Back to Basics. Making crepes.

-Pastry perfection.-

I tend to be wary of crepes. I love them, but I just happen to have a habit of burning them as if I were knitting tissue paper over an open flame. Dodgy business these crepes.

Admittedly, at times I have a tendency to simply skirt away from certain challenges as if stealing away from disapproving parents in the middle of the night, not bothering to even leave a note. Most of my life I'm happy to meet a challenge. Yet there are always those lesser confrontations; ones where neither your future nor your reputation on the line. Some of them don't even bother to address you, instead happy to lay a deck chair out in the middle of the road and wait for you to drive around them simply because, let's face it, it's easier for both of you that way.

Guest Post by Stephanie Stiavetti: Crème Fraîche Stuffed Asian Pears

For the next few weeks I'm taking a long overdue vacation. This is also my first vacation from blogging EVER as on previous escapes I always took my computer. It's one that is soundly needed. I'm touring China and Tibet with my mom and enjoying the sights, sounds, and flavors of locations such as Shanghai, Lhasa, and the Yangtze River. I cannot wait.

As beautiful as China is I cannot blog while there as blogger sites are blocked by the Communist Party of China (as is Facebook, my e-mail, Twitter, etc.). As such, I'm proud to announce Vanilla Garlic's first ever guest posts.

This second of two guest posts was written by my partner in culinary crime Stephanie Stiavetti. Her blog, The Culinary Life, is one filled with Gluten-Free Recipes and plenty of wit. She's also a well-known expert on the subject of SEO and an amazing freelance web and tech guru. So much so she's spoken on the subjects at many blogging conferences and has been hired by many big name bloggers you've definitely heard of.

Now, Stephanie and I agree on a lot of things. However, one of the few things we do disagree on is the subject of pears. I think they kick ass. She wants them expunged from human taste.

Except, that is, for one particular exception...

~Garrett

-Delicious pears and dairy.-

My name is Stephanie and I'm a sugar addict.

My family is bred of fine, sugar-obsessed stock, and as a result, I'm one of those people who finds themselves elbow-deep in a bowl of M&Ms before consciously realizing there's candy in the room.

As I've gotten older health issues have forced me to seriously scale back on my sugar intake, and this unfortunate fact has put a damper on my culinary enjoyment.

Avoiding sugar has been a struggle, especially with tempting blogs (such as this one) occupying my attention every day. Yet summer is an easy time of year to avoid refined sugar because we're surrounded by so much fruit that it's impossible to ignore the bounty of fresh stonefruit, berries, and jams that dominate produce displays. As summer turns cool, though, our natural sweets selection changes. White nectarines give way to apples, and root vegetables start replacing the colorful berries that monopolize local farmers markets from June through August.

While I find it terribly depressing to see summer fruit season end, there's a shining light piercing the early dusk of these chilly September evenings: Asian pears.

First, a confession - I hate pears. HATE them. Their gritty texture makes me want to rip every tooth out of my mouth and hurl them across the room. When I was little, my mom would try to feed me pears and I'd projectile spew them straight into her lap. So, as you can imagine, I was a little trepidatious about trying Asian pears.

I remembered seeing Asian pears at the grocery store as a kid; the produce manager would wrap each individual pear in a stretchy foam sleeve to keep the delicate flesh from bruising as the fruits sat stacked in shoulder-high mountains. I can't tell you how many times my grandmother smacked me up beside the head for stealing those sleeves, sliding them up my arms and running around the produce section like I was the ninja protectress of our local Safeway. As a staunch pear-hater, that was the only pleasant pear memory I had filed away in my mind.

The Baby Urge: Pear Coffee Cake

-Cake accompanied by coffee and the sound of your biological clock running down.-

As it stands now, and much to the never ending dissappointment of my parents, neither BF nor I have any desire to have children.

My parents still see me as the most likely of their three children - all boys - to provide them with grandbabies. They have made this extremely clear to me. The last time my mother came up to visit she was polite enough not to bring it up around BF, but the moment he left to take out the trash?

"So, have you two considered having kids?"

"What!? No. Not yet. I don't know. We still want to finish our educations. Get our careers started. Buy a house. Travel..." I replied.

