Sassy Radish

I cannot believe how long it’s taken me to tell you about these cheesecake squares. I mean, please don’t be mad, but it’s been almost two months. While I thought that this summer will be a leisurely season for me to cook and lounge, I could not have been more wrong. Aside from summers being typically full of parties and picnics, I managed to get myself in a tizzy over a move.

You see, and now that I’m in a fabulous new apartment I can speak freely: my former landlord tried to raise my rent, then lowered it by a laughable (and I mean, laughable amount and then proceeded to ignore my attempts at communication (that’s five unanswered voice mail messages) only to drive me irreversibly annoyed. And once I get annoyed, it is on! I decided that leaving all the power in unresponsive landlord hands was not my style (I am not one to sit and passively observe) and found an apartment that delivered everything that my current one did, and then some: an elevator, built-in air conditioning, ample closet space, laundry on each floor, a dishwasher (swoon!) and a kitchen that made me weak in the knees from the moment I saw it. Not to mention, it was simply bigger. Much bigger. If there was ever love at first sight, this was it.

And so, I spent a good chunk of July packing and then unpacking. In fact, a mere two week after my move, I only have one box sitting by the entrance. I’d say, without giving myself too much credit, I did fairly well. So, while I had all the best intentions to tell you about these amazing cheesecake squares, I didn’t just want to post the recipe along with pictures and a single missive – just go and make these – now; I wanted to tell you the most important part: the crust.

Be warned – making this crust is a dangerous thing, indeed. Dangerous, because as you start melting the butter with the graham cracker crumbs, you will have a formidable urge to take the entire pan, walk over to the couch, and devour the the crumbs alone scrapping the whole cheesecake endeavor. Such were mine temptations and I was strong enough to resist. But I will tell you, it was a tough choice. Of course, seeing as I promised to bring a dessert to a party, and initially promised cheesecake lollipops. But, a week prior I managed to sustain multiple stress fractures in my foot from running, so schlepping to a store a few block away all to find lollipop sticks was challenging. Hell, walking two flights of stairs in my former walk-up of a residence was a challenge, never mind traversing a few blocks. So I negotiated with my friend – cheesecake, but not quite of the lollipop variety.

Apparently, cheesecake seems like an intimidating thing to make. But this recipe – really, couldn’t be easier. The whole thing came together in no time at all. Which was lovely, since I hopped about my kitchen on one foot and longed to sit on the couch instead. I’m pretty certain that it would go even faster should decide to use both feet for this endeavor. Unless, of course, you like a challenge.

Continue reading lemon cheesecake squares with fresh berries.

Strawberry shortcake is a curious thing. When I think of it, I see Fourth of July picnics, clambakes and gingham tablecloths. I envision pitchers of lemonade, potato salad and cole slaw; corn on the cob, hot dogs and kosher pickle spears. Strawberry shortcake is a bona fide summer meal – the kind that comes with 90 degree weather and fireworks. Of all dessert out there, it’s the one that says to me, summer is here, get your picnic blanket out and put on some Joe Cocker. I’m not sure why, but Joe Cocker makes me think of summer and lazy afternoons and tall, tumblers of lemon ice tea covered with tiny beads of moisture.

But strawberry shortcake to me doesn’t just say summer – it says a summer gathering, a party, a congregation of friends and family.

So why, if this is such a thing of summer, did I make strawberry shortcake in the middle of April and for an Easter dinner of all occasions? You’re probably also wondering what on earth I was doing making an Easter dinner to begin with, but bear with me for a moment. There’s a perfectly logical and valid explanation for all this and as usual, my life always offers a bit of a comedy of errors element. You see, over a particular IM chat, I offered to make dinner for a friend the weekend after Easter, but what he heard was “the weekend of Easter holiday”. Better yet, I became aware of this broken telephone mishap while talking to his brother who thanked me for providing his sibling with an Easter feast. By the time I put the pieces together in my head, I figured, why not. And an Easter dinner was on.

