Cruising the blog highway has its rewards, especially if you’re in the food lane.

A few weeks ago, quite by chance, I read about an event dreamed up and hosted by the industrious and brilliant Meeta of What’s for Lunch Honey? Basically, Meeta’s idea was to host a postcard event where you buy a postcard, take a picture of it, blog about it and then mail your postcard off to the blogger you’re matched up with. Of course you must keep that blogger’s identity secret (don’t want to ruin the surprise)!

I was most definitely game. I signed up and then mentioned the event on Cream Puffs in Venice. Every now and then I’d check back to see how Meeta was doing and was thrilled to see the list of participating bloggers grow each day. Way to reach out there and touch someone, people!

I took considerable time to buy my postcard. At first I didn’t want to buy the "typical" city postcard that featured a skyline or famous landmark. Initially I thought I’d buy a postcard with art work on it or perhaps a drawing. But I couldn’t seem to find anything I liked. I finally returned to a postcard of Toronto that features its most famous landmark:  the CN Tower. It’s part of my city’s identity!

This entire experience has had me thinking about how much richer my life is since I started this blog. And it’s not richer because I’m baking more or because I finally learned how to use that digital camera (right Uncle N!). It’s richer because of all of you. It’s richer because of all the wonderful people that I’ve met, including the person who will be receiving this postcard very soon.

A big Cream Puff thank you to Meeta for starting the postcard event.

And a big Cream Puff thank you to all of you for making every day that much more fun!

Ciao!

Technorati Tags:  toronto, postcards, bpw, blogger postcards from the world

Oh … I’m a tired and sore Cream Puff! I’ve spent the entire day in a frenzy of baking. After pulling the last item out of the oven, I surveyed the destruction in the kitchen, quietly removed my apron, turned and simply walked away. I am now comfortably ensconced in our very cool basement, hoping against all hope, that a kitchen sprite will appear and clean what is the disaster otherwise known as our kitchen. Hey … it could happen!

The summer brings so many glorious gifts to us in the way of fresh fruit. But when they land at your doorstep, in the space of two hours, in the form of pounds of apricots and blueberries, suddenly it doesn’t seem all that glorious. Besides the fact that we have limited space for storage, fresh fruit tends to be highly perishable. If you don’t freeze it, turn it into jam or bake with it, you’re faced with consuming pounds of it quickly or watching a good part of overripen or worse, rot. That is a terrible thing to do to local, fresh fruit. To any fruit for that matter.

So this hot hot hot Sunday morning (curse you, July!), I dragged my Cream Puffiness out of bed, slung on an apron and got to work. Apricot tarts, blueberry coffeecake, apricot upside down cake, apricot jam … it’s all a blur. All I know is that I used a lot o’ butter, a lot o’ sugar and a lot o’ apricots and blueberries. The mountains of fruit that were sitting on our table this morning have now been whittled down to manageable hills that we’ll make short work of during the week as we grab handfuls of the stuff to enjoy for breakfast, for an afternoon snack or for a simple, sweet dessert after dinner.

While I baked, I had an interesting question on my mind. As I kneaded tart tough, I thought about it. As I whipped cream and sugar, I thought about it. The question came from Chris and Lea who run a wonderful new blog called Canada Eats. And the question is: what does Canadian food mean to me?

This type of a question, for me, is on par with the question, "What does it mean to be Canadian?" While I was born in this country and have lived here all my life, the answer is:  I’m not sure. Canada is a beautiful country and I am proud to call myself Canadian. While we’re not perfect, generally speaking I love the way we live. Proud, free, modest, hard-working … these are all adjectives that apply so well to Canadians. But when it comes to food, I must be quite honest, I don’t think there is such a thing as Canadian food.

Growing up, the food on my table was exclusively "Italian." And what I mean by that is that we ate a diet very similar to what Italians eat. Pasta almost every day, fresh vegetables and fruit in the summer and preserved vegetables and fruit in the winter, bread, olive oil (lots of it), fish on Fridays, veal and chicken cutlets, meat stews, wine, milk and espresso for the kids and just espresso for the adults … this was how we ate every day. While I’m somewhat ashamed to say this, "Canadian food" was an almost derogatory label in our household and this is because "Canadian food" was reserved for food served in fast food establishments. Highly suspicious of fast food, my parents never allowed us to eat at those places. And in the grocery store, items like potato chips and pop were the sorts of things that never made an appearance in our shopping cart.

Despite their disapproval of fast food, fortunately, my parents were very open-minded when it came to trying food prepared by friends of neighbours of different cultures. A few times a year, a co-worker of my father who was Chinese would provide our family with a home-cooked feast of Chinese specialties. Regularly, my father would visit an Austrian restaurant close to work and that night we knew we’d be eating an Austrian feast. Vietnamese, Indian, Thai … we tried so many types of cuisines. But only if the food was prepared by a person my parents knew or by a restaurant that was authentic in its approach to cooking. This was because my parents knew that their Chinese and Austrian friends used fresh ingredients, many of them grown in his own garden, just like we did.

And through it all, I never once wondered what Canadian food really was. Food was food. It wasn’t the complicated affair that, in certain ways, it has become today. I didn’t actually begin to think about what defined Canadian food until the late 1990s, when some cousins visited from Italy. In our efforts to entertain them, we brought them to various Italian restaurants in Toronto that we considered to be of the highest quality. While they were pleased and enjoyed their meals, I could tell that they were a bit confused. And finally one day my cousin asked why we don’t ever go to Canadian restaurants. That question was followed by another question about what our national dish was. National dish? Canadian restaurants?

I was stuck. I tried to explain that we didn’t have a national dish. While there are certain foods that are closely related to Canada, like maple syrup or smoked salmon, we didn’t have any restaurants that served "Canadian cuisine." But as I talked, I began to realize that while we may not have one, unified type of cuisine that distinguishes us, we do have an enormous variety of ethnic cuisines that have flourished in a nation far away from the ones from they originated.

Canadian cuisine is the food of all people who are able to grow and raise the ingredients native to their homelands in their new homeland. When I survey my own neighbourhood, there is not one family in the 50 or so houses that surround mine that can trace their Canadian roots back more than two generations. That’s because most of them weren’t even here two generations ago. And yet every night, when I get home and get out of the car, I can smell the pungent spices our Vietnamese neighbour is using to get dinner ready. And I can smell the faint scent of cinnamon that my Italian neighbour has used in her almost daily round of baking. And I know that on the weekend, I will smell the distinct aroma of barbecue as the Argentinian family across the street from us uses their homemade backyard oven/barbecue that is truly a sight to see!

