Graham Cracker Buttermilk Bundt

You never know when baking inspiration will strike.  Studying has recently stymied my usual obsessive recipe reading, and I thought my baking dry spell would continue through finals, but lo and behold, this recipe snuck through my distraction radar!

In a moment of weird and impromptu food creativity, I had decided to try graham crackers with brie and jam instead of regular crackers (very good - you should try it).  As I inspected my age-old graham cracker box for an expiration date (three weeks ago, but I figured they were fine since they were still sealed...), I noticed the box featured a recipe for something other than graham cracker crust. Interesting!  Apparently you can make bundt cake from graham cracker crumbs!  I had to try it.

I'm normally skeptical of bundt cakes because they tend to turn out dry, but I noted that this recipe called for drenching the entire warm, spice-laden, walnut-studded cake with a hot sauce composed of butter and sugary buttermilk.  Can't go wrong there!  Solution to dry cake? Poke it full of holes and pour in tasty liquid.  Worked like a charm!  Hello warm, moist dessert.  I recommend reserving some of the hot sauce to pour over individual slices.  Whipped cream wouldn't hurt either.

Graham Cracker Buttermilk Bundt Cake

Cake Ingredients:

1/2 c. vegetable oil
1 stick butter, melted (1/2 c.)
1 1/2 c. sugar
3 eggs
1t. vanilla extract
2 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. (14 squares) graham cracker crumbs
1/2 t. salt
1 t. baking porwder
1 t. baking soda
1 t. cinnamon
1 t. allspice
1 t. nutmeg
1 c. buttermilk
1 c. chopped walnuts

Buttery Buttermilk Sauce ingredients:
1 c. sugar
1/2 c. buttermilk
2 t. vanilla
1/3 c. melted butter

Preheat the oven to 300.  In a large bowl, blend the melted butter, oil, and sugar thoroughly, and add the eggs and vanilla.  Mix well.  In a separate bowl (or in your Cuisinart if you're going to pulverize the crumbs in there anyways), stir together the graham cracker crumbs, flour, baking soda, salt, baking powder, and spices.  Add the flour mixture to the egg mixture in three additions, alternating with the buttermilk (start and end with the flour mixture - i.e. flour, buttermilk, flour, buttermilk, flour).  Stir in the chopped walnuts.  Pour the batter into a well-greased (grease that sucker REALLY well - my cake got stuck to the pan and I had to repatch it after inverting) bundt pan.  Bake 1hr., or until a knife inserted into the cake comes out clean.  Cool the cake in the pan for 15 minutes (make the sauce while the cake cools), then invert onto a plate.

To make the sauce, combine sauce ingredients in a saucepan and boil for one minute.  Reserve about 1/3 c. of the glaze for spooning over individual slices. Use a skewer to poke holes all over the cake (Everywhere! Really go crazy.  More holes = more sauce-cake contact = more moistness!), and then spoon the hot sauce over the warm cake.  Spoon the "run-off" back onto the cake to ensure thorough moistening.  Do not let one drop escape!

Serve the cake with the extra sauce, and freshly whipped, sweetened whipping cream.

The Art of Sharing Food

Any foodie worth their salt knows that when you go out to eat, you should order family style.  Sharing maximizes tasting potential, and avoids the inevitable quandary of whether to order that delicious pork-belly with butter-sauced morels, or the potentially equally delicious gorgonzola gnocchi with toasted walnuts. Mmmmmmmm.  Order/eat both!

There is nothing worse than the awkward experience of dining with a "non-sharer" - someone who looks askance at the suggestion of sharing and proceeds to order, all for themselves, a huge entree that couldn't possibly be consumed by a single person anyways!  While the rest of the table exchanges plates and comments on the flavors with gusto, the lone-orderer huddles in the corner and suspiciously hoards his or her precious meal.

Worse is the scenario in which you go to dine with one other person who insists on order the SAME meal that you have just ordered!!! This is completely unacceptable foodie behavior unless one of you has a grave communicable disease, or the rest of the menu is disgusting (in which case, why are you eating there to begin with??).

