169. Frangipane Tart with Strawberries and Raspberries (p. 778)

It's strawberry season, and my go-to source for locally-grown produce, Mann Orchards, has been carrying beautiful fresh strawberries lately (the smallish, vibrantly red ones, not those humongous white-fleshed genetically-altered monstrosities that they sell at the mega-mart). I bought a few pints and went straight to The Book to find a good strawberry dessert and decided on this recipe.

The last strawberry tart I made, from Julia Child's MtAoFC, had a sweet, sugar-cookie-like crust and was filled with pastry cream. This tart, however has a Basic Pastry Dough crust and a frangipane filling. Frangipane, an almond-flavored pastry filling, is named after a 16th century Italian nobleman, the Marquis Muzio Frangipani, who was famous for his almond-scented glove purfume. Glove purfume? Really?

First, I made the tart shell. I rolled out the dough, fit it into a removable-bottomed fluted tart pan, and ran the rolling pin over the pan's rim to make a nice edge. (I actualy had to roll out the dough twice. For some reason, it fell apart the first time. I decided to ball the dough up and start over again. Worked out much better on the second try.) The Book says to put the tart shell in the refrigerator for an hour to chill it. I was in a hurry, so I put it in the freezer for ten minutes (same thing, right?). I pricked the tart shell with a fork, put some foil over it and filled the foil with some dried kidney beans that I use (and reuse) as pie weights. I baked it for a while, removed the foil and weights and baked it for a bit longer. I set the tart shell aside to cool for a bit and made the frangipane.

I beat together some sugar and softened butter in my Kitchen Aid stand mixer. That's right, folks, my wife gave me a 5-quart Artisan Series mixer as a tenth-anniversary gift. Sure, she got a diamond ring, but I still think that I made out pretty well. I've wanted a stand mixer for a long time, and I know that I'm going to give it a real workout. Once the butter and sugar were creamed, I added an egg, some almonds that I'd ground up in the food processor, a bit of almond extract, and some flour and salt. (I didn't have any amaretto on hand, so I skipped this optional ingredient.) Once the frangipane was all nicely blended, I spread it in the tart shell. I put the filled tart in the oven and baked it for a while until the frangipane was golden and a little puffy.

Once the tart was cool, I sliced my strawberries and arranged them in concentric circles on top of the frangipane. Finally, I melted some seedless strawberry jam and brushed it on top of the tart. Now, you're probably saying, "this recipe is called Frangipane Tart with Strawberries and Raspberries. Where are the raspberries?" I left them out. You got a problem with that? I'm sure that they would have been delicious, but I really wanted to let my fresh, ripe strawberries be the star of this dessert.

This was a delicious tart. The crust was crisp, flaky and buttery. I was a little concerned that the rolling and re-rolling was going to make it less flaky, but no worries. The frangipane was sweet, rich and almond-y. And the strawberries? Perfect. Nothing better than fresh, local fruit in season.

Date Cooked: June 21, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

118. Tapenade (p. 890) & 119. Green Olive and Almond Tapenade (p. 891)

I really enjoyed making these two recipes. They are delicious and easy to make. But what really made them special was that I made them with my new friend, Melissa.

As I wrote about a few days ago, Melissa was my guest at a lunch presentation about cook-through blogs for my co-workers. It was great to meet Melissa and especially fun to cook with her.

I picked these two recipes for the lunch presentation because they are both quick and require no cooking, just a whiz in the food processor.

The first recipe* was for a pretty traditional black olive tapenade. It only has four ingredients: Klamata olives, garlic, capers and olive oil. The second recipe, which The Book says was a reader recipe from the magazine, changes up the traditional tapenade recipe by substituting green olives for the black ones and adding parsley, lemon juice and almonds. Almonds? Yes, this is yet another recipe in The Book with almonds. What's the deal with all of the almonds? Don't get me wrong, the almonds work in this recipe, it's just that I'm surprised to see all of the unexpected places that almonds keep popping up in The Book.

Because I was doing a cooking demonstration (releasing my inner Julia Child), I got all of my ingredients measured and packed up the night before. The first thing I did was to pit the olives. I started by using my cherry/olive pitter, but after a while, I switched to using the side of a heavy chef's knife. Just smoosh the olive and pick out the pit. Couldn't be easier. I peeled the garlic cloves and measured the capers, parsley, almonds and lemon juice. I packed everything up in individual containers and I was ready to roll.

