Bakin-n-Bacon

Semi-Annual Bagel Baking (how time flies)

I can't believe it's been over a year since I posted about making bagels. I may have made bagels once in the interim, but if so that's the only other time since January, 2008.

These things are too good to only make once or twice a year - but after making them I remembered why I wait so long in between.

The process isn't that difficult, but you do have to plan ahead, an attribute that surely isn't among my top ten. So I keep thinking, "I'd really like to make bagels this weekend," and suddenly it's Sunday afternoon and too late (because I am NOT getting up at 3:30 to bake bagels without getting paid for it).

Anyhoo, the steps for gorgeous chewy bagels are as follows:

1. Mix high gluten flour, yeast and water to make a sponge. Let it sit for two hours or until bubbly.
2. Add more flour, barley malt, salt and a little more yeast and knead. This dough is very, very stiff and is a workout for even a good mixer.
3. Shape into balls and wait 20 minutes. Shape into bagels (I punch a hole in the middle of each ball and spin it on my finger to make the bagel. Some people roll ropes and join the ends.)
4. Wait another 20 minutes or so until the bagels float when put in a bowl of water. I'm not sure what that means from a baking science perspective, but I assume it means it's risen enough to have sufficient gas for the next step.
5. "Retard" the bagels in the fridge overnight.
6. Boil the bagels for a couple of minutes the next morning, and top with seeds if you like.
7. Bake at a high temp until beautifully golden brown.

 

Decided to go old school black and white with these photos, because I liked the way it looked. Digital photography sure is a lot easier than standing in a hot, stinky darkroom, dipping your hands into volatile chemicals for hours at a time.

 

 

 

Gettin' Figgy with it...

While digging through my crowded pantry last week, I stumbled across a package of plump dried figs that begged me to use them. (As a side note, how can my pantry already be a mess when I've lived in my house for only 4 months?!)

I thumbed through a few books trying to find a good use for the figs. I had made a recipe from Sweet Miniatures before, but it didn't really appeal to me at this point. While browsing the dessert recipes from my favorite Cook's Illustrated tome, Restaurant Favorites at Home, I spied a recipe for fig bars that included oatmeal in the crust. I'm a sucker for anything with oatmeal in it, so I pounced on this recipe.

The figs were simmered in apple juice until swelled and juicy, then pureed in the food processor with a bit more apple juice. I think it would have been better to omit the added juice because the fig puree was pretty darn sticky - next time I'll try it that way.

The puree was tasty but I really wanted to take it to another level. I'm tired of recipes that are merely good - I want to make things that people dream about for days after eating them. That is my main motivation when I bake now. Maybe it's an unrealistic goal; maybe it's even elitist. After all, even I can really dig a Tollhouse cookie straight from the oven. But there is this nagging inside of me that wants to create things that people don't just eat with indifference but instead savor with delight. Am I crazy for wanting to do this? I realize I'm weird, but maybe it's worse than that. Too bad I can't afford a psychiatrist.

But back to the fig puree: I thought about adding some kind of spice, but couldn't decide on what to use. I then rummaged through the liquor cabinet for inspiration (on what to add, not for a drink) and spied a bottle of Fee's Orange Bitters. The spicy aroma seemed a perfect fit, so I added a generous teaspoon to the puree. It added just the right note.

While the filling was cooling, I tackled the crust. It is a fairly standard cookie-type crust made with butter, oats, flour and brown sugar. I pressed it into the 9 x 9 pan called for in the recipe:
 

Then I topped it with the fig puree. I still wanted to take these to another level, so I ground up some pistachios left over from another recipe that were in danger of getting stale, and spread them over the top. 

 

I was going for a layered look, but as you can see by the main photo, that didn't work out so well. The fig layer, which was very moist, absorbed the pistachio layer. The flavor added by the nuts was excellent, so I didn't mind that I lost the distinct layer.

These bars were very difficult to cut because the crust was thick and chewy, and the filling very soft. Again, I think that next time I will reduce the liquid in the filling. Also, the bars were quite thick - I think a 9 x 13 pan would have been a better choice.

After all that fretting about the flavor, I thought perhaps I'd jumped the shark and made sometime that wouldn't appeal to anyone but me. But I sent the entire pan save one piece to work with my husband, and when he returned I asked if they went over well. They were gone, so I guess that's a good sign.

The "Ultimate" Chocolate Caramel Tart

I've been on a kick from Saveur magazine lately - the article about Demel in Vienna sparked a baking frenzy. The recent issue had as its cover a luscious chocolate caramel tart flecked with sea salt. I bought the magazine based on that photograph alone.

As it turned out, the "ultimate" tart was a tart from a diner that was in the featured article, "12 Restaurants That Matter." The restaurant article should have been named "12 restaurants that our editorial staff like a lot but aren't particularly noteworthy otherwise." Sure, there were a couple of big names listed, but most just seemed to be the favorites of the editors or writers. The preface to the article gave some quasi-rational justification for the inclusion of these particular eateries, but I felt the argument was pretty weak.

Being a devotee of Cook's Illustrated, when I see the word "ultimate" in a recipe I envision a recipe that has been exhaustively tested and is the alleged end-all, be-all recipe of its kind (arguments on whether that is true of CI's recipes is saved for later). This recipe was from a diner (in New York? New Jersey? I don't recall), and although it may not have been tested to death, sure looked pretty darn tasty. But as has been the case recently with the new recipes I've tried, the taste did not quite measure up to the appearance. Lest I be accused of being too critical, I would like to say that the tart is pretty good - just not the 'ultimate'.

My friends thought it was great, but for me it was a bit lackluster. I even tried to boost the flavor with a few of my own tweaks, but was left with a toothachingly sweet tart that didn't live up to my expectations (which, admittedly, are quite lofty).

The crust was a bit thick and didn't have great chocolate flavor, even though I used Penzey's Dutch cocoa. But with only 1/4 cup of cocoa for the entire crust what did I expect? This is where I think I could make the greatest improvement.

The caramel was good but pretty standard, although the recipe did call for creme fraiche to give it some zip.  I tried to pump up the flavor more by adding in reduced blood orange juice, and upon straight-up tasting, it worked wonderfully. The caramel had underlying notes of orange and just a touch of astringency from the acidic juice. It tasted great at room temperature.

The chocolate ganache was pretty standard, too - and there was nothing at all wrong with it. Topped with a sprinkling of sea salt, the tart is supposed to be salty and sweet like the now ubiquitous fleur de sel caramels.

While this tart is in no way bad, I still have a gripe. The tart has to be sliced and served COLD or the caramel gushes out like a tidal wave of gooey sweetness. There's nothing wrong with gooey caramel sweetness, mind you - I rather like it as a sauce for ice cream, but it's difficult to eat if it's flowing all over the plate and you have to chase it around with a forkful of ganache and crust, not unlike trying to herd a roomful of cats. When it is served cold enough to slice cleanly, however, the subtle nuances of flavor in both the chocolate and caramel are completely lost. (I added additional butter to compensate for the 2 tablespoons extra liquid supplied by my reduced orange juice, so I don't think that is to blame for the gooeyness.)

I'll have to tweak my "go to" caramel candy recipe and come up with something a bit better. Overall this has great potential - and my gripes notwithstanding, I've eaten three rather large pieces of the tart. Maybe I'm just too darned picky.