For those of you who’ve never made your own shortcake, I implore you – please do. Shortcake is incredibly easy to make, I can’t think of a single way where it might go awry for you, so if you’re a beginner this is a particularly great recipe to start on. I promise you this much – once you have a made-from-scratch strawberry shortcake, you will never go back to the semi-homemade version again. It’s just one of those perfect meals, the kind that makes you involuntarily close your eyes in bliss the second the food touches your tongue. Personally, strawberry shortcake makes me weak in the knees, the same way say, Robert Plant’s “Since I’ve Been Loving You” makes me weak in the knees – a little smiley, woozy, intoxicated, dizzy.

It’s an added bonus that almost no one I know dislikes strawberry shortcake. Besides with the temperatures fluctuating from mid-forties to mid-nineties, when does winter end and summer begin? I figured at this rate I might as well make the strawberry shortcake and just maybe this would help to usher warmer weather in. It’s been wishful thinking thus far, but I’m hopeful.

Continue reading strawberry shortcake.

I’ve never been much of a marshmallow person. Never one to put them in my hot cocoa, never one to make that traditional sweet potato dish with the marshmallow topping. On camping trips, I flirted with smores, but the only attractive marshmallow part was the singed sides carefully tucked between pieces of chocolate and graham cracker.

While in middle school, I joined the Girls Scouts and in one of our numerous activity/bonding sessions which included sewing on button and singing campfire songs (just a few of the reasons that convinced me I could never make it as a sorority sister) we made peanut butter and Fluff sandwiches. These sandwiches made me gag and even though Fluff is made in the town where my parents live and I grew up, I could not love it then and I cannot love it now.

Through years, I carefully avoided marshmallows in my food. The packaged ones held zero appeal to me. And I was never tempted to give handmade ones a go. Certainly, they looked tempting enough, like billowy clouds in myriad of stunning pastel colors, magical in their shiny cellophane. But I just assumed it was all a trick – and that when I bit into them, I’d find the same disappointment of their mass-produced cousins.

Boy, was I wrong. And I’ve got some lost time to make up for. A homemade marshmallow is the kind of thing that makes you forget your troubles, carries you to a magical place. It is like tasting a little flavored cloud, so impossibly airy and light, so soft and sweet. Nothing could possibly stop you from smiling when you bite into one of these things. Any bad day is instantly brightened with one of these.

But beware, if you are a packaged marshmallow lover, this might ruin you forever. You might just have to make them from scratch from this day on, because one bite – and you could be goner. For me, I know that these will be made over and over, dropped in cocoa, eaten with abandon on their own, or, sneakily added to a certain soup which will make an appearance tomorrow.

Continue reading spicy marshmallows.

I blame the red wine entirely. A few friends stopped by and two bottles of wine later I realized – dessert doesn’t make itself! But sipping wine with friends is way more fun, no matter how much I love to cook. Luckily, just as a few drinks seem to improve my pool game, a few glasses of wine seem to improve my cooking or, at the very least, make me more efficient. So starting these bars late in the evening worked out just fine.

I would think that I should omit even thinking about New Year’s resolutions seeing as I start the first post of the year by mentioning wine. And I know, I’m throwing more sugar your way, but, tasked with dessert, I had to make these, along with other New-Year’s-resolution-unfriendly treats for the New Year’s Eve party at friends’ place in Brooklyn. And really, it’s sort of the last hurrah (almost), isn’t it, because when the clock struck midnight I kind of wanted to put the sugar overload on the back burner and think thoughts of brown rice, spinach, maybe tofu. And I’ve a great recipe on that coming your way, but first, a few thoughts on these incredibly decadent things that contain my two favorite ingredients: peanut butter and chocolate.

Thought one: I’m glad they’re not in my fridge any longer, but in Brooklyn somewhere because as hard as I am trying to decrease my cookie and candy diet, I wouldn’t stand a chance with these mere yards away. Like Nutella, these can never be made just for home – they’ll have to be brought to others to share because otherwise, you’re just asking for trouble.

I will also make them again, but tweak a few things. Perhaps add a little cream to the sugar mixture to create a caramel of sorts and give the rice a bit more dimension. I would decrease the amount of the peanut layer – because I found it a bit too overpowering, but tasty nonetheless. I would also cut them into more pieces than the suggested 9 – as I could only eat a small square at a time.

