Not editing, really. Finessing. Alcott may have mastered prose at the desk, but in the kitchen she was likely closer to Jo March, for whom the “bread burned black” and the “cream turned sour.” Making Apple Slump would be like cooking with Ms. Alcott’s domestically-challenged ghost, and while I cored and sliced I considered my years reading and rereading the March girls, picturing Amy’s limes, Meg’s vain high heels and lonely Jo in the attic with apples, writing and cursing scarlet fever, the villain that stole Beth. I regretted that my little tweaks – dash of vanilla, an extra apple – could not make Laurie come to his senses and dump Amy. Pecans would add crunch but they would never make Jo marry Laurie, nor bring Beth back. They’re a matter of personal taste, like my feelings about Meg wedding that dull John Brooke, and while they won’t change the story they can at least enhance Ms. Alcott’s kitchen legacy, and certainly perk up the Slump.

————-

For Fall Fest’s Apple Week, a few choice scenes – with apples – from Little Women.

- THE LAURENCE BOY -

“Jo! Jo! Where are you?” cried Meg at the foot of the garret stairs.

“Here!” answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo’s favorite refuge, and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by and didn’t mind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the news.

- BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL -

“See the cunning brackets to hold candles, and the nice green silk, puckered up, with a gold rose in the middle, and the pretty rack and stool, all complete,” added Meg, opening the instrument and displaying its beauties.

“‘Your humble servant, James Laurence’. Only think of his writing that to you. I’ll tell the girls. They’ll think it’s splendid,” said Amy, much impressed by the note.

“Try it, honey. Let’s hear the sound of the baby pianny,” said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows.

So Beth tried it, and everyone pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie order, but, perfect as it was, I think the real charm lay in the happiest of all happy faces which leaned over it, as Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright pedals.

“You’ll have to go and thank him,” said Jo, by way of a joke, for the idea of the child’s really going never entered her head.

“Yes, I mean to. I guess I’ll go now, before I get frightened thinking about it.” And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences’ door.

- HARVEST TIME -

There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the Marches, Laurences, Brookes and Bhaers turned out in full force and made a day of it. Five years after Jo’s wedding, one of these fruitful festivals occurred, a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins.

The old orchard wore its holiday attire. Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls. Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting. Birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake.

“Yes, Jo, I think your harvest will be a good one,” began Mrs. March, frightening away a big black cricket that was staring Teddy out of countenance.

“Not half so good as yours, Mother. Here it is, and we never can thank you enough for the patient sowing and reaping you have done,” cried Jo, with the loving impetuosity which she never would outgrow.

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT’S APPLE SLUMP

from Orchard House, Concord, Massachusetts

4-6 tart apples (I used 3 large Granny Smith and 3 medium Golden Delicious)
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, well-beaten
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup melted butter

Peel, core and slice the apples. Preheat oven to 350° F. Grease with butter the inside of a 1-1/2 quart baking dish. (NOTE: for a shallower, more even apples-to-topping ratio, use a 9 x 13 pan.) Put into the dish the sliced apples, brown sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Bake apples uncovered until they are soft, about 20 minutes.

While the apples are baking, sift together into a bowl the flour, baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and sugar. Mix into this the beaten egg, milk, and melted butter. Stir gently. Spread this mixture over the apples and continue baking — until the top is brown and crusty (about 25 minutes). Serve with whipped cream. Serves 6.

NOTES (with apologies to Ms. Alcott)

1. Use at least 6 good-sized apples – 7 or 8 if they’re small – or you’ll have more topping than fruit.

2. Where the instructions say “Put into the dish the sliced apples, brown sugar, nutmeg…” I tossed the apples with the brown sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon and salt in a separate bowl, then poured the mixture into the baking dish. I also added 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla to the apple-sugar mixture.

3. I sprinkled 1/2 cup chopped pecans over the batter topping.

4. Baking times (for both the uncovered apples and the batter-topped Slump) may be longer than noted. Watch for the apples to soften and the top crust to turn an even, light gold-brown.

Did the Marches have vanilla and pecans? No. But they didn’t have blogs, either.