Of course, there are certainly scenarios in which food-sharing is neither desirable, nor acceptable.  For instance, I object to requests for bites of my sandwich, licks of my ice-cream, or tastes of my teeny-tiny truffle that barely serves one person (unless we have previously agreed to share this particular morsel).   Sandwiches are absorbent, carefully balanced affairs.  Unless I'm already swapping saliva with the "sharee" on a regular basis, I don't want the edges of my sandwich bread moistened by someone else's saliva, nor do I want them spilling all of my avocado and tomato out before I've finished enjoying my meal.  The saliva argument also holds for the ice cream cone.  After someone else's warm tongue has melted the side of your ice-cream so that the drips dribbling down the side of the cone are mixed with stranger-saliva, the whole treat just loses its appeal.  Asking for a lick of ice cream is like asking to borrow my toothbrush!  Gross!  And one should never take the last bite or sip of another's delicious meal or beverage (nor should one take a GIANT bite of someone else's minuscule treat).  Just the other day I purchased an adorable, mini peanut butter cupcake to savor during the long hours of professional responsibility, and as I walked to class, I was overcome with anxiety that some uncouth person would ask for a bite!  I even contemplated scarfing down the little morsel before heading to my seat to prevent such a tragedy.  There are subtle ways, however, to deter efforts at misguided sharing.  So, while I encourage you to order family style when dining out, you can follow these tactics when you want to preserve the integrity of your sandwich, or when your truffle is just too good to share:

When eating something delicious:
1. Do NOT comment on its deliciousness!  This will encourage responses of, "oooh, can I have a bite?"
2. Do not try to feign disgust.  This might seem like a good course of action, but believe it or not, it might encourage your fellow diners to ask for a bite just to see how gross your food tastes.  This sounds counter intuitive, but think about it, how often do you take a big whiff of the air after someone says, "Ew, what's that smell?" Same concept.
3. Do claim that you have a cold, or even better, claim that you have a festering cold sore in your mouth.  No one will want to share with you.  Downside - people will think you have herpes.
4. Preemptively provide a crumb to deter requests for larger portions.
5. Eat your food in a really gross manner, e.g. slobbering all over your sandwich, or smearing it around on your plate.  If someone still wants a bite, give them the cold, wet corner of the bread (that might be too gross to actually go through with...).
6. Tell the requester you are diabetic, and that you must eat the entire portion to prevent a hypoglycemic coma.
7. Be a true evil biatch and just say NO.

Recipes to follow shortly... a.k.a after finals!

Panna Cotta "Eggs"

These looked almost TOO much like wiggly soft-boiled eggs to enjoy as a dessert, but they were fun to make!  The shell is constructed by spreading melted, cooled white chocolate (about 3/4 of a bag) over partially inflated balloons.  The white chocolate was pretty hard to work with - it refused to melt into a smooth, glossy liquid like normal chocolate - so my "egg shells" ended up a little, um, rustic looking... If you like regular chocolate better than white chocolate, and you don't care about creating an authentic looking egg, go with regular chocolate for ease of construction (you could pretend it was a really really dark brown egg!).  If I made these again I'd stick with white chocolate despite its relative fussiness because I personally think lemon tastes gross with regular chocolate (as does any fruit. That includes raspberry!). 

The hardest part of this whole process is inflating the balloons.  I think I must be a sissy or something because I could not inflate a single balloon to save my life!  I finally gave up and had to enlist my younger brother (whom, I might add, has chronic lung problems, yet had no trouble blowing up those suckers). 

Two balloon tips: 1) don't over inflate them... you're going for chicken eggs, not ostrich eggs; and 2) do NOT spread the chocolate on the balloons until it has cooled or you will create a chocolate hand grenade instead of a chocolate egg-shell. 





As the chocolate hardens, the balloons will begin to deflate.  Snip a tiny hold in the deflated portion of the balloon and SLOWLY let the air escape.  Peel the balloon off the chocolate to reveal a cute little eggshell cup!

Panna cotta with a dollop of lemon curd mimics the eggy innards to complete the look.  For some reason, my panna cotta started to weep, which normally irritates me, but in this case it worked with my theme because it looked like wet egg-white (slightly unappetizing, but oh well).