And while we may use different spices or ingredients, what we all of have in common is our desire to grow our own food. Every family on my street has a backyard garden where they grow vegetables. And almost all of us have at least one fruit tree. The predominant one is pear, but my neighbours also have cherry, apple, apricot and even peach. No matter where we have come from, we have all been united in Canada by our love for the land, and our desire to enjoy its gifts. And what a rich and bountiful land this country is!

The bounty that appeared on my doorstep was grown in rich, beautiful Canadian soil. My Italian neighbours a few houses down graced us with their apricots. In turn, I’ve tried to do the beauty of those apricots justice by baking them simply, in a tart shell, where their flavour will be complimented by a nest of apple sauce and an embrace of butter.

What is Canadian food? What does Canadian food mean to me?

Canadian food is the food of the world. And it means everything to me.

Ciao!

Fresh Apricot Tart

Adapted from Once Upon a Tart … by Frank Mentesana and Jerome Audureau.

For the tart crust and the apricot glaze:

Follow the recipe for the tart crust and the apricot glaze used in the Alsatian Apple Tart.

For the tart filling:

• 1 par-baked tart shell
• 1/2 cup applesauce (homemade is best but if you use store bought be sure that it’s not too sweet)
• 15 to 20 small apricots or 10 to 12 large ones, washed, dried, cut in half and pitted, with the skins on (if you can, try to use fresh local apricots)
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup apricot glaze

1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
2. Spread the applesauce over the base of the tart crust.
3. Arrange the apricot halves over the applesauce layer. Fit the apricots in tightly so that there are no gaps.
4. Sprinkle the sugar evenly over the apricot halves.
5. Bake the tart for 45 to 55 minutes, or until the crust is golden and the apricots have cooked through. Some of the apricots may blacken a bit due to caramelization. Don’t worry about this … it’s all sugary goodness!
6. Remove the tart from the oven and let cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Remove the tart from the tart pan and let cool for an additional 10 minutes.
7. After 10 minutes, with a pastry brush, glaze the tart with the apricot jam.
8. Serve warm or at room temperature.
9. Enjoy!

Technorati tags:  apricots, tarts, canada eats, eat local

Lest I be accused of being a big baby, I will not go on (and endlessly on) about how hot and humid this summer has been. Suffice it to say it’s all this Cream Puff can do to keep her pâte à choux from deflating and her pastry cream filling from just melting away. Sarah of The Delicious Life could not possibly have made a better choice for theme for this month’s edition of Sugar High Friday. “Ice ice baby” indeed!

While I initially thought about making an ice cream dish so that I could use my brand spanking new ice cream maker, circumstances ruled in favour of a dish that required no stove or small appliances. Even the slight noise from an ice cream maker is enough to put us all on edge in this weather. Instead, I opted for the simplest and perhaps most refreshing of sweets: the granita.

Granita is an Italian concoction that is traditionally associated with Sicily, but that can be found throughout Italy. While slightly more complicated recipes for granita can call for the use of an ice cream maker, the homiest version involves some water, some sugar, the flavour of your choice and your kitchen freezer. I must admit though that while my thoughts had been traveling in the general direction of a granita for this round of SHF, I did not fully make this decision until I happened to come across a recipe for a Meyer Lemon Granita in Viana La Place’s La Cucina Bella.

A delightful book, La Cucina Bella is a volume that has come to represent all of what I love best in my favourite cookbooks. It’s part cookbook, part memoir, part social commentary, part travel book and as the title would suggest, it has its eye on the beautiful cuisine of Italy.

La Place includes a recipe for a granita made with Meyer Lemons, which she says more closely mimic the taste of Italian lemons than your average, humble supermarket variety. While I could have gone out in search of Meyer Lemons as I do know a few places in Toronto that sell them, excuse my ineloquence, but it’s just too freakin’ hot. Instead, I followed La Place’s recommendation, used regular lemons and increased the sugar slightly to accommodate for the more tarty flavour.

The key to a successful granita is to ensure that before you start, your sugar is fully dissolved in the water. If it isn’t, the flavour of the granita will be uneven. Also, you must stir the granita as directed by the recipe. I stirred mine every half hour on the half hour! Of course part of this diligence was likely due to the fact that I enjoyed standing with the freezer door open and the cold air hitting my face but that’s neither here nor there.

La Place mentions in her book that granita is traditionally eaten with brioche and can even be enjoyed for breakfast on particularly hot mornings. While I am always interested in the practice of consuming brioche, regardless of time of day, I wanted something a bit more splashy so that I could serve my granita for dessert. I resorted to an old standby: strawberries stuffed with sweetened mascarpone.

Basically you take the best strawberries you can find, wash them and dry them and carefully split them open, being sure not to cut them all the way through. In a small bowl, whip together some mascarpone (at room temperature) with a bit of sugar (to taste) and lemon zest. Because I look for every opportunity to practice my piping skills, I piped the mascarpone filling into the strawberries. But you can just as easily spoon it in. For added effect, dip your strawberries in sugar (or vanilla sugar if you have it) just before stuffing them.

Okay. You know what. I have to go now. I seem to have developed a massive craving for granita al limone with mascarpone-stuffed strawberries.

Stay cool, people. Stay cool.

Ciao!

Granita al Limone con Fragole Ripiene di Mascarpone (Lemon Granita with Mascarpone-Stuffed Strawberries)

Adapted from La Cucina Bella by Viana La Place.

For the granita:

• 3 cups spring water
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 cup fresh lemon juice

1. In a measuring cup, combine 1 cup of water with the sugar. Stir to dissolve.
2. In a metal pan large enough to accommodate the liquid, combine the sugar water with the remaining two cups of water and the lemon juice. Mix well and put in the freezer.
3. Every 30 minutes, stir the mixture with a fork. As the ice crystals form, you will have to use the fork to break up the granita.
4. Once it is completely frozen and you have a pan full of ice crystals, spoon the granita into a container with a tight fitting lid. This will keep in the freezer for several days.

For the strawberries:

• 1 cup mascarpone, room temperature
• 2 tablespoons vanilla sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
• 6 to 8 strawberries, washed, dried, hulled and split crosswise (not all the way through)

1. In a bowl, combine the mascarpone, vanilla sugar and lemon zest until smooth.
2. Place the mascarpone cream in a piping bag fitted with a star tip, or use a spoon to fill the strawberries.
3. Dip each strawberry in extra vanilla sugar.
4. Gently open each strawberry and either pipe or spoon in the cream.
5. Serve with the lemon granita.
6. Enjoy!

Note:  Check out the incredible Ilva’s post for SHF #21 on her blog, Lucullian Delights. She made granita al caffe e cardamomo, which is delightful indeed!

