Rosemary Shortbread Bars with Dark Chocolate

I made these for my birthday and they turned out to be I suppose, a happy accident. I wanted to make two batches of brownies of the same recipe, one batch that used natural cocoa powder while the other used Dutch-processed cocoa powder. I’ve always used the latter but after reading Alice Medrich rhapsodize about natural cocoa powder I wanted to try it. Unfortunately, my mind was so focused on turning 27 and my quarter-life crisis (does that exist?) that I forgot to add eggs into the first batch of brownies. By the time I realized my mistake, the pan was already in the oven. FML. 

Anyway, here is the two layer shortbread and chocolate bar. The bottom is a crumbly rosemary shortbread, it hits all the right buttery notes and the herb isn’t overwhelming and resonates throughout the cookie. The chocolate layer on top turned out like a thick chocolate wafer. It’s barely sweet and compliments the shortbread nicely; the chocolate flavour was strong too, just enough to satisfy my chocolate craving. The chocolate layer tends to separate from the shortbread after I've cut and divided the pan, but its still delicious and everyone I gave these away to as gifts raved about them.

I still have about a cup of natural cocoa powder left over, I’m saving it to use in another chocolate worthy dessert. Any suggestions? Also, this reminds me of this Rosemary and Chocolate Olive Oil Cake and the delicious combination of chocolate and herbs.

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Recipe here!

Rosemary Remembrance Cake

In Shanghai, or mostly anywhere in China for that matter, you can get any pet you want. I can count on my fingers all the pets I’ve owned: rabbits, goldfish, turtles, hamsters, puppies, lovebirds, parrots, owls (yes, owls), chipmunks, and kittens. Even though I’m a sincere animal-lover, I don’t have the best track record with pets. For some reason, save for a pair of lovebirds, they all die out on me. 

Before you report me to the SPCA, hear me out. The bunnies were cute and snuggly for a few weeks before they mysteriously got food poisoning, then the goldfish contracted some strange disease and started eating each other, which we figured out when there was a pile of bones in the corner of the tank (to this day, I hate goldfish because of that image forever burned in my mind). The puppy my parents bought me was adorrrable, but we had it for a mere 4 days (four days!!) before it also caught a stomach bug of some sort (do you see a pattern here?). I’ll spare you the details of tragic deaths of the other pets I’d had, but believe me when I say I seriously do love animals.

The moral of my sad pet stories is…I don’t have very good luck with animals or any living thing for that matter. Nonetheless, I was still compelled to pick up a basil plant two weeks ago. I'd swoon over a bushel of basil than a bouquet of roses any day (seriously, am I going to toss a handful of rose petals into my tomato sauce? I don’t think so). I’m proud to say I kept the basil alive for a record-breaking seven days, so when I got a whiff of rosemary at the grocery store I couldn’t help but take it home, because isn’t there that saying? Two herbs are better than one.

Thankfully, both plants are still alive, actually, not just alive, they’re thriving. They sit beautifully on the kitchen counter and motivate me to cook real food instead of reaching into the freezer at dinner for kimchi dumplings.

So this cake, this beauty is the perfect welcome to spring. From the gorgeous Nigella Lawson, comes a rosemary remembrance cake in honor of her grandma, which I think is appropriate since I made this cake in memory of all the pets I had. This golden cake isn’t quite what I expected. I swapped out the all-purpose flour for oat and whole wheat pastry flour which gave it a delicate texture, practically crumbling at the slight pressure of my fork. There is a touch of fruitiness from the cooked apple and an undeniable scent of rosemary, the herb is there just enough to not be overpowering, but rather lingers in the cake’s aura.

The cake is nearly gone, but my herb plants are definitely here to stay. Besides, it’s probably better to practice how to make plants last before graduating on to being a pet owner. 

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Recipe here!

Boeuf Bourguinon and Steamed Baby Potatoes in Parchment

This stew would have been much easier to make if I wasn’t distracted by Charlize Theron’s charming good looks. Let me explain. I don’t own a fancy wine opener, the only one I have is a cheap one I purchased at the LCBO a few years ago, it’s fairly dependable given I’ve successfully uncorked a number of wine bottles since then, but then I learned that when an awesome movie like The Italian Job is playing on TV, my focus should really be on opening the wine.