Panna Cotta

3 c. heavy cream, divided
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 c. sugar
2 tsp. gelatin
1/4 c. water

Lemon Curd
1/2 c. sugar
3 egg yolks
1/4 c. freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 stick softened butter
2 tsp. grated lemon rind 

To make the panna cotta, combine the sugar and half the cream in a saucepan over medium heat.  Stir to dissolve the sugar, and bring to a simmer.  Turn off the heat.  Pour 1/4 c. water in small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over the top.  Let sit for a few minutes so the gelatin can soften.  Add the gelatin mixture to the cream and sugar and stir well to combine.  Add the remaining cream and the vanilla, stir.  Put the liquid panna cotta mixture in the fridge until you have completed the lemon curd (but don't take forever or you'll end up with a big pitcher of firm panna cotta!)

Make the lemon curd: In a small saucepan, combine the sugar, egg yolks, and lemon juice over low heat.  Stir constantly until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon.  Remove from heat and stir in the butter and the grated lemon rind.  Set the lemon curd in the fridge to cool.

Remove the panna cotta from the fridge and carefully fill each egg-cup.

Place filled egg cups in the fridge until the panna cotta has hardened completely.  When firm, add a spoonful of lemon curd yolk.

I think I might try adding the lemon curd to the center of the panna cotta before it hardens next time to see if it solves the gross wet weeping problem.  It really did look like an egg...

Momofuku v. Neiman Marcus

 Cult cookies go head to head!

Which recipe will take the cake?  The trendy newcomer or the urban myth?  First let's get the lowdown on the new darling of baking pop-culture.  All across the food-blogosphere, bakers are abuzz about Momofuku Milk Bar in New York City, where pastry chef and owner Christina Tosi crafts zany treats from odd-ball ingredients such as milk crumbs, marshmallows, cereal, pretzels, and potato chips.  Offerings include Crack Pie (future post with food obsessed friend!), Cereal Milk Soft Serve, and our contender, the Compost Cookie.  Blogs are ablaze with raves about the innovative Compost Cookie, so named for its hodge-podge of junk-food mix-ins.  Thanks to Regis and Kelly, we have the (supposedly) tried-and-true original recipe, which has proliferated across baking blogs since its debut.

 Compost

On the other side of the oven we have the infamous Neiman Marcus Chocolate Chip Cookie.  Legend has it that a customer enamored of NM's delectable chocolate chipper asked for the recipe, and was told by her chipper waitress that it would cost her "two-fifty."  The cookie aficionado readily handed over her credit card (after all, the cookie she had just consumed probably cost more than $2.50), only to discover with horror that the stuffy department store had charged her two hundred and fifty dollars for the recipe.  Her complaints fell on deaf ears, and she vowed revenge by dissemination.  Whether or not the urban legend holds water, a Google search for "Neiman Marcus Cookie" returns 134,000 hits!  To debunk the myth, NM posted the recipe for their "signature" chocolate chip cookie online, but this recipe differs notably from the one that spread like wildfire in chain emails across America.  Did Neiman Marcus, otherwise known as "Needless Markup," post a decoy recipe to dispel its corporate bad-guy rep, and distract home bakers from the real deal?  Probably not.  Wikipedia claims that NM didn't even serve a chocolate chip cookie at their cafe pre-legend.  We have decided to take NM at their word, and allow their posted recipe to compete against Momofuku's Compost Cookie.

So which cookie prevailed?  Drum-roll please.....







The majority of judges have found that the Compost Cookie is......!

GARBAGE.

NM's recipe might not be worth $250, but I wouldn't pay ten cents to eat another greasy, overly salty Compost Cookie.  I can only hope that the real thing outshines the recipe floating around on the web, because 9 out of 10 tasters were ambivalent at best about this cookie.  One person described it as, "pretty good until you hit a greasy potato-chip pocket."  Another astutely questioned Momofuku's wisdom in naming their cookie after trash.  I mean, "Momofuku" already sounds kind of like... well, Motherf*er.  Why make it any worse?  More than one person poked fun at the cookie's odd name (which, by the way, Momofuku has trademarked) by gleefully stating, "I'm gonna go get me some Motherf*ing trash cookies!"

Just so I don't sound like an unsophisticated hick, I'm going to point out that "Momofuku" means "lucky peach," (I looked it up on their website) which seems quite adorable and appropriate for delicious treats.  But in combination with the "Compost" moniker, Momofuku begged belittlement! 