————

Summer Fest is now Fall Fest, an ongoing celebration of good food and great ideas from food and garden bloggers around the globe. Every week we share great recipes, stories and tips for marvelous seasonal ingredients. You can participate by visiting the guest blogs to share links or comments – and if you’re particularly inspired, contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: APPLES

Todd and Diane at White on Rice Couple: Apple picking, and Broiled Leeks with Apple Vinaigrette

Alana at Eating from the Ground Up: Apple pie and its place in her family religion

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Remaking The Silver Palate Cookbook’s Medieval Apple Tart

Alison at Food2: 22 Awesome Ways to Use Your Apples

Michelle at Cooking Channel: Apple Dessert Recipes

Dana at Healthy Eats: 31 Days of Apple Recipes

Liz at Food Network: Pick the Perfect Apple

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Apple Stack Cake and Dark Caramel Apples

Food Network UK: Five English apples you should know and love

Gilded Fork: Apples—Sweet Seduction

Paige at The Sister Project: Third-Prize Apple Pie

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Favorite Apple Recipes

Margaret at A Way to Garden: Apple Season: A Windfall of Recipes From My Friends

We see Jenna make dozens of pies, from banana cream to blackberry chocolate, and she names each pie to match her mood, names like “I Can’t Have No Affair Because It’s Wrong And I Don’t Want Earl To Kill Me Pie (vanilla custard with banana, hold the banana)” and “Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie (lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in).” Waitress is funny, intelligent, delicious and, best of all, features an elderly Andy Griffith as Old Joe, a sly, pie-loving philosopher. See it and you won’t be sorry. Possibly hungry, but not sorry.

In other news, I baked a pie – made for the wonderful cross-blog food event Summer Fest. I’m contributing to this week’s topic, Stone Fruits, and next week’s topic, Tomatoes.  Summer Fest 2010 features more wonderful food bloggers than ever (I had a swell time last year, too), listed at the end of this post. Be sure to visit them all today to check out their marvelous recipes, tips and ideas – and share some of your own.

What did I call my pie? Well, I wasn’t sure, at least not until late afternoon. Despite the presence of good pie, one never does know where the day will lead. Let’s take a look.

“Dopey Marilyn Doesn’t Have a Pitter, So Pal Melanie Helped Her Pit Cherries With A Knife Pie,” also known as “Melanie Was Real Mad At Her Landlord And Took It Out On The Bloody Cherries Pie.”

“Calls From Auto Insurance, Volleyball Coach, Dentist, Piano Teacher and Mom Tryin’ To Keep Me From Rolling Dough Pie.”

“Why Does Melanie Back Away Slow When I Start Cutting Dough Leaves? Pie”

“The Dog’s Breath Smells Like Ginger ‘Cause Half The Crunch Hit The Floor Pie”

and finally,

“Hungry Crabby Tired Back-To-School Josie Got A Fork And That Was All She Wrote Pie.”

CHERRY APRICOT PIE with GINGER-ALMOND CRUNCH

1. Make pie dough. Roll crust into pie plate as directed, and chill in refrigerator until ready to fill.

2. Make Ginger-Almond Crunch. Refrigerate until ready to use.

3. Make Cherry Apricot filling. Pour filling into prepared pie crust. Finish and bake as directed, using one of the options below.

If you’ve prepared a fluted pie crust: sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

If you’ve prepared for a leaf cutout crust: Remove leaf cutouts from refrigerator. Fill a small bowl with water. Using fingers, moisten the back of one leaf cutout and press it gently but firmly to pie dough rim, adhering to folded edge. Add remaining leaves in an overlapping pattern, moistening and pressing each one to form a natural “wreath” along the rim.

When leaf edge is complete, sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

——-

Pie Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
3 tablespoons chilled vegetable shortening
1/4 cup ice water

Food processor method: Place flour and salt in processor bowl. Cut butter and shortening in pieces, and sprinkle over flour mixture. Pulse machine on/off to cut butter/shortening into flour, forming coarse crumbs and a few remaining chunks. Trickle ice water over mixture, pulsing until it just comes together as a rough, unformed dough, about 20-30 seconds. Wrap and chill, at least 1 hour.

On a lightly floured work surface, divide pie dough in half, patting each half into a flattened round. (Reserve one half to roll decorative leaf or other cutouts, if desired, or wrap and chill for another use.) Roll first half of dough into a round approximately 1/8″ thick, turning as you roll to prevent sticking. Round size should be slightly larger than your 9″ or 10″ deep-dish pie plate. Transfer round to pie plate, lightly pressing dough to fit, and patching small cracks or tears if necessary. Trim excess dough, leaving about 1″ of overhang.

For fluted rim pie crust: Gently fold overhang up and over pie plate rim, pressing dough with thumb and forefinger as you work around whole plate to form a decorative indented rim. Chill unbaked crust in refrigerator until ready to fill.

For leaf cutout pie crust: Trim overhang to 1/2″, then fold up and over pie plate, pressing into a flat rim all around. Roll second half of dough to 1/8″ thick. Cut leaf shapes 1) with a leaf-shaped cookie cutter or 2) cutting freehand with a paring knife. Cut slightly pointed ovals (irregular is fine!) then use tip of paring knife to lightly score “leaf veining” marks on each one. Leaves will be added to edge after pie is filled, so chill cutouts in refrigerator until ready to use.