But all in all, these are so good and are incredibly easy to make – and they’re bound to be a hit at any party. This is the first recipe from the Baked: New Frontiers in Baking cookbook that I tried – a book that’s been recommended to me over and over by quite a few people. And after seeing several drool-enducing recipes from it on Deb’s blog, I finally cracked and bought it for myself. Certainly not the last recipe from it, you can expect to see other in the future. And now, if you excuse me, I have to think about what to make for with my wilting carrots (I think I know!) – and I do it a lot better over a glass of cold, red wine.

Continue reading chocolate peanut-butter crispy bars.

I’ve been trying to start this piece for you, not sure where to begin. I mean, I could have just apologized for throwing another sweet concoction your way, but I’m not going to do that. Because, why would I tell you I’m sorry about telling you that you must make these now, when you are just bound to thank me later. Consider this an early present to those of you whom I cannot reach and physically present with these caramels, but a few friends and all coworkers did get a chance to sample these and the overwhelming response has been, and this is all you’ve made for us? Isn’t there more??

Perhaps I have struggled with writing this because I don’t know where to begin or how to end. These caramels are beyond decadent and when you taste them, it’s the tiny conflict on your tongue between the salty and the sweet that makes them so irresistible. To have just one and not reach for another is a near impossibility.

I cannot tell you how amazing these are because they are beyond words. Something about salty caramels that transcends mere language. But luckily, where words have failed me, the pictures, hopefully rise to the occasion and tell you what I, frustratingly, cannot.

As I have recently learned (the hard way), caramel should be made in a heavy gauge pot that is preferably not a non-stick. The lighter metal ones are perfect; just make sure your sides are tall enough for the caramel to bubble when you add butter and cream to it. You can also use your cocotte for it if you like, as it’s amazing at distributing heat. Be careful not to mix your caramel when you are cooking it, but gently swirl the mixture from one side to another from time to time. And watch and smell for that deep, deep amber color. You might also find that these seem a bit too soft at room temperature, which is fine as you can just keep them in the fridge, as I did. Not only does their consistency improve, but they have a longer life-span, not that you will have these hanging around much if you’re anything like me.

In retrospect, looking at these pictures, I think I should have cooked the caramel even a hint longer, but it turned out fine enough for this time around. I am still learning how to get it just right, and since salted butter caramel is not a hard thing to enjoy, I think I can just go on making these indefinitely. I know of quite a few people who won’t have a problem with it. That is – if I choose to share.

Continue reading fleur de sel caramels.

I have to get something off my chest and judge me if you will, but I can’t hide it much longer. As much as I like Hanukah and eating latkes and rugelach, I just love Christmas, even though my family doesn’t celebrate but I wish we did. I adore everything about it: the decorations, the music, the glittery window displays, the parties, the cookies and candy, the smell of the tree. I just might be the only one without Christmas fatigue, probably because I can’t fully enjoy it; I want it all the more. I’m convinced that I like eggnog more than Christmas revelers do because it’s like the forbidden fruit to me.

And despite the economy and the fact that this has been the single most challenging year of my life, I’ve completely embraced the holiday season and refuse to be sad or fretful or anxious. I’m letting myself soak in whatever the season brings; I’m going with the flow. And the flow hasn’t been at all that bad. I’m happy, I am in good health, I have lovely, caring friends and family. My tiny kitchen makes me deliriously happy and I look forward to weekend afternoons when I can leisurely cook there. I’ve sent out holiday cards and this year – they’re a doozy!

And so in preparation for this month, I’ve dog-eared recipes, purchased extra baking ingredients and even ordered quality cookie baking sheets from Amazon. And then there’s the case of the brittle.

I’ve been dying to make this brittle since Deb made is last month and generously let me sample some of it. Unsurprisingly, Deb’s creation was amazing and I helped myself to quite a few pieces, vowing to make it soon. Soon, of course, in the Sassy Radish kitchen, could take up to a month, or a bit longer, depending on the circumstances, and I was waiting for the holiday season to start with my sugar overload.