Technorati tags:  sugar high friday, SHF, lemon, granita, strawberries, mascarpone

While I haven’t spent a lot of time blogging about selections from my Flavour of the Month, The Berry Bible, it’s mainly due to the fact that I’ve been having so much fun blogging about recipes that I either consider classics or ones that I simply must try for the first time like the Cherry Mascarpone Tart. And I must say that the same goes for Jumbleberry Pie, a recipe I’ve been wanting to try forever.

The original recipe is from Epicurious, which is a continual source of inspiration in the cooking and baking department. I particularly appreciate the recipe review section on Epicurious, where anyone can rate a recipe and recount their experience giving it a go. While you will often run into some strange comments, for the most part, it’s interesting to read other people’s reactions to recipes.

In the case of this pie, I’m certainly glad that I took the time to read the reviews. As the name suggests, Jumbleberry Pie is a jumble of berries baked together in a buttery crust. When baked, berries will generally release a lot of liquid, especially if you’re using frozen berries. The original recipe for Jumbleberry Pie calls for an amount of cornstarch that isn’t nearly enough to compensate for the amount of liquid the berries release. I mean we’re talking about almost 8 cups of berries for this one pie! Thanks to the reviews, I knew ahead of time to increase the amount of cornstarch.

I used a half cup and could have probably used a bit more. While my pie wasn’t soupy, it was generally a bit more liquidy than I like. However, that minor nuisance was negated by the incredible flavour of both the filling and the crust, which was a cinch to make.

So what lesson did Cream Puff learn in making her very first Jumbleberry Pie? Always read the recipe first … and the reviews if there are any!

Ciao!

Jumbleberry Pie

Adapted from www.epicurious.com.  For the original recipe, click here.

For the crust:

• 2-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1-1/2 sticks cold, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 4 tablespoons vegetable shortening, cut into small pieces
• 1/2 tsp. salt
• ice water

1. In a large bowl, combine the flour and salt and mix well.
2. Add the butter and shortening and with your fingers or a pastry blender, cut the butter and shortening into the flour until it resembles oatmeal or coarse crumbs.
3. Add 3 tablespoons of ice water to the mixture and begin to gather into a ball. If it does not easily come together, add another tablespoon of ice water. Do not overwork the dough. Once it has come together into a ball, knead a few times on a floured work surface. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for one hour.

For the pie:

• 3 cups blueberries, washed and dried
• 2 cups blackberries, washed and dried
• 2 cups raspberries, washed and dried
• 1-1/2 cups red currants, washed and dried
• 1/2 cup cornstarch (I used a half cup but I’d recommend using a bit more.)
• 1-1/2 cups sugar
• 1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 3 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
• a few tablespoons of heavy cream (to brush the top of the pie)

1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.
2. In a large bowl, combine all of the berries.
3. Add the cornstarch, sugar, lemon juice, lemon zest and cinnamon and mix well.
4. Take the dough out of the refrigerator and divide in half. Roll half the dough out into an 13-inch circle. Fit the dough into a 9-inch deep dish pie plate or pan.
5. Scrape the berry mixture into the pie plate and refrigerate while you roll out the top portion of dough.
6. Roll out the second half of the dough into an 11 or 12-inch circle. Remove the pie from the refrigerator and sprinkle the butter pieces over the berries.
7. Carefully transfer the rolled out dough to the top of the pie plate. Trip the edges of the dough so that you have a one-inch overhang. Seal the edges of the dough all the way around and crimp decoratively.
8. Slash the dough a few times to allow steam to escape.
9. Brush the top of the pie with the heavy cream.
10. Bake at 425 degrees F for 15 minutes and then lower the temperature to 350 degrees F. Bake for 40 to 50 minutes or until the crust is golden and steam is coming out of the vents in the pie. You will notice the juice bubbling up as well.
11. Serve the pie warm or at room temperature.
12. Enjoy!

Note:  If you’re using frozen berries, let them thaw completely and drain off any juice. This will help prevent the pie from being too liquidy. Use any combination of berries that you like!

Technorati tags:  blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, red currants, pie

Pa rum pum pum …

I once read that the tango is a dance where opposing emotions, like love and hate are inextricably intertwined.

Pa rum pum pum …

Each summer, I engage in what I like to call the Humidity Tango in my very own kitchen. Except there is no love in this tango. There is hate. Lots of it. And frustration. Lots of it. But definitely no love.

Pa ra ra ra ra ra rum pum pum …

Each summer, without fail, I dance the tango of hate with Humidity. For each summer, like a shadow, the Humidity creeps in and settles over the City of Toronto, blanketing everything in its sticky, suffocating self.

You step outside and within seconds your clothes are stuck to you like a second skin. Your hair, no matter what you do to it, settles itself into a massive, unshapely poof. And your useless attempts to sit outside and read, all the while pretending to ignore the soupy air around you, are laughable at best.

Pa rum pum PUM …

But the worst part of the Humidity, is that you simply cannot stand to turn on the oven.

Pa rum PUM PUM …

A bereft Cream Puff, you walk by your little stove everyday and sigh wistfully. To turn it on would be to turn the house into a stifling pit, in spite of the central air conditioning. And all the while you just know the Humidity is laughing at you. You curse. You shake your fist. And then, with shoulders bent, you walk away from the kitchen … beaten.

Pa ra ra ra ra ra rum PUM PUM …

But inevitably, the pendulum shifts. Clouds move in and in the distance you see the lightning and hear the crackle of thunder.

PA RUM PUM PUM …

The blessed storm comes and washes the Humidity away. You can breathe again. And even better … you can bake again.

PA RUM PUM PUM …

You rush like a mad person. Eggs, whisks, flour, bowls … in a frenzied flurry you cram as much baking into one afternoon as humanly possible. And you know that for just a moment, you have won the latest round of the Humidity Tango.

PA RA RA RA RA RUM PUM PUM!

Ciao!

Mascarpone Tart with Berries

Adapted from www.epicurious.com.

While the original recipe for this tart uses a pastry crust, I like to use a crumb crust. I like the way the mascarpone plays off the texture of the graham crumbs. For the original recipe, click here.

For the crumb base:

• 1-1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
• 1/2 cup melted butter
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• a pinch of salt

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
2. In a large bowl, combine the crumbs, sugar, salt and melted butter. Combine until all the crumbs are wet and begin to clump together.
3. Pour the crumbs into a 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom. With the back of a spoon or your fingers, press the crumbs evenly over the bottom and up the sides of the pan.
4. Bake for 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool completely. (I prefer to refrigerate overnight but you don’t have to).

