Boulders Tart

I want to dive into that sea of whipped cream rosettes.

What is a boulders tart? Well, let’s go through the layers. First, a bittersweet chocolate cookie tart crust, sealed with melted bittersweet chocolate.

Then come the boulders: roasted macadamia nuts in caramel sauce. This was left overnight in the fridge to set and topped with a bittersweet chocolate sour cream custard.

The whole thing was finished off with whipped cream rosettes (and some chocolate curls).

Perfect.

But it was a flop! I shared this with my kid, the one that I tutor, and she was all excited and ooh-ing and ah-ing at first. I’d persuaded her last month to do some extra homework with the promise of pie to come, and I thought it was about time to reward her extra effort. She professed to love chocolate and nuts, and I needed to use up my leftover sour cream, so I thought the boulders tart would be a great two-birds-one-stone-thingy.

You may have noticed how the word ‘bittersweet’ was used to describe nearly all the layers – it was a little too bittersweet, i.e., more bitter than sweet, especially for a kid. But even that was overshadowed by the caramel, which I think may have been a little burned (for those with Korean childhood memories – it tasted like overcooked bbopkki). My kid’s enthusiasm withered; I ended up finishing her slice, and I think her mother will slowly work her way through the rest of the pie (if she is anything like my mother and harbors pathological qualms about waste).

The funny thing is, I actually thought the caramel turned out ok, mostly because I’d spectacularly burned my first attempt. I’ve never seen anything bubble with so much fury. And yet, I couldn’t throw it out until I was absolutely certain it was ruined (I do have a little bit of my mother in me). So, I dipped my pinkie in there to have a taste; it is currently blistering. My reasoning was that it had stopped actively bubbling… Sometimes I think I really may have been dropped as a baby.

But what to do with burnt caramel? Well, lately, I’ve taken to flushing smelly, biodegradable things (read: rotting leftovers) down the toilet. I just can’t be bothered to take out the food waste everyday:P Ditzy as I may be, I know globs of caramel would severely constipate a toilet, perhaps permanently. So, not knowing what else to do, I left it in the corner of my sink. When I was a kid, there was an urban legend that if you swallowed gum (I don’t know why on earth kids do that!), it would stay in your stomach for seven years. I’m expecting the caramel to gradually melt away like the gum, though I’m hoping it doesn’t take seven years.

Well, I guess you win some and you lose some. It’s just a pity you can’t tell in advance which it’s going to be. (And it has nothing to do with the effort you put in!)

Fig Tart with Mascarpone Cream (& Surprise Treat)

Another rarity! More like a whole bundle of rarities, this one. It was by far the most geographically challenging (and expensive) one to date; I ransacked the city (and beyond) to gather the various uncommon ingredients. At one point, I wondered if I was making a pie or a very particular potion.

I thought the crust (a sweet nut cookie tart crust) was just beautiful, and begging to have its picture taken. The little brown specks are ground pecan bits, which lent a lovely nutty flavor and texture.

The mascarpone cream was scented with Marsala, a Sicilian wine. I searched far and wide for this wine, and the most common response I got was a condescending laugh and the remark, “You can’t go looking for something so specific.” I finally found a specialty store in far-far-away Bundang that had the wine, and made the 4 hour round trip there by subway (my very first time venturing to Bundang, too!). I asked the owner if he does any mail deliveries, and he said he normally doesn’t, but will for me, telling me to “Just say you’re the person who came from Seoul to pick up the Marsala.” I think I’m becoming a strangely memorable person.

The mascarpone-marsala cream came out more watery than I’d expected. I worried all night and into my dreams: What if the cream doesn’t gel and the figs sink right through – it’s too late to make an upside-down fig tart. Should I make the cream again and waste precious mascarpone cheese? On and on I debated in semi-consciousness. And somewhere in the twilight zone it occurred to me to just place a thin sponge cake layer between the cream and figs. I bolted right up at the idea. It was 5 a.m.