Ginger-Almond Crunch

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
1/2 all-purpose flour
1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup whole almonds, toasted
1/4 cup crystallized ginger chunks

Toast almonds in a skillet over medium heat, shaking until golden brown, about 5-6 minutes, OR toast in 350° oven on an ungreased baking sheet, about 10 minutes. Cool almonds completely before using.

Place toasted almonds and crystallized ginger in food processor bowl. Pulse machine on/off until you get small, coarse pieces. Add butter, flour, and brown sugar to bowl. Using on/off pulse again, process together into even, large crumbs. Transfer mixture to a small bowl, and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cherry Apricot Filling

1 1/2 pounds firm ripe apricots, pitted and quartered, about 4 cups
1 1/2 pound cherries, pitted
1 teaspoon lemon juice
3/4 cup sugar
3 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon pure almond extract

In large bowl, gently toss cut apricots and pitted cherries together with lemon juice. In small bowl, combine sugar and cornstarch. Sprinkle mixture over apricots and cherries, turning to coat, then add vanilla and almond extracts, lightly tossing until just mixed. Follow directions above for filling and baking pie.

Summer Fest is an annual online celebration of good food and great ideas, featuring food and garden bloggers from around the globe. Every week we highlight a different seasonal ingredient – corn, stone fruit, tomatoes – and our guest bloggers share wonderful recipes, stories and tips. You can participate by visiting these terrific blogs and leaving links or comments – and if you’re feeling particularly inspired, you can contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: STONE FRUIT

Sara at Cooking Channel: Savory Stone Fruit recipes.

Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple: Riesling Poached Pluots.

Margaret at A Way to Garden: What is stone fruit, anyhow? Plus: Clafoutis batter revisited.

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Ginger and Vanilla Poached Peaches.

The FN Dish: Paula’s Perfect Peach Cobbler.

Alison at Food2: Peachy Party Foods.

Kelly at Just a Taste: Peaches & Cream Cupcakes.

Liz on Healthy Eats: Puttin’ Up Peach Pickles, Compote and More.

Food Network UK: How to Poach a Peach.

Judy of Divina Cucina: Chocolate Amaretti Baked Apricots.

The Gilded Fork: dossier & recipes featuring peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums, cherries, almonds, coconuts.

Cate at Sweetnicks: Blueberry Peach Smoothies.

Tara at Tea & Cookies: Making Peach Jam.

Alana at Eating From the Ground Up: Stone fruit slump.

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff: grilled peach parfait and coconut peach gazpacho.

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: gluten-free peach-blueberry buckle.

Paige at The Sister Project: A Summer Fruit Whatchamacallit (not a pie, not a crisp, but delicious).

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Cherry Apricot Pie with Ginger-Almond Crunch.

Tigress in a Jam: nectarine preserve with summer savory and white pepper.

Silly illustration, above, from several years ago. Finally, a place to put it!

This is not new. If given a deliberately vague task I freeze and wait for purpose, which often doesn’t show but finally did, when I carved a mission from this meme-me-me: I’d share seven foods from my past, each with a small story. You, dear reader, pick the one you like – or the least boring, whichever comes first – and the most-voted food gets cooked and blogged here on Simmer, recipe, story and all. Thank you, Susan for your too-kind words and, indirectly, the gift of one blogging day made a little less random.

S’mores Tarts Baking at an upscale Chicago pastry shop, I was expected to devise new desserts for the case. New desserts that would please both customers and our novelty-driven boss who, if he sensed a trend, would have sold chocolate-dipped pig ears and motorized cake. I came up with S’mores tarts, novel in 1995, composed of graham tart shells, milk chocolate ganache and fluffy house-made marshmallows which we would – big finish – set ablaze in front of the crowd. Seemed like a winner, and all went great until we actually blew out flames, and a lady in the window shrieked heavenward that she’d seen our spit hit the tarts. So much for blaze theater.

Curried Mushroom Soup In high school Behavioral Science class, we had a semester-long project in which we’d be pretend-married to another student, and live on a budget, and work out issues, and all types of situations designed for maximum teen discomfort. One assignment required hosting a dinner party with other “couples,” and after planting my pink Converse Hi-Tops at mom’s stove to make Curried Mushroom Soup – a mature-sounding dish from her files – I served it in our dining room to twitchy, bickering pairs who’d rather be somewhere else. Dabbing soup off my ripped jeans, I considered that this might be how adults spent their days.

Stuffed Leg of Lamb In a combined young-bride and young-chef disaster, I once pounded, stuffed and rolled a boneless leg of lamb to entertain Greg’s law firm colleagues. The evening started with our crotch-sniffing Dalmatian and a clogged sink, continued with undercooked, untied lamb and finished with a wailing fire alarm. In truth, the mustard-garlic-whatever stuffing was delicious – but who among you would ask me to do it again?