For the tart:

• 1 cup mascarpone, room temperature
• 1/4 cup cream cheese, room temperature
• 3 tablespoons sugar (to taste)
• 1 tablespoon vanilla sugar (optional)
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
• 4 to 5 cups mixed berries, washed and dried
• 2 tablespoons apricot jam or jelly
• 1/2 cup water
• 2 tablespoons fruit liqueur (kirsch or cassis are my favourites)

1. In a large bowl, mix together the mascarpone, cream cheese, sugars, lemon zest and lemon juice. Mix until you have a smooth, creamy mixture. Taste for sweetness and add more sugar if desired.
2. Spread the cream over the base of your crust and refrigerate until ready to serve.
3. In a small pan, combine the jam, water and liqueur. Bring to a boil and stir until you have a smooth mixture. (There may be some lumps if the jam has large pieces of fruit in it.) Once it’s come to a boil, remove from the heat and let cool. Once the mixture has cooled, strain it.
4. Combine your berries in a large bowl and pour the strained jam mixture over the berries. Arrange the berries on the cream layer of the tart. Refrigerate until ready to serve.
5. Enjoy!

Technorati tags:  berries, mascarpone

For me, a postcard is like a kiss. Unforgettable.

And like a kiss, the memory of it lingers. Whether you’ve sent a postcard or received one, it’s like sending a little piece of one place off to another.

This is why I had to tell you about the lovely Meeta of What’s for Lunch Honey? and the event that she is hosting. Meeta has organized a postcard event where all you have to do is buy a postcard and then mail it to another blogger. Contact Meeta and let her know that you’re interested. Over the weekend of July 29th and 30th, Meeta will let you know who the recipient of your postcard will be. You can read all of the details of the event here.

I hope you’ll all take part. How fun it will be to send a postcard kiss to someone out there in this great big world!

Baci!

… the precious sweetness of the very last of the local cherries.

As cherry season ends, Cream Puff hopes that the beginning to your weekend is as sweet as this tart.

Ciao!

Cherry Mascarpone Tart

This recipe comes from the June 2006 issue of Food & Wine. I followed the recipe exactly, except for the equipment used. Rather than using a straight-sided tart pan, I used a fluted one. The results were incredible.

Click here for the recipe.

Enjoy!

Technorati tags:  cherries, mascarpone

Every season has its colours. For me, winter is silver and white. Spring is yellow and green. And my favourite season of all, autumn, is pure blazing gold.

But what are the colours of summer?

They’re the blues of the wildest blueberries and the deepest purple of eggplant. They’re the orange-red of ripened tomatoes and the dark, speckled green of zucchini. They’re the shiny blackness of blackberries and the blushing yellow of apricots.

But most of all, the colour of summer is the shocking, ruby red of raspberry and red currant jam. The two berries clasp each other in this concoction to form a vibrant colour that is not easy to forget. Not too sweet with a lovely hint of tartness, enjoy this on buttered toast. Or do as I do and eat it right out of the jar with a spoon.

How beautiful to be able to taste the colour of summer!

Ciao!

Raspberry and Red Currant Jam

Adapted from The Berry Bible by Janie Hibler.

• 3 cups red currants, fresh or frozen (if using frozen, be sure to thaw them and use the juice as well)
• 1-1/2 cups raspberries, fresh or frozen (if using frozen, be sure to thaw them and use the juice as well)
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 teaspoon lemon zest
• 2 teaspoons unsalted butter

1. This recipe will yield 16 ounces of jam so be sure to wash and thoroughly dry either two eight-ounce jars or four four-ounce jars. Be sure to have the lids ready as well.
2. In a large bowl, combine 1-1/2 cups of red currants with 1 cup of raspberries. Crush with a potato masher or with the bottom of a cup.
3. Once crushed, push the fruit through a sieve to remove all of the seeds.
4. In a large pot or skillet, combine the seedless crushed fruit, the remaining fresh fruit, the sugar and the lemon juice. Let the mixture stand for 2 hours.
5. Turn the heat on to high, add the butter and bring the fruit mixture to a boil. Once it’s boiling, reduce the heat and simmer for 35 to 40 minutes. Be sure to stir often to prevent scorching. The jam will thicken and you will know it’s ready when you drag a spoon across the bottom of the pan and are able to see the track left by the spoon.
6. Carefully spoon the jam into the prepared jars and seal them.
7. Process the jars in a water bath for 10 minutes.
8. Remove the jars and let cool completely.
9. Enjoy!

Note:  When processing jars in a water bath, be sure that the water comes at least an inch above the top of the jars. Once the jars have been removed from the water, test the seal by pressing down on the lid. If the lid pops back up in the centre, then the jars have not sealed properly and you’ll have to reseal it.  This jam will keep for months stored in a cool location.

Technorati tags: jam, raspberries, red currants

On the menu for week 12:  Chocolate Truffle Torte.

After 12 classes spread out over 16 weeks, my introductory baking course at George Brown College has come to an end. For the grand finale, our instructor unveiled the method for a show-stopping chocolate truffle torte that could grace your table during the most special of events.

To begin with, I must apologize for my picture. It is smoldering-hot here in Toronto and I knew that if I didn’t photograph my torte in class, it would never make it home. In fact, despite my best efforts to keep the car air-conditioned, by the time I arrived home my rosettes had melted and the torte was swimming in a puddle of chocolate ganache. While I wouldn’t mind swimming in a puddle of ganache one day, I didn’t want to inflict a photo of my sad melted torte on you.

The components of this torte are fairly standard and once you’ve mastered them, you can easily make this dessert. The torte consists of a chocolate sponge, a simply syrup (to moisten the sponge) and a luscious ganache made of heavy cream and the best dark chocolate you can afford. Assembling the cake was complicated by the heat. Despite your best intentions, if it’s too hot, your ganache isn’t going to set up properly. The best course of action, as our instructor explained, is to reserve a cake of this nature for cooler weather.

The torte itself was spectacular. The sponge was moist and not overly sweet and the ganache, which is hot heavy cream poured over chopped dark chocolate, struck the perfect balance between chocolate flavour and a creamy consistency.

When I first enrolled in this course I wasn’t sure what to expect. While I do have some experience baking at home, this was my first time baking in a structured environment. Overall, I’ve found the experience positive and rewarding.

Our instructor was first-class. Humorous and patient, he was there to help at all times and continuously provided me with perhaps the best advice: don’t rush! Take your time! His demonstrations were always organized and his instructions clear.

The subjects that we covered in our course represented a thorough cross-section of baking. We touched on everything from pies to cookies to cakes. For those members of the class that had no experience baking, it was an excellent way to get their feet wet. My only complaint is that we often used ingredients, like shortening, that I would not use at home when baking cakes or cookies.

Looking back at how I felt about my first class, I’m happy that I decided to take this step and enroll in this course. I’ve learned to be more organized when baking by preparing my ingredients ahead of time (not something I always did). I’ve learned to slow down and pay attention to the texture of whatever it is I’m making. And perhaps most enjoyably, I’ve learned to loosen the ties to the Kitchen Aid mixer (somewhat) and use the best tools I have … my hands!

