NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?
I won’t lie: this month of blogging about gratitude has been a bit of a slog.
I have learned that combining gratitude, a food blog, and reflection on life is just one thing too many, so I am sticking to food as it relates to life.
It’s not that I am not grateful, and it was never that I couldn’t find something to write about.
Sometimes combining three elements is a little hectic. Next year, maybe it will just be 30 days of cookie recipes, or 30 days of sauces. Gratitude can stay in my journal or shared with those it involves.
Today, the final day of this month-long occasional forced march, I am grateful that I am done.
To celebrate, I made the first of what will certainly be multiple cranberry cakes.
You want this in your face. #Trust
Full disclosure: this could have done with a few more minutes in the oven, but rather than show you a slice that clearly indicates this, I thought I would snap what really matters – the craggy soft interior of a moist, delicious cake that was eaten with fingers before it was barely turned out on the board to take the picture.
This cake is sweet and studded with fresh cranberries that are completely unadulterated. No chopping, no sweetening, no cooking. Nothing.
So what happens is you take a bite and get this luscious, buttery, sweet vanilla cake, followed by a bright/tart burst of fresh cranberry.
So. Freaking. Good.
It’s a bit underdone because this is the first time I made it in a Bundt pan, and I was slightly pressed for time. It takes just 15 minutes to throw together but a solid 75 minutes in the oven.
The other unusual part of this recipe is that it has no leavening agent; eggs and sugar are beaten together until they double in volume and become a ribbony pale yellow.
I would love to claim this recipe as my very own, but it isn’t. I added a touch of orange zest, used my gluten-free flour mix, and didn’t measure the cranberries (just dumped a full bag of frozen cranberries in), but other than that, this recipe is perfection, as is.
Oh, and side note: you could add a ton of sugar and calories by making the pecan topping in the recipe, but that is completely unnecessary.
Today, this last day of November, what are you grateful for?
NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?
These are a few of my favorite things.
There is pretty much nothing better than hot, fresh-baked goods on a cold Sunday morning, and today is no exception.
This day I am grateful for easy, always successful, super adaptable scones. This morning I made cherry ginger almond and ate two as soon as I pulled the pan from the oven.
This can be done easily in a food processor, but I like to make these by hand.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees (375 on convection).
In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients and whisk to combine.
In a smaller bowl. combine egg and yogurt and whisk to thoroughly incorporate egg with yogurt. Set aside.
Grate the full stick of butter into the dry ingredients and use your fingertips to crumble flour into butter. It should resemble cornmeal.
Stir in add-ins, then add wet ingredients to dry and stir until clumps begin to form. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead until all of the crumbly bits are incorporated.
Shape into an 8″ disk then use a bench scraper or sharp knife to cut into 8 scones. Sprinkle each scone with turbinado sugar, then place on a baking pan lined with parchment paper.
Bake for 15 to 18 minutes until scones are golden brown. For a traditional scone, let them cool completely before eating, but I bet you don’t make it that long.
You can add pretty much anything you want to these: chocolate chips and walnuts, other dried fruits, coconut, different spices. I think cooked and crumbled bacon would pretty much through these over the top, specifically with the same dried cherries and maybe a little maple glaze.
Looks can be deceiving. This was a big fat failure.
Here’s the thing. I don’t want to be an influencer.
It’s the new trend now to sell yourself as an influencer when you are applying for writing jobs; employers want to know how many Twitter, Pinterest, Snapchat, Instagram, and Facebook followers you have before they even want to talk to you (hence the rise in the market for fake followers on all social media).
As an influencer, I make a pretty good dogwalker. Although I often claim to my friend Kerry’s husband Mark that I know 10% of everything, we all know that it’s actually closer to 7.5%.
Just kidding.
(Or am I?)
Anyway.
When I develop a recipe, and share it with you, I’m not trying to influence you.
At least not yet. I have a few things in development that I may run by you eventually, but I won’t put them on my site unless they’re amazing and I think you’ll love them and if you don’t want to buy, make, or use them it’s no skin off my nose because you know what you want better than I do and I am a wretched salesperson in that regard but have no desire to get any better.
No, when I put something on this website, I do it because I made it and it’s delicious and I think you should know all about it and make it for your family so that they can tell you how delicious it is, too.
