You know what I like about these bars?  Everything.  They were easy to make, very fast, tasty, they made the house smell delicious and they are a perfect fall treat for noshing on with a good sized mug of hot cocoa and whipped cream.

They came about because I was sitting home alone, bored, getting over a cold and therefore in sore need of some comfort food.  I didn’t want the usual sort of snack–cookies, brownies, etc.  Or more honestly, I didn’t have enough chocolate on hand for the usual snack.  Instead, I sifted through the 300 or so recipes in my Evernote cookbook tagged with “dessert” and found a recipe for pecan pie bars.

I didn’t have pecans…but I did have a Costco-sized bag of almonds.  Plus I knew that with a bit of extra cinnamon thrown in, the bars would basically be like eating candied almonds atop a shortbread crust.  And yep, that’s pretty much what they are.  Delightfully, they’re not too sweet at all–so they won’t push you into sugar shock if you eat one or two with a good helping of my homemade cocoa.

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3. Lemon Bars, or How Many Lemon Jokes Have You Got?

The brain is clearly the most superior of all the organs, and I’m not just saying that because it told me to.  Well I kind of am.  Ok, I totally am, but with other good–nay, delicious–justifications.  After all, my brain is what told me to buy a couple gallons of cider at the Dexter Mill a couple weeks ago and my brain is what told me to use that cider to make apple syrup, which was delicious, and my brain decided that if apple syrup is good then apple caramel sauce must be just as delicious and obviously, if the brain thinks it’s true, then it must be.

It’s like the Internet.  The Internet would never lie to you.  Right?  Right?!

So a few days ago, I rigged together this little quick easy recipe to make caramel sauce out of leftover apple cider.  I also made apple sugar candy.  There was just all sorts of magic going on that day.  Anyway, the caramel sauce is thick, creamy, caramel-ly with a hint of apple (more so when it’s hot and fresh) and perfect for pouring over ice cream.

The apple candy is crunchy and sweet and great for getting your friends’ kids hopped up on sugar before you send them home to their parents.    Not that I would do that.  Again.  Today.

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One of the perks of living in Michigan is fall.  I know, I know: I said in the plum tart post that I hate fall because it’s basically “pre-winter.”  It is.  It is pre-winter.  However, like any good femme fatale, there are certain things about it that you can’t help but be seduced by even knowing that it will end with gunshots and tears icy roads and snow-shoveling.  Like super crisp blue skies, shimmery gold and red leaves, corn mazes and most of all, Michigan apples.  Because where there are Michigan apples, there’s cider and donuts.  And wherever there is cider and donuts, you’ll find me, nomming out.

So this week will be my Ode to the Michigan Apple.  Starting with super-easy, super-tasty, super-cute apple dumplings.  Recipe Below.

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…of my summer vacation from blogging.  Did you miss me?  We’ll just pretend you did.  I missed you too.  In fact, I’ve brought you this gift.  This beautiful, delicious gift:

Do you like it?

It’s a plum tart.  I love plums.  I love stone fruit in general.  But I’d never actually cooked plums before, and I generally shy away from anything that requires me to make my own dough.  Today was a “Cook all the things!” kind of day though (I also made a chocolate cake, and cherry cobbler yesterday).  I must have been feeling ambitious.  I’m sure with a good night of slacking and a hefty dose of TV, it’ll go away on its own.  Not to worry.

Anyway, the tart.  It was delightful.  I got inspired by the good deals at the store and bought a bag of tiny little plums and thought, “Tart!” I perused a few recipes online to find something simple, no custards or whisking or large ingredient lists.  Finally, I found and adapted this recipe from Eating Out Loud.

Plum Tart
Adapted from Eating Out Loud

Crust
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup chilled unsalted butter cubes
3 tablespoons ice water

Plums
1lb plums
4 tablespoons raw sugar + 2 more tbsp
1/2 tablespoon cinnamon
1 tbsp vanilla extract or 1/2 tbsp vanilla bean paste
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 egg, beaten with a tablespoon of water

Make Crust
Combine flour, sugar salt and cold butter in the processor; pulse a few times until you get that “coarse meal” kind of look.  Then drizzle in a few tablespoons of ice cold water and pulse until the dough comes together into a ball.  Wrap in plastic and store it in the fridge for at least an hour, or overnight.  When ready to use, roll out the crust into a relatively-circle-ish shape and put the crust on a cookie sheet or in a pie pan.  Sprinkle the flour and  1 tbsp of sugar over the crust.