Not having to use a candy thermometer here was a huge plus and I was excited to make something with pepitas, otherwise known as raw, hulled pumpkin seeds. Before I got any further, I’m going to tell you something important: if you make this, be sure not to use non-stick cookware as it fails in the caramelization portion of the brittle-making. I will be making this in my Staub next time around in order to recreate the recipe again (and without a doubt, I will) because my brittle did not caramelize properly and I was cooking it for a loooooong time. Regardless, it was still quite yummy, and my coworkers agreed as well, consuming all of the brittle in mere days.

This year, when we are all watching our spending and trying to be frugal in this uncertain economy, the brittle could make for a fine handmade gift. And after a year like this one, everyone could you a little sweet in their life, don’t you think?

Continue reading pepita brittle.

I’m going to make this short and sweet for several reasons. First of all there is little I can say about chocolate-covered matzo, other than it’s super easy to make, it tastes really good, and it gives you a great way to use your leftover matzo, which you probably have grown sick of in the 8 day span when Passover ran your life and diet.

Me, I had a few boxes left over, reminding me of my over-zealousness in preparation for the holiday. Also, chocolate-covered matzo is so easy to make, it’s almost embarrassing to dedicate a whole blog post to it, let alone give you the recipe for how to make it. It’s almost as if I would talk down to you all, it’s that easy. And talking down to you is the last thing I want to do.

But here’s the thing – this simple snack tastes so good, I want to tell the world, you don’t have to eat your matzo plain, or with cream cheese or butter – you can have it with chocolate. (As if I needed another reason to have chocolate.)

And lastly, I want to keep this short because today is my 30th birthday(here come the wrinkles!) So I want to go and revel in the day – I think I deserve it. Maybe I’ll make myself a chocolate-covered matzo and stick a candle in it.

Continue reading chocolate-covered matzo.

When I get an idea in my head, I might as well drop everything and just get it out of my system, or else. If I am craving mango, suddenly a dozen mango-centric recipes pop in my head. If I’m sugar-deprived, I think of making cookies, and it makes the work day unbearable, because as much as I love what I do, I would much rather hide in the kitchen measuring out flour and softening butter. In fact, I often find myself midday, thinking of what I want to cook and strangely, it motivates me to get all my work done on time, so that I could rush home and make that meal.

Last week, I’ve found myself watermelon-obsessed, and while, it’s not the fruit that is in season in June, I don’t care, because I find that when it is in season, either the weather has cooled off considerably, or I’ve gotten used to the heat. Besides, being on a David Lebovitz kick, armed with a dangerous book that is being held responsible for expanding waistlines and wide grins across the globe, I found a recipe for watermelon sorbet and it was pretty much all I could talk about it until I made it.

And afterwards, it was still pretty much all I could talk about. Only this time I was talking about how delicious it was. Incredibly enough, it tasted so much like fresh watermelon (imagine that!), but it had a bit more sweetness and was colder! I know, it sounds crazy to be amazed that when you make food from scratch, it actually tastes like the food you used to make it. I guess it’s sad how we’ve arrived to this point in our consumption – when we think it a luxury to find something that’s a derivative, resembling its underlying ingredient!

In any case, I made a few slight changes with David’s recipe. I confess being a bit too lazy and lacking ample time, so I didn’t bother with picking out the seeds. I also omitted the chocolate because, while the aesthetic of it pleased and intrigued me, I didn’t want to taste chocolate with my watermelon. I guess it was the purist in me, but I wanted the sheer simplicity of the fruit – nothing else. Finally, I didn’t do much straining and in the end, am glad to have done so. I liked tasting the little watermelon fibers with each bite – it made me think of the actual fruit that much more.

I loved the taste of it. LOVED it. But of course, in my doubting fashion, wondered if it should be tarter. KS, who generously volunteered to consume the great majority of the batch, said that it was perfect. So perfect, in fact, that I should feel free to make more. Soon.

I suppose I should feel better about myself having made a fat-free frozen treat. With minimal sugar, this was almost like biting into the watermelon itself. I wonder how long I’ll last before I start dipping into the French custards – that’s really the only problem with David’s book – I cannot decide which ice cream to make next, and equipped only with once ice cream maker at home, this might be a difficult conundrum facing me in the next few days. Oh decisions, decisions!