The preparation for both of these tapenades is the same. Throw all of the ingredients in the food processor and whiz it to a paste. Then add olive oil with the motor running until the consistency is just right. Or at least that's what I'll do the next time I make this. We made the black olive tapenade first, and I just dumped all of the olive oil in at once. The result was the it was too liquidy. Melissa was smarter than me, and added the oil to the green olive tapenade gradually, and the consistency was just right.

Both of these tapenades were very good. Salty and tangy with a nice velvety texture. Both were rich and flavorful. We served the tapenades on crackers and they were a nice canape, but either of these would go well with some grilled chicken or fish. One of my co-workers suggsted tossing a little of the tapenade with some pasta. Sounds good to me.

Date Cooked: February 27, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Very easy
Rating: A-

*The recipe for the traditional tapenade is not on epicurious.com.

83. Pignoli Cookies (p. 683)

My favorite cookies in the whole world come from the little Italian bakery at the end of my street. They are crispy on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside, and they have an amazing almond flavor. I've always wanted to make them, but I could never find a recipe. In fact I don't even know what they're called, since I just ask for "those little almond cookies."

Well, thanks to this recipe, I can make "those little almond cookies" whenever I want. The key to these cookies is the almond paste, which, The Book emphasizes, is not marzipan. I'd never seen almond paste before, so when I found it in the store, I was at first surprised by how light the can was for its size. Then when I opened it, I was further surprised that it had the look and texture of those gum erasers that artists use.

I crumbled up two cans of the almond past into my food processor, and combined it with some confectioners sugar, and pulsed it until it was ground into a fine meal. Then I transfered the mixture into a bowl and beat in some egg whites and honey. (Much to my surprise, there is no flour in these cookies.) This is one of those recipes that I really wish I had a stand mixer for. The Book says to beat for five minutes. The dough was pretty thick, and after about the third minute, my handheld mixer was struggling. I called it quits at about four minutes when my mixer started to smell like smoke. In the end, it was all right, although, I think a little more beating at a higer speed (which a stand mixer could have done) would have made the cookies a little airy-er.

I spooned the dough into a pastry bag and piped little rounds onto parchment-lined cookie sheets. I pressed pine nuts into the top of each cookie. (At first I started making a pretty starburst design with the pine nuts, but after the second dozen, I moved on to a more abstract "sprinkle them and press them wherever they land" design.) I cooked them for the full fifteen minutes called for in The Book (some trays took a couple more minutes to turn golden). Then I slid the parchment onto racks to cool, and when the cookies were cool enough to handle, I peeled them off the parchment paper.

I made these cookies as a gift for my grandmother, who also loves "those little almond cookies." She was thrilled. They are exactly the same as the ones from the bakery down the street. The only difference is that the bakery puts slivered almonds on top instead of pine nuts. I like pine nuts, but I prefer the almonds on these cookies, and that's how I'll make them next time. That, and I'll wait until I have a stand mixer to make them again, because I don't think that my electric hand mixer could survive another batch of these. (Are you listening, Santa?)

Date Cooked: December 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

51. Roasted Butternut Squash and Spinach with Toasted Almond Dressing (p. 579)

Well, Fall is here, and for me, that means squash, pumpkins and apples, so expect to see a lot of them over the next few weeks.

The Downtown Manchester Farmer's Market will close soon, but not before the vendors have a chance to offer some great looking butternut squash. This one came from, of all places, Butternut Farm, in Milford, New Hampshire (the farm is named after the tree, though, and not the squash).

This recipe starts with roasting cubed butternut squash. While the squash is in the oven, it's time to make the dressing. Coarsely chopped almonds are cooked in oil over low heat for a while, presumably to toast the almonds and, at the same time, to infuse the oil with almond flavor. If that was the goal, I don't think it was fully achieved. It either needed more heat or more time. The almonds are strained out and reserved, and some lemon juice is whisked into the oil for the dressing. Finally, the squash, almonds and dressing are tossed with raw spinach.

I liked this dish a lot. The squash was excellent. The roasting brought out its caramely sweetness. The cool crispness of the spinach and the crunch of the almonds gave the dish textural interest. The dressing was pretty good, too.