I do think the Compost Cookie cookie has potential, and I'm sure the actual cookie isn't even in the same league as my amateur creation.  I think the problem stems from the recipe's vague ingredient list, which provides little direction about the types and quantities of "snack foods" and "baking ingredients" required for success.  I went with potato chips (also included in Tosi's version), Chex-mix, chocolate chips, and Symphony bars, which resulted in a greasy, liquefied mess.  I think replacing the chips with oats and the Chex with pretzels might yield a more palatable, cookie-shaped cookie.  Overall, I say leave this one to the pros (although I have to admit it was fun chop up a bunch of junk food, and the endless possibilities may tempt me again....)

Garbage disposal?

Moving on to Neiman's signature chipper - a solid recipe.  The addition of instant coffee gives the cookie an interesting depth.  It holds its shape in the oven (without an hour's worth of chilling, which did absolutely nothing for the Compost Cookie anyways), and the cooled cookie has a slightly crispy exterior that yields to a soft, chewy center.  It could use a little more buttery goodness, but overall its worth rotating into the repertoire.

And the winner is..... Nestle Toll House Chocolate Chip Cookies!  Sorry for that moment of confusion.  It's just that this old standby beats both contenders.  If its not broken, don't fix it. 

Momofuku Compost Cookies


1 c. softened butter (2 sticks)
1 c. sugar
3/4 c. packed brown sugar
1T. corn syrup
1t. vanilla
2 large eggs
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
2tsp. baking powder
1tsp. baking soda
2tsp. kosher salt
1 1/2 cups "baking ingredients" (e.g., chocolate chips, chopped Symphony bar, Rollos, Cocoa Krispies, whatever your heart desires)
1 1/2 cups "snack foods" (e.g., crushed potato chips, pretzels, Chex-mix, goldfish, fritos, oats, etc. - air on the side of less greasy/salty)

Cream butter, sugar, and corn syrup until pale and fluffy, 2-3 min.  Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a spatula, then mix in the eggs and vanilla on low speed.  Increase the speed to medium-high, and beat for ten minutes.  The sugar crystals will dissolve completely, and the mixture will gradually lighten and balloon in size.

At the ten minute mark, return the speed to low and mix in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt until just incorporated.  Add the baking ingredients and mix until incorporated.   Add the snack foods and mix until incorporated.

Use a 6oz ice-cream scoop to parcel out the dough onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment (or the next best thing in your cabinet - in my case a brownie pan, and thank goodness because my cookies would have ended up on the bottom of the oven after oozing everywhere!).  Refrigerate the cookies for at least an hour, and up to one week.  If you do not do this, you most certainly end up with cookie soup (and you might anyways).

When you are about ready to bake the cookies, preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Make sure the cookies are spaced 4'' apart to avoid a cookie plateau, and bake 9-11 minutes or until golden at the edges and center.  Find an adventurous eater and enjoy your creation!

Neiman Marcus Chocolate Chip Cookies

1/2 c. (1 stick) softened butter
1 c. packed brown sugar
3 T. white sugar
1 large egg
2t. vanilla
1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour
1/2t. baking powder
1/2t. baking soda
1/2t. salt
1 1/2 t. instant espresso powder
1 1/2 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 300.  Cream the butter and sugars until light and fluffy.  Add the egg and vanilla and mix for another 30 seconds.  Sift the dry ingredients together in a separate bowl, and then add to the butter mixture on low speed until just incorporated.  Stir in the chocolate chips and coffee.

Dollop the dough in two-tablespoon increments onto a cookie sheet, spacing the dough blobs about 3'' apart.  Bake 20 minutes or until the edges just begin to brown.  You can bake them longer for extra crispiness, but everyone knows that soft-chocolate chippers are better.

Snickerdoodle Sweet Potato Bars

Necessity is the mother of invention!  These were supposed to be snickerdoodle pumpkin pie bars, but apparently canned pumpkin is a seasonal item (and pureed sweet potato isn't??).  Hello people!  We're in L.A. There are no seasons here!  It would be more accurate to call it a "holiday" item.  If we went by the seasons in L.A. we'd be serving strawberry shortcake and peach ice cream with our Thanksgiving turkeys.  Since when do people only make pumpkin pie during Thanksgiving and Christmas anyways?  The bakery at the grocery store was selling pumpkin pie!  Totally illogical.  Canned pumpkin should be available year-round for bakeholics who want pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread, and snickerdoodle pumpkin pie bars.