Prepare Plums

Wash the plums, pit them and cut them into slices.  Mine were pretty small, so I cut them into quarters.  Cut yours however you like.  Honestly.  It doesn’t affect me at all.

Toss the plums with 4 tablespoons of raw sugar, the cinnamon and vanilla bean paste.

Arrange the plum slices in a pretty design, like concentric circles.  Or don’t.  Whatever makes you happy.  This is a happy dessert.  It’s the Bob Ross of desserts.  There are no mistakes; only happy, delicious accidents.  Just don’t set anything on fire.  Fold the crust in and pour melted butter over the plums and brush egg wash (egg and water) over the crust, sprinkling it with the last tbsp of sugar.  Bake it in the oven (cause really, where else would you bake it?  The tanning salon maybe) at 400F for about 40 minutes.

Let it cool, slice it up and serve it with a dollop of whipped cream and a sangria.  Consider it a toast to a happy pre-winter fall.

Bonus!
What’s the difference between a tart, a pie and a torte?
Pies and tarts are relatively similar, except that while pies sometimes have top-crusts, tarts usually do not.  Pies often have flaky crusts, whereas tarts usually have shortbread ones but that also has many exceptions.  However, a torte is completely different from either a pie or a tart.  A torte is a rich cake usually comprised of multiple layers that generally features a filling (jam, mousse, buttercream, etc) and is usually glazed or topped with something.  They also contain very little flour.

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Maggie has little regard for plant life

Winston prefers hardier ground

I’m pretty excited about the herb bed.  It’s the perfect size for what I need and right now has all my favorite herbs in it: rosemary, plenty of basil, oregano, mint, sage, thyme, parsley and cilantro, with garlic chives soon to come.  I wrote the names of the herbs on some old antique silverware my mom gave me and used them as markers.

But now that’s done and hopefully our social calendar will calm down a little bit as well.  I love hanging out with people but I’m ready for a couple days off.  I miss cooking myself dinner.  In fact, today was the first day since Tuesday that I really cooked anything for dinner.  Otherwise, we’ve eaten out with friends every other day this week.  That’s insane.

So in honor of this momentous occasion, I went all out….on a really simple dinner:

-peppered pork chops grilled on a salt block (which is my favorite way to grill things these days)

-baby carrots steamed on the grill

-corn on the cob

-basil oil

-buttermilk biscuits

And a simple pineapple gratin for dessert.  So simple in fact that I neither measured anything nor really took down notes.  Think of this as one of those “recipe guidelines.”

• I combined one 20oz can crushed pineapple with 1 cup of sugar and cooked it in a small saucepan until the sugar dissolved.
• I pour a fourth of the pineapple mixture into the bottom of two personal gratin dishes.  These made really big servings per person.  Multiple smaller gratin dishes would work, as would one regular sized dish, as would cupcake molds.  Be creative.
• Then each dish got: 1/2 c. crushed graham cracker, 2 tbsp unsweetened flaked coconut, another quarter of the pineapple, another 1/2 c. crushed graham cracker, 2 tbsp coconut and finally a couple small dots of butter.
• I placed the gratin dishes on a cookie sheet, to catch any spillover, and baked them at 350F for 20-25 minutes.
• I let them cool and then served them after dinner with big dollops of whipped cream.

They were delicious.  Sweet, tart pineapple, a nice crunchy topping and a hint of coconut.  Creamy but not too heavy.  Josh gave it two spoons up.

And me, I am wholly satisfied, and looking forward to getting back into the swing of cooking. I’m thinking, fried baby artichokes tomorrow.  With lemon.  Pulled pork.  Roasted chicken later this week and maybe another attempt at conquering soup?  We’ll see….

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So make a quick trip to the store, throw a batch together, nestle them into a pretty container and let your mom know how much you care…about her having delicious eats.  Do it for the noms.  I mean, moms.  Do it for the moms.

Homemade Mounds Bars
Adapted from Epicurean.org

8oz sweetened condensed milk
1 tsp vanilla
2 c. powdered sugar
14oz flaked or grated unsweetened coconut
24oz or so semisweet chocolate chips
1tbsp canola or vegetable oil

Combine milk and vanilla; slowly stir in sugar until smooth.  Add coconut and combine thoroughly.  You’ll get a firm-ish, sticky mixture.  Pat into a greased 9×13 pan and let chill for a couple of hours.  Cut into about 12 bars (might be a bit crumbly).

Melt chocolate in a double boiler and add in oil until the chocolate is just thin enough for drizzling.  Dip coconut bars into chocolate, coating thoroughly, and place on a sheet of wax paper to set for several hours.  Cut bars into quarters.  Eat.  Share.  Love.

