CHOCOLATE CHIP PECAN BUTTER HORNS

RUNNING ON EMPTY

I used to be funny, and perhaps I’m not anymore. It may be that I have become rather grumpy because I’ve seen so many things that have offended me that I cannot deal with in terms of laughter.
- Kurt Vonnegut

My mind is a blank. Empty of thoughts, void of ideas. As he stomps around the house, pacing circles around my desk, ranting about his overload of work and too many projects sending his mind shooting in a thousand different directions at once, I sit and stare up at him, absolutely silent. Blank. Empty of thoughts, void of ideas. He raves about the impossibility of working correctly or efficiently, how his mind is pulled in too many directions at once, yet he then dashes back to work and I hear furious typing, occasionally interjected with mild cursing and the smack of an open palm brought down sharply upon the flat of the tabletop. Up and out he pops again, smile splashed across his face as he shouts Success! one more time; his dissatisfaction and anger leashed and channeled into positive energy. I stare at him and offer him a smile, truly happy for his accomplishments, yet I sit here quietly and feel woefully inadequate and lost.

A mind jumping with imagination and bright with creativity was my lot in life. Stories tumbled from my fingertips as they danced across the keyboard. A lifetime of reading, a childhood filled with little more than books, filled my head with bright words and colorful language, moving images, a jumble of characters. I possessed the capacity to travel through time and space, dazzling myself with my ingenuity, often spending hours sitting and chuckling at my own cleverness or sighing as I etched out some perfect romance. Frustration, I knew, was all part of the game; writing, as with any craft, was often laborious, taking more than a fair share of effort and energy to find the inspiration, massage and manipulate it, squeeze and stroke, pull it apart and push it back together again until one finds the perfect form and shape to express one’s desires, to tell the perfect story. Yet, this blankness spreads and fills my days; something has come and stopped it all cold and turned my light and colors dark.

An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself.
- Charles Dickens

Ideas flit through my brain; I grab at them like so many butterflies yet they slip through my fingers and flutter away. My hands, holding little more than dust and air, fall dull and lifeless to my sides as my eyes search in vain for more pretty, ethereal beasts, waiting impatiently for them to cross, within easy reach, in front of me. Ever-elusive thoughts, fleeting fancies, musings hazy and without form dash and dance before closed eyes, laughing and mocking me. I stand here in my misfortune and attempt, alas, in vain, to find the words to play upon this predicament, my frustration. A writer writes, always, as the saying goes, and I begin to wonder how much faith I should put into these words. Do we simply set ourselves up for failure or is this in truth a sign that I am neither looking in the right direction nor reaching far enough. Just moving aimlessly around my own dilemma as if avoiding eye contact when in reality, if I had the gumption, I should turn and face it front on, grab it by the lapels and shake it silly.

Many friends who know me well have attempted to convince me that limiting myself to food, defining myself as a food blogger is too restraining, boxing me in and limiting my creativity and writing. I have long wondered if a total renovation isn’t called for. Life is, after all, a feast, and I may have to admit that it may just not all be about the food. Yet food defines me – us – in so many ways. We teach and inform, share and pass on our cultures, languages, religions, our heritage through what we cook, serve and eat. Food brings us together as few things can, giving us a reason and a topic around which we form a conversation. Boeuf à la Communication? I do find myself more and more wandering off into untraveled territory, roaming the countryside, so to speak, and chewing on topics that have little to do with food. Yet where would I fit in? Who would come and visit? And would anyone respond, sharing their own tales and tribulations? I’ve asked this of you before, and take comfort in your response, your encouragement.

I have so many stories hidden inside of me, ripe for the telling. Secrets dark and private yearning to be written about. I long to bust the myths and fantasies that others perpetuate about life in this land of romance and lights, the day to day realities where men are not all seductive, women not all chic and slim and children far from well behaved. I make light of our private, personal situation, yet is it all fun and games? How does one go about a transformation and begin writing the dark side? Maybe I have already begun this metamorphosis, writing about husband and sons, the decisions we face, our growing list of projects, obligations and choices. Am I already there?