Continue reading watermelon sorbet.

I first heard about it on the Ellen show – she was raving about this frozen yogurt from a company called Pinkberry – it was amazing, she said, and best of all, fat free. I had to roll my eyes at the television screen – another celebrity endorsement, another fat-free treat – it’s probably not even yogurt! But Ellen went on and on and on about it, how good it was, and how tangy and fresh the yogurt tasted and oh, what fresh toppings they had; and before you know it, the name had tattooed itself inside my brain. At the time, this was only an LA sensation and I felt well-insulated from yet another overhyped franchise, especially one that reminded me of Tasti D-Lite – a company whose product I loathe almost as much as I loathe high-fructose corn syrup. But that’s for another time.

Then one day, while visiting KS’s father’s apartment his little sister brought up Pinkberry – and how good it was. “Did you try it while in LA,” I inquired. “No,” she said, her eyes glowing, “they have it in Chelsea!” And so one lazy morning, en route to work in a cab (okay, so it wasn’t lazy, just freakishly cold!) I spotted it on 8th Avenue. The cute pink and green letters, the toy-like design, and made a mental note. A few cold, seemingly interminable months later, we finally found ourselves taking a stroll in Chelsea and passed by the location. And I, of course, had to go in! Even KS, normally abstaining from dairy desserts (oh lactose intolerance, how cruel you are!) made an exception and sampled the frozen yogurt treat. The moment the frozen yogurt hit my palate, I became obsessed. It was so good, I could not get spoons fast enough in my mouth, where the yogurt disappeared quickly, leaving me with a stupid happy grin on my face.

It was as if my taste buds had woken up from some sugar-laden nightmare and unanimously agreed – this is what frozen yogurt SHOULD taste like. There was a reason I couldn’t stomach the overly sweet frozen yogurts out there. And right then and there, I decided – an ice cream maker this summer is a must. And then, Heidi had to go and write about how good and easy making frozen yogurt was at home, and referenced David’s book. And I found an ice cream maker on sale for $30 (that’s, like, free!) and while I cannot exactly remember hitting submit on my book order (something about selective amnesia is kicking in), Amazon.com did deliver The Perfect Scoop as well as my next favorite cookbook. And I’ve been flipping though the books nightly salivating over each page.

So last night, after my ingenious salad creation – who knew leftovers could be so delectable – and some planting-in-the-dark (oh, that’s a story in and of itself) – I was all but finished with the kitchen. And so I gave this basic frozen yogurt recipe a whirl. Now, some people follow the recipe first time to a tee, but I, on the other hand, always like to tweak them my own way. Not so this time, aside from decreasing the original amount of sugar by a half, and mixing two parts of strained yogurt with one part regular plain yogurt, I followed this quite meticulously. I even was able to assemble and start the ice cream machine without it freezing the paddle to itself – an accomplishment I was extremely proud of!! Forty long and arduous minutes later, KS and I both had heaping bowls of frozen yogurt on our laps.

And man. Was. It. Good. So good in fact that I licked the bowl! Pinkberry who??

And now I just can’t get over how incredibly delicious it was. I’ve been thinking about having more since yesterday morning and couldn’t leave the house without shoving a few spoonfuls in my mouth – breakfast of champions I know – and then at night, on my conference call, I was being so loud with my spoon knocking against the dish, I woke KS up.

I just have this feeling that by the end of summer, David’s book will have been loved well and used backwards and forwards – and the pages might just get stuck together from my sticky fingers, and I might have to get myself another copy! There will be a lot of frozen dessert consumption in this household in the next few months.

Perhaps putting in an elastic waist in all my pants might be a good idea for this summer. That and attaching my name tag on a treadmill at the local gym.

Continue reading frozen yogurt.

After I graduated college, I set off, with a friend in tow, to backpack through as much of France as five weeks allowed us. I was armed with a few changes of clothes, a Lonely Planet guide, a little cash, a mighty credit card (and it was all worth it!) and an appetite that was determined to fit as many foodstuffs into my stomach as possible. Whereas my friend might have been on a cultural expedition, I was on a gastronomical one. Foie gras, baguettes, unpasteurized cheese, wine, raw seafood and sausisson sec – all these were to be consumed in massive quantities, not to mention other things like pain au chocolat, cassoulet, boudin noir and the famous Marseille soupe de poissons.

