Currant & Lemon Poppy Seed Scones … And … Butter Biscuits & Blueberry - Lemon Shortcakes

I thought it would be lovely to wake up to a hot breakfast. So, I watched a few youtube videos on scone-making (visual aid is a must for first attempts), measured out all the ingredients, and set things up just so before going to bed. I expected to easily and quickly make the dough, pop it in the oven, and then devour the lot, all while the morning birds chirped outside. Hehehe.

Of course, it was a much more fuss-filled activity than originally planned. I think I managed to get dough fingerprints on every single item and surface in my kitchen (for just 4 scones!). And it was way past lunch time when I got around to any of the devouring. In short, I was once again deceived by the how-to videos. I don’t see how you can “just” mix the ingredients, then seconds later have smooth, plump dough, and minutes after that, a batch of uniform scones rising invitingly in the oven. Mine were rather sticky, and took quite a bit of coaxing, re-refrigerating, and prodding to get them be scone-like…

The flavor agents: red currants and lemon zest/poppy seeds. I found these adorable red currants, frozen and imported from France, in an underground (literally) shop near Itaewon. And I just love poppy seeds. Well, pretty much any tiny, edible seed (I don’t even mind having them stuck in my teeth – digging them out’s the fun part).

 I’m actually not the biggest fan of scones; they feel too one-dimensionally carb-y to delight in my opinion. But then again, I’ve only ever had the god-knows-how-they’re-made-and-how-old-they-are scones sold at franchise coffee shops. The made-from-scratch-and-straight-outta-the-oven ones were… satisfying. They were dense and filling in a more buttery sort of way – really hit the mark (a mark, anyway). My opinion of scones just went up a couple of notches!

Doe is not afraid to get in the middle of things.

 Yes, I do drink milk from a wine glass.

Everything tastes better in a wine glass.

**********

 Some days later, I decided to attempt a hot breakfast again. This time, butter biscuits-cum-shortcakes! I got up at the crack of dawn to get in line to get into Costco (holiday madness!), got back home before morning rush hour, and had my biscuits in the oven with a minimum of fuss. Perhaps I’m improving.

Breakfast is served!

I have to say, I liked the biscuits better than the scones. But more so because of the filling – blueberries and lemon yogurt cream. The lemon cream, especially, was exceptional. I’m gonna wanna dip all future biscuits into that! 

This hot breakfast thing might be growing one me…:)

Fresh Blueberry Pie

 Blueberry pie. Very standard.

Look at that weave!

Basking (cooling) in glory.

Nocturnal, alfresco snack (read: enjoying the precious few days of good weather).

Gone. The entire pie, in one (rather short) sitting. It's almost routine now!

Apple Dumplings

I had 3 apples leftover from the apple crumb pie – not nearly enough to make a pie or tart. So I thought the dumplings would be a good way to use them up! (As you can see, most of my baking decisions are dictated by the need to dispose of ingredients leftover from previous recipes.) I thought I’d get a good batch of dumplings, like the rugelachs, but was surprised to find out the apples were the dumplings. One apple a dumpling. Or one dumpling an apple.

I dug out the center with a melon baller. Apple seeds are quite pretty this way!

 The center was filled with stuffing (butter and sugar, really) and topped with walnuts.

And then wrapped with a cream cheese dough to approximate the apple’s original form. You may notice a whole apple has gone missing in the process.

I got hungry and ate it.

Just kidding. Why would I would eat something fresh when I can eat it baked, drenched in sugar, swathed in butter? Well, really, I was a little stingy with the dough and didn’t make enough to wrap 3 (ah, so lame).

Peek-a-boo!

The third apple. This one was just for me. What a treat to wake up to on a Saturday morning! (Well, somewhat less of a treat, since I had to make the dough and shape dumpling in the morning, and it was afternoon by the time I could eat it…) 

I think the dumplings came out quite nicely:) They could have used more nuts, or a bulkier filling (maybe the crumbs?), but, on the whole, de-lish! Like a gift-wrapped apple pie. I think they have the potential to be impressive crowd-pleasers!

Un-Rugelach Mini Turnovers

What are rugelachs? No idea, never heard of them. I just wanted a chance to use my apricot jam, and a quick kindle scan of the recipes suggested this mystery treat. According to Wikipedia, it is a Jewish/Eastern European pastry made of dried fruit, nuts, and fruit preserves, rolled into little crescent shapes (rugelach means “rolled,” thus the “un”-rugelachs). This definition was only slightly more illuminating than the accompanying pictures, and did not make the endeavor seem especially promising…

 This particular recipe called for soft cream cheese dough, filled with apricot jam/preserves/ lekvar, walnuts, cinnamon-sugar, and golden raisins (I’ve decided I rather like the golden variety of the dried fruit).

