Not Derby Pie

Since having surgery on my foot, my time in the kitchen has been severely limited. It pretty much hurts to stand still for more than a few minutes, and I can’t put much pressure on the foot yet. My left foot is taking a serious hit, what with all the hopping and limping, so standing on one foot to cook complex, multi-step dishes is also not an option. With this in mind, I’ve had to curtail my everyday zeal about being in the kitchen, and limit my cooking to practical dishes requiring little to no prep.

When at last Saturday’s lunch we found ourselves with a whole extra challah, I somehow got tapped to take it home. And people, I think we all know that there are few things better than day-old challah french toast on a lazy Sunday. With that said, soon as I woke up on Sunday morning, I realized that the absolute last thing I wanted to do was hover at the stove, waiting for all those slices to soak and fry up. It just wasn’t going to happen.

Enter awesome Deb of Smitten Kitchen, and her recipe for Boozy Baked French Toast. The perfect antidote to both hunger and laziness, baked french toast allows you to enjoy this fantastic weekend breakfast without all the prep work. The result? A cross between french toast and bread pudding; not your usual crunchy-all-around slices of fried french toast, but a lovely casserole with soft, custardy innards and a crisp crust, thanks to cinnamon sugar topping.

Of course, some of us procrastinate more than others; Deb had the foresight to make her casserole overnight, giving the bread time to soak up the milk-egg mixture. I’m simply not that awesome. I woke up Sunday morning wanting French toast casserole, having done absolutely nothing the night before. But hey — I made it work. I cut the milk by a third, so there would be less liquid floating around. I also dotted the top layer with butter, to ensure that the cinnamon sugar would get crispity-crisp. My last-minute game plan totally payed off. About 40 minutes after french toast casserole entered my head, it entered my mouth. Oh-so-tasty. Maybe I’m awesome after all.

Lazy Boozy French Toast Casserole
adapted from Smitten Kitchen

1 loaf Challah bread in 1-inch slices, any kind will do
2 cups whole milk (3 if letting sit overnight)
3 eggs
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

Your choice of flavorings: I used Deb’s recommendation of 3 tablespoons Bailey’s and 3 tablespoons Cointreau, but she also suggests Frangelico (hazelnut), Chambord (raspberry), Creme de Cassis (black currant) Grand Marnier or just a teaspoon or two of vanilla or almond extract. You can add a teaspoon of zest for a citrusy kick, add a half-cup of chopped nuts such as almond slivers or pecans between layers or on top or a similar amount of raisins or other dried fruits. And of course, let’s not forget chocolate chips for over-the-top indulgence.

1. Generously grease a 9×13-inch baking dish with salted (Deb’s fave) or unsalted butter.
2. Arrange bread in two tightly-packed layers in the pan. Cut one slice into smaller pieces to fill in gaps, especially when using braided Challah. If using a thinner-sliced bread, you might wish for more layers, though Deb finds that over three, baking can be uneven. If you are using any fillings of fruit or nuts, this is the time to get them between the layers or sprinkled atop.
3. Whisk milk, eggs, sugar, salt and booze or flavorings of your choice and pour over the bread. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar and dot with butter.
4. If making at night, wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate. The bread will absorb all of the milk custard while you sleep.
5. Bake at 425 for 30 minutes, or until puffed and golden. This will take longer if you have additional layers.
6. Cut into generous squares and serve with maple syrup, fresh fruit, powdered sugar or all of the above.

Serves 6 as main course.

Just peek out the window and you’ll know it’s officially fall. The sky in Washington is a crisp blue today, and the air is breezy and cool. Knowing DC as well as I do, I was sure that the cool front would pass quickly, making way for just a little more of that lovely summer humidity that you can slice through with a knife. Classic DC to dangle fall in front of us before heading squarely toward summer weather. But so far, I’m proving wrong: it’s been a week since the air changed. Summer may truly be over.

Summer produce is also starting to disappear. A couple weeks ago, I scored a fabulous box of “second” tomatoes — about 8 pounds for a mere 2 bucks! With some olive oil, onions, garlic,salt, pepper, and a splash of wine, I transformed them into easy tomato sauce and jarred the sauce for winter.

Before memories of summer fruit have completely faded, I want to share one last recipe. It’s another Martha recipe — thanks, Jana — and it’s super easy and tasty. The recipe is for tea cakes, rich and nutty from almond flour, zingy from kirsch, with a whole cherry — pit, stem, and all — in the center. I brought them to a poolside picnic hosted by Rebecca, Robbie and Sarina earlier this summer. I took off the foil and set them out, and Robbie looked at them suspiciously and asked what they were. When I told him, he said, “What if you accidentally swallow the pit and choke? Basically, they’re like death muffins.” I really wanted to title this post “death muffins” but visions of spam comments from morticians and funeral homes scared me off.
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To all those celebrating the Jewish New Year (and to all of you, regardless of whether or not this happens to be the start of a New Year for you)…

May this be a year of happiness,

a year in which we take time out to enjoy the small pleasures,

a year in which we do not hesitate to try many new things,

a year in which we find new ways to love our families, friends, and significant others,

a year in which we use our strength to help those more in need than we,

and of course, a year in which we eat wonderful, wonderful food.

