Willow Bird Baking - Page 78 of 127 - lessons in life & kitchen confidence

My Favorite Pie Crust Dough

In light of Willow Bird Baking’s Cooking Hard Stuff Challenge, I’ll be sharing some tips for tackling new or challenging recipes throughout the month of March. If you haven’t signed on for the challenge yet, make sure you read about it and join in the fun.

Cooking Hard Stuff Tip #2: Mise en place. (Pronounce that, roughly, “meez ohn plauce.” Apologies to France.)

Mise en place literally means “putting in place,” and it’s an important step in the cooking process that should take place after you read and visualize the steps in your recipe.

If you’ve ever seen a TV chef whisp through a recipe as simply and quickly as a hot knife through butter, you’ve probably witnessed the benefits of this strategy. Every now and again they might measure an ingredient in the middle of the recipe for effect, but in general, all of their ingredients are prepared and sitting next to their workspace, and all of the equipment they need is close at hand. That’s mise en place: measuring ingredients, prepping materials, and setting up your workspace before you begin to cook. Sometimes while I’m visualizing the steps of my recipe, I’ll even sketch out a plan of the mise en place I’ll prepare before I begin.

If you don’t already do a mise en place for your recipes, you might scoff at this advice. I can hear the faint echoes of your criticism across the interwebz: doesn’t that take too much time? Don’t you have to dirty up more dishes to measure everything out beforehand? First off, stop being so negative, Snarky McSnarkerson. Second off, nothing has changed the amount of joy I get out of Cooking Hard Stuff as much as my mise en place. So I’m going to sell you on this.

These photos were taken forever ago with my old camera, so they’re of
a different quality than you’ve hopefully gotten used to lately!

Here’s why you should mise your place:

1. Far from taking more time than measuring as you go, mise en place can save you time (and energy! and happiness!). Measuring out ingredients is probably my least favorite part of baking, but getting it out of the way in one fell swoop at the beginning allows me to enjoy the actual cooking process so much more. It’s streamlined, relaxed, and a lot faster, because everything I need is at my fingertips. Since I’m checking all of my supplies before I begin, I also avoid frustrating and time-consuming mid-recipe trips to the grocery store.

2. Mise en place can be done intelligently so that it doesn’t drastically increase your dish load. For instance, if you know you’ll be combining dry ingredients immediately, instead of measuring them out into separate prep bowls, measure them out altogether into your mixing bowl itself. Look at your recipe to see which ingredients can be measured out into the same bowls. Ingredients that you’ll use soon could even sit in the measuring cups themselves until you’re ready to add them. By the time you’re finished with your mise en place, ingredients will be laid out so logically that your recipe will almost make itself.

3. Prepping your materials and workspace ahead of time frees you up to clean as you go. Cleaning is the anticlimax after finishing a great recipe: all the fun’s over, and you still have a lot of work to do. If you prepare a mise en place, though, the breaks in a recipe (when something’s chilling, mixing, baking, or cooling, for instance) are freed up for cleaning. Instead of preparing for the next steps, you can rinse dishes and stick them in the dishwasher, put leftover ingredients away, and wipe down counters. This makes cooking a nicer experience, but more importantly, it means you’ll have much less cleanup once the cooking is finished.

If you’ve never tried preparing a mise en place before beginning a recipe, give it a shot. Think of it like this: you’re going to have to measure everything out one way or another, so why not do it all at once in an efficient manner instead of having to constantly pop in and out of the pantry, grab the measuring cups, level the flour, and so on and so forth? I think you’ll find that you’ll stress less and enjoy the process more with everything put in place. Still don’t believe me? Here’s an article I enjoyed and some great discussion on the topic.

Do you usually prepare a mise en place before beginning a recipe? If so, how do you do your mise en place?

Pie Crust Dough

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: pie crust for one 9-inch pie

Homemade pie crust is not hard at all, particularly after you make it a couple of times and get a feel for the dough. There are different schools of thought regarding what fat to use in pie crusts, but I’m a firm believer in going halfsies. All butter crusts can lack a tender, flaky texture, while all shortening crusts can lack flavor and create a waxy mouthfeel. This is the best of both worlds: buttery flavor and a flaky texture. I recommend using lard if you can get your hands on it, but shortening also works fine.