The wine opener I had was a simple metal corkscrew with a little lever that leaned on the bottle’s lips to lift up the cork. If I was smart enough, I would have began twisting at the cork’s centerpoint, but alas, Ms. Theron took my breath away and I had started twisted the cork to the side. When I tugged it out, there was a loud crack and I was left with a broken corkscrew in one hand and the remaining metal stuck snuggly in the cork (enter loud swearing).

I looked on YouTube, Google, and Chowhound on ways to solve my problem. Nothing. So for the next painstaking 93 minutes, I dug through the cork with a knife, scattering cork debris all over the kitchen instead of marinating the beef and vegetables for the stew. It took me the full length of the movie (and commercial breaks) to get through the damn cork. I hate cork.

But I don’t hate boeuf bourguinon. It’s miraculous how the simplicity of time can make everything taste so much better (except mold, I suspect that’s not very delicious, except I suppose cheese, since it is technically “mold” but I digress). From Clotilde Dusoulier of Chocolate and Zucchini (who I had the honor of pouncing on meeting), comes a beef stew that makes all that stubborn cork-fighting worth it.

I first made this in university, when I was discovering my love for food and all things culinary. As I danced in my slippers filling the kitchen with the salty, irresistible smells of bacon from my roomie’s fire engine red Le Creuset dutch oven, I was intoxicated from not the whole bottle of wine that marinated the chunky meat overnight, but by the sheer excitement of cooking something new, something different. I remember tucking into a steaming bowl of bourguinon hours later, sopping up the juices with a hunk of bread, oblivious to the loud, raucous behavior from nobody other than my drunk neighbours.

 
This time I was just as thrilled to make bourguinon, there was also dancing around the sizzling pot and The Weeknd blasting in my apartment for added effect (music makes food taste so much better, you should try it). I gave the bourguinon a Canadian touch and sweetened it with maple syrup instead of chocolate as Clotilde suggests. It’s marvelous. Even though I don’t have a super palate and can’t distinguish the syrup, the sugar is a must to tease out the complex layers of fruity wine, earthy carrots and sweet onions (and Ruth Reichl gives additional tips on how to bring your stew to the next level).

 

As a side dish, I bought baby potatoes (Purple! Potatoes!) and used David Tanis’s recipe for an alternative to roasting them. Coating them in olive oil, sea salt, and a slurry of herbs, you wrap them up in parchment paper and steam in the oven to allow those simple flavours to meld and infuse. It’s so good it’s ridiculous. Although the purple potatoes are surprisingly bland and drier compared to the red skinned variety, I still love their color and they make a beautiful accompaniment to the boeuf bourguinon. In fact, I can’t get enough of them.

As with most stews, this bourguinon tastes even better with age. They made delicious leftovers the following day, I didn’t even offer my coworkers to sample a taste, I hoarded it all to myself (and that’s saying a lot since I often share). Just don’t be like me and screw up the wine opening ceremony, unless cork-stabbing is your favorite thing to do.

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Recipe here!

Lemon Rosemary Muffins

I have a theory about muffin eaters. I believe that the world is divided into two types of people: Muffin Split Top/Bottom Eaters and Just Give Me My Muffin Damnit Eaters. The latter of which of course, are people who don’t care much for muffin-eating artistry and mindlessly hack their way through whatever muffin they have in their hand (the horror!) while sipping plain coffee in the other. They don’t give much thought into its texture, flavours, nor the harmony of ingredients, instead, they leave a trail of precious muffin crumbs behind them while rushing to wherever they have to be.

The former category, the Muffin Split Top/Bottom Eaters are people who are much more refined, they study the craft of not just muffin-eating, but muffin-making, muffin-mixing and let’s not forget, muffin-paper-liner-situations. You know what I’m talking about, those paper liners that cling desperately to muffin bottoms, a clear sign it’s over, you’re doomed, the muffin will taste rubbery and heavy with fat, leaving a thick film of grease on your tongue. Oh woe is me! Sometimes I lie awake at night tossing and turning, mulling over this catastrophic problem. Am I the only one who feels so strongly about muffin-paper-liner-situations?