"I bought my first house when I was twenty-three, and I had your older brother by then. Plus, I was going to grad school," she explains matter of factly as she sips her iced tea.

My Mom: high school track star, debutante, honor roll, and general perfectionist. Currently, in her mid-sixties, she's now retired, traveling the world at least twice a year, and a marathon bicylcist. Incredibly admirable, but she's one of those excrutiating perfect examples that is nigh-impossible to live up to if you're in any way related to her as my siblings and cousins have lamented about her and her brother with his three Ph D's.

-It's the main problem with having successful parents.-

"Traveling with a kid is hard, mom. You know that. You took children to Spain and we were little nightmares."

"No you weren't!" she lies to herself, or maybe she really doesn't remember it that way. "It's hard, but if anything I proved you can do it," she firmly asserts.

"Well, that was you. Plus, I'd probably rather adopt."

"But sweetie," she pleads, "you have such good genes!" It's an semi-narcissistic compliment and argument both my parents make whenever I bring up the adoption idea.

"We're gay. Doing the turkey baster thing is expensive and the mother has rights so it doesn't always work out. Plus, there are plenty of older kids in foster care who need a home. If we adopt it'll be a kid around six to ten. Plus, YOU adopted! Remember?"

"That's true, but you don't get to name the child!" mom wails.

"So?" I say. I've named a few cats and they never come when you call them. From what I hear children are the same once they go past the age of seven.

(Given, if I could, I do have baby names picked out just in case. Aaron or Noel for a boy. Claire or Viola for a girl. Family names for middle names, of course, those being Michael, Brandon, or Suzanne. Else the family string me up for neglecting tradition.)

"Doesn't BF have a sister who could provide an egg?"

"MOM! No! Lord, dad, asked the same thing last week. It's not like asking for a cup of sugar."

"But, honey, you'll miss the best part. The baby stage," she sighs and I can tell she's remembering the days when she was a new mom three times. I think she's mentally blocked the parts where my older and younger brothers were tiny terrors. (By her admittance I was the perfect child.)

Crusty Bastard, Perfect Pie

-Pear, maple, ginger pie in a buttery, flaky, pie crust. Totally swoon inducing.-

Pie crusts are bastards.

They're persnickety. Wishy-washy. Temperamental. Most of all pie crusts are a natural curiosity. How can something as simple as butter, flour, a sprinkle of sugar and salt, and some cold water go so incredibly wrong?

My history with pie crust is a tumultuous one, a long haul over unfriendly terrain where many times I've left stranded in the middle of nowhere, arms raised to the heavens and screaming to the gods in frustration about how once again perfect pie crust had eluded me.

My first ever pie crust was mush. It lay apathetically under rhubarb and berries and when moved became like a petulant child going limp when you tried to pick it up. Once it was in your mouth it aggressively stuck to the roof of your mouth in protest. Warm hands, hot water, and no chilling in the fridge had ensured it would be crust most contentious.

My second, third, fourth, and even fifth weren't soggy but rather sheetrock-like. I can't really say that one was actually worse than the other but only because no matter how you slice it the three others were identical to it. Though I do believe that at one point when I tried to cut thought the crust of the third, a cherry pie if I recall, that when my fork finally punched through it it sent one piece flying across the room splattering red juices across my white wall and couch. This was fighting crust. A bastard of a crust.

However - unlike with violin lessons I took as a child - I did not give up. This last weekend I decided I would make pie crust. Again. I had watched Elise make it plenty of times before. I didn't have a fancy-shmancy food processor to do the work for me, but I had gusto and a pastry cutter. Bring it.

During the process the dough had issues. The butter stayed clumpy, it wouldn't form into a ball, I was adding way too much water. It seemed that my crust was bust. In fact, I almost took the whole thing and threw it in the trash, but as my crumbly dough filled hands hovered over the trash can though I decided that, heck, maybe I'll get lucky and it would turn out. I mushed it into a disk as well as I could, then wrapped it up in plastic wrap and popped it in the fridge to chill.