Tortelloni with Gorgonzola Sauce In the post-college summer of 1990, Greg and I backpacked around Italy. One night in Bologna we splurged on a real restaurant, a place called The Black Cat, set on a square with flickering jar candles, wrought-iron tables and people in clean clothes. After slurping cheap red wine we ate carpaccio with parmigiana, lemon and capers, fat cheese-filled tortelloni in Gorgonzola sauce, and tiramisu. It may be the wine, the summer or the fact that an argument caused me to leave, walk away and come back, but it is still, many dinners later, the best I ever had.

Linzer Torte The classic Austrian dessert is just fruit jam under latticed almond crust, but the buttery dough is tricky, melting, fragile. Especially if you’re rolling dough in a small city bakery in July, and daft owner lady won’t pay for air conditioning, and still takes orders for Linzer Torte. You might get heat stroke and threaten to quit, right there over the breaking dough. Yes you might. But you’d never blame a torte this good.

Marjolaine When I ran a catering company, The Happy Ending, I supplied restaurants with Valentine’s Day desserts. One year I filled an order for 300 pieces of Marjolaine, a labor-intensive classic made with hazelnut meringue, genoise, and two buttercreams. At the time I worked out of my house, and with no catering staff and a sleeping toddler, it was just me and Marjolaine in the all-night kitchen. For hours I baked, whipped, stirred, threw spatulas and wept. All the while I Love Lucy played on my tiny kitchen TV, the Scotland episode where Lucy dreams it all. I know this because I saw it three times; I was at my table so long that Nick at Nite ran it three full times before sunrise. Three. If you vote for Marjolaine, rest assured it will be well-planned. One cake, no Lucy and Simmer off to bed.

Spaghetti Carbonara When I returned home on college breaks and my sister was in high school, we liked to whip up this spaghetti-bacon-egg bonanza late at night – and for a short obsessive time, every night. When I picture the bubbling cream and parmigiana and yolks it boggles my mind, a mystery how I made it through those snack years without total stomach collapse, or gaining 500 pounds. Because that would surely happen now if, at 42, I began lounging with midnight TV, two-liter Diet Cokes and pasta straight-from the-pot. Iris was my Carbonara ringleader, insisting the more cheese, more spaghetti, more talk shows the better. Our parents were asleep, we had metabolism on our side and to flop down and share one blue bowl again, even a few strands, my stomach would gladly say yes.

So. One of these memories gets cooked. If it’s Marjolaine or lamb, please give me plenty of notice so I can prepare, respectively, with extra sleep and string.

———-

Update 1/28: WINNER! S’mores Tarts it is, announced here. Voting over, but if you wish to leave a request – like lamb, oh you people – feel free. And thanks for playing along.

“No banana.” I checked one more basket, and held something up. “Banana muffin?”

Greg took the muffin. Locally baked and individually wrapped, the sticker read:

BANANA BREAD

He turned it over a few times. “But… it says Banana Bread.”  He looked at me.  “It’s a muffin.”

“Hmm,” I said.  “Technically, it’s the same thing, I mean, pretty much the same batter.  Just a different shape.”

He was still turning it over. Oh, dear.

I looked to our friend Barista Girl, behind the counter. “I don’t know,” she said. “They’re just labeling them like that now.”

All three of us looked at the muffin-bread.  I imagined a stream of banana bread lovers, weak from confusion.

“They shouldn’t do that,” she offered.

“No,” I said. “they shouldn’t mess with names like that.  Muffin is muffin and bread is bread.”

We agreed.  I mean, you can’t just change names.  You can’t decide that stick is suddenly leaf or dog is now called table.  There are rules about these things.  Peoples’ heads will explode.

Back home I was baking, and thought, there are exceptions to the name thing, even delicious ones, like these Two-Bite Jam Tarts.   Are they a cookie or a tart? They use Cream Cheese Dough, one I frequently roll into rugelach and other cookies.  But, as I noted to Josie, they have little edges.  They stand up and hold jam.  And they’re flaky, too – all clearly pointing to tart.

Josie had a mouthful of crumbs and raspberry. “Cookie,” she said.

“Oh, no, tart. I think – see, see how it’s like a little galette, with the edges…”

In a flash there was cold milk, three more treats and she was gone, leaping two steps at a time.  Name talk over.

“Whatever,” she threw down behind her, “they’re just good.”

———————-

These mini tarts – I’m making the call here – are little gems.   They tip the happiness scale because the easy-to-satisfaction ratio is so absurdly high.   A one-step dough, simple rolling skills and a bit of jam are all you need to enjoy warm two-bite tarts.  Flaky little cookies.  Whatever you call them – they won’t last long.