I will most definitely be taking more courses beginning in the fall as I continue to work towards my certificate. In the meantime, I would like to thank all of you for taking this journey with me and providing so much support and advice. In particular I would like to thank Sam of Sweet Pleasure:  Plaisir Sucré and Anita of Dessert First. You’re both a real inspiration!

Well folks … school is out for the rest of the summer. See you in school in September!

Ciao!

One of the jokes that circulates most often among Torontonians is that this city has two seasons:  winter and construction. All joking aside, winter is very long in this part of the world and as a result, there is an overwhelming pressure to "enjoy" summer.

I was not kidding when I wrote about anxiously awaiting the arrival of cherry season so that I could make my beloved cherry coffeecake. That is precisely how I feel about my very favourite strawberry shortcake in the world.

A few years ago, threatened by the mountain of food magazines that were claiming every corner of the house, I buckled down and forced myself to part with most of them. I diligently flipped through each magazine, allowing myself to clip only those recipes that I felt sure I would try. As the mountain of magazines dwindled, I landed upon the June 2003 issue of Food & Wine. One of my very favourites, Food & Wine is particularly kind to those of us that love dessert. The magazine regularly pays homage to what in my humble opinion, is the most important part of the meal.

Tired, I almost tossed the magazine without looking through it but the little Cream Puff inside me warned that there might just be a recipe I’d like. I’m so glad I listened to that little Cream Puff! For sure enough I found a recipe for one of the best cakes in my humble repertoire.

There must be thousands of strawberry shortcake recipes out there in the big dessert world, but I doubt any of them are as good as this one. While not exactly a traditional shortcake, the batter for this cake has white chocolate in it! And while you’d think that might make the cake overly sweet, it doesn’t. In fact, the cake is moist, light and filled with whipped cream and crème fraîche, God’s gift to Cream Puffs.

This is a cake in which to nestle only the best of the season’s strawberries. And each summer since I discovered this recipe, I’ve gone out in search of the best of Ontario’s strawberries. This year, Forsythe Family Farms in Markham, Ontario gets the honours. Their strawberries were delicious. Sweet and brilliantly red … they were everything a strawberry should be.

We are in the very last days of strawberry season here in Ontario. As much as I’ll miss them, I don’t really mind because I’ve had had my strawberry shortcake and I ate it too!

Ciao!

Strawberry Shortcake

From the June 2003 issue of Food & Wine magazine. For the recipe, click here. I’ve never made the star anise sauce that accompanies the recipe. As much as I love star anise, I don’t want anything getting in the way of me and my strawberries … and crème fraîche!

Technorati tags: strawberries, shortcake, white chocolate

One of the main reasons why I decided to start a food blog was so that I could finally get around to cracking the spines on all those cookbooks that were weighing down the Overburdened Bookshelf. Needless to say, the burden on the bookshelf has increased significantly over the past seven months as I’ve added quite a few new members to the cookbook family. Happily, I’m thrilled with all of them and look forward to more cooking and baking ahead.

But I was slightly taken aback when I was asked, by some wonderful food blogger friends, to review a copy of a new cookbook and that in the process, I would be receiving my very own copy. A copy of a cookbook just for me?! How could I, cookbook addict that I am, turn down an offer like that?

Of course the fact that my dear blog buddies Cath of A Blithe Palate, Ali of Something So Clever and Sara of I Like to Cook were the ones asking meant that I couldn’t possibly say no. And I’m certainly glad that I agreed to participate in this unique event involving 25 food bloggers all reviewing a copy of the newly published Kitchen Sense by Mitchell Davis.

I’m a bit late with my post, which was supposed to be up by July 10th. Cath, Ali and Sara will have to forgive me but the past 48 hours have been consumed with celebrations after Italy’s win in the World Cup final. Much food, Prosecco, grappa, food and … oh yes … food was consumed. Strangers were kissed and hugged, flags were waved and in general, a good time was had by just about everyone in Toronto who decided to make their way to either Little Italy or Corso Italia. But the celebrations have come and gone and it’s time to get on with the business at hand!

Having never heard of Mitchell Davis, I was intrigued by the cookbook and upon its arrival at my door step, pleasantly surprised. While he may not be a household name, Mitchell Davis is a good writer who very clearly loves his food. And his book is a testament to that love.

With 600 recipes and a wealth of tips, Kitchen Sense is an excellent all-round cookbook for both the beginner and the more experienced home cook. The book is divided into sections that cover every type of dish including Soups; Sandwiches and Pizza; Vegetables, Beans, and Potatoes; Pasta, Noodles, and Dumplings; Poultry; and Desserts. Each section is marked by an introduction to the recipes ahead. As well, each section is dotted with useful hints and tips to help the reader along.

Clearly written and precise, the recipes are fairly straightforward. Mitchell ends each recipe with suggestions for variations, as well as notes on how much advance preparation is required and what to do with leftovers.

Every now and then, a shaded section entitled "Kitchen Sense" or "Basics" will appear. These entertaining paragraphs are like mini-essays within the cookbook that explain food topics such as whether to use fresh or dried pasta; how to clean squid; how to prepare a turkey; the ins and outs of meat terminology; and how to peel soft-skinned fruits like peaches and tomatoes. The "Basics" section offers the basics of foundation foods like pizza dough or pie dough.

Like most people, one of the first things that will usually attract me to a cookbook are the photographs. If a cookbook does not have pictures, it has to be that much better so that readers can visualize what they’re making. As a result, the cookbook author’s writing skills are key. Fortunately, Davis’ writing style is easy to follow and flows well. This is important because Kitchen Sense does not have any photographs or illustrations.

What Kitchen Sense does have is a collection of quality recipes that are current and tempting. But for me, the true test of a cookbook is in the results. So, tempting fate, I flipped the book open to a random page and prepared the first recipe that I saw. On page 419 I found a recipe for Roasted Figs with Mascarpone Mousse. Serendipity. I had some mascarpone left from my Strawberry Tiramisù and just this past weekend I’d picked up some California Black Mission figs.

Mitchell’s recipe was very reliable. The instructions were clear and the recipe turned out exactly as the recipe indicated it would. The cooking time was accurate. The only inaccuracy was the tip about leftovers because there were no leftovers. These delicious figs were consumed quickly as was the mascarpone mousse!

You know this Cream Puff well. You know that I don’t recommend cookbooks lightly. So believe me when I say that Kitchen Sense is a worthy addition to your cookbook family.

Ciao!

Viva l’Italia!

Viva i Campioni del Mondo!

Ciao!

Pasta with Pesto, Cherry Tomatoes and Bocconcini

Treasured family recipe.