-Sure, it may not be fluted or anything, but I'll take tasty over pretty.-

The next day I rolled it out. I half expected it to suddenly crumble to dust but nothing happened. It... it just rolled out. Like nothing was wrong with it. I curled it over the rolling pin, flopped and shaped it into the pie plate, and I placed it in the freezer to set.

I was... confused. All was going too well. Still, I had little faith. The other doughs had been just as malleable, but this one felt different. The thickness, the texture, its heft of flour and dotted blobs of butter all seemed to be aligned in some cosmic baking way as if the spirit of Saint Betty Crocker was somehow guiding my hands.

I prepared a quick maple pear filling one similar to the pie recipe I did at Simply Recipes (where Elise made the crust and I made the filling) and spread it into the prepared crust. Into the oven it went.

Forty-five minutes later I had a finished pie. But was it a good pie? Was this another failed crust? I held the Pyrex dish to the light inspecting the bottom and sides to look for signs of seepage or breaking as if somewhere I would find the key clue to solving a horrific crime scene. There was none.

Sixty minute later it had cooled. I cut out a piece, plopped it on a plate, and let my fork dive in. There was a bit of resistance and then the sound of aluminum tines striking ceramic. *tink* Not mush, not sheetrock.

I took a bite. It was flaky. Sweet. Buttery. It was perfect pie crust. Holy shit. I finally fucking made perfect pie crust. I. MADE. PIE CRUST! That didn't suck!

Sure it might not have been the prettiest thing (we'll call it rustic), but the texture and flavor were dead on what it was supposed to be. Oh lord, it's true what they say, I can't go back to store bought. This pie crust wasn't a bastard but a sweet, darling, buttery pastry angel.

I'm still not sure if the whole thing was a fluke or not. It very well could have been. Still, I've had success now. I'm more than willing to try again and again until I can do this with my eyes closed. After all, homemade pie dough may be a crusty bastard, but when right it makes for perfect pie.

-What kind of angle does a pie crust have? Don't be obtuse, it's a delicious angle.-

--------

The recipe I used for this pie was this one I did at Simply Recipes. I didn't have a deep dish pie plate so I cut the filling ingredients by a third. Elise's pate brisee recipe is fabulous. I know I'll be using it again.

-Booty shot.-

Conversations with Pears

-Conversing with pears is the only way to find a good one.-

She was a pear shaped woman which, I suppose, was to her ironic benefit as pears were what she sold. She was dressed in an old sweater with a faded image of a school mascot I could barely make out. Her cheeks were blush and plump which were probably more charming when she wore her hair down. As it was now, her hair was tied up in the back with a rubber band which better showed the fatigue that pear farming had levied over the years.

Still, her pleasant smile and sweet disposition had a warming effect; they illuminated her and shined on those nearby. These and her baskets of colorful fall fruits are what drew such a crowd to her stall.

A basket of Gala apple were front and center. Their pink and yellow streaks were funky and vibrant, reminiscent of a party dress from 1985, yet they made it sleek and fashionable allowing any passerby to understand their socialite nomenclature. Next to it were bulbous Golden Boscs, whose sandpaper skin barely contained their crisp, meaty flesh. Russet hued Seckles sat like petite dolls in a collector's display next to amber glowing Comice who tried not to bruise one another.

I had asked the pear woman which ones would be good for baking. "Bartlett," she had said, and pulled down a bag while inquiring what my pastry plan of attack was.

"A crisp. Or a crumble. It depends. They all start out as crumbles, but if I forget that it's in the oven it's a crisp."

I was amused at my pun. I couldn't tell if she was, wasn't, or just missed it all-together. She just smiled and moved towards the basket of green Bartletts.

She went through the pile of pears reading their topography. Her experiences with pears has immersed herself in their own natural culture and she was now able to communicate on their level, understanding their inflections and sweet humor. She understood the secret language of pears, their pin-prick speckles and heft being their way of conversation. "I'm great for baking!" said one, and she dropped it into the bag. "Too late! I'm way too ripe!" said another once she put the pressure on. She put that ripe one, a perfect pear to eat right there in the market, back in the pile to eagerly wait for the right owner.

I gave her $5 for a bag of Bartletts; more than enough to cook with and plenty to eat. I had her throw in a few Gala apples as well (a fashionable move on my part). "Be sure to add star anise with the pears," she instructed through the still ever-present grin. "It tastes great."