 This was all to test out my homemade apricot jam. Last month when I was making the apricot pie, I lost a lot of fruit to premature mushiness. I remember my heart sinking, all the way down to my stomach. Well, I made apricot jam with the casualties! I used David Lebovitz’s recipe and instructions, and it turned out quite well. At least I think it did. I administered the “nudge test” a couple of times, but wasn’t really sure what I was looking for. So I continued boiling and boiling and boiling some more… until my jam reached the consistency of toffee, at which point I realized I’d gone a little too far with the boiling. But it still tastes good. And the thickness adds chewiness, texture, and body to the pastry (I’d like to think!).

Doe examining my work.

Making the rugelachs was almost like making songpyun, except it required much more dedicated, delicate application because the dough was quite fragile. Using plastic wrap helped enormously to shape them into more or less pleasing half-moons without having everything stick to my fingers. I wonder how they ever made anything long time ago, without the assistance of modern amenities (which I find so helpful… and necessary). Like, how would you keep the dough cold without a refrigerator? Only make pies in the winter? And do it outside in nature’s freezer? I read somewhere that, before the invention of electricity, they used to beat egg whites for up to 3 hours to make meringue for a cake. I wonder, who was the person who came up with that idea? How – why – do you keep beating eggs for that long? All I can sense in that is some sort of human urge to create… which makes me gasp, both in shock and awe. Whatever the case, I’m really glad someone had the perseverance to concoct such recipes and hand it down as part of our (global) cultural inheritance, and even more glad that I have the benefit of utilizing modern technology.

 And the result? One of the best things I’ve ever eaten! As much as I like sweets, I rarely go ga-ga over anything (it is just not in my nature). But these rugelach turnovers were gooey (apricot), crunchy (walnuts), crispy (crust) little explosions in my mouth! Especially still a little warm out of the oven, they are to die for. I could keep eating them until I get diabetes. It was so strange and unexpected because they look like little dessert dumplings; so unassuming, and not particularly appealing. If they were in a buffet, I would’ve passed them up for a more impressive looking cake or tart that I’ve tasted a million times before. The lesson? Never judge a pie by its crust? Never judge a pie until you’ve had a bite? Sample different pies? Just eat more pie!

Doe wishes she were a real deer so she can try some herself;)

Crustless Apple Crumb Pie

I had great big plans for today – I was going to finally start my running routine! I might as well reveal that I’d originally planned this blog to be a baking and running blog. The other part of the goal was to run a marathon in two years. Or at least a 20k. Plus, it’d really help me balance out the extra calories I’d be eating with all the pie baking. (As it turns out, I’ve not been eating too much of my own pies, and I’ve been compensating for the calories by eating less normal food…). But I haven’t been able to muster up the motivation to go running for a long, long time. Not until I set up a specific plan, got a friend to join, and set a date – that is, today.

But of all the days of the year, a major typhoon chose to pass through the peninsula today; we thought that was a pretty good reason not to do any outdoor activities. Since I was already up to monitor the weather, and she had requested an apple pie, preferably with crumbles, some time ago, I thought, why not make a morning pie?

Obviously, there was no time to make a crust-ful pie by lunchtime, so it would have to be the crustless apple crumb pie. Preparing the apples and making the crumble only took about two hours. (Compared to the other pies I’ve made, that’s lightning speed!)

The “crumbs”: walnuts, cinnamon, light brown sugar, regular sugar, a pinch of salt. The unpictured ingredients include flour, melted butter, and vanilla.

Transformation is a hazy process.

Yurmmy. Though I have to say, the crumble looked like the sausages on pizza, and not as visually appetizing as they actually were!

Curious Doe.

My friend and I ate the entire pie at a coffee shop, while the typhoon raged outside. It felt quite cozy on the inside, looking out. Hehe. By the time we left, natural light had long since vanished and the storm had completely morphed into nothing more than a barely perceptible spritz. We had talked the day away. I don’t think I’ve talked for so long since the last time my sister visited. And I don’t think I’ve disagreed with someone (or been disagreed with so thoughtfully) in a very, very long time (perhaps ever). I think the only thing we agreed on was that the pie was quite good. And to try to jump start the running routine tomorrow!

Frozen Lime Chiffon Pie

My brother asked me to make him this pie when he visited, using the limes he would bring. But, as we all know, that didn’t happen. And, as we also know, the “key” limes I’d bought turned out to be just really small limes. So, on to the lime chiffon it is. (Sorry, little bro, maybe next time. I’ll do a repeat next time you visit.)

A walnut cookie tart crust being swathed with filling. That’s always the best part: the swathing, the bathing, the piling on, and even the flooding of the filling. There’s something very indulgent and decadent about the procedure… And the filling: green lime curd, mixed with green whipped cream, mixed with green meringue. Lime just tastes better green (no matter how lightly tinted).