Ingredients:
2 cups flour
1 teaspoons salt
3/8 cup (6 tablespoons) cold lard or shortening (I recommend lard)
3/8 cup (6 tablespoons) cold butter, chopped
3-4 tablespoons cold water
1 egg and 1 teaspoon water, lightly beaten together, for egg wash

Directions:
Pulse flour and salt together to combine. Add the lard in hunks and pulse for about 10 seconds (literally stand there and count!) until it’s the texture of coarse sand. Add in the chunks of cold butter and pulse for about 10 pulses (count ’em!) until butter pieces are no larger than small peas. Add 3 tablespoons of ice cold water and turn food processor on low — the dough should form a dough ball in a few seconds. If the dough remains crumbly and doesn’t come together, add another tablespoon of water. Add as little water total as is required for the dough to form a ball. Scoop the dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap, form into a disk, and chill for at least 20-30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F (if you’re blind baking the crust without a filling in it; otherwise, preheat according to your recipe instructions). Roll the disk of dough out between two sheets of lightly floured parchment paper until it’s around 2 inches larger than your (9-inch) pie plate all around. Use the parchment to help you drape the dough over your rolling pin, and then use the rolling pin to gently transfer the dough to your pie plate. Situate it in the plate without stretching the dough (lift the edges and let it fall down into the corners of the dish). Fold the excess dough around the edges and crimp, trimming where necessary.

If you’re filling the crust prior to baking, fill it and bake according to your recipe. If you’re blind baking the crust to fill later, cover the dough with parchment paper and fill this with pie weights or dried beans, pressing to the edges. Bake for around 20 minutes at 450 degrees F. Remove weights and paper, brush the egg wash onto the crust, and bake 5-10 minutes more until golden brown (shield the edges with foil if they begin getting too dark). Let the crust cool completely. Fill according to your recipe.

TIPS:
– When preparing a mise en place for this recipe, chop your butter, measure out your shortening, and fill a jar with ice water first. Stick all of these ingredients into the fridge to get ice cold while you complete the rest of your mise en place.
– Your goal is to keep your fats and your crust dough cold as you prepare it, so don’t handle it too much. The cold hunks of fat in your dough are what will create the flaky layers in your crust as it bakes.
– I roll out my crust dough between two sheets of parchment paper with a little sprinkling of flour on either side. Periodically I’ll stop to lift the paper from the dough to be sure it’s not sticking and flip the dough to check the other side as well. The parchment allows me to use much less messy flour.
-For a double crust pie, double the recipe form into two disks to chill. Roll out each disk separately. Situate the first half of the dough in the pie plate as usual, fill it, and top with the second half. Trim and fold the edges of the top crust under the lip of the bottom crust, crimping the two together. Cut a vent in your pie.

See all the Cooking Hard Stuff Tips:
The Cooking Hard Stuff Challenge
Tip #1: Read and visualize the recipe.
Tip #2: Mise en place.
Tip #3: Make a schedule.
Tip #4: Try, try, try again — or share your success

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March 18, 2012 by Julie Ruble | 26 Comments

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Twice Baked Cranberry & Pancetta Sweet Potatoes with Balsamic Glaze

The only time I’ve lived away from my hometown was during my sophomore year in college when I moved to Beaufort, a small town on the coast of North Carolina. I lived there for a few months before traveling for a month down the Eastern seaboard to study marine zoogeography. That semester changed my life, and I’ve continued to process the memories over the years. Periodically I’ll share stories here on Willow Bird Baking from that time.

. . .

I stared willfully at the horizon, waiting for the wave of nausea to subside. As if it were having great fun at my expense, the boat rolled over another giant wave. My stomach followed. I was determined not to succumb to the sensation and end up hanging over the railing like several of my friends, so I squinted even harder at the steady line between sky and land.

We’d woken up at an absurd hour to climb aboard the R/V Susan Hudson that morning. We’d all become accustomed to rolling out of bed, pulling on a pair of salty old sneakers, and plowing through the fog of sleep to begin our adventures. Luxuries like showering and hairstyling and even, say, deodorant had long since been abandoned. There was a high likelihood that on any given day we’d find ourselves traipsing through mud up to our thighs (I’m not exaggerating), swimming to a nearby island, or cuddling with sea cucumbers in the shallows. There was no point in getting pretty.

This was our first deep sea expedition. We were traveling miles out into the ocean to dredge and trawl for invertebrates that we would take back to the lab, observe, and then release. I’d been on the Susan Hudson around Pivers Island, home base for the Duke Marine Lab where we lived, but I soon discovered that this was an entirely different experience: one in which I did not have sea legs. Or a sea stomach.

The briney smell of the critters we poured out onto the ship’s deck didn’t help. We quickly flipped fish back out into the sea and scooped heaps of clams, snails, and squids into buckets of seawater. A cacophony of seagull chatter above us reminded us to toss a bit of our impressively fresh sushi into the air now and then.