But back to the Muffin Split Top/Bottom Eaters. as you may have deduced by my fine category name, these people split the muffin into two, one side being the muffin bottom, the other is the muffin top, and if you are well versed in muffin craft, it is the best part of muffins. The crackly top is almost crumble-like, rough and crispy along the golden edges, because really, it’s the only reason why muffins are made. I’d share with you a recipe for Lemon and Rosemary Muffin Tops, but I’ll save that for a later time, like when the world is coming to an end and we’ve hit a muffin top crisis. 

Which brings me to these muffins. Ever since this beauty, I’ve been toying with the idea of using rosemary in a baked good again, I devoted hours of serious research on Google, but failed to find something that held my attention for more than two seconds. Then I looked to my trusty friend Epicurious and stumbled on a recipe for lemon muffins. It originally tops the muffins with raspberries, which I left out and replaced it with lemon sugar, which is essentially a simple mash of lemon zest and sugar and my new favorite thing.

The last few desserts featured here haven’t been aromatically strong, so I’ve missed the smell of butter and sugar doing its magic, but within minutes in the oven, my home smelled like a candy factory. The lemonyness is undeniably good in the muffins, the crumb is delicate and soft (which I suspect comes from the oat flour), and the muffin top is glorious, sprinkled with the lemon sugar, it’s a beautiful glistening crown.

The rosemary isn’t obvious here, it’s so subtle you have to squint your eyes and tell your taste buds to search really hard for it. I was hoping for the same gentle herbyness that knocked my socks off like this rosemary olive oil cake (swoon!) though I think the generous amount of olive oil helped bring out the rosemary, because this time, the sugar seemed to overpower the herb. Either way, these lemon muffins are superb and deserve a permanent spot in your recipe arsenal, and don’t worry, we can all sleep well tonight, muffin-paper-liner-situations have no place here.

*Psst! I've been mentioned by Acquired Taste Magazine! It was the highlight of my week and there's more good news coming soon--stay tuned!

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Recipe here!

Rosemary and Dark Chocolate Olive Oil Cake

For the longest time I’ve been mixing, beating, creaming and aerating cakes, cookie batters and egg whites with an electronic handheld whisk. It’s been with me since my parents bought it for me and has tagged along in the 13 places I’ve called home over the years. When it’s not busy whisking, its bottom can be detached to function as a food processor or a blender (though I sadly lost that part in Montreal).

 

Though my mixer has served me well, I’ve spent many hours on my laptop yearning for KitchenAid mixers. I’ve also hung out at The Bay for much longer than socially acceptable admiring the rows of mixers that light up the kitchen department as if they were trophies.  I’ve swooned over the limited edition satin copper mixer at Williams-Sonoma, a spotlight directly over it, casting a magical aura over it.

Then, as if Santa missed the deadline, a KitchenAid mixer arrived at my doorstep. I was still asleep but roused awake when my mom, confused, repeated to the deliver boy: we didn’t order it, I didn’t order it! Turns out a good friend of mine generously bought it for me and had it sent to my door. I wish I could tell you I tore open the box like a grizzly bear on Ritalin, but I didn’t. Instead, I waited 11 hours later to rip through the packing tape and cardboard, I swear bells and angels sang as I lifted the mixer from its styrofoam shell and placed it carefully on the corner of my kitchen counter beside the rice cooker. It’s a thing of beauty and a lovely addition to my baking arsenal (move aside handheld mixer!)

I would totally spoon it to sleep, take it everywhere I go like a security blanket, and take it out to parties, but I don’t think its what normal people do. I do however, look forward to many years of mixing, pouring and quicker clean-ups with my brand-spanking new mixer, knowing that there will be plenty of breads and desserts (maybe I’ll successfully master macarons) to whip up in the very sweet future.

Take this cake for example, I don’t know what takes me so long to amble my way through my ridiculously long list of Must Make Now, but I’ve got to thank Heidi for this amazzzing creation. The cake is part herby, part sweet and a riddled with chunks of rich chocolate, in other words, nothing could go wrong.

With the recent plummeting temperatures, nothing beats the woodsy, rustic smell of rosemary and in combination with olive oil, it’s simply sensational. Not to mention that this cake is mostly whole grain (which is even better if you’re into that kinda thing). The best part are the crunchy granules of sugar and itty bitty bits of rosemary that you would think is overpowering, but rather, infuses a smoothing flavour in just the right amount. Trust me when I say you ought to make this. Like now. Stat. 1, 2, 3, GO!

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Recipe here!