Luckily, the cream had gelled, and there was no need to bake sponge cake in the wee hours of the morning. But the problem was the figs – they were much less luscious and enticing than I’d hoped. I’d only ever had the Fig Newton variety of the fruit until last year, when my friend served fig and cheese crackers in a Parisian soiree. I was entranced; so this was the fruit that had tempted Eve! The ones I procured, on the other hand, probably only merited tentative glances… But what could I do? These will have to do!

All the different flavors and textures came together quite nicely, from the nuts in the crust, slight taste of (what I imagine to be) Italy in the cream, and the queer mushiness of the figs. Quite worth the effort! No leftovers were left behind; the three of us finished off the entire tart in one (long) sitting :)

***

And the surprise (Ziplocked away from the humidity)

I made chocolate macaroons! I had so much old egg white left over (and more on the way), I just had to make more meringue. I baked three batches, which were then divided into three distinct groups: rather nicely shaped, cracked in the middle, and total mess-ups. The first was made into actual macaroons, the second dispersed to friends as cookies, and the last will be laid out for the neighborhood stray cats.

All that fuss only produced nine macaroons (I will not be calculating my efficiency level). I used some cherry syrup I had left over from the strudel to flavor the cream, though it didn’t even scent it cherry and just colored it ever-so-slightly violet.

They were packaged and sent off to my friend who had humored me in the making of macaroons last month (which turned out to be a monstrous failure), and who is currently toiling away in her office, single-handedly saving the nation from diplomatic disaster (or so I think). Bravo to that! I don’t know if the macaroons survived the Seoul heat en route to her office, but the one that I saved for myself was really good. Crunchy-soft-creamy-perfection! 

Perfect Peach Pie

It’s been awhile since I made a normal, pastry-with-fruit pie. But I really do like them best of all; they’re so homey, they feel almost wholesome.

The pie was, however, less than perfect (I can feel myself getting all analytical about this). I think it was probably overcooked. This was the first time I tried the bake-from-frozen method with an entire pie, and I think I may have baked it for a little too long to compensate for the frozenness. The crust gave off a noticeably cheesy smell, even for a cream cheese crust, and the filling was quite bland and very watery. Maybe Korean peaches weren’t meant to be baked; they are rather mushy to begin with.

But it looked nice. And appetizing:) I find that it is much easier to please the eye than the tongue. And the friend that I shared it with said that she preferred her pies not too sweet. I’m going to believe that, regardless of its veracity!

Cherry Cheese Strudel

My very first attempt at making strudel. And eating it too – I think. Perhaps I’ve tried it before, but I don’t remember. Going off of the philosophical question, if a tree falls in the middle of the forest and no one hears it, did it make a sound; if you try something and don’t have any recollection of the incident afterwards, does it count? Because, quite frankly, until I started baking from the pie bible, I didn’t know everything had a distinct name and characteristic. I lumped everything together under the fuzzy category “pastry” and never gave it much thought. Turnovers and popovers were all the same to me. And I really should’ve tried strudel in Vienna. I vaguely remember my friend suggesting we try some, but I don’t think we got around to it. But it could be assumed that I inadvertently ate some at the breakfast bar. But then does accidentally eating something and not remembering later count? Oh, I’m such a fake foodie, only thinking about food in retrospect!

Anyway, I decided it was time to make some strudel (in the present) because it is described as a summer pastry, perfect for making in hot, humid weather. And summer was unusually hot and humid this year, even for Korea. But as luck would have it, the weather today was quite cool, autumnal even. It seems the weather deems it its duty to be whimsical.

Making the dough – I can see why strudel-making is described as “easy.” The dough is very simple to make (it’s basically flour, water, and a little oil), especially compared to pie dough. Yet I managed to mess up twice before getting it right, as evidenced by the heaping pile of mess-up in the background.

In preparation for the momentous event of strudel-stretching, the desk was dragged out to the middle of the room. Butter was also (somewhat) clarified (another first).