I am not at all in a humor for writing; I must write on till I am.
- Jane Austen in a letter to her sister Cassandra, October 26, 1813

Blasé. Grumpy. Cynical. I need to shake myself off, find my footing and begin moving forward. My men hover and revolve around me as if I am the sun, grab onto me as if I am their anchor. All four of us are now home together, each one of us starting new careers, new professions, new projects and new adventures, stepping on each other’s toes and demanding attention, and this certainly has the power to discombobulate and distract! Quite possibly, I spread my attention too willy-nilly, allow my commitments to wander wide and far, engrossed by two many projects and my family that my mind jumps back and forth at random. Yet shouldn’t this actually inspire and be a source of enthusiasm and stimulation? Maybe I need to throw myself wholeheartedly into what I have already begun, turn the short stories into a novel, bare my soul, share my secrets, unveil my desires. So where does this adventure start and how do I get there? Shall I clean the slate and begin anew?


My wonderful, talented, funny friend Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Desserts & Line Drives is hosting this month’s Bread Baking Day, a challenge created by Zorra of 1x Umruhren Bitten, that I have long participated in and loved. I promised that no matter what was going on in my life I would bake for her this month. BBD #47 is all about Bread & Chocolate (there is nothing better!); this was the perfect opportunity to turn to the pages of my own mother’s old Sisterhood of Temple Beth Shalom (Satellite Beach, Florida) cookbook Our Favorite Recipes (c. early to mid-1960’s) that I purloined from her kitchen cabinet. The paper is stained and torn, the cover faded, the plastic rings binding the pages together disintegrates into tiny pieces each time I pick it up. My funny mother who hated to cook was actually the Cookbook Committee Chairman, which I find absolutely comical! I find her own recipes throughout; many I remember, some are foreign, eliciting no memories.


This recipe for Butter Horns is not hers, but a creation of Marlene Keilsohn, who I do not remember. Butter Horns, which are actually in the shape of crescents (although they have the tendency to blow up like the Michelin Man), are light, delicately sweet, butter and egg-rich brioche yeast dough although very quick and easy to make. Once the dough rises overnight in the refrigerator, it is divided and shaped into crescents, rolled around a filling of cinnamon sugar, chocolate chips and chopped nuts – or really any sweet filling you please. Baked, these babies puff up and offer you a stunning brioche roll, absolutely delicious. And I share these scrumptious treats, perfect for both breakfast and snacktime, with Lisa for BBD #47!


I would also like to send these to my friend Susan of Wild Yeast, for Yeastspotting, her weekly event highlighting all things yeast!


BUTTER HORNS WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS & PECANS
From Our Favorite Recipes of the Sisterhood of Temple Beth Shalom, Satellite Beach, Florida

Dough:

1 package (8 g) dry yeast
¾ cup (150 g) granulated white sugar
1 ¼ cups (300 ml) milk (I used 2% lowfat)
½ lb (225 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3 large eggs at room temperature
1 tsp salt
Grated zest of 1 small lemon
4 – 5 cups (560 – 700 g) flour + more for kneading

Filling:

A couple of tablespoons melted butter
¼ cup (50 g) granulated white or light brown sugar
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
½ cups or more mini chocolate chips or chopped chocolate
½ cup or more chopped pecans, walnuts or blanched almonds

Prepare the dough the day before:

Place the yeast with 1 tablespoon of the white sugar in a small bowl. Gently heat the milk until it is lukewarm or body temperature. Pour the warm milk over the yeast and sugar and allow to activate, about 15 to 20 minutes for active dry yeast, 20 to 30 minutes for traditional dry yeast; there should be a thick head of foam about an inch thick on the top and no more or very few grains of yeast left.

Cream the butter and the remaining white sugar together in a large mixing bowl. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating just to combine after each addition. Beat in the salt and the lemon zest. Add the activated yeast water and beat on low just to combine. Beat in 4 cups of the flour 1 cup at a time. Then beat in the remaining cup of flour a little at a time, adding just enough to form a sticky dough (I added the entire cup). Scrape the dough out of the bowl onto a floured surface – the dough will probably be sticky if not downright wet – and knead for a few minutes, adding flour as needed, until the dough is homogeneous, very soft, smooth and supple yet no longer sticky.

Place the dough in a large, greased or buttered mixing bowl, cover tightly with plastic wrap and place in the refrigerator overnight.


