Garlic Soup and Walnut Bread

I used to love garlic as much as the next person, that is to say, not particularly. But it was this dish I can still remember, in an old Italian restaurant on Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn that changed my mind. I was hanging out with my friend Michael in his old neighborhood. We stopped at this restaurant where he had occasionally eaten after school. It was weird because, for me, growing up, I usually did the cooking after school for anything I wanted to eat. But he had grown up in Brooklyn, where he didn't have to go far in his explorations. In comparison, I had to walk 10 minutes to the nearest mini mart in order to get milk or chocolate.

The dish I ordered in that restaurant was called Chicken Garlissimo (back in my omnivore days). I would love to say that I had become a convert to garlic by that point, and that's why I ordered it, but, in truth, it was the name, the "issimo" that really made me order the dish. That, and the challenge of 27 roasted cloves of garlic in the description. It might have been gluttony, that drew me in, but what I took out of the experience, as I bit into every sweet, delicious, caramelized clove was that garlic is fantastic.

It wasn't until about a year later that I tried roasting my own garlic. I kept coming across it in restaurants, and every time I tasted it, I loved it. The weird thing is that, growing up, we very rarely had garlic. My mom actually had one of those long garlic braids, but we never used it. Actually, she probably still has it! Although I was conceptually aware of garlic, I never really considered that we might have used the garlic in the braid to use in food.




A few weeks ago, Kelly of Something Shiny mentioned something about garlic on Twitter. I no longer remember what it was, but I countered saying that I also love garlic, and Rebecca of Grongar blog chimed in that she also loved garlic. In order to see how far their love of garlic went, I mentioned this Garlic Soup on the wonderful 101 Cookbooks blog. I had been hankering to make for over a year, but only brought it up, half kidding, wondering if they would balk at a soup made out of garlic. Somehow, in the idle chatter, we decided to make it and our choice of walnut bread (as mentioned in the recipe) in the weeks that followed and post on the same day.

Now, this is one of the things I love about Twitter. I had met Kelly and Rebecca over Twitter during the Bread Baker's Apprentice Challenge, and they remain two of my favorite people in my Twitter stream. And this is one of the things I most dislike about Twitter. These two friends live an ocean away, thousands of miles even from each other! Which means, that, as much as I would love to meet and bake with them, it remains a far-fetched dream. But even so, it is an honor to have made their acquaintance and to be able to look at their breads (and cheeses!), even if it is only online.



It's a very simple soup, starting with a cool dozen cloves of garlic, some fresh thyme, a bay leaf, two sage leaves, and a teaspoon of sea salt. I didn't have fresh thyme, so I just added a few sprigs of thyme I dried myself. We usually get a big bunch of fresh at the market, and since we don't go through it fast enough, I just hang it up, let it dry, and use it as we go along.

You let the mixture simmer for 40 minutes, sieve the broth out, remove the sage and bay leaves, and then add the garlic back to the broth.






The  strangest thing of the soup is that it has a whole egg, two egg yolks, an obscene amount of oil (a quarter cup), 42 grams of freshly shaved Parmesan, and a dash of freshly ground pepper. You mix this up (pouring the oil in a drizzle) and then add some of the broth back to the emulsion, constantly whisking. Then, you add the whole mixture into the broth to create the soup.

 

Unfortunately for me, despite having successfully made zabaglione, I either didn't whisk fast enough, or I was too distracted with taking photos, or I let it go for too long. In any case, the soup separated a bit, but it was still freakin' delicious, full of this vegetal garlic flavor without being too harsh.

 

Oh, but you didn't think I was going to let you read all that and not mention the bread? My choice was a walnut bread from Dan Lepard's The Handmade Loaf that I had also been eying for about a year. It's made with sourdough and fresh yeast. Included in the bread is a delicious walnut paste that yields slightly more than you need in order to have some left over to spread on the bread.



The dough itself was a bit dry, but it came thogether rather quickly, which was lucky for me since I had to rush to work. I let it rise in the refrigerator, and left it to warm up on the stove while baking another loaf in the oven before letting it have its turn in the heat. Even though the recipe is supposed to yield two loaves, I was happy with it as a large single loaf.



Even though the crumb was a little tight, it has streaks of purple from the walnuts, and made an excellent foil for the garlic soup.



The last thing I wanted to mention is that we're moving. Which sucks when you realize you've collected a lifetime of things in five short years, including two of everything in the kitchen. But it promises a new start, and with it, much hope for happier and brighter tomorrows. And the promise of many delicious meals with old and new friends.

Kelly and Rebecca, I hope to meet you both one day in person.

Here's the link to Kelly's post on Something Shiny.
And the link to Rebecca's post on Grongar Blog will be forthcoming.

Cake Successes, Frosting Failures

I often make bread in my sleep.

Okay, not really, but I sometimes start the dough just before I go to bed, knead it, and do a few stretch and folds before leaving it in a cool place in the house. Then I sleep, wake at six in the morning, shape the bread, plop it in the proofing basket, turn on the oven and sleep for an additional two hours before I bake. So, in a sense, for me, baking bread is integrated into my sleep.

Cakes, on the other hand, are not.

I've heard it been buzzed around that you are either a cook or a baker. And further, a cake baker, or a bread baker. I actually began with baking cakes. My dad had this recipe for a coffee cake that was very simple, with a bit of streusel at the top. The first time I made it, it was a complete flop. I think I might have mixed up the baking soda and baking powder. He didn't like it, but I ate it anyways, every odd bite.

At University, I would often buy cake mix- I know, I know. You're tempted to stop reading and shun me forever, but hear me out! It was THE FEAR. Forever I had been hearing that cake is difficult to make, that the only way I could make one was to add whatever it was in the box to water, oil, and eggs. I had decided that it was not for me. I stuck with bread and pies, both super-easy to make.