Stretched not-quite-gossamer-thin and dotted with what will have to pass as clarified butter. The hope was to get it as big as the desk, but that really was too much of a stretch. It’s supposed to be so thin, you can read a newspaper under it. I guess if you tried that at this point, it would be quite a botchy read… But as a super-novice strudel-maker I was impressed it stretched at all!

With the cream cheese filling and cherry topping. Now the fun part – rolling!

All rolled up and ready to go into the oven. I think it came out quite pretty, actually.

And my first actually remembered strudel experience – let’s just say that I got a sense of its allure. The layers didn’t come out as individually crispy as I think it was supposed to (and not enough layers either), but I can imagine what it should be like and I’m quite impressed by the idea. And I can see why it’s supposed to be so accessible – though not exactly easy, it’s quite simple to make in theory. All in all, it’s got potential. Realizing the potential will probably be an on-going story.

Peach Turnovers & Ginger Ice-Cream

I made peach turnovers and ginger ice-cream for breakfast for my brother, who is visiting briefly from California, and who is also my supplier for things American. As awesome as Bangsan Market is, some things can only be gotten stateside. Like buttermilk tablets and golden raisins. And some things are just way cheaper there (less than half the price here). Like vanilla beans and Grand Marnier liqueur. So I wrote out a very detailed list of the things I wanted, and ordered him, I mean, asked him to get them for me. But apparently, some things are unavailable at “normal” American supermarkets. Like tapioca powder and mincemeat. And some things get confiscated at customs. Like limes and pears (I know, I know, it’s illegal. But it was worth a shot.). But he tried, and I didn’t (and probably never will) reimburse him. So this’ll have to do.

The turnovers were quite good, even though I used a rather dry and un-sweet peach (a great way to use them up, actually). The two smaller ones are leftover nectarine turnovers, but I don’t think my brother could tell the difference…

The ginger ice-cream wasn’t as pungent as I’d expected. I pounded the ginger into pulp, but some annoying little pieces still got through and made the texture kind of grainy.

Anyway, as a result of the excellent additions my brother made to my stock of supplies and gadgets, I had to add another basket to the Babylonian Baking Tower. I bought the first basket at the local dollar store, and it turned out to be the last one there. So, I had to travel to the biggest dollar store in Seoul to get the next two, on two separate occasions. Yes, I was that crazy woman carrying a basket around town for no apparent reason. To top it all off, I randomly ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen in over five years. She said I looked “well.” 

Mango Passion Tart

The first (last and only other) time I had passion fruit was in India. There was a passion fruit tree growing in the backyard of an Indian gentleman I was visiting, and I couldn’t stop staring in absolute awe. So, he very kindly cut one open on the spot and gave me more for later, just like you would do with apples or pears (except it was passion fruit). And another time, the auto-rickshaw driver who was taking me around for the day pointed to a tree and said it was a mango tree. I asked him, “How do you know?” And he looked at me as if I’d asked a silly existential question and said, “Because it is a mango tree.” And so I asked again, “How can you tell it’s a mango tree?” And to this profoundly bizarre question he said, “Because mangoes grow on it.”

I couldn’t believe that in some part of the world passion fruit and mangoes were so common they grew in backyards and on the side of the road and so ordinary that you couldn’t tell what made them different. And that they grew on trees, like normal fruit! I sort of imagined them to just spontaneously happen or something. Because here in Korea, mangoes and passion fruit are practically worth their weight in gold. Going through the list, I’d pegged the mango-passion fruit tart to be one of the last ones I’d be able to get around to. But I found the passion fruit much sooner than expected, and then I found rather reasonably priced mangoes. I thought it’d be many moons before I could get a hold of both fruit at once…

I thought passion fruit looked like tropical pomegranates when cut and frog eggs when drained. Sadly, they exuded a lot less juice than I expected. I was so afraid I’d overcook the curd and waste precious passion essence that I actually undercooked it, and so it came out quite runny.

The hardest part was cutting and layering the mango slices (and I thought it would be the easiest part!). I’d left the mangoes in the fridge for a few days and they’d become very soft and were even beginning to brown in places. When cut, they were very slippery and kept gliding off my fingers. It’s so hard to get the right degree of ripe with fruit! 