Almost-done preserves and jams sitting around? This is their moment.

Ziplocs make handy disposable pastry bags: fill with jam, cut a small opening, and pipe about a teaspoon onto each circle.

Pull up and pinch edges all around jam, pinching and overlapping slightly to seal. No uniformity necessary – just pinch and have faith.

Optional pistachio version – for Greg the pistachio-lover, who just wants banana bread to look like banana bread.

Baked, and they’re sunny perfection – actually, imperfection. Just look at those nooks, those crannies, the lopsides and jam spills!  Even my orderly self embraces their sweet mess.  A sifting of powdered sugar, however…

…brings them right back to perfect.

—————————

Two-Bite Jam Tarts

click me, I’m a printable recipe!

1 recipe Cream Cheese Dough (below)

Jam or Preserves, your choice – I like blackberry, raspberry and orange marmalade

pistachios or pecans, chopped (optional)

powdered sugar, for sprinkling

Dough:  make Cream Cheese Dough as directed.  After kneading lightly, cut dough in half.  Wrap and reserve half for another use (snacking is good.)

Roll remaining half of dough on lightly floured surface to about 1/8″ thick.  Using a medium-round fluted cutter – I use a 2 1/2″ round – cut circles from dough, re-rolling scraps and cutting circles until done.*

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Fill Tarts: line baking sheet with parchment paper or foil.  Transfer dough circles to baking sheet, fitting as many as you can – as you fill and pinch the tarts, you’ll have room for more.

Place jam (how much you have is up to you) in a ziploc bag.  Keeping top open, twist tightly over jam and cut small opening at the tip.  Hold tip facing upwards until you are ready to pipe!  Standing over baking sheet, place tip just above one dough circle and release about one teaspoon of jam in center.  Working quickly, repeat with remaining circles, changing jam as desired.

(alternately, you can spoon jam onto dough – but once you get the hang of piping, you’ll appreciate the speed)

Pinch Crusts: using both hands, pick up edges of dough circle and pinch together and upwards, working all the way around until complete, resembling a pie crust or raised bottlecap.  Repeat with all mini-tarts until done.

Optional nuts: before baking, sprinkle finely chopped pistachios or pecans over tarts

Bake:  bake tarts at 375 F for 15-18 minutes, until edges and bottom are lightly browned, and jam is bubbling.  Remove from oven and cool slightly.

Serve:  sift powdered sugar lightly over tarts, and serve.  Or just…eat.  Enjoy!

* with this flaky dough, a fluted round cutter will produce a raised pattern along the sides and create a terrific little “tart crust.”

makes about 30 two-bite tarts (or cookies. Your call.)

———————-

Cream Cheese Dough (also found here)

8 oz cream cheese, cold
8 oz unsalted butter, cold
2 cups all-purpose flour
pinch salt

Place flour and salt in food processor and process a few seconds, to blend. Chunk butter and cream cheese in pieces over flour, then process, using on-off motion, until dough just forms a ball. Turn out onto floured surface and knead lightly into a smooth mass.

Roll, shape and bake into tart crusts, sweet turnovers, rugelach, and other cookies.  Keeps several days wrapped in the refrigerator, and freezes well.

Marilyn, to Foodie Barista Girl forced to Feign Interest in Marilyn’s Latest Projects: So, I’m thinking about making homemade dulce de leche. I love everything about it.

Barista Girl: Oh…well, if you’re making dulce de leche, you should definitely make Banoffee Pie.

M: Banoffee?

BG: You’ve never had Banoffee Pie?

M: Tell me. Now.

BG:  Well…it’s this thing where you do a graham cracker crust, with bananas, and pour the dulce de leche over the bananas…

M: (gripping counter) Oh my god.

BG: …and then top it with whipped cream. It’s British, with some chocolate on top…

M: * poof! *
Banoffee Pie – born at the equally well-named Hungry Monk Restaurant of East Sussex, it’s a freakishly decadent “pudding” that also goes by Banoffi and even Banoffy, and now seems ubiquitous in the UK, appearing everywhere from supermarkets to Pizza Hut. Like all beloved recipes, there’s healthy disagreement and multiple versions – I found cookie crusts, pastry crusts, top caramel, bottom caramel, and at least three spellings. It was reportedly a favorite of both Margaret Thatcher and Princess Diana, but what really grabbed me was the sound of “banoffee” – it’s a smiler, just say it. So let’s review: British pedigree, burnt sugar and sliced bananas? Call it whatever you like – but for the love of butterfat, get in there and make it.