Eventually I progressed to quick breads, and brownies, and from there, it was a small Katzensprung to your basic cakes.

The first cake I made that I absolutely adored was Clotilde's eponymous Chocolate and Zucchini cake. In 2010, I made it a whopping five times in the first half of the year before moving on to the wonderful Buttermilk Raspberry Cake found on Gourmet's website. 

Then the delicious Almond Cake (also on Chocolate and Zucchini) three times. Just look at that crust. It needs nothing more. Not even frosting! Despite it appearing like I am strictly a bread baker, I have made my share of cakes.

When I got David Lebovitz's Ready For Dessert book last summer, I swore to myself that I would bake more cakes. In fact, there were so many amazing cakes in there that every time we needed any dessert for any occasion, I would look in there first. In fact, since I got it, it's one of the few cookbooks that has a permanent place in the kitchen.

The book is so foolproof that I made my very first cake involving folded egg whites. For someone who is so shockingly familiar with yeast, I am unshockingly unfamiliar with folding egg whites. And for good reason, no? I bake bread. You mix everything together, knead it a couple of times and then sit back and don't worry.

Cake baking is a little more complex- Sift dry ingredients together and then mix wet ingredients together then add both to each other slowly, taking care not to overmix. It's a little more complicated than baking bread, but you still let the baking powder or baking soda do its thing. With this sponge cake, however, it only has a shocking half-teaspoon of baking powder (for insurance, probably). I mean, look at this crumb! It almost looks like bread! I was shocked and pleased when I pulled the sponge cake out of the oven.

But that's as far as my cake baking success goes. I can now make a successful sponge cake, with custard, but I keep failing on the frosting.

Take another look at that Chocolate and Zucchini cake. Yes, that's ganache, but it is all melty. That's what happens when you decide to make it last minute on a hot summer night. At least the cake underneath the ganache went over super well. It almost made people forget about the runny ganache. Not that the cake needs any, because it is delicious with just a light dusting of powdered sugar.

Take another look at that beautifully crusty Almond Cake. Notice anything missing? Yes, frosting. I did say it didn't need any, but, still, it typifies the type of cake I make. Cake like bread. All almondy- dense and delicious.

And the Coconut Layer Cake above? It would have been perfect had it not been for the frosting. It was just whipped cream and a bit of sugar, topped with toasted coconut, and was the best Coconut Cake I've ever had- not to pat myself on the back or anything.

So, yes, I can make delicious cakes from recipes from my two favorite Parisian Bloggers. But it's frosting that I have problems with. And it's not like I can't make frosting. I just don't have enough experience, what with relying on Pillsbury canned frosting, long after I had moved past cake mixes.

Nevertheless, I keep persevering. With book in hand, and inspired by Kelly's post on Something Shiny (check out her picture-perfect cake), I set out to make the holy grail of cakes- well, at least in Ready For Dessert- the cake on the cover.

If you buy this book for one recipe alone- well, actually, that's not a phrase you'll be able to use for this book, because it's full of such recipes. One of them is actually a recipe within a recipe- Salted Caramel Peanuts, as part of the mouthful- Banana Cake with Mocha Frosting and Salted Caramel Peanuts. The name of the cake could have been Yum Cake, and it would not have mattered, because the Salted Caramel Peanuts are something of which you'll have to make sure to make a double recipe. Because they are awesome.

And because no matter how the cake looks like, or how much the peanuts get in the way and roll everywhere when you're trying to cut the cake, no one will be able keep their hands off them.

Oh, yeah, and the cake isn't shoddy either, banana layers mixed with the mocha frosting, creating this trifecta of deliciousness. I know, I know, I can't describe flavors, especially when they make me lose all objectivity.

What no one will notice, though, is the frosting- Years of being used to radioactive-colored frosting from a can will make anyone eat anything. Or, rather, they will make people not care, as long as what they are eating is delicious. Sure, appearance and a glossy frosting like the one on the cover of the book might be all you think about when you are ashamed to present the cake, but really, no one cares. Because the cake tastes good.

In case you're wondering where it all went wrong- I let the coffee go cold, and made the frosting a bit later than the rest of the cake. The cold coffee made the melted chocolate seize up, and it took lots of stirring and whipping and refrigeration (gasp!) to even make the mocha frosting lose its graininess. I almost died of shame, but luckily, I knew what to do to try to barely rescue the cake.

 My worst frosting disaster, though, has to be this amazing carrot cake from a guest post by Barbra Austin on David Lebovitz's blog.

Take a close look. Well, not too close, because my frosting-spreading skills have a way to go before they catch up to my photographic skills.

You don't see it? Well, let me change lenses for a closer look. You see those lumps? Don't say no, because they are clearly there. The recipe calls for cream cheese and butter to be creamed together, but somehow the whole thing started melting on me as I was putting it through the mixer. Again, cooling down the frosting did the trick, but the butter sort of stayed in little lumps in the frosting. Little yellow bits taunting me until the end.

Of course, the end of the cake came with people telling me how delicious the cake was. Someone even told Amy, "Tell Daniel this is what carrot cake is supposed to taste like." A high compliment indeed.

Oh, and in Germany, no one makes carrot cake. Almost all of them have been weak attempts to make a cake that has cross-over appeal for Germans, though, in truth, carrot cake is an acquired taste, even for most people in the States.

Still, it doesn't matter. If I can make a loaf as awesome as the one above that displays my mad scoring skills. I think I can try again and again to master frosting, no matter how many kilos of butter and powdered sugar I have to ingest.

After all. I'll still have my bread. And that, I can make while I sleep.