• 2 cups fresh basil leaves, washed and dried
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced in half
• 1/2 cup walnut pieces
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/4 teaspoon ground pepper
• 1 cup parmesan, freshly grated
• 3/4 to 1 cup extra virgin olive oil
• strozzapreti or pasta of your choice (enough for 4 people)
• 1/2 cup cherry tomatoes, quartered
• 1/4 cup bocconcini, diced

1. Set a pot of water to boil. Once the water has come to a boil, cook your pasta according to package directions.
2. In a blender or food processor, combine the basil leaves, garlic cloves, walnut pieces, salt, pepper and parmesan. Process until combined and the basil leaves and walnut pieces have been chopped up finely.
3. With the machine running, through the feed tube of the blender or processor, slowly add the olive oil. Add enough so that the mixture becomes creamy and cohesive. It should not be liquidy.
4. Pour the pesto in a large pan. As soon as the pasta is cooked, add it to the pan with the pesto. Over low heat, mix your pasta until it is completely coated with pesto. Add the tomatoes and bocconcini and mix well. Serve immediately.
5. Enjoy!

Technorati tags: basil, pesto, cherry tomatoes, bocconcini, pasta, world cup 2006, Italia

On the menu for Week 11:  fruit flan.

After the high of Week 10 and the incredible Swiss Rolls that we made, I wondered if we’d be able to match it in Week 11. Well match it we did with some pretty good fruit flans!

My idea of fruit flan has always been a sponge base with some sort of cream topped by fruit. The flan that we prepared in class was more of a cross between a sponge cake and a fruit tart.

We began by making a lovely sweet pastry that’s a cross between pie dough and shortbread crust. After mixing our dough and refrigerating it, we rolled it out. I don’t think I’ve ever worked with lovelier dough. Supple and soft, it was a dream, although you did have to be careful to not roll it too thin.

Having gotten the dough out of the way, we then made a basic vanilla custard or pastry cream that consisted of milk, sugar, eggs, cornstarch and vanilla extract. I’ve often make custards and prefer to use a vanilla bean for maximum flavour. But the custard worked out just fine and it was quite easy to make. We refrigerated the custard with plastic wrap directly on the surface to prevent a skin from forming.

When it came time to assemble our flan, we began by spreading our cold custard on the base of our tart. And then came the interesting part. In our Week 10 class, we prepared some basic sponge cakes which were then frozen for future use. We got to use them today. Our instructor explained that by slicing a thin layer of sponge and laying it on top of our custard, we were accomplishing two things. For starters, we were creating a layer that would absorb any juice from the fruit that we used to garnish our tart. This would prevent the fruit juice from seeping down into the tart and causing the base to become soggy. Secondly, the layer of sponge would ensure that our fruit would stay in place and not slide about.

We garnished our tarts with fresh strawberries and kiwi slices. The final step was an apricot glaze followed by blanched almonds around the sides of the tart. There’s no question that garnishing these sorts of desserts with fresh fruit  makes a huge difference. I’ve seen too many boring supermarket tarts garnished with canned fruits. The sponge layer was an interesting twist although I’m not sure that I’d repeat that step again.

All in all I was impressed with the flavour of this tart. The separate components came together well, although I don’t know if I’ll repeat the tart/sponge mix again. I think I’ll go for either one or the either. But as my instructor pointed out, the colours of this tart are almost those of the Italian flag, with the red strawberries and green kiwi. In advance of tomorrow’s World Cup final, that has to be a good sign!

Ciao!

Of all the stone fruits, cherries are my very favourite. Come June and July, my thoughts turn to cherries again and again as the anticipation of their arrival builds. Before I know it, I’m enjoying fresh cherries harvested from our own trees or those of family and friends.

Growing up, we had a particularly beautiful cherry tree in our backyard. As lovely as the cherry blossoms were, I always enjoyed the days after they fell from the tree, when our entire backyard looked like a carpet of white and pink. When my father announced one day that the cherry tree was old and sick and would have to be cut down, it was a great loss indeed.

Thus far, the summer has been particularly kind to Southern Ontario. Fruits and vegetables abound and most gardeners will tell you that their gardens haven’t grown this well in years. It’s a small blessing in the middle of this large life. Be it a good or bad day, I can’t think of many things that match the simple, breathtaking beauty of a sweet cherry, warmed by the sun, exploding in your mouth. The flavour is like nothing else.

And just as I used to wait anxiously for the cherry blossoms to bloom and then gracefully fall, each summer, I wait anxiously for the ripe cherries to arrive so that I can make this cherry coffeecake. I came across the recipe for this cake several years ago. Since then, I cannot imagine cherry season passing us by without this glorious little cake gracing our family table.

I hope it will grace yours as well.

Ciao!

Cherry Coffeecake

Adapted from Scones, Muffins, and Tea Cakes:  Breakfast Breads and Teatime Spreads by Heidi H. Cusick.

Note:  This lovely little cookbook is one of those gems that you sometimes come across while perusing the sales table. (That’s how I found it!) It’s delightful with lots of pretty pictures and simple, yet elegant recipes. I highly recommend the book if you can find a copy!

For the topping:

• 1/2 cup pecans or walnuts, roughly chopped
• 1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
• 1/2 cup all purpose flour
• 2 cups cherries (preferably red), washed and pitted
• 4 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted
• 1/2 tsp. cinnamon (optional)

1. Thoroughly combine all of the topping ingredients in a bowl with a fork or with your fingers. Set aside.

For the cake:

• 8 tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1/2 cup plain yogurt
• 1 tsp. vanilla extract
• 1-1/2 cups all purpose flour
• 2 tsp. baking powder
• 1/2 tsp. baking soda
• 1/2 tsp. salt

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a 9-inch square baking pan.
2. Either with a wooden spoon or with a mixer, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the egg and mix well.
3. Add the yogurt and vanilla extract and mix until combined.
4. In a bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add to the batter all at once and mix just until the ingredients are wet. Don’t over mix the batter.
5. Spread the batter into the prepared pan. The batter will be a bit sticky and might be difficult to spread but don’t worry. Level it off as best you can.
6. Sprinkle the prepared topping evenly over the batter.
7. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean when inserted into the middle of the cake.
8. Let cool completely before removing the cake from the pan.
9. Enjoy!

Technorati tags:  cherries, coffeecake

Recently, I contemplated the merits of a religion based on the worship of fried dough. I am still of the opinion that such a faith would be advantageous to all who believed. And now that I’ve been eating fresh strawberries for over a week, I believe that this religion should also include the worship of strawberries. Cream Puff cannot live by fried dough alone. Or can she? Hmmm … a question for another post.