Prepare the Butter Horns:

The dough should have doubled in size overnight. Remove it from the refrigerator and allow it to come to room temperature (or mostly) – I took the bowl out when I finished breakfast and got to the Butter Horns once everyone had eaten, kitchen cleaned and I had washed and dressed! Perfect!

Scrape the dough out of the bowl and knead briefly. Cut the dough into 10 pieces (12 is fine and will simply make slightly small Horns). Roll each piece out on a lightly floured work surface to a round of about ¼-inch thick, about 7 inches in diameter. Lightly butter each round with the melted butter.

Stir the granulated light brown sugar together with the ground cinnamon. Sprinkle the buttered rounds of dough generously with cinnamon sugar then sprinkle with chocolate chips and chopped nuts. (Remember that the dough really puffs up, so add more chocolate chips than less or they may be lost in the dough once baked. I also left about a quarter-sized rough chip and nut free in the center and you will understand why once you begin rolling the crescents.)


Gently press the chocolate chips onto the surface of the dough with the side of your rolling pin using gentle pressure – this just keeps the chips and nuts in place when rolling them up. I also made the circle of dough a bit wider. Using a sharp knife, cut the rounds into quarters. Roll each quarter up tightly, starting with the wide towards the narrow end/point. Press the point onto the crescent to seal. Place each roll on a parchment-lined or greased baking tray, point side down, and shape into a crescent. Leave room between the crescents for rising and spreading.


Cover each baking sheet loosely with plastic wrap and let the crescents rise for 2 hours at room temperature until doubled in size.


Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C).

Remove the plastic wrap and bake the Butter Horns for 15 to 20 minutes until evenly browned and nice, deep golden. Gently lift to make sure the underside has also browned.

First batch, less filling.

Second book more filling.

Remove from the oven and brush with more melted or soft butter while still hot, if desired (this gives them a nicer color).


Once cooled (or just warm) you can drizzle the Butter Horns with Powdered Sugar Glaze (1/2 cup powdered/confectioner’s sugar + about 2 teaspoons milk) if you like.



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BROWNIE PECAN CUPCAKES WITH SALTED BUTTER

SALTY AND SWEET


When I was about eight or ten years old, my father bought an ice cream maker. Revelation! You see, we were an ice cream family: our freezer was always well stocked with gallon containers of everyone’s favorites, an array of flavors to suit each one of us, chocolate, coffee, Neapolitan (I would only eat the chocolate and vanilla stripes, leaving the strawberry for my brother) and Checkerboard. Out would come the tub of whipped topping, the jars of chocolate and berry sauces, the bottles of colored sprinkles and we’d go to town. The sky was the limit: as our parents were each as ice cream nutty as we kids were, there were no rules as to when or how much; ice cream, for all intents and purposes, was in our blood.

Ice cream sandwiches and ice cream on a stick were choice after-school snacks and how many times a week would dad pile us all in the car for a trip to Dairy Queen for a cone or a cup? The familiar tinkling music of the beloved ice cream truck every summer afternoon had an almost spontaneous effect and we would drop whatever we were up to and dash out into the street, coins clutched in expectant, eager hands. Maybe the Florida sunshine and heat created this yearning, this overwhelming need for ice cream, but I don’t think so. My grandmother up in her northern home, half the year under snow, practically lived on ice cream, even more so as she entered her 70’s and 80’s, a habit (or a diet) her daughter, my mother, has quickly taken on as well. So snow and ice or searing heat and beaches makes no difference where our family is concerned, ice cream is simply our way of life, one of our basic food groups.


So when dad brought home that old-fashioned hand-crank ice cream machine we were ecstatic! It was adoration at first sight, love at first bite. I have only vague memories of us sitting on the driveway in front of the house, churning ice cream. I don’t remember much about the ice cream itself; there may have been vanilla and peach, possibly strawberry. But I do remember the chocolate ice cream that came out of that maker. The flavor haunts me to this day, and, like a Pavlovian reflex, just pulling up the memory makes my mouth water. Maybe it was the rock salt that we had to pack around the central canister, but the chocolate ice cream, light and icy, had a salty undertone that I simply loved! I had always been a kid intrigued by unusual flavors and flavor combinations, eating peanut butter and salami sandwiches, for example, so the hint of salt in the chocolate ice cream was the best thing that I’d ever tasted!

