Tiramisu has the same number of syllables as hallelujah.

When I was an undergrad I used to take long, five hour bus-to-train trips to Davis, CA where my boyfriend was a student. I loved the train rides, which go through some of the most beautiful landscapes in California, and which allowed me lots of time to do homework, particularly once they started offering wireless internet.

Relaxing and productive! Davis, on the other hand, as a little farm/university town located south of Sacramento, was often rather bland, flat, and hot as all hell. Summers were particularly bad, and we spent a lot of time seeking air conditioning and eating meals that required little or no cooking. One summer, for reasons I've forgotten, we got on an Italian kick and started frequenting the little town's surprisingly abundant Italian restaurants. And we formed a love affair with tiramisu. The cold, sweet, filling dessert was the perfect remedy for the nasty heat that we were suffering through. But somehow, although each restaurant had a different take, with varying amounts of rum and coffee and chocolate, none seemed exactly right.  So we decided to learn its creamy, delicious secrets.

And I realize it's winter now, but Keith is in town, and I'd promised another friend tiramisu over the summer and never got around to it.

It's a surprisingly easy thing to make - there's only a tiny bit of actual cooking, and the most difficult part of the whole process is getting the layers of ladyfingers to fit right.

I can't remember where the basis of this recipe comes from - or whether there was a single original recipe at all - although I do remember that I use significantly more rum than any recipe I read called for. The eggs, sugar, chocolate, and three different types of dairy are pretty standard though.

I halved the recipe when I took these photographs, not something I recommend (whipped cream whips a lot better the more you have, and why would you ever want less tiramisu?), but certainly doable if you, like me, can only find three eggs.

Some recipes incorporate the egg whites as well, or combine the Mascarpone and cream layers, or have complicated temperature instructions probably to prevent salmonella poisoning (thanks Joy of Cooking), so it's a rather versatile dessert and you can mess with it as you like. As long as every single ingredient is unhealthy and full of either fat or sugar (or both), you're probably doing fine.

The only cooking in the process is a custard - it takes a couple of minutes, cooks the eggs, and then promptly goes in the fridge to cool completely.

After that, it's just about making layers.

 

They won't be very neat, but that's okay, because you're going to cover the entire thing in cocoa powder (or grated baking chocolate, depending on what's in your kitchen). You're actually going to cover the entire thing in cocoa powder twice. That's how you know it's good.

An added benefit of making this in winter - one which had not occurred to me in California - is that carrying it to your friend's house in the snow is an excellent way to chill the it!

Tiramisu

In a medium saucepan, mix together:

6 egg yolks

3/4 cup sugar

Whisk in:

2/3 cup milk

and cook over medium heat, stirring, until the mixture boils. Boil for one minute, remove from heat, and chill, tightly covered, in the refrigerator, for an hour (or until completely cooled).

In a medium bowl beat until stiff peaks form:

1 1/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 ts vanilla

[optional: a little additional rum]

Stir into chilled yolk mixture until smooth:

1 lb Mascarpone cheese

In a small bowl, combine:

1/2 cup strong-brewed coffee/espresso

4 tb rum

In a 7x11 dish (or something of a similar size, with sides at least 3 inches tall) arrange in a layer:

12ish ladyfingers [You will make two layers, so you need about 24 total. Exact numbers depend on the size and shape of your dish, and how many you eat during the assembly process.]

Drizzle half of the coffee mixture over the ladyfingers [if you like really mushy desserts you can double the coffee in the recipe, and make sure the ladyfingers are really soaked.]. Spread half the mascarpone custard mix over the ladyfingers, then half the whipped cream. Cover with a thick layer of

unsweetened cocoa powder

Repeat the layers, cover, and refrigerate until ready to serve.

You don't need a weatherman to know which way the yolk flows.

I'm sort of a sucker for runny egg yolk, and I've been getting into soups and stews a lot lately, probably because it's alternating snow, sleet, and rain outside. Combined with the ease and longevity of beans (a relationship that may have originated with my parents who, out of the blue, once told me that they were going to go an entire week without eating beans, just to see if they could.), this recipe from Smitten Kitchen seemed like the perfect response to the inappropriate weather we've been getting. I messed with it a little bit, but the gist is still the same:

vegetable stock

red and white swiss chard

 sautéd carrots, celery, and shallots

(a combination that offends my color sensibilities somewhat- sorry for all the ugly)

 tomato purée

with a healthy dose of white beans

 

 

and topped with a poached egg.

(my very first! I'd never taken the time before.)

 

This is probably going to become something of a staple through these nasty winter months.

Just a thought...

Winter on the west coast doesn't mean dreary food...

it means crab season. 

~

On a related note:

I recently learned how to tear off a crab's legs and head while it's still alive, 

but I probably won't do it very often. 

Or ever.

Moroccan Misgivings

I was back in California for a few weeks during the winter holidays, which gave my West Coast baking group an opportunity to celebrate Misgivings - our version of Thanksgiving (kindly delayed until my participation was possible) where instead of being thankful, everyone talks about all the shit life puts them through, and we eat delicious, non-turkey-and-potatoes food. This year we went Moroccan.

My fellow made a nice eggplant thing we found on the internet (authentic!), and our first challenge was deciding which type of eggplants were appropriate for a Moroccan dish. The Berkeley Bowl has an entire eggplant section, so it was a difficult decision. And I don't remember which kind we ended up with, except that it was one of the skinnier ones, not the fat kind. And I doubt it mattered.

While he was doing that, I made a chunky cake, also from the internet.

Then this lovely lady came by and made homemade pita bread, which was so good that we ate the half-cooked test pita and the slightly burned test pita, and almost didn't have enough pita for dinner.

And another lovely lady grated carrots until both her hands hurt, for her fresh carrot salad; and still another lovely lady made a warm, chunky couscous salad; and we wrestled with the chicken-phyllo dough pie, coming to the conclusion that phyllo was not meant to be in unbroken pieces; and I didn't take very many pictures because I was peeling the phyllo sheets apart.

Bowser helped by imitating a kitchen island.

Finally everything - pita bread, coucous, chicken thing (covered in powdered sugar and cinnamon), eggplant, carrot salad, and cake - was done.

So we took out all our misgivings on the food.

And after dinner we were treated to this lovely little video, made by one of our dinner guests and featuring beautiful felted creatures made by the creator of the very same carrot salad that appears in this blog post.