All posts filed under: Amazing Sweets

Snegl, Kannelbullar, Schnecken: Amazing Cinnamon Rolls

Snegl, kannelbullar, schnecken, skillingsboller or just plain old cinnamon roll. Almost every country has its own take on this pastry and it seems to have become my mission in life to sample each one. Yeah, it’s one tough mission. The variations are small but compelling. Denmark tops its snegl, which means “snail” and is an apt description of this swirled roll, with a thick layer of icing. Made from confectioner’s sugar, its sweetness balances out the heady cinnamon and adds beauty and succulence to the bun. Norway’s skillingsboller bears a strong resemblance to the Danish snegl. Most Norwegian bakers use a little less icing than their Danish counterparts. However, the result is just as delightful. Cardamom transforms the Swedish kannelbullar from a standard cinnamon roll to something far more complex and ethereal. Capped off with a sprinkling of pearl sugar, it, too, is a delight to see and eat. Some countries add raisins to their rolls. In fact, that’s how my mission got started; I thought that I’d purchased a pain au raisin for breakfast …

Check out Czech Trdelnik

Imagine a golden, cylindrical pastry reminiscent of a cinnamon roll, one that had been roasted on a spit over an open flame and then twirled through a mixture of sugar, cinnamon or ground nuts. This unusual sweet is a trdelnik. A specialty of the Czech Republic and Slovakia, this yeasted dough treat can be found in bakeries, at food stalls and street carts. In Prague no outdoor market is complete without at least one trdelnik stand. Hearty yet surprisingly light in consistency, trdelnik makes for a delightful breakfast, afternoon snack or dessert. A longtime fan, I’ve eaten it for lunch and, on one desperate night, as dinner. Because I don’t own an outdoor spit or tabletop rotisserie, my first stab at trdelnik was with my kitchen range. Since I didn’t think to buy a trdelnik form in the Czech Republic, I had to figure out a way to help the pastry keep its round shape. I couldn’t wrap the dough around water glasses, place them upright on a baking sheet and then slide them into …

apple strudel

Two Spoons up for Apple Strudel Light

What do you do with three unplanned days in Vienna? If you enjoy immersing yourself in a country’s culture and possess a hearty sweet tooth, you might decide to eat your way through your stay. That’s certainly how I spent my time there, sampling variation upon variation of the Austrian national dish apple strudel. In Austria strudel is often served with a pitcher of vanilla cream, in a pool of crème anglaise or with a side of whipped cream. Contrary to my husband’s fervent hopes, it usually doesn’t come with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. That’s fine with me. When it comes to strudel, I prefer either to eat it with just a dusting of sugar or with whipped cream added to the side. A fair amount of time, effort and space goes into making a traditional apple strudel. It’s the dough, rather than the filling, that requires the work. My short video, taken at the Café Residenz adjacent to Vienna’s Schönbrunn Palace, explains the basics of authentic strudel dough. If you lack the …

The Persuasive Persimmon Graham Pie

Every fall I try to convince my husband that persimmons are one of autumn’s best treats. In turn, he reminds me that the most repugnant fruit that he’s ever eaten remains an unripe persimmon. For years we’ve been stuck at this impasse. Here’s the deal with persimmons. If you yank a hard, yellowish persimmon from its leafy branch and then immediately take a bite, you’ll experience the bitterest fruit around. Have some patience, wait until the orb has turned reddish-orange in color, has softened and maybe even fallen to the ground and you’ll taste a honeyed fruit like no other. How do I erase a bad food memory or, at the very least, persuade someone to give this berry another try? Persimmon pudding didn’t do the trick nor did persimmon tarts. No matter how beautiful or aromatic I made the offering, the memory of that acrid flavor lingered on. This year, though, I hit upon a winning combo, matching pureed persimmons with graham cracker crust. Maybe it’s the mild sweetness of the cookies or the …

Sailing away in Raspberry Meringue Boats

Sometimes my timing is off. During the last days of summer I collected and baked a rare autumn treat, ground cherries. On the first day of fall I took a field trip to a community supported agricultural garden and picked a quart of a beloved summer delicacy, raspberries. That they had not already been scavenged by birds, bees and other berry fiends amazed me. That they retained their brilliant ruby color and sweet, juicy flavor at the end of a long growing season was even more shocking. How lucky could I get? Although I’d spent much of the summer simmering, pureeing and swirling fruits into desserts, I didn’t want to toss these fresh-from-the-vine beauties into a blender or pot. Such gorgeousness should be showcased and not transformed into a lumpy, red mass. Rather than just serve them whole with a dollop of homemade whipped cream, I turned to an old family favorite, the meringue. A simple sweet, it would be the perfect foundation for these exquisite berries. If your ancestors are French as a smattering …