So, well before the trend of salt and chocolate, I was into it. The clashing sensation amazed me and still does to this day. Sweet and savory is my favorite way to go with meat dishes, but in a dessert it is utterly delectable and astounding. I find it rather intellectual, the unexpected discord, which somehow goes so perfectly together, creating a balance of salty and sweet that makes the tastebuds tingle and the palate come alive. Think chocolate-covered pretzels and potato chips…


My son is now home, as you well know, and he hovers around me asking for baked goods, snacks to feed his sweet tooth and man-sized appetite, yet he always demands, nay, requires, the same things over and over again. At the top of the list are brownies, simple, cakey rather than dense, fluffy rather than gooey, chocolate and plain with only a handful or two of chopped pecans to alleviate the usual, adding just a bit of earthy crunch to an otherwise, well, plain chocolate cake. I succeeded in sneaking in a splash or three of Cointreau on top of the orange-infused baking chocolate in the last batch and the occasional addition of Amaretto doesn’t illicit so much as a raised eyebrow, so this time I thought that I would be safe in using a large quantity of salted butter to add that subtle salty undertone. The salty flavor is subtle indeed, barely perceptible, rather leaving a beautiful, indescribable lingering bouquet in the mouth, begging for more. This is the ideal recipe for those craving a brownie or two yet want something cakier to assuage the brownie hankering without the guilt – my men gobble them up for breakfast. Soon, I’ll post a more adult version of this one, the dense, gooey, decadent brownie bite, but for now I leave you with a lighter, more delicate cupcake version of the brownie.


LIGHT & FLUFFY BROWNIE CUPCAKES
From Brownies by Linda Burum with a salty twist

Makes 48 mini cupcakes

3.5 ounces (100 g) semisweet chocolate
0.7 ounces (20 g) unsweetened chocolate *
16 Tbs (1 cup/225 g) salted butter, softened
4 large eggs
1 1/3 cups (266 g) sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup (140 g) flour
1 cup coarsely chopped pecans

* You can use a total of 4 ounces (120 g) semisweet chocolate if you prefer

Slowly melt the butter and chopped chocolate together in a bain marie or in a heatproof bowl over gently simmering water, stirring to keep it from burning. Remove from the heat when the chocolate is almost but not quite completely melted; continue stirring until completely melted and smooth. Set aside to cool.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Line 48 mini muffin/cupcake molds with paper cups (mine measure just under 2 inches/5 cm at the wide open end).

In a large mixing bowl, whisk the eggs, sugar and vanilla together until combined and smooth. Whisk in the melted chocolate and butter until very smooth. Stir in the flour and then the chopped nuts, fold and mixing until well blended and smooth.

If you like your brownies or chocolate cupcakes saltier, simply add pinches of fleur de sel or table salt to taste.

Using a spoon, carefully drop tablespoons of the batter in each paper cup, filling each about ¾ the way up. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes or until puffed up and just set in the center. Remove the muffin trays to a cooling rack and carefully pop each muffin out of the mold. Allow to cool on cooling racks.


You can top these bites with a dollop of your favorite buttercream frosting, ganache or freshly whipped, barely sweetened cream. Or eat just as they are with a mug of coffee or a tall glass of cold milk.



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CHOCOLATE AMARETTO POUND CAKE

BAKING BASICS AND BEYOND

I learned early that the most important thing in life is a good story.
- Ruth Reichl

La Folle Journée, Glinka, Prokofiev. DCL, Angers, The Tapestry of the Apocalypse. Creation, entrepreneur, business plan. L’ancien palais de justice, the new, modern, luxury hotel, architects and design. Submission, conference, workshop, networking. Lambretta, 3-D reindeer, applications and cover letters. 6 Nations, fondue, Don Giovane; bamboozled, rig’marole, la Segerdahl et lo Jeep.