I put stuff on this site so that you can see that cooking gluten-free doesn’t mean tasteless and horrible. It doesn’t even mean health food. All of these recipes happen to work well with regular flour, too. That’s on purpose so everyone can eat good stuff.
I cook because food is one of the most wonderful things that you can share with another human being.
I cook and I write about it to share a little bit of my life. It’s an instinct and an impulse that I can’t quite explain, but it’s part of the deep down core of the person that I am. I have cooked as a creative outlet since I left home at 17, and I have been writing since I could hold a crayon. This blog brings those two things together in a way that is deeply satisfying to me.
I post. Sometimes you click on the link in your email or on your Facebook wall, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes the fact that you don’t hurts my feelings a little bit, but I continue to post anyway. And here’s why.
I’m not trying to get you to change your life or steer you in a different direction. All I want to do is share what I know. I want to share the things that work for me in my kitchen, and I want to share the things that have gone wrong and wonderful and incredible and amazing in my life. It’s the way that the (predominantly) introverted part of me can reach out and really connect with people.
I write because I love it. I cook because I love it. I continue to learn about cooking because it’s fascinating, and it’s the one thing that everyone can access. Everyone has to eat. It might as well be delicious.
Sometimes, though, it’s really great to see the failures. One thing that really chaps my ass is seeing perfection on every food blog I come across. The food is perfectly cooked and beautifully plated, shot with perfect lighting and accessorized with happy, well-dressed, and obviously prosperous folks gathered with friends or their impeccable family.
Turns out, not every recipe works out. And not everything tastes great. And definitely not everything looks beautiful.
You wouldn’t know that by Instagram with its glossy pictures of perfection. But here’s the thing: perfection isn’t real, or even real desirable. Sometimes the food isn’t even real or is enhanced with non-edible garnish (that enticing steam may be a microwaved tampon. #TrueStory).
I just got this new tart pan that I’ve been wanting for a really long time. The first tart I made was delicious. The second tart (pictured above) leaked and the crust was horribly soggy and fairly tasteless.
If I was 100% living the dream, I would have posted a picture of my soggy bottom, but that might be a whole other type of blog (#CueLovemakinMusic)
Cooking and writing for me are more about the process, and less about the flawless product (although HOT DAMN I like it when it all comes together). Failure is infinitely more valuable as a learning tool than success, but failure is a taboo subject. When I mentioned to a couple of people what I was writing about today, they were minorly horrified at the thought of failure. A standard response, I think, but the instinct is misplaced.
Fear of failure holds us back.
Fear of failure stops us from trying.
Fear of failure makes failure inevitable.
It’s not the failure that’s the issue: it’s the fear.
So today’s blog isn’t about the failure that is the soggy-bottomed tart pictured fuzzily above. It’s about the fact that in spite of this failure, I will try again. And maybe the next time won’t work out either. But I won’t be scared that it will taste bad or you won’t read my recipe.
Because there is a lot of fear in the world, but moving through fear gets to the other side of failure. That’s what we are all about here at Charm City Edibles (in a shaky-kneed way at times, but still).
What do you think about failure? I’d like to know how failure (or fear) has influenced you (or not).
Exactly five hours from now (or thereabouts, as these things go), I am taking my child to France.
Not France, exactly.
Worse: taking her to Boston to hand her over to a group of (hopefully kindly) strangers who will then shuffle her off to Anglet by way of Paris/Normandy in a mere 48 hours. She will be gone for ten months, and as these things sometimes go, I may not actually see her for any of those ten months.
If ever there was a time for comfort food, this is it.
This is when I start hunkering down, loading up the pantry with staples and filling the ‘fridge with things that are substantial and too much of them.
If we weren’t busy with frantic, last-minute packing, I would make these cinnamon rolls.
I call them Just Like Your Kid Cinnamon Rolls. They are a pain in the ass, but in the end oh so very worth it.
When I made these the first time, I held my breath. I have made gluten-free cinnamon rolls before, and they were tough, dry, awful things that were saved only by copious amounts of cinnamon and overly-sweet cream cheese icing and a burning need for a cinnamon roll.
These cinnamon rolls. Zoiks.
They are everything they should be. Soft and yielding and hot and sweet and pungent with the sharp smell and taste of cinnamon. They melt in your mouth. These cinnamon rolls are the thick, fluffy blanket I want to wrap myself in when I think of food that is comforting.