She then moved on to her next customer who was cooing over the Comice. I smiled back to her though I knew she didn't see me. She and her pears were too busy charming the patrons at the stall.

-Dulce de leche and star anise make these pears proud.-

Pear Crisp with Star Anise and Dulce de Leche
Makes one 8x10 inch pan

Baking whole points of star anise gives this dish an amazing flavor. Be sure to let people eating this know not to eat them though. The dulce de leche is optional, but trust me, you want it.

3 medium Bartlett pears, peeled and chopped
1/4 cup of sugar
1 star anise, broken up

heaping 1/2 cup of rolled oats
heaping 1/2 cup of packed brown sugar
1/4 cup of all-purpose flour
1/4 cup of chilled butter
pinch of cinnamon
Dulce de leche

1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Lightly butter a 8x10 baking dish.

2. Place the pears, sugar, and star anise in a bowl and allow to macerate for 15 minutes. While the pears macerate place flour, oats, brown sugar, and cinnamon into a bowl. Cut in the butter using your fingers, two knives, or a pastry cutter until it all comes together is small pea sized bits.

3. Place the pears in the baking dish. Cover with the oat mixture. Bake for 25-30 minutes or until the top is lightly browned. Serve with dulce de leche.

-Crisp when cooked too long. Crumble when cooked too short. I learned long ago the best way to fix a ruined dish is to rename it.-

Pear & Cranberry Cupcakes with White Chocolate Ganache

From the cupcake archives, Happy Holidays!

I swear to God, I'm becoming gayer with each cupcake I make. I am becoming a baking queen. A non-stop flour force, armed with butter and a cup o' sugar. And. It. Feels. So. Good.

After the last cupcake, the desire to continue with utilizing seasonal ingredients for something really flavorful acted as the impetus for this next cupcake. One of the big plusses of this recipe is that there is no butter in the actual cupcake which is great for my slowly growing second chin. This cupcake is high on the sugar though, but it's a cupcake so you should expect that.

The ganache had a hiccup in that the Eat Beast got outside, and after chasing him down for about 10 minutes - a black cat in an area with little lighting at night being an arduous task - the ganache separated and curdled. Lacking the supplies to make another batch, I whipped up a buttercream frosting instead and chopped up some white chocolate on it. Part of cooking is improvisation, right? Regardless, the buttercream was awesome. The white chocolate really brings this to another level, so whether you utilize it as ganache, chocolate shavings, or mix it into the cupcake, make sure it's in there.These came out tasting amazing. They border slightly between cupcake and muffin due to the density of the cake, but I say cupcake. The sweet and tart of the fruit, the creamy svelt of the chocolate, and hint of spice opens a deluge of fall imagery to mind. Assuming if I can get home for Thanksgiving, I plan to bring these to the table. If not, I suppose Rob and I can finish them off ourselves.

Special thanks to Glenna of Knitting to Stay Sane for the great pics and feedback!

Pear & Cranberry Cupcakes
Makes about 24 cupcakes

What You'll Need...
4 cups peeled, cored, chopped pears (about 8 pears)
2 cups sugar
3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 ground cloves
1/4 ground ginger
4 egg whites
2/3 cup vegetable oil
1 cup chopped dried cranberries

What You'll Do...
1) Chop the pears and combine them with the sugar and let them macerate for one hour.

2) Pheheat over to 350 degrees F (165 C).

3) Slightly beat egg whites just until a light foam appears. Comine them with the oil, pear mixture, and cranberries.

4) Sift the flour, salt, baking soda, and spices together. Stir into the pear mixture, and then place into cupcake papers about 3/4ths full.

5) Bake for 15 minutes undisturbed, then rotate the pan and cook for another 3-7 minutes, testing with a toothpick for doneness. Careful, as if the toothpick goes into a pear it will not come out clean, but cupcake may be done.

Buttercream Frosting
What You'll Need...
1 cup (2 sticks) of butter (soft, at room temp.)
3 cups of powdered sugar
1 teaspoon of vanilla
1 tablespoon of cream

What You'll Do...
1) Beat the sugar and butter together on low with an electric mixer until well combined. Then beat on medium for 3 minutes.