Buzz words and a changing life. French, English, Italian; words that only have meaning to us and the evolution of a family. A mixed bag of cultural references, not all clearly understandable to the outside world, events and happenings that may not be intelligible to others who don’t live the same thing as we do. Is it absolutely necessary that one always bare one’s life on a blog and recount the day to day activities? I have made an attempt in my own way, sharing our adventures, our daring Starting Over decisions, our sons’ vagaries, choices and personal combats. I illustrate our story with fancy flourishes and infuse it with a touch of whimsy, a dash of romance, a dollop of humor but sometimes I wonder if it isn’t all just a lot of incomprehensible babble to those on the outside looking in. Revealing the daily details of anyone’s most personal moments to those who have never found themselves face to face in the same room with those individuals, that particular family seems so absurd, slightly gratuitous. Utterly foreign, rather irrelevant tidbits of what I did today, what the kids said, how we are each advancing in our own personal exploits and projects, how can one package it all up and flip it around into entertainment? What can I recount that will make you smile, and what tales will make you roll your eyes, shrug your shoulders and skip down to the recipe? And how much is the truth, how much is real and how much is utter fiction?

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.
- Maya Angelou

So I can tell you with how much joy we received Simon’s perfect notes on his Language (English) Proficiency Test or how pleased we are that Clem snagged the best Third Year Internship in his entire architecture class as he now follows the reconstruction of the old Law Courts (inaugurated in 1851) and their transformation into a luxury hotel; I can rattle on about JP’s new project and the excitement that zips through the apartment like electricity as he advances with the force of a steam roller; the satisfaction at the rapt fascination held by those with whom he shares the details; I can blather on about my own work and successes, give you an inside look and an indulgent chinwag on all that I am writing, for whom and what they said. I can leave you photographs scattered across my desktop, smiling faces that tell the tale of a weekend that you couldn’t attend. And what is it worth, I wonder? Am I capable of touching your life, somehow, and making you understand mine?

If you've heard this story before, don't stop me, because I'd like to hear it again.
- Groucho Marx

Today, I simply wanted to share a few links and some news. And a cake.

From Plate to Page spoke with the wonderful, multi-talented Denise Vivaldo, culinary consultant extraordinaire and author of the successful The Food Stylist’s Handbook. Visit her guest post over on the Plate to Page blog where she gives us an inside look at her own fascinating career as well as the world of food styling.


And speaking of From Plate to Page, there are still a couple of spaces open for our exciting Somerset workshop in May. If you are looking for an intimate, hands-on, practical workshop providing you with the tools, instruction and inspiration to define and hone your food writing, styling and photography skills and kick start your creativity all in a convivial, fun- and food-filled weekend then Plate to Page is for you! For details about the workshop, the four instructors (I teach food writing) and registration, please visit out our website! But hurry, spaces are limited to 12 and they are going fast! Questions? Visit our new FAQ page!


My lovely friend Nancy Baggett, talented food writer and cookbook author, interviewed me for her blog Kitchen Lane as part of her new series on Who's Behind the Blog (my title, not hers). Please visit Kitchen Lane and I hope you enjoy the interview!


I was recently asked to be one of the featured Foodie 100 on the new food community site Foodie.com. I have shared 3 previously unpublished recipes on Foodie.com that I particularly love: my best Sweet Potato Pie (the old family recipe of a colleague of an old roommate shared with me some 30 years ago), a gorgeous Apple Frangipane Jalousie and perfect Gingersnaps. And it really is a great new food community.


And now a cake. Food is indeed a universal language, and no matter whether you read my stories (I hope you do) or feel connected emotionally (I do try) or understand my humor or my meaning (if I am lucky), everyone can understand and love a great cake. The kind people at Agate Publishing sent me Pat Sinclair’s book Baking Basics and Beyond. As a food blogger passionate about baking who has many friends and readers who are not experienced bakers and look to me for great yet simple-to-make cakes and confections, I was truly interested in trying the recipes in this book and seeing if it was one I would recommend. As I desired to bake something for my family this weekend and as my son was complaining about the lack of snacks in the house, I decided to turn to Pat’s book and start testing. I will give a more indepth review once I have tried a few more recipes, but if this Chocolate Amaretto Pound Cake is anything to go by, well, I think I am going to love this book.