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Ogres have layers, bars have layers

It’s that time of year again.  Fat Tuesday.  Mardi Gras.  Carnivale.  For some people, “Paczki Day.”

I, for one, enjoy Mardi Gras.  Who doesn’t like shiny beads and socially accepted overindulgence?  Monks.  But we just won’t tell them about it.  Anyway, I enjoy the festivities.  There is, however, one thing that has always somewhat baffled me about the way people celebrate Fat Tuesday here in southeast Michigan, at least.

Paczkis.  The overwhelming obsession with paczkis.  I mean…why?

Now don’t hate me.  I know that already some of you are going, “Oh my god, you did not just say that,” and others are going, “You didn’t mean it; I forgive you,” and still others are going, “What the hell is a paczki?  And how do you even pronounce it?”  A paczki, pronounced here as puntj-ki, is a Polish pastry made of fried dough filled with jam.

Yeah.  Fried dough filled with jam.

And if you don’t have paczki-mania in your neck of the woods, believe me when I say that here, people order them by the dozens.  People wait in long lines for them.  It’s like a mini Christmas.  Stores send out special ads celebrating they fact that they now have boxes of fried dough filled with jam.

And I just don’t understand it.  I mean, Mardi Gras is supposed to be the most decadent “holiday” ever–a day of unrivaled, sanctioned gluttony where you do everything you can to excess before Lent comes and you’ve given up sweets for 40 days.  And with all of the hedonistic desserts in the world, how can I possibly get that excited over what is essentially a giant jelly donut?

(My Polish friends, particularly Emily, if they are reading this, are disowning me in their heads.  Love you guys!)

So while I know that food blogger after food blogger will be sending you recipes for paczkis and beignets and donuts of every stripe, I on the other hand am going to give you a recipe for an easy dessert (because laziness is an indulgence) that is layer after layer of sinfully sweet nomnomnomings.

Sure, the paczki-defenders will say, “How can you get excited about layer bars?  They’re just a cookie.”  Of course they are.  But they’re cookies with two layers of chocolate, nuts, coconut and a thick drizzle of vanilla caramel so good you will need to go to church when you’re done eating them.  In fact, I like to think that these layer bars represent the seven deadly sins, all the better for a day of debauchery, where the seventh layer is “being awesome” and it’s invisible.  Which makes that seventh sin, obviously, pride.

Now doesn’t that sound delicious?

Seven Layers of Awesome Bars
Makes 9. There’s a 7 of 9 joke in here somewhere.

9 Graham cracker sheets
2 tbsps butter
1 tbsp water
3/4 cup dark chocolate chips
3/4 cup semisweet chips
1/2 cup shredded coconut
1/2 cup almonds, chopped
15 caramels plus 1 tbsp water (or about a half cup of homemade vanilla caramel)

Preheat oven to 350F.  Line an 8×8 pan with parchment paper.

Put graham cracker sheets, butter and water in a food processor and pulse until the sheets have been reduced to mere crumbs and are soft and soaked with the butter and water.    Press crumbs into the bottom of the prepared pan.

Sprinkle the dark chocolate chips over the graham cracker crust, followed by the semisweet, then the coconut and almonds.

Put water in a small saucepan over medium heat and melt the caramels into it.  Stir together until smooth.  Drizzle over the top of the bars.

Bake for 25-30 minutes.  Let cool completely, a couple of hours, and then use the parchment paper to lift the layers out of the pan and cut them into bars.  Nom away.

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So I went a-searchin’ for a recipe and I found this one from About.com that seemed pretty simple.  I made them on Sunday as Josh’s sort-of V-day gift and actually, though I’m not a Butterfinger expert by any means, I thought they turned out pretty well as did Josh, and from what I hear, when he brought the rest to work on Monday to share, they received excellent reviews.  Several people have asked me how hard they were to make.  In terms of homemade candy bars, I’d say that they were less work-intensive than Snickers bars but more work than Heath bars, although the process was relatively similar.

It’s the filling that mystifies everyone.  In this case, you cook water and sugar down until boiling, add in light corn syrup and cook until it’s reached 300 degrees, which is a really high temperature and therefore the odds of burning yourself with molten sugar are rather high.  Then you mix in peanut butter, vanilla and a few other things, and spread it out into a pan to solidify.  Which, by the way, it will start to do almost immediately, making it kind of difficult to spread or thin out, although it won’t get the hard, brittle Butterfinger texture until it’s rested for a couple of hours.  Then you just dip in chocolate.

