Linzer Blitz Torte

I moved to Shanghai when I was eight, it took me a while to adjust to the cultural shock of crazy fast taxis, the thick smog that hung stubbornly above the city’s skyline, and people who stared at me with big, curious eyes like I was a foreign creature that dropped out of the sky. 

My dad had been living in China for a few years and didn’t want to be apart from his family anymore, so my mom and I packed up and left Toronto to settle in Shanghai. On my first night, I cried so hard my eyes swelled up, my nose ran like a waterfall, my lungs hurt from trying to stifle my bawling lest my parents heard their distraught daughter. But I couldn’t help it. I was upset, lonely, terrified, and so confused.

Soon enough however, I grew comfortable living in the busiest, noisiest, and one of the most exciting cities in China. I loved my school, my friends, even the mad taxi drivers became an important characteristic of the city. Since graduating high school in 2005, I’ve kept in touch with a small group of friends, including one friend who lives in here in Toronto and who I like to introduce with: “I’ve known her since grade six!” That’s 16 years, just two years shy of the legal drinking age in Quebec. That’s more than half my life. That’s big.

But what’s even bigger, is her recent good news, news that prompted me to scream in my seat when I received her text message followed by an immediate phone call to wish her and her now fiancé congratulations on their engagement (she was so happy I could hear the smile in her voice). Last year, seven of my friends got engaged, though this time, because of how long I’ve known her, because of our history, because she’s seen me through my worst and my best, it makes it all the more special. She’s loyal, compassionate, a good listener and always knows what to say after you find out that your ex has a new girlfriend. I’m thrilled for her and its news definitely worth smiling about.

Here's something just as exciting, a treat that will make you weak in the knees and dizzy with joy: Linzer Blitz Torte. Ain't that the coolest name? A blend of ground nuts, warm spices, topped with jam and baked till dark brown is sure to make you the most popular girl/boy in the room (pinky swear). The crust is at first crispy, then it becomes chewy from the delicious combination of nuts, flour and butter. The jam on top is an inevitable sticky, gooey mess on your fingers, but it heightens the playfulness of these linzertorte squares and there’s plenty of cinnamon in here, plus ground cloves which adds to the warm charm of these sweets. 

The first time I made these, I moaned--outloud. Then, went on to have a second piece. I usually have good self-control, but these torte squares have an irresistible quality that makes me reaching over for more, and that's saying a lot. I gave away the first batch and had to make these again to devour for myself share with you.

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Recipe here!

Whole Wheat Speculoos Snacking Cake (almost)

 
Around this time last year, I was strolling through the beautiful Jardin des Tuillieres in Paris with my closest friend, all the while still screaming in my head, OHMYGOD I’M IN PARIS!! Then, just as the sun was setting, we set out to locate our mandatory pre-dinner snack: extra large scoops of milky gelato.

My Europe trip was without a doubt one of the best trips I’ve had, though it wouldn’t have been the same without my friend Milos. We get along like nutella and bananas and our trip brought us even closer. To this day, we still joke about unforgettable moments from our trip, including the time he lost his glasses in the wave pool at the Gellért Baths and how we desperately dove into the deep-end endless times, lest he be blind for the rest of our trip, only to find out someone was kind enough to leave it with the lifeguard forty-five minutes ago. 

Milos is one not only a great travel buddy, but an amazing friend as well, he’ll listen to me cry, rant, rave, and go off on a tangent about anything, he'll even stay on Skype video chat after I’ve accidentally fell asleep. He’s the only person I know who can make me laugh so hard I lose control of all my bodily fluids. Despite living six hours apart, Milos does a great job of staying in touch, something I’m wholeheartedly thankful for. We met at a mutual friend’s chocolate fondue party (a good kind of friend to have, in case you don’t have one yet), I was attracted to his wild mop of curls and invited him to a dinner party I was hosting the following week, and since then, we’ve bonded over many more meals, snacks, and desserts (SO many desserts).

One favourite food that we discovered in Europe was Speculoos. Oooh, Speculoos, it’s like music to my ears. If you haven’t tried it already, I beg you to cancel all your future plans and make it your new life goal to get a jar of this cookie spread with a sticks-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth texture and the sensational taste of a cinnamony, gingery, and warm spice. Put simply, pure awesome. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about Europe and Speculoos and for a while wanted to make a cake out of it, so this is what I came up with. Milos, a Certified Speculoos Purist would condemn this, declaring it a fraud, “Liar! This ain’t Speculoos at all!” I know it’s not the real thing, but it's definitely Speculoos-inspired, and that to me, is good enough. 

The cake turned out to be exactly what I hoped for: airy, light, not too sweet and easily shared among friends. I brought half the loaf to work and was immediately greeted with big toothy smiles from my colleagues, I kept reasonably sized snacking pieces in a tin box that sat behind my desk and whenever someone popped it open, the room filled with the warm, inviting spices of Speculoos: cinnamon, ground ginger, and ground cloves. A thick slice is good on its own, but it’s even better slathered with a little lot of Speculoos, something I’m sure Milos would approve. 

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Recipe here!

Spicy Chai Latte

I spend most of my weekdays at the computer. I sit next to a window that faces west, so on a clear night like today, I take a break from studying to watch the sun dip below the horizon, leaving behind purple, pink and orange streaks across the cerulean sky. It’s a little different every night as the clouds dabble with the dramatic effect of shadows and light. I catch the show around 5pm and its definitely a highlight of my day.

So far, this month has been odd. The air is nippy with a bitter chill in the gusty winds, and then just as you’re about to complain that winter ain’t too far away, the weathergods tease you with remarkably sunny and warm temperatures. So warm in fact, I can leave the house with just two layers and a scarf tied loosely around my neck. It’s November people! Then there are some days when it’s miserable and gloomy outside, water droplets pitter patter on the window and on the street, people dash for cover, escaping the rain that failed to give any warning whatsoever.