Shana Tova, Bria, U’Metuka: a happy, healthy, and sweet new year!

(Also, between my recent foot surgery and the upcoming holidays, I actually missed the first anniversary of NDP!! I can promise a celebratory post after all these holidays pass and my foot heals…but for now, happy blogiversary to NDP!)

Ima’s Challah
link to recipe
On Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, we have a custom of making the challot round, to symbolize the cycle of the year that renews on this day. Braid each loaf extra long, then, starting at one end, wrap the braid around itself, lifting the braid slightly on top of itself as you go. Tuck the end under, brush with eggwash, and bake as normal.

When I was a kid, my dad ate bananas a lot. He bought them when they were green, ate them when they were yellow and even when they had lots of brown spots, and when the rest of us finally managed to convince him that the last of the bunch was really way to overripe to eat, he’d freeze it until he had enough to make banana bread. My mom, clearly the more sane parent in this respect, ate bananas only when they were green. Yes, that’s right — totally and completely underripe. Once they were yellow, they were banana bread to her.

If I remember correctly, my brother ate bananas when they were yellow, and if pushed, he’d begrudgingly eat one with a couple spots, but he drew the line way before my dad did. And I? No, I don’t eat bananas. Never liked’em. Just not really my thing. No surprise, then, that I’ve never really associated bananas with elegance or delicacy. Before this weekend, I’d have been hard pressed to believe that a couple bananas could produce not only your usual dense and very banana-y banana bread, but a moist and rich, yet light and delicate, cake as well.
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If you’ve gone this long without making cinnamon buns (which, shockingly, I have), it’s likely not because you’re skeptical that they’ll be worth it. What other foods smell ridiculously appetizing, even when what you smell is usually a corporate chain version loaded with high fructose corn syrup and other delicacies? No doubt they taste fantastic and are worth the effort, so that’s not the cause of hesitation. More likely, you’re just a bit daunted by the task. To me, cinnamon buns have always sounded like a very work-intensive, time-intensive project, possible only for those with half a day to devote to the task. I just figured that with a project as seemingly complex as cinnamon buns, I should hold off until I had an occasion to do them. Perhaps you did, too.

Such an occasion arrived last Sunday, when a bunch of us threw a bridal shower for our friend D, who’s getting married in November. D’s not so into the gush-gush-rip-the-wrapping-paper-ohh-ahh stuff, so when B suggested a book shower, D readily agreed. It’s really right up her alley. We pitched the shower as a chance to get D a book that belongs on every shelf, a book you especially love, or a book that you thought D would love — and, considering we got lots of oohs and ahhs and no doubles, I think it was a success!
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Lazy Sunday morning here in localsville. Since localseasonal September started, a Sunday morning routine has developed. I wake up, make myself a cup of coffee, drink the littlest bit of it and make D mad by letting it cool to room temp, assure her that I meant to let it sit as I stick it in the fridge for ice coffee later, and then trot over to the farmers market, lots-o-canvas-bags in tow. By the time I’m back from the market, I’m warm (it’s a bit of a hike from Dupont with all those groceries in hand) and I’m hungry. So I take out those beautiful yellow cherry tomatoes, that Keswick creamery spreadable herb cheese, those farm-fresh eggs, and that lovely, tart cows milk yogurt, and I whip us up a little breakfast. Nothing fancy — wonderful, in fact, in its sheer simplicity. These pics are from our breakfast 2 weeks ago.

Happy lazy local Sunday, everyone!

This past December, D got me an ice cream maker for Hanukkah. “So that you’ll have a way to make us ice cream when summer rolls around.” That D’s pretty smart: ice cream makers are much cheaper in the dead of winter, but summer inevitably returned, and now tubs of ice cream line our freezer. What flavors, you ask? Well, currently we have wild honey, raspberry sorbet, apricot sorbet, and this here plum that I’m getting ready to tell you about. I’ve had some lovely organic plums in my fridge for a couple weeks. Most of them I took for lunch, but something had to be done with the rest. I’d gone back and forth between stone fruit crisp and plum tart tatin, until I remembered that The Perfect Scoop was sitting on my bookshelf, gathering dust. Sure enough, David Lebovitz had included in it a recipe for plum ice cream; the fate of my plumlings was decided.

Here’s the thing about fruit ice creams: they’re not chocolate. Now don’t you vanilla fans jump on me all at once — I appreciate a good bowl of white. (Scratch that: off-white. If it’s vanilla, it has to be custard-based, in my humble-o.) But people, chocolate and I are exclusive. We’re in love. And that’s just how it is. So you can understand why fruit ice cream has always seemed a little, well, not-quite-right to me — that is, until I made some myself. Plum ice cream is stupendous! Wonderfully creamy, sweet and tart, with all the assets of stone fruit and of ice cream in one. I’m a little obsessed.

With plums at every farmers’ market in town, now’s the time to try this one out.
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