Alas, I had to make do with sweet potato.  I guess I wasn't really that inventive, since most people probably can't tell the difference between pumpkin and sweet potato in baked goods anyways (the recipients of my bars were none the wiser).  Personally, I don't think pumpkin tastes anything like sweet potato.  Pumpkin produces a custardy, smooth filling, whereas sweet potato is starchier, and has a slightly ashy taste.  I think the starchiness actually worked to my advantage in this recipe, because I needed to cart the bars to school to bribe my friend, and wobbly custard bars are much harder to transport and handle than sturdy starchy ones.

I borrowed my friend's Planet Earth DVD's last year and only just got around to returning them.  I also borrowed his roommate's favorite DVD set (Rocky) and kept it for a year (I think it's understandable to take an entire year to wade through the entire collection of Rocky DVD's.  Sorry Joe).  Baked goods work really well as a bribe to avoid the loss of DVD-borrowing privileges (with guys, at least. Your girlfriends might accuse you of making them fat.  Your gym-obsessed little brother might also accuse you of making him fat, but he will still eat half of your bars and drink all of your milk, and then he will borrow your car and not put gas in it).  When I handed the bars (and the DVD's) over, I got a delighted high five and the response of, "you should borrow more so we can get more stuff!"  I ran into another friend in the hall with my snickerdoodle bars and he offered to let me keep his DVD's as long as I want if I brought him baked goods.  Haha, I guess I can cancel my Netflix subscription!  These bars were definitely scrumptious enough to do the trick!  (I sampled them before I sent them off, of course).

The finished bars had a pronounced butter flavor, and retained their soft, custard-like texture while being firm enough to cut into small squares (as if I was going to eat just one small square).  The cinnamon-sugar topping took me back to my childhood when I'd slather a river of melted butter on a piece of toasted white bread before burying it in mountains of cinnamon-sugar (no, wait, that was yesterday).  There is something deliciously frivolous and playful about the combination of cinnamon-sugar and snickerdoodle-sweet potato, but despite their cutesy appeal, they are seriously good. 

Snickerdoodle layer 
3 c. all-purpose flour
2 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
2 c. packed dark brown sugar
1 c. softened butter
2 eggs
1 T. vanilla

Sweet-potato layer
1 c. sugar (white, granulated)
1/2 c. softened butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 c. pureed sweet potato (pumpkin works too)
1 c. all purpose flour
1 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
1 t. pumpkin pie spice

Cinnamon-sugar topping
2 T. sugar (white, granulated)
2T. cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 350.  Butter a 9x13 in. baking pan, and lay a piece of parchment paper across the middle (for easy bar removal).   

Make the snickerdoodle layer: sift the flour, baking powder, and salt together in a medium bowl, and set aside.  Cream the butter and sugar in a large bowl.  Add the eggs and vanilla, and beat until the mixture lightens and becomes fluffy.  Stir in the flour mixture until well blended (batter will be thick) and spread in the bottom of the prepared pan.

Make the sweet-potato layer: in your large bowl (no need to wash out the snickerdoodle remnants), beat together the softened butter and granulated sugar.  Mix in the sweet potato puree and the eggs.  In the medium bowl (that previously housed the snickerdoodle flour-mix) whisk together the flour, salk, baking powder, and pumpkin pie spice.  Add the dry mixture to the pumpkin mixture, and beat on low speed until thoroughly mixed.  Spread the pumpkin batter over the snickerdoodle batter in the pan.

Make the cinnamon-sugar topping:  in a small bowl, whisk together the cinnamon and sugar.  Sprinkle mixture evenly over the surface of the batter. 

Bake for 40-50 minutes, or until a knife inserted into the center comes out clean.  You might want to check at 35 minutes in case you have a miscalibrated oven (nothing worse than burned bars!).  The bars will puff up as they cook, and if they do not looked puffed then don't bother poking them; they're not done (wet, sloppy bars might actually be worse than slightly overcooked ones...).  Let the bars cool for about an hour before you cut them.  Don't worry!  They will still be warm and moist.  Devour at your leisure, or use as bribes.