Bonus: they are gluten-free. My god. Could it get any better?
Side note: of course you can make them with regular flour. Whatever comforts you most.
If I had time on this morning where I am trying not to think too hard about sending my baby off to another country for nearly a year, I would go ahead and make a big batch of these. I would wake her up with one of these and a cup of coffee (with cream and just a little sugar but not too much anymore because she is using less these days) on a tray to her room.
I would spoil her in the way I do, with food delivered to her in the morning and the simple grace of allowing her to rise into this new day gently.
But since I can’t do that, and we don’t have any more time, you’ll just have to make these and let me know how they work out.
Just Like Your Kid Cinnamon Rolls
Note: Read the recipe through first. This is not a complicated recipe, but the butter that needs to be softened needs to be very, very soft for spreading.
Ingredients
Dough
2⁄3 cup milk, warmed (80 to 100 degrees)
1 tablespoon yeast
1/4 cup white sugar
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup canola oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 large egg (room temperature is best)
1 1/2 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour
1⁄4 teaspoon baking soda
2 1⁄2 teaspoons xanthan gum
2 teaspoons baking powder
1⁄2 teaspoon salt
Filling
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons cinnamon
1⁄3 cup butter, very softened (spreadable)
Icing
3 tablespoons butter, softened
3/4 cups powdered sugar
1 cup cream cheese, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
1⁄8 teaspoon salt
Method
Wake your yeast as you would your teen: gently. Place warmed milk into a large bowl; add yeast and allow to bubble for a few minutes.
Add sugar, butter, oil, and vanilla to milk/yeast mixture. Stir gently until completely combined.
Add egg and stir to combine.
In a smaller bowl, combine salt, gluten-free flour, baking soda, baking powder, and xanthan gum.
Add flour mixture to mixing bowl. Stir until well combined. This dough is somewhat sticky, but if it seems unworkable, add a little more flour, just a tablespoon at a time. You don’t want it too dry.
Place dough in a greased container and put in a warm place to rise for 45-60 minutes. I like to preheat my oven to 200 degrees and then turn it off. If you are using gluten-free flour, the dough will not double in size, but it will rise just a bit.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees and grease a square glass baking dish. 8″x8″ works great.
Get ready to roll.
Tear off a piece of plastic wrap, about 18″ long or so and lay it on your counter. Place the dough on this plastic wrap, then cover the dough with another piece of plastic wrap.
If you skip this and act like a teenager and think you just know everything (#RollsEyes) then you will wind up with a sticky mess and no cinnamon rolls and YOU SHOULD ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER (or, in this case, this recipe. #Trust).
Roll dough to 1/4″ thick rectangle between the plastic wrap. I use a wine bottle if I don’t feel like digging out my rolling pin, and I have also used floured parchment paper instead of plastic wrap (when I am feeling uptown) or plain old waxed paper.
Your rectangle should be about 13″ or so long and nearly as wide as the plastic wrap.
Spread very softened butter on the dough.
Combine brown sugar and cinnamon together and sprinkle liberally onto the dough, leaving a 1″ edge clean (the long edge farthest away from you).
Now here’s the tricky part – rolling the dough into cinnamon rolls.
Use the bottom piece of plastic wrap to begin to roll the dough away from you. You are going for a tight log shape. The tighter, the better, but don’t sweat it. When you get to the naked part of the dough, the part with no filling, then you’re done and that naked edge will help seal the log shape.
Use a serrated knife to cut the log into eight pieces. Transfer these pieces to your greased baking dish. Leave a little breathing room between each roll.
You could let them rise a little longer here if you’d like. OR you could make them up to this point the night before, put them in the ‘fridge, and then bring them to room temperature in the morning before baking.
Bake for about 2o minutes until tops are golden brown. To check for sure that they are done, run a butter knife into the very center rolls. If dough sticks, bake a little longer.
Combine frosting ingredients while the cinnamon rolls bake, and frost the cinnamon rolls while they are piping hot. Don’t expect these to last long, but if you manage to have leftovers, cover and keep in the ‘fridge.
Maybe it’s a Wednesday and things are a little crappy. Like maybe your teenager is having a meltdown and so are you because she is leaving for France for a year and hormones.