On our way back with our spineless loot (the squids’ inky water suggested they were none too happy with their temporary accommodations), we docked near Cape Lookout to explore the seashore for a bit before eating lunch back on the boat. The dining hall had packed us sweet little bag lunches complete with a sandwich, apple, and cookie, but the thought of lunch sent my stomach back into a lurch.

Fortunately, one of the guys in our group had grown up on the water in Charleston. Will had battened down hatches, swabbed the deck, shivered some timbers, and every other nautical cliche I can muster up. He saw my decidedly green gills and said, “Make sure to eat.”

I was skeptical. “Well, I’m feeling really sick — is it a good idea to eat anything? Isn’t that just asking for trouble?”

“Trust me: eat. You’ll feel better.”

I unfolded the wax paper around my sandwich and took a cautious bite. (By the way, if you’ve never wrapped a sandwich in wax paper for your lunch, you should. The sensory experience of unwrapping that crinkly, smooth paper to eat a humble little sandwich is one of my favorite things in the world.) I don’t remember what sort of sandwich it was, but it tasted otherworldly after an entire morning on the boat. My hunger caught up to me and I finished devouring my sandwich with gusto. I headed for the cookie after that, offering my apple to one of my friends (the peel gets caught in my teeth and drives me batty, so I never eat them).

My trust in Will, given tentatively and mostly out of desperation despite his obvious experience, paid off. I felt better almost instantly. So much so that instead of clenching my bench and staring at the now-bright horizon the entire way back to the lab, I was able to get up and survey the surrounding sea, broken by waves and playful dolphins.

. . .

I’ve moved from research boats to potato boats since my time in Beaufort. In fact, I haven’t stepped foot on an actual boat (unless you count a kayak) in years. And I wouldn’t trust these sweet potatoes to be particularly sea-worthy.

They are fantastic, though. I love twice baked potatoes for their soft, creamy filling, and this play on the theme boasts that same lovely texture. In addition to that, it has a phenomenal collection of flavors: sweet potato, cranberry, salty pancetta, sage, goat cheese, and a sweet balsamic glaze. The pretty presentation is just the icing on the cake.

Twice Baked Cranberry & Pancetta Sweet Potatoes with Balsamic Glaze

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 twice baked sweet potatoes

These gorgeous twice baked sweet potatoes are fancy enough for a holiday meal, but simple enough to make any night. You can even prepare them a day in advance so they’re ready to pop in the oven before a big meal. A few tricks (like using a zip top bag to pipe the mixture into their sweet potato boats) speed up the process. The best thing about them, though, is the fantastic combination of flavors: salty pancetta, sweet and tart cranberries, tangy goat cheese, fresh sage, and a sweet balsamic glaze. It’s every sweet potato’s dream.

Ingredients:
2 large sweet potatoes (look for ones that are shaped like a fat oval)
4 ounces cubed pancetta
2 ounces goat cheese, plus more for crumbling on top
2 tablespoons butter
1 heaping teaspoon of loosely packed sage leaves, finely chopped
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup half & half
salt to taste
1 1/2 cups balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons sugar

Directions:
In a small bowl, cover dried cranberries with hot water. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let it sit for about 10 minutes to rehydrate the berries. Drain them and set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Poke each sweet potato several times with a fork and bake them on the oven rack (with a baking sheet on the rack below to catch any oozing) for 1 hour or until a knife will slice them easily.

While they bake, sauté the pancetta in a skillet over medium-high heat for a 8-10 minutes or until crisp. Drain it on a plate lined with a paper towel.

Once they’re ready, let the baked sweet potatoes cool for 10 minutes before slicing the top third off of each. Use a spoon to carefully scoop out the flesh (leave about 1/8 inch of flesh in the skin to give it some sturdiness). Mix the sweet potato flesh in a medium bowl with the butter, 2 ounces of goat cheese, and half & half (add this slowly while mixing so you get the consistency you’d like). Once the mixture is smooth, stir in the cranberries, sage, and pancetta. Salt the mixture to taste. Spoon it into a large zip top bag and cut the bottom corner off. Squeeze the mixture into the sweet potato skins. (At this point you can cover the potatoes and refrigerate overnight or bake immediately. If you chill them overnight, just let them come to room temperature before you bake them the next day.) Bake the potatoes for 10-12 minutes before removing them to a cooling rack.

While the potatoes are baking, combine the balsamic vinegar and sugar in a saucepan and boil them over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is reduced to about 2/3 cup (this can take anywhere from 18-25 minutes). Be careful — vinegar fumes are strong! When the glaze is about ready, preheat the broiler. Top each potato with a generous amount of goat cheese and broil, watching very closely, until goat cheese is toasty brown and bubbly. Remove the potatoes and drizzle on the balsamic glaze. Serve immediately.