Stolen Secret Cheesecake

Loosen up those morals! All is fair in love, war, and baking.  Besides, I didn't actually steal the recipe, I just copied it down on the sly... it did not involve snooping around through my roommate's room or thinking of excuses to go upstairs and "say hi" in an effort to ascertain the location of the coveted recipe...  Who actually has a secret recipe anyways??? The whole point of baking is sharing!

This is definitely one of the best classic cheesecake recipes I've come across (although I'm not sure what the big deal was, since it seems like a fairly ordinary recipe on its face), and it's pretty much foolproof.  Trust me, if my crazy ex-roommate could make it, you can.  He cooked some of the worst food I've ever had the misfortune to taste.  For example, his gag-worthy rendition of pasta shells with cheese reminded me of festering pimples.  I'm serious!  The first bite seemed to pop in my mouth, and lukewarm, grainy cheese oozed from the rubbery shell.  I excused myself discretely to spit it out.  He also kept a vat of "recycled," a.k.a. never-replaced-ever, cooking oil on the kitchen counter at all times, and burned everything from shrimp to banana fritters in it!  I'm sure it must have been some kind of fire hazard.  I would definitely nominate him for that "Worst Cooks in America" show.  Despite his dubious cooking skills, he thought he was an amazing, chef extraordinaire, and was constantly bragging about his innovative recipes and culinary prowess.  He was a "talker."  My other roommates and I would get stuck listening to him rant for hours, powerless to so much as hint that we (urgently) needed to be somewhere (anywhere!) else.  So when he bragged to me about his super-secret, best-in-the-world cheesecake recipe, I was nonplussed.

Finally, after months of listening to him boast about the mythical cheesecake, I entered our kitchen one day to find him madly mixing an array of cheesecakey ingredients.  I approached and asked what he was making, and he immediately snatched his dirty little index card up off the counter, lest I catch a glimpse of his precious secret recipe, and leered at me.  "I'm making my secret cheesecake," he said, his nasal tone tinged with pride.  "Oh, great." I replied, "You'll have to let me try some."  He turned his back to me, shielding his batter.  "Hmph, it has to age two days." he muttered.  What?? Age?? It's cheesecake not cheese!  I thought.  But I ignored him and excused myself before I got trapped.

Sure enough, the mysterious cheesecake sat wrapped in the back of our fridge for two whole days.  It looked magnificent beneath it's glossy plastic-wrapping, and I despite myself, I became wildly curious.  At the end of the second day, I waited with bated breath (for once) for my roommate to come home and allow me to sample the fabled cake.  He so very-kindly obliged me a hair-sized slice, but every wispy bite was flawlessly creamy, dreamily rich, and oh-so-over-the-top.  I had to have that recipe!  And now, I do.  And I would like to share it with you.

Enjoy!!!!

I added a traditional graham cracker crust because the secret recipe just called for "any crust."

Graham Cracker Crust
1.5 c. crushed graham crackers
1/4 c. sugar
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/4 c. melted, unsalted butter

Preheat the oven to 400.  Butter a 9-in spring-form pan (you can use any size, but the cooking time may vary and you might have extra batter if you go smaller).  In a medium bowl, combine the graham cracker crumbs, sugar, cinnamon, and melted butter until combined and evenly moistened.  Pour the mixture into the spring-form pan, and press it along the bottom and up the sides of the pan.  Bake about 10 minutes.  Reduce the temperature to 350 (cheesecake is forgiving at lower temperatures - I cooked mine at 300 by mistake with no adverse results - but don't accidentally cook it on 400 or it will be dry and very, very disappointing).  Let the crust cool and prepare the cheesecake.

Secret Cheesecake
4 pkgs (the ones that look like bricks) cream cheese
pinch of salt
5 eggs
1 c. + 2T. sugar
3/4 c. sour cream
2T. vanilla

Topping
1 pint sour cream
1/2 c. sugar
1t. vanilla

Make sure the oven is set to 350.  Beat the cream cheese and salt until fluffy.  Add three of the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Beat in the 1c. + 2T of sugar.  Add the other two eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Finally, add the 3/4 c. sour cream and 2T. vanilla and mix well.  Pour the batter into the prepared crust and bake 45 - 60 min.  The cheesecake should be set at the edges but still jiggly through the middle.  Check it at 45 minutes, and if it looks really watery still, put it back in and keep checking every 10 minutes until you are satisfied. 