Or maybe it’s about to be 114 degrees and this might be the last time the oven gets used for the next week. #GlobalWarmingYall
Or maybe the circus that is the Republican National Convention makes you feel like grabbing a little sugar high. Or Rocky Mountain High because, seriously, #WhatTheFuck?
Whatever your issue. Whatever is happening.
Make THIS.
This surely is not legal in some states. There is a pound of butter in the frosting, and more sugar than you probably have in your kitchen right now in the whole cake. It takes a couple hours to make, what with the three layers (which I had to make in two pans and then one because I only have two pans, but that’s what being flexible is all about) and the filling and crumb coat (which I will always do from now on) and the cooling and then the final frosting.
In the words of my very lucky neighbor: “This is legit.”
#YoureWelcome
Salted Caramel Chocolate Cake
Note: Mad love to Baker By Nature from whom this recipe was adapted. I made changes to the flours, the levening agents, and added some coffee, but other than that, it’s genius all on its own.
Ingredients
Cake:
2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup light brown sugar
2 3/4 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups unsweetened cocoa powder, sifted
3/4 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
3 large eggs + 2 large egg yolks, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups full-fat sour cream
1/2 cup milk
3/4 cup vegetable oil
2 tablespoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups hot, strong brewed coffee (essential for deep chocolate flavor)
Salted caramel chocolate frosting:
2 cups unsalted butter (4 sticks, 16 ounces), completely soft
4 and 1/2 cups confectioners’ sugar
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons milk, half-n-half, or heavy cream (it seriously does not matter which)
2 tablespoons salted caramel sauce (I bought a jar of Smucker’s salted caramel sauce, but you could DIY) Assembly:
1 and 1/4 cups salted caramel sauce (please see post for more on this)
Flaky sea salt
Method
Preheat oven to 350°(F).
Grease three 9-inch cakepans (or spray with cooking spray) and line bottom with rounds of parchment paper. Grease the rounds and set pans aside. As noted above, I had to bake two layers then bake the third due to lack of a third cake pan.
In a large bowl using a handheld electric mixer, combine both sugars, flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder and salt; mix on low until dry ingredients are thoroughly combined (or just whisk well to combine, breaking up large clumps).
In a separate bowl combine the eggs, egg yolks, sour cream, milk, oil, and vanilla extract; mix until completely combined.
Pour wet mixture into the dry ingredients and beat on low until just incorporated. Pour in hot coffee and continue mixing until completely combined (about one minute).
Divide batter evenly among prepared pans. Bang pan gently on counter to pop any bubbles that are forming.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes (this depends on your oven, so start checking around the 30-minute mark).
Test with a wooden toothpick. Insert toothpick into the center of the cake. It should come out clean or with just a few crumbs attached.
Cool cakes on a cooling rack completely before frosting.
For the chocolate frosting:
In a stand mixer with the whisk attachment (or again using a hand mixer), cream the softened butter until completely smooth.
Turn the mixer off and sift the powdered sugar and cocoa into the mixing bowl. Use a spatula to gently stir in the chocolate/sugar mixture before turning the mixer back on or you will have a fine layer of chocolate/sugar dust coating all of the surfaces of your kitchen. #LearnFromExperience
Turn the mixer on the lowest speed and mix until the chocolate/sugar has been absorbed by the butter.
Increase mixer speed to medium; add in vanilla extract, salt, whatever dairy you are using, and salted caramel. Beat for three minutes. If your frosting appears a little too thin, add a little more confectioners’ sugar. If your frosting needs to be thinner, add more dairy, one tablespoon at a time.
Assembly:
If your cake does not have a lovely flat surface, you can use a serrated knife to trim whatever is sticking up, OR you can make the top the bottom. Place one layer on a large plate or cake stand. Spread a 1/4 to 1/2 cup of caramel on the layer, then 3/4 cup of frosting. Top with another cake layer, caramel, and 3/4 cup frosting. Place final cake layer on top.
At this point, if your cake is listing due to the slippery nature of caramel, inserting dowels into the cake can help. Hopefully the frosting with help keep things stable.
If you are using a crumb coat, do that now.
Chill cake in the ‘fridge for one hour, then remove to finish the frosting. Sprinkle with best-quality sea salt.
Keeps in the ‘fridge for five days. It won’t last that long, but that’s the theory anyway.