Speaking of chocolate, the recipe notes that you should use “chocolate coating.”  I did not.  I never do.  Chocolate coating is made from vegetable oils instead of cocoa butter, so it’s easier for dipping and molding and doesn’t melt when your fingers touch it because it has a higher temperature tolerance.  However, it doesn’t taste as good as regular chocolate.  If you want clean fingers, use the coating.  I prefer a better tasting bar, so I used high quality semisweet chocolate chips instead–and people notice; they rave about the chocolate I use.  Occasionally it’s mentioned that the bars melt a bit on your finger tips but I’d rather lick my fingers clean and enjoy the taste than use a less than awesome chocolate or worse, put wax in my chocolate to make it more stable.  But that’s because I’m a chocolate nazi.  You shouldn’t feel at all obliged to be the same.

About.Com’s “Nutterfinger” Butterfinger Recipe

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Having said that though, I do have a soft spot for lemony sweets as well.  Lemon is an amazing flavor when treated right.  Sometimes it can be too sweet, or too harsh and sour.  But sometimes it can be just the right amount of sweet, just the right amount of tart, just the right level of flavor and then it’s amazing.  It’s bright and light and interesting and to be honest, makes me feel like a kid again.  As a kid, my favorite (non-chocolate) dessert sweet snack was lemon meringue pie, a favorite I shared with my dad.  But mostly lemon makes me think of my grandmother.  For two reasons.

One, when I was young–and occasionally still these days–my grandmother would make us lemonade from scratch.  As in, from real lemons.  Not from packets of Kool-Aid like I know some of you think of when you hear the words “make lemonade.”  No, this is the real deal.  She hand-squeezed lemons (a juicer? Pshaw) and strained out the seeds and mixed in just the right amount of sugar, water and ice to make a perfect icy cold tart-with-a-hint-of-sweetness treat, especially great during the hot summer days when my sister and I would come over and catch butterflies in the fields by their house, or to make me feel better after their chickens chased me around the yard. 

The other reason was a toddy.  Another classic Grandma concoction, equally delightful and soothing and makes me smile just thinking about it.  Of course, she referred to it–and still does, we all do–as cough syrup.  Lemon, honey and whiskey, stirred up, bottled and stored in the fridge for when the kids were sick.  I know a lot of you have similar medicinal traditions in your families.  I also know that some people respond with shock! and awe! when I tell them it’s my favorite cure-for-what-ails-you and that I used to keep a bottle in my locker at school just in case I or a friend got sick (high schoolers are germy creatures), but it works.

When I was a kid and had a cold, I got a tablespoon of that stuff.  Even when I had an upset stomach–I remember one night in particular when I must’ve been about five or six, I woke up retching something terrible (isn’t that exactly what you love to read about in a food blog?) and while my mom was cleaning up (poor mom!), I wandered to the kitchen, opened the fridge, grabbed the little glass bottle in the door and took one good gulp and then went back to bed.  It settled the stomach, it soothed a sore throat, it gave you peaceful sleep and it was a gift from my grandmother.

So yes, lemon reminds me of all of that.  Plus Josh is a big fan of it, as are many of my friends.  It’s definitely one of those flavors that seems to just make people feel happier and buoyant.  My lemon bar recipe, for instance, never fails to elicit giddy smiles.  I think this lemon curd recipe will end up like that.  In fact, this weekend Josh and I went to visit the aforementioned grandmother, as we do every few weeks, and bring her a couple of goodies.  Some flowers, a mangosteen (which I had found at Hiller and bought because it’d be something new for her to try), a fancy frozen dinner of macaroni and cheese with lobster (sorry, lobstah–she’s from Rhode Island) and a little jar of the lemon curd I made on Friday.  She loved it.  She didn’t know what it was, she’d never had it, but she pronounced it to be “like a lemon pudding” and then started licking the spoon, so I knew I had a winner.

I think you’ll enjoy this recipe because it’s delicious, it’s bright, it’s easy and quick, and it’s versatile–you can eat it with a spoon, like my grandmother, or put it inside of little tart shells or on a graham cracker crust, or even use it as a pastry filling.  I used Meyer lemons for this–those are actually not really lemons at all, but rather a crossbreed between lemons and Mandarin oranges.  It’s got a thin, orange-y yellow skin and just a slightly different flavor and color than a regular lemon.  Lemon curd is often made from regular lemons, though, so use those if that’s all you have or even use bottled lemon juice if you can’t procure fresh fruit, although of course, the fresh option always tastes better.