The tart: coconut cookie crust, passion-fruit curd, sponge cake layer dabbed with rum, and glazed mango slices. What can I say? It was absolutely ambrosial. The mango and passion fruit have this flavor that is at once rich and subtle, like they basked in and soaked up the intensity and aroma of the sun. The coconut crust gave a nice milky-tropical touch too. If ever the stars line up again and I can acquire passion fruit and mango at the same time, I would love to make this tart once more!

Lemon Angel Chiffon Pie

One cannot help but burst with expectation at something with both ‘angel’ and ‘chiffon’ in its name.

I was originally planning to make a pear tart, but my supply didn’t come through (in upcoming post). And I had all those egg whites left over from colossally messing up the Chiboust cream (previous post). I know meringues shouldn’t be made in humid weather, but well, we only learn from our own mistakes and not the mistakes of those wiser than us. So I went with the billowiest meringue of them all – the lemon angel chiffon in a meringue crust.

The meringue never got as stiff as it was supposed to (again, I don’t really know what the problem was, but I’m going to blame it on the climate), but it piped ok. Though not as uniformly and concentrically spiral as I would’ve liked, I’m going to say it’s a job well done because it was my first attempt at a meringue shell.

Baked at 200 degrees F for one hour and left completely alone (I didn’t even go near the oven for fear of disrupting the process) to dry out for eight. I was amazed (and relieved) to see that it had actually hardened during that time.

And the lemon filling – whisking in the Italian meringue to the lemon curd and cream mixture. Again, the meringue never got as billowy as I would’ve liked, but again, I blame it on the weather. 

And of course, I ruined more eggs while making this pie. The tiny speck of yolk (at the top) made this batch unfit for meringue-making. And as I was opening the refrigerator to get more eggs, one fell out and splattered all across my floor. I’ve given up on being egg-efficient.

I saw Ms. Beranbaum’s youtube video for the crystallized lemon rose and thought it would be the perfect touch for this pie. Here’s the lemon zest strip relaxing in sugar water (sounds like a lovely way to spend an evening!).

The lemon rose being brushed with corn syrup. Or some sort of “healthy” syrup devised by the super health-conscious Koreans. It supposedly even has fiber in it. But it didn’t harden the lemon rose like it was supposed to, and now I’m sort of reluctant to use it in other recipes. I say, be health-conscious by eating less, not concocting new products in the lab... 

Et voila!

However, my beautiful pie was too big to fit into the box that I’d prepared (another grave miscalculation). I ended up carrying it covered only lightly by foil. And in the metro, I sat in one of the seats reserved for the elderly and infirm (erm, my pie is infirm). It was very much like the time, several weeks ago, when I was transporting a tart on the bus and the only seat available was the pink slot reserved for pregnant women. And who would get on after me but a very noticeably pregnant lady? This was very strange because in this land of the lowest birth rate in the world, I see a pregnant woman only about twice a year or so. I hesitated for a second, but then I reasoned that her baby is safely ensconced in her belly, and my tart is only protected by a thin paper box. So I kept my seat and tried to look as pregnant as possible (I don’t think I pulled it off). Pie is making me evil.

The final verdict: The chiffon was billowy and creamy (and citrusy), just perfect with the raspberry sauce. But one really shouldn’t make meringue in humid weather :P  I’m guessing the meringue crust didn’t dry out properly because it basically disintegrated under the filling; I had to scrape it out of the pan, and still it kept oozing syrup. Well, part two of the meringue experiment will be conducted when all conditions are more favorable!

Raspberry and Grand Marnier Cream Cake Tart

Holy guacamole! This was the most challenging one to date. It is a true miracle that a tart emerged from all that chaos. I think I was cursing the whole time, and at one point, even considered giving up baking entirely… But somehow, I pulled through. And the result was surprisingly good (a miracle, I tell you!).