It never occurred to me to include chocolate in the mix. I was always a spotty chocolate eater. Whenever I was home, I wouldn’t touch the stuff. Same went for any Hershey’s or Nestlé’s around. I thought Godiva’s are quite nice, but haven’t had enough to develop my palette, and I always seemed to be picking out the dark chocolate ones, leaving the milk and the white chocolates without much attention.

Something, for me, was missing in chocolate. Some necessary hue of flavor. And I didn’t know it at the time, but looking back, it now makes perfect sense.

I think it was somewhere in Nantes or La Rochelle that my friend and I wandered around a farmer’s market. In France, these things are so prevalent that were I to reside there, I’d never shop for produce in a store. Along the fruit and vegetable vendors, we spied a little chocolate stand. Among the bon bons and the patisserie were sheets of dark chocolate with bright red swirls – it was chocolate with cayenne pepper, something I’ve never tasted nor heard of.

Naturally, it was the thing we bought and tried. And then my chocolate world flipped on itself and was never to be the same. I instantly realized what was missing from chocolate for me, was a flavor that was going to intensify the complexity of chocolate itself. In this case, the cayenne pepper gave the bitterness more depth and, in a strange way, added a little sweetness all the while warming up my throat. It was so good, in fact, that I ate an entire sheet we bought, licking my fingers afterwards. In my broken French, I chatted with the vendor hailing the cayenne as the greatest thing to happen to chocolate. He agreed. We parted with him gifting me and my friend more of the spice-filled goodness.

After I moved to New York and got my bearings, I quickly figured out the artisanal chocolatiers, making sure to sample each one’s work, and without fail, try the spicy versions of their creations. Among the mix were Katrina Markoff’s Vosges chocolates – a store so pretty it made me want to have everything in aubergine. And I’ve stayed a loyal fan through the years, sampling all her whimsical creations. So when I spied her truffle recipe in Bon Appetit this month, I was on a mission – to make cayenne spiced truffles.

Ah, but I’m waxing poetic and lengthy with this post. It’s just that this is chocolate, people! And good quality too. Yes, I know, the cost might sound prohibitive, but the high end chocolate makes all the difference in making the proper ganache. Also, what if you hate cayenne? Can’t you then, try something else? Well, absolutely – create new flavors, see what suits you best. I think my next flavors will be lime-basil, earl grey tea, and vanilla-black sesame. Just be sure to use good quality chocolate, like Scharffen Berger, or Vosges. You’ll thank me later.

The truffles are not difficult to make, but it’s a very time consuming process. Make the ganache, then chill it. Roll the truffles, then chill those too. Then you have an option of dipping in melted chocolate (chilling that too) before rolling in anything from unsweetened cocoa powder (my pick) or chopped nuts, seeds, and so on. And then putting them back in the fridge. Finding those little cups for the truffles was not an easy feat. Luckily, my boyfriend spied some in his pantry and kindly shared.

Some recipes call for piping the ganache through, some ask for latex gloves for rolling. I didn’t have either at my reach, so I did everything by hand, periodically dipping my hands into a bowl of iced water (it’s not pleasant, I warn you) to keep them cold and prevent from making the chocolate. Lastly, I find it’s easier to knead the ganache with one hand before rolling it into a ball, or shape of your liking with both hands. If you’re imitating Maison du Chocolat, your truffles will be slightly potato-shaped. Otherwise, it’s a lumpy sphere for you – the classical truffle shape.

Whatever flavor and shape you use, these will, undoubtedly, add sparkle and zest to any holiday table. You should try to consume them within 8-9 days of the creation though – fresh ingredients only last so long.

While the Radish is off to a little sojourn in the Hamptons, I’ll be cooking there as well, and depending on internet access, try to post there too. Should I be cut off from all things online-related, I wish you all a very Happy New Year full of champagne and soirees!

Continue reading truffles with cayenne pepper.