P.S. This dish will be entered in the North Carolina Sweet Potato Commission‘s No More ‘Mallows Recipe Contest. I love me some sweet tater and marshmallow casserole, but I also love that sweet potatoes pack a lot of savory potential.

March 15, 2012 by Julie Ruble | 18 Comments

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Hasselback Sweet Potatoes with Orange Rosemary Butter & Goat Cheese

My first bit of advice about how to Cook Hard Stuff (or really, how to cook anything at all) is going to seem half obvious and half new agey, but it’s important enough to harp on a bit.

Cooking Hard Stuff Tip #1: Read and visualize the recipe.

Once upon a time, I treated a recipe like a labyrinth. I started at the beginning without any knowledge of what was ahead, putting one foot in front of the other and hoping I eventually reached the other side.

It was exciting, for sure. Suddenly, I’d need a cup of sugar. I’d dig around in the cabinet for a bit, do some measuring, and accomplish that task. Then, bam! I’d need a stick of butter. I’d scrounge around in the fridge to see if I had one. The pitfalls of this technique are pretty obvious: sometimes you’re out of sugar, or your butter needed to be set out to soften hours ago, or the pan you need is soaking in the sink with last night’s baked ziti caked all over it.

It only took a few such missteps to start reading recipes, but even then, I just “read” them. Skimming did the trick most of the time. Finally, a few mid-recipe trips to the grocery store made me realize that a cursory scan of a recipe wasn’t going to cut it either.

When I say you should read through your recipe, I mean you should grab a pencil, sit down with the recipe, and really read it. Make grocery lists based on the ingredients. Make a schedule for your prep work so things like softening butter don’t sneak up on you. Sketch a plan for how to set up your workspace for finicky or time sensitive recipes so you won’t have to stop and rummage through the pantry.

These things take a little time. You might sit with your recipe for 15 or 20 minutes planning. I can say from experience, though, that the time and angst you’ll save as you breeze through your recipe is worth the few minutes of preparation.

Once you’ve given a recipe a thorough reading and made any helpful notes, you need to sit down and visualize the steps of the recipe. Literally, sit there and picture yourself doing each step. Maybe this is starting to sound a little like a yoga class, but mentally walking through a recipe is one of the most important things I do to ensure my success. It’s during this exercise that I realize what order the prep work is best completed in, what techniques I’m unfamiliar with and might need to read more about, and what kitchen tools I should use in order to maximize my efficiency and minimize my workload.

Thinking through the recipe a few times also makes me feel like I’ve practiced the steps I’m about to tackle, which boosts my confidence and leads to better results in the kitchen.

These Hasselback Sweet Potatoes aren’t Hard Stuff; they’re actually pretty simple to prepare and boast a gorgeous flavor profile. But having never made Hasselback potatoes before, you better believe I was reading around online, comparing various recipes, and making a prep list for myself. After this bit of preparation, the dish practically flew together.

As I hoped, the orange rosemary butter, goat cheese, and smidge of warm orange marmalade glaze worked perfectly with the sweet potato to create a bold savory side dish. Do a little reading and a little visualization (and maybe even some yoga?) and then make yourself some sweet taters.

What tips for Cooking Hard Stuff would you offer other readers?

Hasselback Sweet Potatoes with Orange Rosemary Butter & Goat Cheese

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, inspired by A Cozy Kitchen’s Hasselback Potatoes
Yield: 2 sweet potatoes, 2-4 servings

These sweet potatoes are stuffed with delicate orange rosemary butter and goat cheese and drizzled with a touch of warm orange marmalade when they’re fresh from the oven. The result is a savory side dish with a hint of sweetness and a ton of bright flavor. Don’t fret if the butter and cheese needs to be smooshed into each slit in the potato and ends up a little messy — the finished product will be gorgeous.

Ingredients:
2 sweet potatoes, scrubbed clean
4 tablespoons butter, softened
1 tablespoon rosemary leaves, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon orange extract
1/2 teaspoon orange zest (optional)
3/4 teaspoon honey
4 ounces goat cheese
1/4 teaspoons kosher salt (plus more for salting butter to taste)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon orange marmalade

Directions:
Make the Rosemary Orange Butter: Mix softened butter, orange extract, orange zest, finely chopped rosemary, and honey until well combined. Add salt to taste. Spoon butter onto a square of wax paper and gently form into a log. Wrap the log and place it in the freezer to firm up completely.