While the cheesecake bakes, stir together the topping ingredients.  As soon as the cheesecake is set to your satisfaction, take it out of the oven and immediately pour the topping into the pan, over the cheesecake.  Spread the topping evenly, and return the cheesecake to the oven for an additional 5 minutes.  Remove the cheesecake from the oven, and let it cool completely on the counter-top.

Here is the weird part.  When the cheesecake has cooled completely, wrap it in plastic or cover with tinfoil (mostly to protect it from funky fridge smells) and stick it in your fridge.  Leave it there for two days.  I know this will take willpower, but do it.  This must be the secret part of the recipe because I've never heard of this step before.  The longest I ever chilled my cheesecakes was overnight, and usually I can't beat my family away with my spoon for even that long!  But who am I to challenge the mysterious secret recipe?  I left this one for two days, as instructed, and it turned out fabulous.  If impatience gets the better of you, let me know how you fare!


Dedicated to my fellow Food Whores, and partners in crime.  You know who you are.

Chocolate Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake

Wipe that grimace of disgust off your face!  Would I really be posting this recipe if it was gross?  I assure you I am 100% anti-mayonnaise.  I think it is the most disgusting supposedly edible substance you could ever put in your mouth.  I can't even stand to be near a jar unless it is completely sealed, with no crusty or quivering mayo creeping over the edges (ugggh shiver of disgust).  I practically had to don a biohazard suit to prepare this recipe, but I was determined to conquer the mayo cake!

If I hate mayonnaise so much, you ask, why did I feel compelled to spend hours ruining a cake with it? (Not so fast, the cake is damn good).  Pure, morbid curiosity.  I've never been able to resist the urge to teeter out onto the culinary limb.  Normal is boring, as I always say!  This recipe really isn't all that "out-there," though.  Unsubstantiated sources tell me that this cake is some kind of Southern favorite (Southerners, correct me if I'm wrong).  Others claim it is a throwback to the depression era (when people couldn't afford butter, but had plenty of sugar, chocolate, and eggs?  Hm, sounds fishy...).  Whatever the origins of mayo-cake may be, the Internet is rife with recipes for it.  Several recipes even call for a chocolate-mayo frosting, but I drew the line there.  While I managed to wrap my mind around the idea of mayo in a cake (it's just oil and eggs, juuuussst oil and eggs.  Every cake has a variation of oil and eggs!  Plus, the oven cooks it alllll away) thinking about globs of raw mayo, wiggling and jiggling on top of the cake, gave me the willies.  Oh god, that is just revolting.  I'm going to gag.  Let's change the subject - back to delicious cake!

 

Chocolate and mayo... match made in Heaven?

The worst thing about making this cake was that I repeatedly had to remind myself NOT to lick the batter off the spoon.  HORROR!  I cannot begin to tell you how grossed out I would be if I ate raw mayo mixed with chocolate and sugar.  Barf.  That being said, a good cook tastes her food along the way to learn about the flavors that make up the final product, so I will admit that I took a tentative, minuscule lick (more of a poke with the tip of my tongue, really) off the end of my spatula after I'd poured the batter into the pans.  And it wasn't horrible!  It tasted like regular chocolate cake batter, and the batter actually looked really appetizing.  It was smooth and glossy, and deeply chocolaty.  MMMM I wish it hadn't had mayonnaise in it so I could've licked the bowl!!!!  Even though the batter tasted fine, I wasn't willing to risk accidental consumption of unmodified mayo.  I'm was sure that a sinister, unmixed mayo-blob lurked somewhere in the dark folds of the batter, waiting to ambush my tongue.  Shudder!!!  Besides, I knew I would consume enough frosting and ganache to make up for lost batter.  It took every iota of my willpower to avoid gobbling up the frosting like chocolate pudding. 