The trouble was with the Chiboust cream, the vanilla speckled sensation. I’d baked the tart crust (the sweet cream crust was just per-fect) and the sponge cake layers (not bad either) the day before. I even reconstituted frozen raspberries as they were defrosting (don’t ask how!). And on the designated day, I got up literally at the crack of dawn to make the Chiboust cream and assemble the tart. I think I may have just been sleepwalking (perhaps my “meditation” time really is necessary) because I made the biggest baking blunder – I forgot to reduce all the ingredients uniformly. The tart only called for a portion of the Chiboust recipe, and I reduced all the ingredients – except the sugar. And so my cream came out all lumpy. I knew this wasn’t right, so I dumped the whole concoction down the drain and tried again. And then again. And then yet again. I briefly considered giving up and going back to bed. But I was having a “potluck brunch” in a couple of hours and the tart was really the centerpiece. Sometimes having no choice is the only thing that propels you forward…

In the end, I wasted about two hours of time that could have been spent sleeping, two very precious vanilla bean pods that were flown in from the U.S., rare and expensive (in Korea) gelatin, and just lots and lots of sugar and eggs. No pictures document this disaster.

On the bright side, assembling the tart went relatively smoothly. Standard stacking and spreading. The sponge cake didn’t fit quite as snugly as hoped (strange, it was baked in the same pan, but seems to have shrunk a whole centimeter). But the almond slices around the edge were an ingenious solution to soggy crust (all hail Grandmaster Beranbaum!).

The layers: sweet cream crust sealed with raspberry jam, light sponge cake doused with Grand Marnier, thick layer of Chiboust cream dotted with raspberries, another layer of sponge cake, thin layer of freshly whipped cream topped with reconstituted raspberries

And it tasted awesome. The liqueur lent a slight but noticeable kick, and the tartness of the raspberries complemented the cream quite well. It was almost like the slices of cake sold in coffee shops, though not with the same finish, but more flavorful and much much fresher.

All’s well that ends well.

Lemon-Luscious Ice-Cream and Frozen Fruit Turnovers

I decided it was time to make some ice-cream before the summer passes me by. And on the day I buy an ice-cream maker, what do I find at the supermarket? Passion fruit! Yes, fresh passion fruit. Grown in Korea, too. Perfect for the passion fruit ice-cream recipe! I stood stunned and spellbound in the middle of the aisle for five minutes. Then I remembered that I had a dozen lemons steadily metamorphosing in my refrigerator; I know from experience that lemons turn greener than limes if left forgotten. The passion fruit would have to wait. Lemon-luscious is up next!

Everything needed for the ice-cream: egg yolks, sugar, cream, milk, lemon juice and zest, salt, butter, and, of course, the recipe. This should be relatively simple.

Making the lemon curd. Stirring and stirring until it reaches the consistency of hollandaise sauce (this would be more helpful if I’d ever had hollandaise sauce knowing that it’s hollandaise sauce).

The finger down the back of a spoon test – pass!

Mixing in the cream and milk.

And then the pre-ice-cream mixture was refrigerated overnight so that the flavors could mingle and mellow and “live up to their full potential.” I had a hunger crisis at around midnight, and was very tempted to make and gobble down some homemade ice-cream. I got through it by repeating “it’ll taste better tomorrow” like a mantra. I’m not entirely sure that it did… I suppose the scientific thing would’ve been to make half of it then and the other half in the morning and compare the results. But I wasn’t really think straight at that point.

My mini ice-cream maker whirling away. 

Done in ten minutes. The ice-cream was still very soft, so into the freezer until the turnovers are ready.

I made the turnovers with the leftover dough and apple filling (and one nectarine that I’d saved) from the open-faced apple pie. They were a real pain to make, requiring more patchwork than a quilt. But they seem to freeze marvelously! It would be great to make a whole bunch, freeze them, and bake a couple each day for breakfast – if ever I can work up the patience.

Apple (left) & nectarine (right) turnovers with a scoop of lemon-luscious ice-cream.

The ice-cream tasted exactly like the lemon curd in lemon pie, but with the texture of ice-cream. Yum!