2) Add the vanilla and cream, and eat for another minute on medium.

Chocolate Ganache Frosting
Adapted from Cupcake Bakeshop

What You'll Need...
12 ounces of white chocolate (good quality!)
3/4 cup of whipping cream
1/4 cup of butter, room temp.
2-3 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

What You'll Do...
1) Chop chocolates and transfer into a heat proof bowl.

2) Heat cream until bubbles form around the edge of the pan, pour cream over the chocolate.

3) Let sit for 1 minute then stir until combined.

4) Add butter to the chocolate (make sure its soft and at room temp) and stir until combined.

5) Whisk together sugar, salt, and vanilla in another bowl until combined.

6) Pour the sugar mixture onto the chocolate mixture, then stir until combined and smooth.

7)Let sit at room temperature until thickened, about 2 hours.

8) Beat with an electric mixer until fluffy.

Note: Keep close watch as this can suddenly separate.

Lutiannas (Pear & Fennel Cupcakes with Anise Syrup and Candied Pears)

This particular cupcake is one I'm very fond of and one that just rings of Autumn. In fact, I'm enamored with it. Chopping fennel and pears into a cake was one of the best things I ever did in the kitchen. The taste is seriously out of this world. Even people who weren't fans of anise raved about this deliciously sweet and fragrant cupcakes.

The pears and fennel when cooked release all their sweetness, and when drizzled with some of the sweet anise simple syrup its just amazing. Still they needed something else to compliment it all, so to layer the flavors and let them shine even more I candied some pears and topped them on the cupcake with some of the fennel greens. It's a beautiful and ephemeral cupcake to the point that when it was served, no one spoke. Silence. All you could do was just focus on savoring every bite of this delightful little cake.

Lutianna, like Fojo and Bacon Goddess, is another character and inside joke from high school between Janelle and me. Lutianna was a Russian mad scientist who would torture people with a whip of mad science for fun; it's very funny, as demonstrated by the background of the image. Be sure to check out Janelle's website as you have her to thank for the awesome picture of Lutianna (click on it for full resolution). Also a special shout out to my new English MA buddies who hung out with me and helped me make the cupcake!Anywhose if you like fennel, even a little, take an hour out of your life and try these cupcakes. If you want something lighter, skip the candied pears and anise syrup. It'll make for a light and delicate tea cake that's sure to impress.

Lutiannas (Pear and Fennel Cupcakes)
Makes 12 cupcakes / 350 degree oven

What You'll Need...
1 stick of butter, room temperature
1 cup of sugar
2 eggs, room temperature
1 cup of milk
1 1/2 cups of flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
good pinch of salt
2 pears, peeled and diced
1 fennel bulb, chopped into slivers (save the greens for presentation)
1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon

What You'll Do...
1) Preheat the over to 350 F. Beat the butter for about 2 minutes until well creamed. Add the sugar and beat until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes, scraping down the sides of the bowl halfway through.

2) Add the eggs, one at a time, and beat for 45 seconds each. Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl.

3) Combine flour, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder and sift together. Add some of the flour mixture, then some of the milk, alternating between dry-wet-dry and ending with the dry ingredients. Mix together until just combined.

4) Fold the pear and fennel into the batter. Scoop into cupcake papers until almost full.

5) Bake for about 15-18 minutes. Cupcakes will be dense, heavy, and moist. A toothpick should still come out clean. Let cool on a wire rack.

6) Spoon on some of the star anise syrup and let it soak in for a few minutes (you can also give it a spoonful and let them sit overnight in the fridge to really soak in the syrup, for a taste where the flavors are a bit more intermarried and not so layered, your choice). Give it another spoonful or two and then place some of the caramelized pears on top. Garnish with sprigs from the fennel greens and serve.


Star Anise Syrup
What You'll Need...
1/4 cup of water
1/2 cup of sugar
a few slices of fennel
2 star anise

What You'll Do...
Bring the water to a boil, add the sugar, fennel and anise. Stir until the sugar dissolves. Take off the heat and scoop out the fennel and star anise. Let cool and put a spoonful onto the cooled cupcakes. (Leftovers can be used for sweetening a bit of pear or anise vodka on the rocks as a special treat for the baker-at-work.)