When Teena made this dish, she wasn't a fan of the combination of the lukewarm squash and the raw spinach. This combo didn't bother me at all, but the next day, I had some leftovers and I threw the whole thing in the microwave, and I thought that it was much better hot with the spinach cooked.

Date Cooked: September 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

22. Green Beans with Almonds (p. 522)

Most recipes for Green Beans Almondine call for slivered or sliced almonds. If you don't believe me, check out the four different versions of the dish at greenbeansnmore.com. (Isn't the Internet great? There's a website out there about everything.) This recipe changes up the usual formula by using ground almonds.

The recipe is pretty simple. First, you grind skinned almonds in the food processor.

Let me just pause here for a moment to comment about the use of words like "skinned" and "shelled" in cookbooks. These two words cause me a great deal of stress when I come across them in a recipe, because they are their own antonyms. According to M-W Online, the verb "skin" and its inflected form "skinned" means both "to strip, scrape, or rub off an outer covering (as the skin of a rind)" and "to cover with or as if with skin." Likewise, the adjective "shelled" means both "having a shell" and "having the shell removed." Ugh! So, there I was in the nut aisle at Whole Foods on Sunday morning agonizing about whether The Book wanted me to get skinned almonds or skinned almonds. (Couldn't you just say "almonds without skins" or "almonds with skins"? Help me out folks.) In the end I just bought some skinned almonds.

See what I mean? You have no idea whether I chose with or without skin. I'm just saying. (I chose blanched whole almonds without skin.)

OK, now that my rant is over, back to the beans. You melt some butter in a skillet and saute some garlic for a little bit. Add the ground almonds to toast. Toss in the green beans (that you have trimmed and cooked for a short time in boiling water).

This recipe was just OK. The Book calls them "the best green beans we've ever had." I'm sorry, but I have to disagree. I thought that there was too much of the nut topping, and it didn't really coat the beans like The Book said it would. Most of it ended up at the bottom of the serving dish. The flavor was OK, but not very almond-y. Even after toasting, the blanched almonds still had that odd bland, waxy taste that blanched almonds have (like those weird candy-coated almonds that they used to give away as wedding favors). It did have a nice crunch, though. But, in the end, I would have preferred sliced or slivered almonds in this recipe. Actually, I really enjoy plain fresh green beans just steamed for a few minutes until they get bright green but are still very crisp. I guess I'm a green bean minimalist.

Date Cooked: July 13, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: C

11. Blueberry Almond Coffee Cake (p. 643)

Well, it was bound to happen, and it will happen again. I've had my first Project disaster. But, even so, it wasn't a total failure, as you can see from the picture to the left.

This recipe seems easy enough. It starts out with a basic cake batter (creaming butter and sugar, beating in eggs and dry ingredients, etc.), with a lot of blueberries folded in at the end.

The batter is spread into a shallow baking dish and topped with the almond-egg-white-sugar topping.


This is the "before" picture. Isn't it pretty? Then it is baked for "50 minutes to 1 hour." (Ah, those cooking times again! The Book, my oven, and I are all still getting to know each other.) At 50 minutes, I tested the cake with a toothpick. Not done yet. I put it in for another five minutes. The toothpick came out clean enough, and anyway, the almond topping was starting to get a little overcooked, so I called it.



Here's the "after" picture. Isn't it pretty? The Book says to let it cool in the pan on a rack for ten minutes, and then invert it to remove it from the pan, and then invert it again on the rack to cool completely. Well, that's when the trouble came.







Here's the "aftermath" picture. Oh, the humanity! Despite the outward appearance and the clean toothpick, there was a big blob of undercooked batter in the middle. The cake cracked and split in two just like an earthquake, except it happened in slow motion. The Book's blurb about this recipe suggest trying this coffee cake if you're thinking of muffins, but you want to "avoid the bother of muffin tins." I wonder if I had used muffin tins, if it would have cooked all the way through. Now, I'm willing to take at least part of the blame for this since I didn't monitor my oven temperature throughout the cooking.

Anyway, this "disaster" wasn't too bad after all. Most of the cake was edible, and the part that was edible was delicious! The cake is sweet and moist, and very blueberry-y. I don't think that you could get more blueberries in this cake if you tried. The almond topping gave the cake a nice toasty-ness and crunch.

Date Cooked: June 29, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A- (points off for poor execution)