It was Doe’s idea to add the jelly beans (mint chocolate & birthday cake).

Billowy and delectable! (No, it doesn’t stay frozen for very long.)

I can’t say whether I liked the lemon or lime chiffon better. They’re very similar, but each with their own distinguishing twists. Like sisters!

(Just) Lime and Key Lime Pies

Doe is confused, which are the regular limes and which are the key limes?

(Doe is a wooden deer with no cognitive functions. When they’re right next to each other, you shouldn’t be confused.)

I was as confused as a wooden deer. I’d read that key limes are tiny, ping-pong or golf ball sized, and limes are slightly smaller than lemons. So when I found really small limes, I had a full-on philosophic debate about the nature of things in the middle of the supermarket: “Are these really tiny limes or rather large key limes?” And back and forth it went. Except this was, in reality, more of a scientific question because there really was only one right answer.

In the end, I decided they were key limes after all. I managed to convince myself that they were about the size of golf balls. (I’ve never touched a golf ball in my life.) And then euphoria ensued. I was going to make key lime pie!

All of the lemons and limes that come my way get an extremely thorough cleaning, mainly to get rid of any residual pesticide on the zest (which most recipes require, as they possess the most flavor). I long for the day when I can get my hands on some organic citrus fruit, but in the mean time, a remedy quite reminiscent of a third grade science experiment will suffice. One cup of vinegar, another of water, and a tablespoon of baking soda, and it’s like the limes are submerged in a detox volcano. (The tiny little key limes were literally spinning!) And then they’re scrubbed down, as mercilessly as one would be at a Korean bathhouse. I don’t even wash myself this clean.

A graham cracker crust. Man, I haven’t had graham crackers in over fifteen years! It’s another one of those ordinary things that’s scarce on this side of the Pacific. I have very fond memories of making s’mores with graham crackers and campfire-toasted marshmallows with my girl-scout troupe… I have to say, though, digestive biscuits work just as well for crusts, and, leaving silly sentimentality aside, I’ll probably be using the more accessible biscuits for my pies in the future.

Zesting and juicing the limes. My first time working with limes, and I think they’re just lovely! I love how they have really thin peels and are just packed with juice. The tiny things exude almost as much juice as a large lemon.

And I’m getting better at making Italian meringue! I couldn’t quite get a good, picture-worthy “bird’s beak,” but this is the most glorious batch I’ve made so far. The secret? I’ve begun following directions… like a cult follower. I age the eggs, wash the bowl 2 or 3 times with a separate washcloth, use an electric thermometer… Yes, I’m totally obsessed.

Doe rather likes her perch atop soft, billowy meringue.

I ended up with two pies! (I had leftover filling.) Well, one proper pie, and one more like a crusted pancake with oodles of meringue. Ironically, the pancake is the larger and more aesthetically pleasing one.

I’d have to say that a lime is more tart than a lemon. And for some reason, it seems to taste a little green. And good. Doe wants a nibble, too.

And then it happened. I was strolling through the foreign food market in Itaewon several days later, and I saw them – real key limes! Wee, chestnut-sized, lil things. Dark, forest green. Unmistakable. They really are a totally different fruit! Another debate followed: Does making key lime pie with limes count? Especially if I’ve found real key limes? But who’s keeping track? And these tiny things are like a dollar apiece! And on and on. What won me over, in the end, was the sheer awe of having found such a rare fruit in Korea. Like finding a perfectly preserved piece of the moon in a terrestrial crater. I could not just pass it over; desperately needed but tantalizingly out of reach key limes would haunt my dreams forever.

I’m having far too many middle-of-the-supermarket debates with myself.

So I made another pie, this time with real key limes.

It was even better. Key limes are even more tart than limes. And more intensely lime-like (if that makes any sense). The verdict? It was totally worth the other two to get to this one – at least for the initial experience.

Caramel Ice-Cream

 My new aluminum saucepan, with bubbly, milky caramel.

So! It turns out my last attempt at caramel-making was such a failure because I used the wrong type of pot to boil the sugar. Who knew the container made such a huge difference? (I suppose everyone did, except me.) Apparently, an iron pot will most certainly burn its contents because it is not sensitive to temperature changes, and will continue to cook even after it’s been taken off the fire. I began to see this warning everywhere after my caramel fiasco. I suppose I saw these warnings before as well (after all, I am consulting the same books and websites), but only the viscosity of burnt caramel has made it stick to my memory. There really is something about first-hand experience, I have to say.

My quest for a proper aluminum saucepan took me to… the market. Now, anyone who’s met me will attest to the fact that I’m about as likely to shop at the market as the Dalai Lama is to frequent an opium den. An American farmer’s market? Why, yes. The Sunday market in France? Oui, bien sur! But a Korean market with fish flopping in their bins of shallow water, the smell of a hundred types of kimchi wafting through the air, the sight of middle-aged, good-for-nothing, browned and balding men drunk on soju in the middle of the day? Ick. I think not.