Meyer Lemon Curd
Makes a bit less than 1 pint

5 tbsp fresh Meyer lemon juice, strained (or about 5 lemons)
the zest of 2 lemons
3/4 c. sugar
2 large eggs plus 2 egg yolks
1/4 c. butter, chopped into pieces

Combine lemon juice, zest, sugar and eggs in a medium heat-safe bowl.

Put about an inch of water in a medium sized pot (something the bowl will fit safely in without touching the water) and bring it to a simmer.  Place the bowl in the pan and cook until thickened, stirring constantly, about 10 minutes.  It will sort of thicken up all at once, so keep an eye on it.  Don’t go too crazy trying to thicken it; it will continue to get thicker as it cools.

Turn off the heat, add in the butter and stir in until melted and thoroughly incorporated.  If you want the lemon zest to remain in the curd, then just pour it into a glass jar or bowl, cover and place in the fridge to set.  If you don’t want the zest to remain in, then push the curd through a fine-mesh strainer before pouring into a jar.

Meyer Lemon

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Generally, I don’t like to make frosting.  I’ve tried before, for cakes and cinnamon rolls, and it always comes out “meh.”  Seriously.  It actually shrugs its sugary shoulders with a bored sounding “meh” as I spread it haphazardly across the top of some otherwise adequate baked concoction.  The frosting is unimpressed with my meager talents at creaming various dairy products with sugar.  Well that’s fine, frosting, cause I don’t like you either.  Really, I don’t.  I’ve never cared for frosting.  Generally find it too sugary–I prefer the cake part.  I don’t like filling either for the same reason.  In fact as a kid, when given a Hostess cupcake, I would peel off the frosted design and then proceed to eat the cake around the filling and then throw the filling away.  What can I say?  That’s just how I roll.  Non-frosted.

But other people like frosting, so I feel I should make some attempt at creating it, no matter how ill-shaped and misguided my notion is.  So I figured on Sunday, as long as I’m making brownies, might as well make some frosting for them right?  Right.  After all, I’d recently saved an easy-looking recipe for chocolate buttercream frosting and I was awash in all the ingredients needed to make it.  Might as well give it a go.  So I proceeded to make these brownies from Buns in my Oven, which is my favorite brownie recipe ever, especially as I like to use half dark chocolate chips and half semisweet.  They are very fudgy and pretty deadly already.  They really don’t need frosting.  But I went ahead and made the frosting anyway, figuring I could put it in the fridge and use it to top something else later, which is what I did.

Immediately after making the buttercream, I knew deep down in my soul that this was the frosting recipe for me.  It was easy, had few ingredients, could be easily manipulated and actually tasted good!  And the color and consistency were spot-on.  It was creamy and pliable and the color just screamed, “I’m chocolate!  Eat me!” but in a pleasing way, not a creepy “Did that food just talk to me?” sort of way.  It took mere minutes to make, I didn’t have to fuss with it, and best of all, I didn’t have to use it right away.  I put it in a covered plastic container in the fridge and took it back out again yesterday, where I proceeded to let it come up to about room temperature (because buttercream gets really hard when it sets and even more when it’s cold) before putting it back in the mixer with the whisk attachment.  After just a minute or two of vigorous whipping, it was back to its fluffy, creamy, winsome self.

Instead of spreading it over the deadly-chocolate brownies (which, I have to say, already contained over 2 cups of sugar, 4 eggs, half a pound of butter and over 3 cups of chocolate in various forms and really did not need to be topped with more butter, chocolate and sugar), I made a simple batch of chocolate cupcakes.  It made for a great pairing because the cupcakes were cocoa-y but not overly sweet, dense but not too moist, while the frosting was sweet, buttery and as I’ve said, quite creamy.  It was a match made in a kitchen.

Check out the recipe for the chocolate buttercream from the Brown-Eyed Baker.

Chocolate Cupcakes
Adapted from CookingLight

1.5 c. boiling water
3/4 c. cocoa powder
1.5 c. sugar
6 tbsp butter, at room temperature
1 tbsp vanilla
2 eggs
1 2/3 c. flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 pinch salt

Preheat oven to 350F.

Mix boiling water and cocoa powder, whisk til thoroughly combined (it helps if you sift the cocoa before adding it in) and let sit to cool.

In a mixing bowl, cream together sugar and butter until nice and fluffy; add in eggs one at a time, and vanilla.  In a measuring cup, combine flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt.

Add a bit of the flour mixture to the sugar mixture, followed by a bit of the cocoa, and continue on, alternating until everything is mixed in and incorporated.

Ladle the batter into a cupcake pan that has been sprayed with nonstick spray (or unto prepared cake pans) and bake for 30 minutes.  Cool and frost.

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