CHOCOLATE AMARETTO POUND CAKE
From Baking Basics and Beyond by Pat Sinclair – with a few personal minor adjustments

6 oz (168 g) bittersweet chocolate, chopped
2 ½ cups (300 g) flour (I weighed 2 ½ cups flour at 350 g)
2 tsps baking powder
½ tsp salt
1 cup (225 g) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
¾ cup (150 g) granulated sugar
¾ cup (170 g) firmly packed brown sugar (I used light brown packing sugar)
4 large eggs at room temperature
2 Tbs Amaretto (out of Amaretto, I replaced it with 2 Tbs Grand Marnier)
1 tsp vanilla
¾ cup (175 ml) milk

Place the chopped chocolate in a medium heatproof bowl and set the bowl over (not in) simmering water just until chocolate is almost melted, stirring with a silicone spatula or similar. Remove the bowl from the bain marie and stir until all the chocolate is completely melted and smooth. Allow to cool.

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C) with the rack in the lower third of the oven. Generously grease a 10-inch (25-cm) Bundt or other fluted tube pan with butter then dust with flour until evenly coated; tap out the excess flour.

Sift the flour, baking powder and salt into a bowl.

In a large mixing bowl, beat the softened butter with the two sugars on low speed just until blended; scrape down the sides then increase the mixer to medium speed and beat for 1 ½ to 2 minutes until fluffy, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides after each egg is added, beating just until the egg is blended in. Add the Amaretto or Grand Marnier, the vanilla and the melted chocolate; beat for 2 minutes until the batter is light and creamy.

Reduce the mixer speed to low. Add the flour in 3 additions alternating with the milk in 2, starting and ending with the dry ingredients. Scrape down the bowl after each addition. Beat until smooth but no longer than 15 seconds. Pour into the prepared pan and spread evenly.


Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out dry. The cake will just start to pull away from the sides. Cool for about 10 minutes in the pan on a wire cooling rack.

Loosen the cake in the pan using a metal spatula or long, thin-bladed knife. Place a wire cooling rack over the cake and invert; lift off the pan. Allow to cool completely.


Drizzle the cake with Chocolate Ganache or, more simply do as I did here, drizzle small amounts of melted white and dark chocolate over the top of the cake.



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ORANGE COINTREAU BROWNIE TIRAMISU

SNOWED IN

Mieux encore que dans la chambre j’t’aime dans la cuisine
Rien n’est plus beau que les mains d’une femme dans la farine
Quand tu fais la tarte aux pommes, poupée, tu es divine
Rien n’est plus beau que les mains d’une femme dans la farine. *
- Claude Nougaro

As, once again, Europe reposes snuggly under a blanket of white, Nantes remains bright and clear and unusually, sadly, free of dusty snow. Blizzards rage across the country and cities are buried under thick drifts of powder one after the other, yet Nantes stays temperate and dry. Oh, we did have our one flurry, whipping across the rooftops and through the streets, ever so fleetingly, but it has already fluttered away, disappearing like an ace of spades in the fingers of a magician, as ephemeral as dandelion fluff carried away on the wind. The long-promised snow came early one morning and by the afternoon we were out tromping across the stretch of white on Place Louis XVI, crunching and running and laughing, enticed outside and throughout the city like excited children. Handfuls gathered up and tossed back and forth, screeching with delight, laughing as Marty danced and skipped in a futile attempt to keep his paws out of the damp cold ice. We arrived back at the house chilled and out of breath but thrilled and content with the vibrancy and sparkle of the much-anticipated winter.


But nothing lingers; the temperature has dropped to glacial yet the lovely white has melted and gone away. The Arctic chill has driven us indoors and we stay huddled together happily, reading, watching films, working on projects. I must admit that I have been so lazy these past few days, lazy and blah and just a tad grumpy, so grumpy that I had my men dancing around me trying to cheer me up, attempting to drag a chuckle from my lips, doing what they could to pull me up and out of the doldrums. Silly faces, eye-roll-worthy jokes and a quick song and dance were mine for the asking, but, alas, I was in no mood to be consoled. I buried my chin just a little bit deeper into my collar and plunked down into my chair at the table, as if on cue, just to be fed. Despite my absolute passion for the icy winter weather, maybe the fact of being inside, albeit cozy and warm, has made me lackadaisical, my energy sapped and my brain and body simply listless. So JP decided that a jaunt out in the chill, a stroll through town, a spot of window shopping, would be just the thing to kick start my creative energy and inspire a story or two. So…