On these cold yucky days I pile on layers of cotton pajamas and furry socks and a thick sweatshirt just to stay warm. I also saunter to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee topped with frothy milk, then, last week it struck me that I have yet to make some chai. Tea spiked with ginger, cardamom, cloves, black peppercorns and cinnamon, a combination sure to warm my toes. A while ago, I made an apple crumble and had planned to make some chai tea using the same spices but I never got around to it since I was distracted by a birthday every week.

  

I’ve made homemade chai before yet I could never find the right ratio of spices that I enjoyed. Like Goldilocks, I found the chai too bland, too watery, lacked that kick, or just didn’t taste right. Chai to me (the way I like it and not necessary how it is made traditionally) should be based on a deep earthy flavour from the black tea, then layered with homey spices that commingle to tickle every nerve in your body.

Sometime last week, bundled in my pajamas, I was prompted to turn on the kettle and pull out the necessary spices from my pantry. The whole process took no more than 20 minutes: I bashed the spice mixture, tossed them into the saucepan along with hot milk and let them steep. Before long, I held a steaming mug of chai in my hands, satisfied with the tea, the blend of spices, and the touch of sweetness from the honey. No amount of rain falling from murky clouds could bother me and I promise this chai is sure to enliven your senses too.

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Recipe here!

Chai-Spiced Apple Crumble

In my undergrad years, my roomie and I lived on the Celestial Seasonings Bengal Spice herb tea. It was caffeine free, ergo, bedtime beverage approved. We went through a box in just a week, infusing our breaths with the comforting, homey scents of cinnamon, ginger, cloves and cardamom. It’s a surprise we didn’t empty the box sooner, since Montreal winters are famous for plummeting to -40°C. 

 

I was inspired with the idea of a chai spiced dessert using the bounty of apples this fall. But I’m not too keen on warm fruit. Warm pies make me cringe. Grilled pineapples make me shudder. Hot crepes with soft banana slices make me gag. There’s something about the texture of cooked fruit that I have major issues with, I prefer eating fruit plain and cold.

I can’t say I never cook with fruit, since I like to showcase the best of what the season has to offer. If I do bake with fruit, I make sure that the dessert is served at room temperature, like this blueberry galette or this peach clafouti.

But I digress. This apple crumble goes beyond the usual addition of cinnamon in the crumble mixture. Here, a flurry of other ground spices joined the oat-crumble topping: ginger, cloves, and cardamom, similar flavourings as the Bengal Spice tea. When I massaged butter into pea-sized bits with the rolled oats, puffs of flour filled the air, tickling my nose with the spices. I chopped up apples, tossed in sugar and cornstarch (to help thicken the sauce), dumped the crumble mixture on top and baked it at 425°F. In half an hour, my nose was more than just tickled; it was seduced with the sweet perfume of apples and spices.   

The pan bubbled and squeaked with hot fruit juices as I pulled it out of the oven. I waited impatiently for it to cool, but unfortunately, the apples turned out too syrupy sweet (from excess of sugar, but Eureka! Apple crumble dolloped on plain yogurt makes a superb breakfast!). On the bright side, the topping transformed into beautiful crunchy, nubby bits of gold, the pungent mix of spices hugged the apples in all the right places, giving it that exotic zing, that hit of something different other than the old stand by of cinnamon and apples. 

I wonder if I make crumble only for the topping, which I could eat all day long, especially if it’s spiked with chai--I just couldn’t refuse.

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Recipe here!

Speculoos cookies

My dearest Speculoos,

It was love at first sight. There you stood quietly, among your friends on the gleaming aisles of Le Grand Epicerie, stacked neatly, row after row, waiting to be devoured. Your ribbed red lid, your perfect round curves, the label that spelled out your glorious name: Speculoos.

My fingers shook with glee as I undid your cap, tore open the foil seal, revealing the most gorgeous caramel color I've ever laid my eyes on. Impatiently, I dipped my forefinger into your glossy, soft, luscious insides, and brought you to my lips. Oh! How you stole my heart. You were sweet! You were sticky! (akin to peanut butter, with a little less goo) And the best part of all, you had that kick of spice. It took me a while to figure it out, but lo and behold, it was cinnamon. You're scrumptious on bread. You're magnificent on a spoon. You're the sunshine in my mornings, afternoon and night. 

You accompanied me on Parisian picnics, kept me happy on afternoon snacks in Prague, and filled me up on many breakfasts in Budapest. So you can imagine how petrified I was when your jar held nothing but a few dregs of Speculoos left. You can't be bought in Canada and buying you on the internet costs just as much as the shipping (!!) BUT then Dorie Greenspan, that lovely lady, came out with this recipe. When we first met, you were a spread, thick and viscous, the consistency of nutella. I'll do anything to taste you again, even if it means in the form of a cookie.

So I mixed and kneaded dough to produce little Speculoos cookies to honor our love affair. I was giddy with excitement, dancing on my tippy toes as I watched you turn golden in the oven. Your irresistible cinnamony scent wafting through my home brought tears to my eyes. You were nearly done! Only one more minute till the timer announces your arrival! My own homemade Speculoos! Come to mama!

HM MMM! You were fine. Fine like a hot sexy lady in hot sexy stilettos. You are crispy, sweet little bites of pure happiness. I would have preferred you with a bit more feistiness (ground ginger and cloves), but you are beautiful just the way you are.

I heart you Speculoos.

Yours forever,

Jane

P.S. You are the epitome of beauty, just like this linen tea towel I won from Athena Pilchta's giveaway, courtesy of Linea Carta! (Thanks Athena!)

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Recipe here!