I’ve mentioned previously on this blog that while I love a well-made tiramisù, it’s not a dessert that I often crave. How could anyone not crave tiramisù, you ask? While I assure you that I adore mascarpone, espresso and all of the other ingredients that go into a tiramisù, the problem is that for the longest time, it was the dessert of choice for every event from birthdays to baptisms to anniversaries. It appeared during every holiday and sometimes it even showed up mid-week for no other reason than it gave one the excuse to eat mascarpone.

And then it happened.

One of the worst food crimes ever to cross Cream Puff’s path. I actually came across a tiramisù made with fake whipped topping instead of mascarpone. That was it! I turned my back on tiramisù and all those who dared to forego the mascarpone in the interest of saving a few dollars. When it appeared on the table, I simply looked the other way.

I understand that mascarpone is expensive, not to mention hard to find. I understand that ladyfingers (known as savoiardi in Italian) can also be difficult to locate. I understand that not everyone likes espresso. This is why tiramisù is not meant to be eaten every blessed day. This is the problem with the world we live in. We find something we like and then we make it to death. Tiramisù is a treat. It should be enjoyed on rare occasions. Savoured. Admired. Respected.

So for several years I lived a tiramisù-less life. And then this past April, I picked up a copy of Bon Appétit and was intrigued for within its pages lay a recipe for Strawberry Tiramisù. Could this be the recipe that would make Cream Puff embrace tiramisù once again? Why yes it could be! And it was!

It was glorious. Angels sang. I think there were even harps.

Admittedly, this is a departure from what we call tiramisù. It’s more of a trifle. As far as I’m concerned you can call it whatever you like. I call it good.

Praise the strawberries and pass the mascarpone!

Ciao!

Strawberry Tiramisù

My tiramisù is based on the original recipe from www.epicurious.com. You can click here for that recipe.

This is my version:

• 1 cup strawberry jam
• 1/2 cup warm water
• 1/3 cup orange juice
• 1/4 cup Grand Marnier, plus one tablespoon extra
• 1-1/4 pounds mascarpone, at room temperature
• 1-1/3 cups whipping cream (35%)
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• ladyfingers or Savoiardi (you’ll need about 50)
• 1-1/2 to 2 pounds strawberries, washed, dried and sliced
• 2 tablespoons lemon zest

1. In a bowl, combine the jam, water, orange juice and half of the Grand Marnier. Mix well. The mixture should be liquidy. Set aside
2. In a bowl, combine the mascarpone and the remaining Grand Marnier. Mix well. Set aside.
3. In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the whipping cream with the sugar, vanilla extract and remaining 1 tablespoon of Grand Marnier. Beat until stiff peaks form.
4. Take a quarter of the whipped cream mixture and stir into the mascarpone to lighten the mascarpone. Then add the remaining whipped cream mixture and fold gently into the mascarpone mixture. Set aside.
5. Spread 1/2 of the jam mixture in the bottom of a 13 x 9-inch baking dish. The mixture will be very liquidy but don’t worry about it. The ladyfingers will absorb the liquid.
6. Sprinkle 1 tablespoon of the lemon zest over the jam mixture.
7. Line the bottom of the dish with ladyfingers, making sure to fill in every spot. If you have to snap the ladyfingers into smaller pieces in order to make them fit.
8. Spread half of the mascarpone mixture evenly over the ladyfingers.
9. Layer half of the sliced strawberries over the mascarpone.
10. Spread the remaining jam mixture over the strawberries.
11. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tablespoon of lemon zest over the strawberries and jam.
12. Create a second layer of ladyfingers over the strawberries and jam. Again be sure to completely fill in the layer.
13. Spread the remaining mascarpone mixture over the ladyfingers.
14. Layer the remaining strawberries on top.
15. Chill for at least 12 hours before serving.
16. Enjoy!

Note:  I would recommend chilling for 24 hours. Chilling for 12 hours will do, but if you can hold off devouring this dessert, the extra time will really help it set.

Technorati tags:  strawberries, tiramisu

While I am mostly a good-natured and optimistic Cream Puff, I definitely have an impatient streak that pushes me to rush things. I’m usually the one peeking in the oven and muttering, "Hurry up and bake already!"

Lately, however, I’ve noticed that this impatient streak has given me a harsh edge. It’s not like me and I’m frustrated at my inability to stop it. I’ll snap at family members, I’ll think very rude thoughts of other drivers while I’m in the car, I’ll roll my eyes at the person standing in front of me in line at the store, all the while feeling terribly at my own actions. These past few hot and humid weeks, everything seems to bother me, even responsiblities that I would normally enjoy.

In the late 1990s, my parents bought a property on a ravine lot. The property has a little bungalow on it with a pool and an enormous garden and backyard. The idea was to rent out the property for several years and eventually build a new home. But you know how life is … always throwing you that curve ball.

Almost ten years later, the property is still rented and the enormous garden and backyard are still there. Except now, the burden of caring for this property has fallen on the shoulders of my mother, my brother and myself. My father, who for years so lovingly cared for every inch of that place, is gone and I’ll be honest, part of me chafes when we go there. As much as I love the outdoors and the flowers and vegetables and fruit trees, it’s a lot of work. Hard work. But there is also a part of me that resists going because it makes me think of my father.

A few days ago, duty called and we simply had to go to what we call "the other house". (Like a demanding mistress, the other house can be draining, both financially and emotionally.) The cherry trees required our attention. It has been a banner year for cherry harvests here in Ontario and when I got there, I was amazed to see the trees, stooped over with their burden of cherries. We haven’t seen that many cherries in years!

But I’m also annoyed. It’s hot and terribly humid (damn you, July!). Everyone else is inside watching the World Cup. I can’t find the stupid ladder and when I do find the ladder I can’t find the right position to set it up. The ground is too uneven. The branches of the cherry tree are too thick so I can’t move in amongst them. I want to go home. I’d rather be baking. Unbelievably I’m even frustrated about this blog as I have no idea what to choose for the Flavour of the Month for July. And then I think about how much I dislike the month of July (my apologies to those of you who were born this month). I look around and see the two other trees loaded with cherries and my knees feel weak. Did I mention that it’s hot and humid?

My mother and I pick cherries for hours. At this point I’m bone-tired, hungry and thirsty and so we decide that it’s time to go home. As we pass through the backyard, we approach a set of steps leading up to the back terrace. On each side of the steps there is a tiered garden. At one time, when my parents bought the house, the garden was a sight to behold. Wild flowers and berry bushes were artfully arranged to create a breath-taking vision. But in the years since we’ve rented this house, the garden hasn’t been well-cared for. It’s a constant source of stress. Tenants simply aren’t interested and we only have so much time to do it ourselves. As a result, the garden has become overgrown. Wild sweet pea is taking over everything. Enormous flowering shrubs, which should be cut back, have staked their claim. And here and there I see the defiant red of currant bushes. I stop.