Banoffee Pie

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
10 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon sugar

1 1/2 cans sweetened condensed milk
3 bananas

1 cup heavy cream
1 tablespoon light brown sugar

1 oz square semisweet chocolate

1. Graham cracker crust

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Place graham cracker crumbs in a bowl, then add cinnamon and sugar, stirring to mix. Melt butter. Pour melted butter over crumb mixture, stirring with fork to combine. Use hands to finish mixing, until crumb mixture is thoroughly combined. Press evenly into 9″ pie plate, then bake on center rack for about 10 minutes, until crust appears dry. Set aside to cool.

2. Bananas

Peel and slice bananas – not paper thin, but on the thinner side – and layer in cooled graham cracker crust. Press lightly with a spatula to flatten bananas together.

3. Dulce de leche (the “Toffee” in “Banoffee”)

There are several ways to make homemade dulce de leche – for the patient, traditional way – cooking the unopened can in a water bath – click here. I went with a more impatient method, a bit dicier but certainly quicker:

Scrape approximately 1 1/2 cans sweetened condensed milk (a bit more or less won’t hurt) into a medium-sized saucepan, preferably enameled or nonstick. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly and steadily, for about 20 minutes, or until it deepens to a golden-brown color. Use a wooden spoon or a heatproof spatula to stir and watch carefully, as mixture can burn quickly.

Have banana-filled pie crust ready nearby. When the condensed milk becomes thickened and golden-brown, remove it from the heat. Use the wooden spoon or heatproof spatula to scrape mixture out of pan, and pour over bananas while still warm. Spread dulce de leche around with a spoon or metal offset spatula to cover bananas completely, touching edge of crust. Refrigerate pie until filling is completely cool.

4. Whipped cream and serving

When filling is completely cool, make whipped cream. Using electric mixer, whip heavy cream with brown sugar, starting on medium and increasing in speed, whipping until beaters leave strong peaks in cream.

Using spatula, spread whipped cream over top of pie, creating swirls and peaks. Grate semisweet chocolate in a light, even sprinkle over top and refrigerate until set. Serve and enjoy!

Click me, I’m a printable recipe!

I love this. It’s like Highlights for dessert-obsessed adults. Next up, “Goofus and Gallant make Creme Caramel!”

And then, once in a sugared blue moon you get the sort of feedback that makes you very, very happy.  Yesterday Simmer reader Amy, she of her own blog My Land, sent me something wonderful.

Her own Apple-Almond Braid, and doesn’t it look smashing? Now that’s what I call feedback. Feed-me feedback.

Delicious job, Amy, and thanks for sending it!

I don’t leave home without dessert. Call it fate or my fault, but I can’t appear at birthdays, baby showers or tax meetings empty-handed. I no longer run a kitchen or own a bakery – but even when I did, this sort of dessert was greeted, time and again, with the same phrase: you didn’t make that.

Well yes I did, I’d say, I did make that. Oh come on, they’d sputter, that came from a bakery. It was cute, it was flattering, and eventually, annoying. No, that looks like professional bakery.

Uh…I work in a bakery. I am a bakery. You’re paying for it. It’s bakery.

This went on. Even now with the apple-almond braid, even with family, fifteen years among them and still the same tease:

“You didn’t make that.”

(eyes roll into back of my head)

“Yes.” I hand a slice to Millie, on my right, who takes it and smiles. “I did.”

“Come on – did you stop at the bakery?”

“No,” I said, plating a slice, “I didn’t.”

“You did not make that.”

“Mm…sure did.”

“You stopped at the bakery.”

“Fine. I stopped at the bakery, okay?” Now they were listening. “Yeah. I stopped at the bakery – the bakery of me. Now who wants a slice?”

Today we are stopping at the bakery of…you.  You’re going to make this Apple-Almond Braid and amaze them – you’re going to coolly cut slices while they search for the white box.  This looks fussy, but it isn’t, and looks tricky, but it’s not.  It also looks delicious, and it is.  Bakery?  Uh-uh.  Today, this is how you roll.

Apple-Almond Braid

Slice apples and saute with sugar, just caramelizing to a tasty gold.

Lightly chop the cooked apples. Run out of the kitchen in an effort not to eat the cooked apples. Come back and vow to eat just a few.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the cream cheese dough out to a wide, slightly squared oval shape, long enough to fit lengthwise across a cookie sheet. Transfer dough to ungreased cookie sheet, allowing a slight overhang off the edges.

Spread almond filling lengthwise down center of dough strip, leaving about 2 inches bare on either side.