We ventured to Angers today, a wonderful city an hour outside of Nantes, where the chill factor was below frigid and snow still carpeted the ground. Simon went to take a language proficiency test, so JP and I scurried and slid across their very icy sidewalks, through the streets, looking for a warm haven in which to wait. Arm in arm, only tumbling once, we popped into a café and ordered steaming mugs of hot chocolate and nibbled on bottereaux, small square puffs of fried dough dusted with powdered sugar, a regional specialty for Carnival, and we happily wiled away an hour in the warm comfort of a barren bistro. Not ones to miss out on a little adventure and fresh air, we finally bundled back up, gathered our courage and ventured our way back out into the cold. A slippery-slidey trip through the center of Angers, we decided to once again visit the la Tenture de l’Apocalypse, the stunning XIVth century tapestries depicting the Apocalypse created for Louis 1er d’Anjou, on display in a long, dark, solemn wing of the city’s Château. We love the quiet, deserted space, miles high and so dim we had to lean in closely and squint to read the description of each tapestry. A wonderful sanctuary with a fascinating history, but back out into the snow we went to finally meet up with Simon and drive back home where….


We found Marty curled up against the radiator, slowly going bald as he mysteriously does each and every winter, and we unbundled and tried to find a warm spot in our vast, drafty apartment. An adventure and a quick call to a friend upon returning home did indeed seem to boost my spirit and knock some ideas into the old noggin and I began to organize my work and type. Yet, for three days or more, Simon has been begging me, nudging me, prodding and harassing me to bake him brownies: chocolaty yet not too chocolaty, moist yet not too dense, fluffy, crusty with enough chopped pecans to balance out the natural sweetness of a good pan of brownies. Yes, my baby is exacting, fussy and downright imperious, but what’s a mother to do? He loves my treats as long as they are always exactly the same. With nothing special or, as he says, “fishy” inside. And so I made him brownies. Little does he know and much to his horror if he ever finds out, I decided to jazz up this great, classic brownie recipe with orange and Cointreau with the idea to turn part of the recipe into a stunning, elegant, luxurious and romantic treat for Valentine’s Day. So a splash of liqueur and a bar of orange-flavored chocolate and the trick was done. And out came my heart-shaped muffin tin and the romantic girly-girl and the devoted mom merged into one and Orange Cointreau Brownies were born.

A te voir ainsi je retrouve mon âme enfantine
Rien n’est plus pur que les mains d’une femme dans la farine. *

Who says that Valentine’s Day should be pink and red. Orange is the color of burning desire, and after 25 years with my own man I can assure you that burning desire is still indeed the color of the day. Orange is fiery heat, burning bright and constant rather than explosive red bursting and then quickly fading away or gentle pink, pale, feminine and utterly forgettable. Orange is creativity and enthusiasm, deep, passionate, inspiring. So you can keep your dainty raspberry concoctions, your effeminate, sweet strawberry confections. The bright, jazzy taste of oranges, the voluptuous whipped mascarpone cream, light, ethereal yet so sumptuous, spiked with an ever-so-adult splash or three of Cointreau atop a dense orange-scented brownie infused with sharp, bitter orange marmalade is my Valentine’s Day offering, a gift from the heart. Passionate, indulgent, neither insipid nor conventional, an astonishing Tiramisu, a superbly lavish Valentine’s Day dessert to declare your burning desire.


There’s nothing quite like chocolate for Valentine’s Day and February is #chocolatelove month! Please join in on the #chocolatelove fun and romance by linking up any chocolate recipe posted during the month of February 2012 . Don't forget to hop over to this post to share your recipe. The twitter hashtag is #chocolatelove.