I cannot possibly leave without picking those red currants. I feel gardener’s guilt. As tired as I am, I simply cannot turn my back on those ripe berries. It’s almost a sin. So, with a deep sigh, we begin picking red currants.

Now I’m really irritated. I squash more currants then I pick. There are bees buzzing around me, attracted to the sweet juice, and I impatiently try to swat them away. I’m just about to explode when, unbidden, a thought enters my mind.

Recently, in an attempt to introduce some physical activity into my Cream Puff life, I’ve been taking yoga classes and enjoying them. I think of what my instructor said one evening about how in this life, we spend so much time rushing forward, that we rarely pay any attention to the moment we’re in. As a result, we often miss the simple joy that’s around us all the time. I remember scoffing slightly when she said that. "Easy for you to say," is what I thought.

But suddenly, I find myself thinking about exactly what is going on at that very moment. Immediately, I feel the hotness of the sun on my back. I’m wearing a dark t-shirt that is like a magnet for the sun’s rays. It feels good. Next, I notice a sticky wetness on my fingers. I look down and see that they are wet from the currants that I’ve squashed. I taste the juice and it’s sweet and bitter and good. I look down at my feet and see the basket of red currants, shining like little jewels. I look back and see my mother patiently relieving the bushes of their red currants.

All of a sudden I think of my father. And I know immediately that he would be so happy to know that we’re here, on this little piece of land that was heaven to him, and we’re picking the fruit that he loved. And I think to myself that there is no other place, in that very moment, that I’d rather be.

The drive home is a quiet one. Both my mother and I are tired. The streets are empty as everyone is inside watching England and Portugal duel on the pitch. When we pull into the driveway and get out of the car, my mother begins unloading bushels of cherries, but I march into the house. I’m dirty and sweaty. I have dried cherry stems stuck in my hair and my finger nails are caked with grime. Even so, I march right over to The Overburdened Bookshelf and I pull down Janie Hibler’s The Berry Bible. I remember my urge to be "berrified." I smile because I’ve found my Flavour of the Month. Patting the cookbook, I put it down on the desk by the computer.

And then I go back outside to help my mother with our harvest of cherries and red currants.

Ciao!

Strawberry Lemonade

Adapted from The Berry Bible by Janie Hibler.

• 5 cups cold water
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• juice and zest of 5 lemons (zest should be peeled or coarsely grated)
• 2 cups strawberries, washed, hulled and sliced

1. Place 2 cups cold water in a pot and bring to a boil. Add the sugar and stir until sugar is dissolved.
2. Once sugar is dissolved, remove from the heat and add the lemon juice, lemon zest and remaining 3 cups water. Let cool completely.
3. Place the sliced strawberries in a blender or food processor and process until completely pureed.
4. Once the lemon mixture is cool, mix in the strawberry puree. Strain into a pitcher through a sieve.
5. Refrigerate until cold.
6. Enjoy!

Technorati tags:  strawberries, lemonade, red currants

I blame Sam.

Sam, of Sweet Pleasure:  Plaisir Sucré, is responsible for my being a bit lighter in the wallet this first day of July. When he announced his Ice Cream event, I smiled and was happy for I knew that I would be reading many posts about a subject that is near and dear to my heart … ice cream.

I imagined what Sam would create and what the ice cream-crazy among you would create. But I did not include myself in that group for you see, our family’s beloved ice cream maker kicked the bucket (pardon the pun) awhile ago.

When my brother and I were children and MP3 players and video games were nothing but a rumour, we would get gifts like books, puzzles, board games, and one particularly happy Christmas, a telescope! But I will never forget the year that my dear Uncle N bought us an ice cream maker.

My brother and I, both lovers of ice cream, were young enough that we’d never actually taken time to consider where it is that ice cream comes from. As long as there was a healthy supply in the freezer at home then we were happy. But we were also old enough to be mightily excited about the prospect of having our very own endless supply of ice cream.

That was an awesome gift.

Our ice cream maker was a Philips model that was tiny and adorable. I don’t recall how much ice cream it made but I doubt that it was more than a quart. It had a plastic lid through which you could watch the machine’s arm turn slowly. As it turned, it would scrape across the frozen insert (you had to freeze it ahead of time) and with each scrape, a little bit of heaven was formed. The machine took a long time to form what we would call a semblance of ice cream. And even after the machine had been turning for an hour, the texture of the ice cream was never completely firm. But we enjoyed the lovely softness of our ice cream and we didn’t mind at all.

While we indulged in the usual suspects … those being vanilla and chocolate … our favourite was coffee ice cream. I imagine that we fancied ourselves very grown up wolfing down coffee ice cream even though we couldn’t drink the actual liquid unless it was accompanied by lots of milk and served at breakfast.

We loved that machine. But it eventually gave out and we said goodbye. The years past and the memory of homemade ice cream began to fade. Even when I read Sam’s announcement of the ice cream event I didn’t think about buying a new machine.

Did I really need another small appliance?

But as time passed, I began researching ice cream makers. I was surprised at how many people own them now and slowly, my resolve began to fade. It faded completely when I purchased a copy of Lori Longbotham’s Luscious Berry Desserts, which  holds a recipe for Strawberry Crème Fraîche Ice Cream.

Surely it was a sign. It’s strawberry season. I have (always) crème fraîche in the refrigerator. It’s a long weekend and there’s plenty of time to make ice cream. So without hesitation, I stuffed my little Cream Puff self in the car and zipped off to buy my brand new ice cream maker which I already love dearly!

But I am still a bit lighter in the wallet. And what’s worse … I’m now obsessed with ice cream.

Sam, it’s all your fault!

Strawberry Crème Fraîche Ice Cream with Coconut, Vanilla Sugar and Lemon Zest

Adapted from Luscious Berry Desserts by Lori Longbotham.

• 2 cups strawberries, washed, hulled and sliced
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup vanilla sugar
• 1 cup heavy cream (35%)
• 1 cup crème fraîche
• 3 tablespoons lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon lemon zest
• 1 teaspoon coconut extract
• a pinch of salt

1. Place the strawberries and both sugars in the food processor. Process until the strawberries are puréed.
2. Place the purée in a bowl. Add the cream, crème fraîche, lemon juice, lemon zest, coconut extract and salt. Mix well.
3. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours (the mixture should be very cold when you pour it into the ice cream maker).
4. Freeze the ice cream according to the instructions wit your ice cream maker. With my machine, it took about 25 minutes for the ice cream to be ready.
5. Once the ice cream is done, pack it into a container and freeze. Or just eat it right out of the machine.
6. Enjoy!

Note:  This recipe will make about a quart of ice cream.

Technorati tags:  strawberries, ice cream