Dishy and Delicious Pistachio Coconut Creams

Over the summer I became infatuated with the English syllabub. Velvety and light, this simple dessert consists of only three ingredients—cream, sugar and a smidgen of alcohol. If you’re a traditionalist, you add sweet wine or cider. If you’re more of a rebel, you may include a splash of rum, brandy or any other liqueur or flavoring that strikes your fancy. Whip it all together and you’ve got an ambrosial syllabub. As winter creeps closer to my doorstep, I start to crave desserts heartier than flavored whipped cream. I still like the idea of a creamy treat that I can spoon into and out of elegant Moroccan tea glasses. However, instead of stuffing these delicate souvenirs with cream, I’m filling them with a far more common and filling Moroccan ingredient, yogurt, and a few other tasty things. The end result? The easy, dishy and delicious Pistachio Coconut Cream. Reminiscent of the English syllabub, Pistachio Coconut Creams feature yogurt whisked together with confectioner’s sugar, dried coconut and thick and sweetened cream of coconut. Don’t confuse cream …

Bewitching Black Currant Palmiers

A few Sundays ago I lucked out and found fresh, plump red and black currants at the Rhinebeck Farmers Market. Unlike the red currants, which I’d churned into sherbet, I took a fairly traditional approach with the larger, purplish-black fruit and cooked up a batch of black currant jelly. Why jelly? Like their red relation, black currants contain a large amount of pectin, the substance that causes foods to thicken and gel. To make black currant jelly, I simmered the fruit with some sugar and lemon juice. Once the berries had softened and the sugar had dissolved, I strained the reddish-violet syrup into a glass bowl. I allowed it to cool and set and — voila! — I had black currant jelly. Because I’d wanted to do more with currants than just make preserves, I came up with a twist on an old family favorite, palmiers. Made from puff pastry, this simple French cookie gets its name from its palm leaf-like shape. Depending on where you live and how you perceive its appearance, you may …

Elderberries and Cream

A little over a month ago I spent a morning picking elderflowers at my friends’ farm in Southeastern Pennsylvania. Last weekend I returned to find one lone cluster of white flowers and an inordinate number of reddish- to blackish-purple berries drooping from the limbs of their elderberry trees. Since my last visit those pert, little flowers had transformed into August’s big bounty, tart and spicy elderberries. As with all of this summer’s foraged fruit, elderberry collecting is a new undertaking for me. Sure, I’ve been the beneficiary of others’ wild berry gathering, adding elderberries to mini apple pies and boiling them into violet-colored sauces. However, this would be my first venture into harvesting them. Thankfully, the task turned out to be quite easy. Just look for the darkest fruit, snap off the sprays of berries and shake them into a big bowl. As I said, easy! Berries picked and shucked, I took my share home and tried to think of creative ways to use two pounds of this fruit. After washing and removing any remaining …

Rockin’ Red Currant Sherbet

This week I’ve got a great farmers’ market find—currants. In season from June to August, these petite relatives of the gooseberry come in three colors and two sizes. The smaller red and white berries possess a moderately sweet and tart taste and bright, glossy skin. The larger black currant is milder in flavor and duller in color but still has a visual and gustatory bite. All are high in pectin, making them rich in fiber and quick to gel. British cooks often turn red currants into jams, jellies and sauces. Pop a handful of these little guys into your mouth and you’ll see why. As small as they are, these berries are chocked full of seeds. Although I have munched on fresh currants, I find them far more enjoyable after they’ve been cooked, pureed and strained as the British do. Freed from the currants’ crunchy seeds, I’m left with a thick, ruby syrup that can be made into the aforementioned specialities or into a cotton candy pink sherbet, sorbet or ice cream. What’s the difference …

Masterminding Moroccan Carrots

Think of all the controversial topics that could come up between family and friends. For most people slender, knobby, orange root vegetables wouldn’t be among them. Yet, in my household carrots have long been a source of contention. Until recently, the only way that I could convince my husband to eat these vegetables was if I shredded and made them into a carrot cake. Smart guy, huh? Rather than rely on cake alone to provide us that burst of Vitamin A, I look for ways to make carrots more palatable to the picky. So far, Moroccan Carrots, which I featured in Fish Market, are the favorite.When teaching a class, holding a talk or just sitting around the dinner table, I’m frequently asked how I and other food writers create recipes. While I can’t speak for my colleagues, I can explain the rationale and process behind Moroccan Carrots. All dishes begin with the question “What foods go well together?” If I’m working with a versatile ingredient such as a carrot, that’s easy to answer. From a …