Pile those golden cooked apples on top of the almond filling, mounding evenly lengthwise down the strip…

…like so. And now we do a great trick, the one that will make them demand to see your bakery receipt: using a small sharp knife, slash diagonal lines along both sides of the filled strip. Start with your knife on the inside, closer to the almond filling, and pull the knife out, creating short strips, about 3/4″ wide. Cut short strips along both sides of dough, leaving “overhang ends” uncut and in tact. The strip should look fringed…

…sort of like a big apple-almond fish. Now, starting at one end, pull each strip toward the center, creating a “V” with each pair, loosely pinching together in the middle. Continuing pulling and pairing strips all the way down, until filling is covered and you have a “braid.”

To finish the ends, pinch overhang dough together, then pull up and roll over the cookie sheet, pinching to meet and seal the braid.

Oh my god, look what you did!  You’re some kind of domesticated bakery superstar, and you’re almost done.  Sprinkle finished, unbaked braid thickly with cinnamon-sugar mixture and sliced almonds.

Bake to a gorgeous crusty brown, sprinkle some powdered sugar, and prepare for bakery heaven…

…because that’s it. You get true bakery sights, sounds and tastes with just one chunk of dough, a few ripe apples and a new trick up your sleeve. Don’t forget to keep those sleeves rolled up – and by all means, remove that bracelet.
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Apple-Almond Braid

1 batch Cream Cheese Dough (below)
1 batch Apple Filling (below)
6 oz almond filling (available in supermarkets, canned)
1/2 cup sliced almonds
cinnamon and sugar, for sprinkling

1. Make one recipe of Cream Cheese Dough, below. Flatten into a smooth oval shape, wrap in plastic and chill until ready to use.

2. While dough chills, make Apple Filling, below.  Set apples aside to cool while you roll dough.

3. Preheat oven to 375 F.

4. Roll & Assemble the Braid: remove Cream Cheese Dough from refrigerator. On a lightly floured surface, roll dough to approximately 1/4″ thickness and roll to a large, flat oval shape, about 8-9 ” wide and as long as your cookie sheet, 17″ or more. Transfer dough to ungreased cookie sheet, allowing “overhang” off the edges at either end. Trim away any excess dough and refrigerate for other use (like…dough snacks).

Using spoon or offset flat spatula, spread almond filling lengthwise down dough strip, leaving about 2″ bare on either side. Mound cooled apples evenly on top of almond filling.

Using a small sharp knife, slash diagonal lines along both sides of the filled strip. Start with your knife on the inside, closer to the almond filling, and pull the knife out, creating short strips, about 3/4″ wide. Cut short strips along both sides of dough, leaving “overhang ends” uncut and in tact.

Starting at one end, pull each strip toward the center, creating a “V” with each pair, loosely pinching together in the middle. Continuing pulling and pairing strips all the way down, until filling is covered and you have a “braid.” Sprinkle finished, unbaked braid thickly with cinnamon-sugar mixture and sliced almonds.

5. Bake: place braid in lower third of oven and bake for approximately 35 minutes, until golden brown. Bake another 10 minutes on top rack of oven, until almonds are browned but not burnt, pastry is a dark golden brown and fruit juices begin to bubble. Remove from oven and cool.

To serve, lightly sift powdered sugar over whole braid. Serve slices warm, if desired, with vanilla ice cream.

serves 10 – 15

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Cream Cheese Dough

8 oz cream cheese, cold
8 oz unsalted butter, cold
2 cups all-purpose flour
pinch salt

Place flour and salt in food processor and process a few seconds, to blend. Chunk butter and cream cheese in pieces over flour, then process, using on-off motion, until dough just forms a ball. Turn out onto floured surface and knead lightly into a smooth mass. Wrap with plastic and chill until ready to use. Rolls best when cold but still pliable, on a lightly floured surface.

Apple Filling

5 Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored, and thick-sliced
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons corn starch
4 tablespoons water
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

Using a large and preferably non-stick frying pan, saute apples over medium-high heat with sugar and water, shaking pan occasionally, until just golden, browning and slightly sticky. Turn apples with heatproof spoon or spatula for even color. Cook until soft but not mush – watch carefully and do not burn. Reduce heat to low.

In small bowl, mix water and cornstarch to combine. Over low heat, add corn starch mixture to apples, stirring and shaking to thicken and distribute evenly. When done, apples should appear golden, glistening and still in soft slices. If too thick and pasty – i.e., white chunks of cornstarch appear – add a bit more water as necessary, turning to combine. Turn off heat, sprinkle with cinnamon and toss to distribute.

Remove apples from stove and cool until just safe to handle. Spread on cutting board and lightly chop, making large chunks. Set apples aside to cool before using as filling.

His today’s-today stance makes me a target. He is especially fond of letting me know how fortunate he’s been to hear every tale of my family, friends, dogs, the pink curtains in first grade and every bite I’ve eaten since 1985. He likes to say there’s nothing he doesn’t know – no story he hasn’t heard, no tale untold, and this worries me. If I run out of material, what will we talk about in the nursing home? I’ve been thinking of doing stupid things just for the anecdotes. I need to keep him on his toes.