Candied Pears
What You'll Need...
1 tablespoon of butter
1/2 cup of sugar
2 pears cut into slices, peeled and cored

What You'll Do... Melt the butter into a pan on high heat. Add the sugar and stir. Toss in the pears and stir. Keep under heat until the sugar turn a light tan color (we're taking in carry-over cooking into account). Place them on a greased baking sheet to cool. Be careful! The hot sugar burns like hell.

Similar Cupcakes
Port Royals (Chocolate Cupcakes with Star Anise Ganache and Candied Grapefruit)
Late Autumn Cupcakes (Pear & Cranberry Cupcakes with White Chocolate Ganache)

Vanilla Pear Sorbet & The Austrailian Hook-Up

This is an aromatic and simple sorbet that's perfect for spring. It's like a vanilla scented Eau de vie, but in a tasty frozen treat form. Pears and vanilla are a perfect pairing that'll help finish any meal.

It's not always cupcakes here at Vanilla Garlic. Just most of the time.

Vanilla Pear Sorbet
Makes 4-6 servings

What You'll Need...
6 Anjou Pears
1 vanilla bean (preferably Bourbon)
3 1/2 cups of sugar or vanilla sugar
1/2 extra cup of sugar or vanilla sugar
5 strips of lemon zest
6 cups of water

What You'll Do...
1) Use a vegetable peeler to strip 5 strips of zest off of a lemon. Cut open the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds. Place the vanilla pod and seeds, lemon zest strips, sugar/vanilla sugar, and water in a pot. Let it come to a boil so that all the sugar has dissolved, reduce heat to medium.

2) Peel the pears, and cut off a small portion of the bottom so they can stand up straight (for easy cutting later). Place in the water for about 10 minutes.

3) Cut the "meat" off of the pears and discard the cores and stems. Puree with 2 cups of the poaching liquid and 1/2 cup of sugar/vanilla sugar. Let cool in the fridge. Place in your ice cream maker and proceed via the manufacturer's directions.

Note: I highly suggest saving the rest of the poaching liquid, filtering the solids out, and adding and dissolving an equal part of sugar to make a rockin' simple syrup for cocktails later! Pair this with some Absolut Pear and ice and you are so made.
______________________________________

Minh, my cupcake sister from Australia , sent me over a huge cache of Tim-Tam's (a popular cookie brand from down under), which are so insane shibby-good. They're basically two cookies with a chocolate filling, covered in chocolate. Then they come in a variety of flavors; raspberry & chocolate and the caramel ones are my faves.

Also, she sent over little caramel filled koala bears. Is it wrong I love to devour their little heads with so much joy?

Thanks a ton, Minh! Be sure to check out her blog and her variety of creative cupcakes!

Vanilla Poached Pears etc.

I have to say, I'm not the biggest fan of CHOW.com. They do have a few good recipes I have taken to heart though, and I enjoy reading Table Manners (probably a result from those manners classes and cotillion courses mom put me through; thanks mom, I really do appreciate it now that I'm older) so it has its plusses. I do love some of the recipes they make though, they have a simple decadence to them. A sort of Napa Valley... je ne sais quoi.

But this one really does beat all.

This recipe for vanilla poached pears was a real winner with me, Rob, and everyone whom I have served it. Very simple and easy. I always have lemons and stray vanilla beans laying around (How bourgeois does that sound?) so it's a simple dessert to bang out for company or for the hell of it.

Plus, you can always save and dry out the vanilla beans afterwards and place them in a small container of sugar, then grind it in the food processor for vanilla sugar. Thank Shuna - of the great Eggbeater blog - for the advice, which I got when I attended her egg whites class. Go here for more vanilla bean advice, or see some of her artful writing as she guest blogs at Simply Recipes about how to make a perfect pavlova as she taught me.

However, if vanilla sugar isn't your thing, pop them in some vodka, and let it sit a while in a dry, temperate place. It's a perfect way to party with the coming heat.

Take this recipe into a new direction by creating a sorbet! Go see!