* Even more than in the bedroom, I love you in the kitchen.
Nothing is more beautiful than the hands of a woman in flour.
When you make an apple pie, baby doll, you are divine
Nothing is more beautiful than the hands of a woman in flour.
Seeing you so my childhood soul returns to me
Nothing is purer than the hands of a woman in flour.
- Claude Nougaro

ORANGE COINTREAU FUDGE BROWNIES
Adapted from a recipe in Brownies by Linda Burum

3 ½ oz (100 g) Intense Orange Chocolate by Lindt (or equivalent orange-scented semisweet chocolate)
2 oz (60 g) unsweetened chocolate
1 1/3 cups (300 g) unsalted butter
2 ½ cups (500 g) sugar
¼ tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
1 – 2 Tbs Cointreau or Grand Marnier
5 large eggs
1 ½ cups (180 g) flour (lightly spooned into measuring cup then leveled with a knife)
1 ½ cups (125 g) coarsely chopped pecans

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Lightly but thoroughly butter a six-cup heart-shaped muffin tin or equivalent (each cup holds a little more than one soup ladle of batter) and one 15 ½ x 10 ½ x 1-inch (approximately 39 x 26 x 2 ½ cm) jellyroll pan.

In a medium saucepan over low heat, melt the butter together with the chocolates, stirring gently to keep from burning. Remove from the heat when almost but not completely melted, continuing to stir off the heat until all the butter and chocolate are melted. Allow to cool slightly.

Scrape all of the chocolate-butter liquid into a large heatproof mixing bowl and add the sugar, salt and vanilla and stir or whisk until well blended. It will be grainy. Stir in the Cointreau. Vigorously whisk or stir in the eggs one at a time, blending well after each addition. The batter should become smooth and no longer grainy. Stir in the chopped pecans and the flour until well blended and smooth.

Ladle batter into each buttered muffin cup of the tin until filled about halfway and not more than ¾ full. Pour the rest into the prepared jellyroll pan and smooth, making sure the batter fills the corners and all the way to the edges.

Bake the brownies for 25 – 30 minutes, depending on the size of the pans and the oven, until the brownies are set and the top shiny. A toothpick inserted into the brownies should come out clean. If you prefer your brownies gooey and slightly undercookied in the center, take them out of the oven sooner, but the top should be uniformly set and shiny.

Remove the tins from the oven and allow to cool on racks.


ORANGE COINTREAU BROWNIE TIRAMISU
For approximately 8 individual Tiramisu

Orange Cointreau Brownies (½ x 10 ½ x 1-inch (@ 39 x 26 x 2 ½ cm) jellyroll pan)
Bitter orange marmalade or jelly + a bit of Cointreau

4 large eggs, separated
2 cups (500 g) fresh mascarpone
½ cups (100 g) granulated sugar, divided
2 – 3 Tbs Cointreau or Grand Marnier

Unsweetened cocoa powder for dusting

Separate the egg yolks from the whites. Set the whites aside is a medium bowl, preferably plastic or metal.

Beat the yolks in a large bowl with all except 1 tablespoon of the sugar until very thick, creamy and pale. Beat in the mascarpone until well blended and creamy. Stir in 2 tablespoons of Cointreau.

Beat the whites until they start to stiffen. Add the remaining tablespoon of sugar gradually, continuing to beat the whites stiff. Carefully fold the stiff egg whites, a third at a time, into the mascarpone/egg mixture: using a spatula, gently fold the whites into the mixture after each addition so as not to break the air in the whites. Taste the mascarpone cream, adding a bit more sugar or Cointreau to taste.

Using individual metal ring molds, press each mold into the brownies; carefully slide a wide spatula underneath the brownie and the ring and lift off of the pan. Invert the mold with the brownie base inside it and place the inverted ring mold on a platter; press the circle of brownie down into the mold, sliding it so it rests at the bottom on the plate (still inside of the ring): the brownie is now upside down so the crusty, shiny side is down and the moister side is up.

Once all of the ring molds have a brownie base (inverted) and are lined up on the platter or clean cookie tray, melt several tablespoons of bitter orange marmalade over very low heat, stirring to avoid burning; stir in a capful of Cointreau to liquefy the jelly. Using a pastry brush, dab a layer of bitter orange marmalade onto and all over each brownie base, as much or as little as desired. Spoon the prepared Cointreau mascarpone into each ring mold on top of the brownie base to fill up to the top of the ring.

Cover all of the filled ring molds with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

To serve, slide a wide spatula underneath each Tiramisu, one at a time, and place one on each individual dessert place. Dust the surface of each Tiramisu generously with unsweetened cocoa powder. Carefully slide a thin, sharp knife around each Tiramisu to loosen then gently twist and lift the ring mold off of the Tiramisu. Serve and eat immediately.



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