimes after I convinced them of the worthiness of a particular volume. Little by little I’m working my way through the remainder. If you attend any of my upcoming bread demos, most likely you’ll get a free raffle ticket for a chance to win one of these treasures.

On one shelf on Mom’s bookcase was filled with all of my cookbooks---she usually got the first copy out of the box from the printer. Naturally, I have all the same books on my shelf in the pantry of our abbey kitchen. I’ve decided to replace all of my copies with hers, and give my own away. They are all inscribed to her, of course, with a personal message. I’m happy to have them as mementos of her and how I loved her--still love her.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the estate sale. It’s heart-wrenching in many ways, and in other ways a great relief. An abundance of gratitude is due to my siblings, who have worked far harder than I have in getting the house cleared out and ready for the onslaught of bargain hunters. We are of course hoping for a good monetary result from the sale, so that we can have the funds for some necessary repair and upkeep for the house before it goes on the market, which is a source of some anxiety.

But I’ve also been experiencing some anxiety for a different reason: the feeling that the people who run the sale and the ones who come to shop will not value Mom’s things for what they are truly worth, or as much as we do. What if a rare cookie cutter goes out for a fraction of its value? Will people realize what that batik fabric costs per yard? Will they know if a dresser is pine or cherry? Like my discomfort at finding my first published cookbook priced for a dollar, my fear is that somehow my mother's memory will not be honored by people picking over her things and haggling over their worth.

In one way, these are all legitimate concerns. We want to receive appropriate value for the estate whenever possible. But I've come to realize that the sale, ultimately, has nothing to do with my mother's legacy. My siblings and I had taken away everything we genuinely wanted, or at least as much as we had room to store. My sister Angela took Grandma Stellie's rocker; my older brother Marty got the grandfather clock and a rug Mama braided out of rummage sale wool coats; I have her bread books, plus a trunk made by my Irish ancestors who took it over the Great Plains on a covered wagon; Eileen wanted the dining room table and the Cookie Lamp (the subject of a future blog, I promise!): Vinny saved another braided rug, plus a doll Mom made for him from a towel that came in a box of laundry detergent. We all got cookie cutters from her collection and favorite Christmas ornaments and baskets she had made, and all the letters and cards she saved. We have no reasons to regret what we left behind.

So how am I to understand the value of what remained? After much reflection I realized the real value of those Longaberger baskets and Belleek China and Waterford crystal, all the vintage cookie cutters, the boxes and boxes of quilting fabric. It is this: they made my mother happy. She loved having the ideal basket to carry homemade cookies to a potluck, was delighted when someone needed a particular color or print of fabric and she could find it in the sewing room closet, took pride in getting out the good china teapot to entertain her quilting friends. All that "stuff" had already shown its genuine value long before the sale, because it gave her pleasure and afforded her opportunities to make other people happy as well. My mother did not value them as "things" so much in themselves as in their usefulness in showing how much she loved her family and friends.

And those memories of how much she loved us, and of the multitude of ways in which she showed it, will endure long after the last box of odds and ends goes home in somebody's trunk.

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Banana Coconut Cream Puffs

Biscuit Improv: Buttermilk Garden Drop Biscuits

Irish Soda Bread

Estate Sale

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