It’s not that he doesn’t remember; the man recalls every gift he ever gave me and every taco, sancho, and burrito he’s ever known – it’s just that he doesn’t need to. His memories live in lockdown, a place I don’t understand, a place that clearly lacks soft lights and throw pillows. So it’s all the more shocking to know there’s one memory that routinely escapes, one tableau he repeats – happily repeats, a terrible man-sin – and that memory is Key West.

I’ve heard it many times. The station wagon rumbling south in the night, a young sleepy Greg sprawled in back – the back back, no seat belts required – on a Snoopy sleeping bag, moving toward palm trees, dreaming of the nation’s southernmost spot. His dad drove while his mom likely dozed, and he – still an only child, the space all his own – was allowed to roll around with snacks and stare at the stars. Down through the dark, wheels below, we drove all the way to Key West.

We’ve shared key lime pie a hundred times, including one overpriced slice with two tourist forks right on Duval Street. But whether I make it or buy it, it’s one of the few bites I know – certain tacos, another – that he’ll willingly link to the past. He’ll say how great it was in the wagon, how it was such a sweet setup with that sleeping bag, and for one brief, backwards moment we are almost, but not quite, saying things the same way. Then we clear plates, and today’s today.

Good thing that today is nice, too, and that after 15 years you don’t need a misty mind-meld to stay together. But there’s a kind of tricky filling to it all and sometimes, it’s good to put the right fork in the right hand on the right day.

There is never, ever a bad day with key limes, the happiest sprite on the tree. You can make the classic whole pie, or mess around like I do and make little tarts. These are pucker-up good, creamy and nicely individual – so everyone can take their own sweet time at the plate. To each his own, right?

Key Lime Pie (or tarts)

There are a million Key Lime recipes out there, but all you really need is a simple mix of lime juice, eggs and the magic of sweetened condensed milk – the more creative bits are up to you. I’ve found that this recipe, from Cook’s Illustrated The New Best Recipe book (published 2004, America’s Test Kitchen) hits the perfect texture and rich, tart taste. Make the whole pie or use 3″ tart rings to make minis.

Note: prepare the filling for the pie first, so it can thicken during the time it takes to prepare the crust.

Lime filling

4 teaspoons grated zest and 1/2 cup strained juice from 3-4 Persian limes (or up to a dozen Key limes)
4 large egg yolks
1 (14-oz.) can sweetened condensed milk

Graham cracker crust

9 graham crackers (5 ounces) broken into rough pieces
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and kept warm
optional: 1 teaspoon cinnamon

Whipped cream topping

3/4 cup chilled heavy cream
1/4 cup (1 ounce) confectioner’s sugar

optional garnish:

1/2 lime, sliced paper-thin and dipped in granulated sugar

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The filling: Whisk the zest and yolks in a medium nonreactive bowl until tinted light green, about 2 minutes. Beat in the condensed milk, then the juice; set aside at room temperature to thicken (about 30 minutes).

The crust: Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 325 degrees.

In a food processor, process the graham crackers until evenly fine, about 30 seconds (you should have 1 cup crumbs). Add the sugar (plus optional cinnamon) and pulse to combine. Continue to pulse while adding the warm melted butter in a steady stream; pulse until the mixture resembles wet sand.

For Whole Pie: Transfer the crumbs to a 9-inch glass pie plate and evenly press the crumbs into the plate, using your thumbs and a 1/2 cup measuring cup to square off the top of the crust. Bake the crust until it is fragrant and beginning to brown, 15-18 minutes; transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.

For Individual Tarts: Use any size mini tart pan, from 1-3 inches wide, to make individual tarts. Using the prepared graham cracker crumb mixture, place enough crumbs into each mini pan to pat down bottom and press up sides, creating a firm crumb “wall.” Place tarts on sheet pan and bake as directed above, until just fragrant and beginning to brown. Cool before filling.

To Fill: For whole pie, pour the lime filling into pie crust (for mini tarts, fill to approximately 2/3 full). Bake until the center is set yet wiggly when jiggled, 15-17 minutes. Return pie (or tarts) to a wire rack, and cool to room temperature. Refrigerate until well chilled, at least 3 hours. Pies or tarts can be covered directly with lightly oiled plastic wrap and refrigerated for up to one day.

For Topping: Up to 2 hours before serving, whip the cream in the chilled bowl of an electric mixer to very soft peaks. Adding the confectioner’s sugar 1 tablespoon at a time, continue whipping to just-stiff peaks. Decoratively pipe the whipped cream over the filling or spread whipped cream evenly with a rubber spatula. Garnish with sugared lime slices, if desired, and serve.