Don't be fooled by the gloppy, attack-of-the-blob appearance of the partially completed cake.  The gloppy, globby mess gets more recognizable with every step of the recipe, and then... viola!  The sleek slice.  The masterpiece!  The ugly mayo duckling becomes a delicious chocolate swan.  Of course, I had to trick my sister and roommate into eating this devilish dessert ("What?  No, I have no idea who put an empty bottle of mayonnaise in the trash with the empty box of sugar, chocolate chip package, and butter wrappers.  How peculiar..."), and I'm strategically posting this AFTER they've succumbed, muah haha!  And succumb they did.  They salivated and watched eagerly as I cut the cake's chocolate cloak.  They oohed and ahhhed at the superior moist interior, the glossy frosting, and the gown of ganache.  They fell upon their unctuous confections and the room lapsed into silence, punctuated only by an occasional, blissful, "mmmmmmmm."  No other "M" word was mentioned.

Bottom line: the cake was a happy accident, and I will definitely make it again.  In fact, it was one of the best chocolate cakes I've made!  The sea-salt sweetness of the butter frosting is a perfect counterpoint to the bittersweet ganache, and that moist, dark mayo-cake holds its own.  I know which recipe I'm making next time someone wants chocolate cake! (You just made a mental note to yourself not to ask me for chocolate cake, didn't you?  Mistake!!! It's sooo delicious I promise).

For the cake:
2 c. all purpose flour
3/4 c. unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/4 t. baking soda
1/4 t. baking powder
1 1/3 c. sugar
1/3 c. dark brown sugar, packed
3 eggs
1 t. vanilla
1 cup of wiggling jiggling disgusting mayonnaise
1 1/4 c. water
1 T. brandy

Preheat the oven to 350.  Butter two 8 in pans (or two 9-in pans) and dust with flour.  In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking soda, and baking powder.  In a large bowl, beat the white and brown sugars together with the eggs and vanilla until light and fluffy.  Add the whole cup of mayo, and beat until incorporated.  In a small bowl, stir together the water and brandy.  Alternate adding the flour-mixture and the water-mixture to the egg batter, starting and ending with the flour-mixture.  Pour batter into pans and bake 30-35 min, or until a knife inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.  Allow the cake to cool 10 minutes, remove from pans, and cool completely.

While the cake cools, make the ganache.

Ganache
1 1/4 c. heavy whipping cream
12 oz bittersweet chocolate chips

Combine the chocolate and the cream in a saucepan.  Stir continuously over low heat until melted and glossy.  Set aside to cool, and start the butter frosting.


Butter Frosting
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
Sea salt or other coarse salt (I had a sea salt grinder, and used a turn's worth of salt)
2 c. powdered sugar
8 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips

Melt the chocolate chips in the microwave (or place in a metal bowl set over a pan of simmering water if you lead an inconveniently microwaveless life like me).  Allow the chocolate to cool to room temperature before continuing.  Whip the butter, salt, and powdered sugar together with an electric mixer until light and fluffy.  Add the cooled chocolate and whip until incorporated.

Get ready to assemble!  We're going to be pouring chocolate over the cake. This can be kind of tricky if you don't have the right tools, but soldier on with your make-shift setup and you'll be fine.  If you have one, place a metal cooling rack inside a cookie sheet with raised sides.  If you have neither, try to find something else that will prevent your table from getting covered in chocolate.  I covered the bottom of a brownie pan with tinfoil, and then put a tinfoil "wall" all around the pan to catch the chocolate ooze.  Put one cake round on your cooling rack/brownie pan setup.  Frost the top and the sides of the cake round with butter frosting.  Top with the other cake round, and use the rest of the butter frosting to cover the cake.  Put the cake in the fridge for 20 minutes to let the frosting set.

Remove the cake from the fridge.  Stir the ganache to break up any skin that has formed, and heat briefly if necessary.  The ganache should be at room temperature, and should have the consistency of loose pudding.  Pour about half of the ganache over the cake, letting it ooze over the top and down the sides.  Use a spatula to guide the ganache over as much of the cake as possible.  Slowly pour the remaining ganache over the cake, again letting it ooze its way down the sides.  Gently smooth the top with your spatula to coax the ganache to drip and drizzle in attractive drops down the sides of the cake.  Set the whole shebang in the fridge and let it set for 20 minutes more.  Remove from the fridge and use the biggest metal spatula you can find to lift the cake off of the cooling rack/brownie pan, and set it on a plate.  Decorate with something pretty (all they had at Whole Foods was a bag of sub-par caramel hearts.  Next time I'm getting Lindt truffles and cutting them in half, and putting truffle halves around the border).  Mmmmmmmayonnaise!!!