Not unless I have an obsession. And that I have. So I found myself in Gwangjang Market, across the stream from Bangsan Market (a completely different type of market, quite unthreatening and totally awesome), feeling very very out of place. Because I am about as bad at bargaining as Donald Trump is good at it. And I know it shows; I have this look about me that from one angle reads “naïve,” from another angle reads “stupid,” and from all angles reads “easy.” I hate how after I inquire about the price, they look me over in a flash and pause for a split second, sizing me up, before answering. And I know they’ve just jacked up the price, special, just for me. Even so, I can’t haggle; the words just won’t come out. I end up silently shelling out the cash, or worse, doing without something I need. Uhg. I think barcodes were made for people like me, so we can all be cheated equally.

But I have to say, differential pricing seems to be fizzling out in Korea. Maybe people aren’t that desperate anymore. Or maybe they’ve finally learned that such practices drive people like me, en masse, to the department stores and supermarkets. Whichever way around, I didn’t feel particularly overcharged, even as I handed over my very last bit of cash. And with my new saucepan in hand, the market began to look rather charming, in its own way, perhaps even worth exploring one day. You know, the variety, the vibrancy, the vivacity that only an Asian marketplace can offer. Oy! I’ve become one of those women, the ones that become ecstatic at buying a pan.

Alas, no pictures document this mini adventure. But perhaps it was for the better – a camera would’ve marked me as a true imposter.

I finally found vodka that perfectly suits my needs! I’d been searching for the cheapest (or smallest portion of) vodka at every liquor store I came across, but they all seem to be produced in places like… Spain. And come in 500 ml bottles. Um, no. And no. This is a 50 ml bottle; the blue thing in the background is a teaspoon. And the Danish variety should be fine. I’m hoping the vodka really does help the ice-cream stay frozen because my ice-creams, as good as they are, seem to revert back to puddle-state in no time.  

 Yummmm! The saucepan worked! Not a hint of burned flavor, all sweetness and goo. I’d have to say, it’s the best ice-cream I’ve made yet (except the chocolate chili I made with my friend last year, but that’s pre-project and a whole different story).

Caramel ice-cream and pie. ‘Nuff said :)

Rosy Apple Cranberry Pie

I took a tiny, week-long break from baking, and now I’m back! I realized that for the entire month of August, I did nothing but bake or plan something to bake. This little hobby of mine has become a complete obsession, a somewhat tiring one at that. So I took a break after I made a pavlova roll with the last of the mascarpone cheese and mounds of left over egg white.

It was good.

 But, like I said, also tiring. All this fuss for half a cup of raspberry sauce.

It was all perfect timing; I had nothing with an expiration date left in the fridge to hurl me into the next recipe. I still had a couple of egg whites remaining, and I just ate them scrambled instead of looking for a new meringue recipe (I call this improvement!). I’ve gotten into the habit of viewing everything as “ingredients” instead of “food,” even stuff like milk, and especially eggs. I haven’t eaten fruit fresh in ages; it just seems wrong. Pie is probably messing up my diet.

But still, back to pies.

I think it’s a pity to cover up the beautiful medley of fruit inside a pie. The combination of apples, cranberries, and golden raisins was particularly delightful, quite Christmassy, too. And I don’t even like raisins. I usually pick them out or eat around them, as lame and childish as that may be. (Is there such a thing as a raisin-hating gene? Because my sister hates them too.) But these are golden raisins, and they were part of the package I had flown in from California. So even the raisins were delightful.

Cutting the slits in my frozen pie. This was my second experience with freeze-baking pies, and it came out better than my last attempt. Turns out, with my freezer & oven combo, I don’t need to add any extra time to compensate for the initial frozen state. However….

When the pie was almost done baking, I took it out and gave it a proper probing, so as not to over-bake it like I did last time. The apples hadn’t become overly mushy, but the entire pie was practically bathing in its own juices. I was in for more soggy crust. Uhg, I’d rather eat cold fries and hot coke. So I detached the pan to let the liquid fall out – it was a veritable pink Niagara Falls. I caught the juices in a pan and boiled it down to a syrup, and….

 I cut a little pentagon in the center of the pie and poured the syrup back in. After all, I didn’t want bland pie either. Sometimes I feel like a pie-surgeon performing operations to rehabilitate sick but savable pies. You know, “a simple operation could’ve saved this pies life, but for the lack of care…” Yes, I’m giving myself a pat on the back.

I hope no doctors are reading this.

 The little creature is my new Doe. I thought I needed a mascot. Hehe.

She thought my pie was quite swell (and the operation was ingenious!). She rather liked the pink-stained apple slices and the sour cranberries. And to her delight, the raisins tasted like apples, with the texture of cranberries :)