Prepare potatoes: Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and cover a baking sheet with foil. Place a wooden spoon handle on either side of your potato and slice thin slices into it, allowing the spoon handles to stop your knife before you cut all the way through. Slice your cold butter into thin slices and stuff a sliver into every other slit in your potato. Stuff goat cheese into the other slits (some goat cheese will smear out onto the top of your potato and form a topping of sorts). Place the potatoes on the prepared baking sheet, drizzle each potato with 1/2 tablespoon of oil, and sprinkle with kosher salt.

Bake the potatoes at 400 degrees F for 45 minutes or until fork tender. Check halfway through and tent with foil if the goat cheese is beginning to brown too much. Remove the potatoes from the oven after baking and heat the orange marmalade in a small, microwave safe prep bowl for about 15 seconds. Drizzle half over each potato and serve immediately.

March 11, 2012 by Julie Ruble | 29 Comments

cakes

Tres Leches Coconut Cake Trifle

This recipe might be more aptly called a Milk Soaked Coconut Love Bomb. Eating this was like diving into billowy, dewy clouds of coconut deliciousness. But I’ll go ahead and tell you that this isn’t a 30-minute dessert. It wasn’t overwhelming or even all that difficult, but it did take some time and effort to put together.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately — this phenomenon of Cooking Hard Stuff. After wrestling with how to present certain dishes and wringing my hands about whether anyone will even try the ones that are a little more fiddly, I have something to say. In fact, I have an essay for you. It’s called:

IN DEFENSE OF COOKING HARD STUFF.

Maybe this is counterintuitive, but I want to start by telling you that I understand choosing not to Cook Hard Stuff. I do it all the time. During the week, I make oatmeal breakfasts and simple soup dinners that I can squeeze into my schedule. I make gigantic batches so that I can avoid cooking at all most weeknights. I stock up on fast recipes to make when I’m too exhausted to stand at the stove. And I take plenty of shortcuts in the kitchen (evidence: 1, 2) when I feel like it.

But I also carve out time on Friday nights and Saturday mornings (and sometimes a few other times during the week) to Cook Hard Stuff. Hard stuff like recipes that take a couple of hours to make, recipes that require techniques I’ve never tried before, recipes that require precision or focus, or even just recipes that are new to me and therefore a little intimidating. It’s not because I enjoy slaving away, either. It’s because the work I put into every new “hard” recipe I try is repaid tenfold in what I reap from the experience.

You should cook hard stuff because it can bring joy and a feeling of accomplishment to your everyday life.

First, you should know that cooking is not just about feeding ourselves any more than playing the piano is just about having some music to listen to or rock climbing is just about finding transportation to the top of that pesky cliff. We don’t throw ourselves into new endeavors to produce results, but to benefit from experiences. If all you want is a result, toss the knitting needles and buy yourself a sweater. Dump the rest of your paints and go buy a few prints to put on the wall. Hang up your running shoes and get in the car.

But it turns out the point is the rhythm of the knitting, the mixing of the paints on your canvas with each new brushstroke, and the few seconds shaved off of your time each run. The point is what happens to you during the process. And a lot can happen to you during the process of Cooking Hard Stuff.

One thing that can happen to you is that you might gain confidence. Cooking Hard Stuff forces you to be resourceful. Your cake comes out sloped, so you have to pick up that serrated knife and level a cake layer for the first time. Your recipe calls for cutting fat into flour, so you have to find a good video demonstration online for how to do it. Dipping cake balls with a spoon turns out to be a royal disaster, so you have to try dipping them with a fork, a skewer, and a toothpick until you find a way to save your hard work. Each finished recipe isn’t just something to eat: it’s a tiny triumph that rewards all of the struggling behind the scenes.

The first time I made the coconut pastry cream in this trifle, it was 2009 and I’d just started this blog to chronicle my kitchen experiments. My heart kept time with my furious whisking while my eyes flitted back and forth from recipe to saucepan, recipe to saucepan. It felt like a gigantic undertaking. When I made it again this weekend, I was surprised to find that it was quick and easy. I’ve been making pastry creams now for years. The recipe hasn’t changed, but my skill level and confidence have.

Another thing you might gain in the process of Cooking Hard Stuff is grace. It’s not always going to be a tidy story of overcoming challenges to create towering French desserts. Plenty of times, your recipe’s going to flop. Just a few days ago, I dumped an entire stockpot of soup right down the drain (trust me, there was no salvaging it). And according to your Facebook comments, you’ve all had similar experiences.

A recipe flop may feel like a waste of time, but actually, facing obstacles that thwart your plans is one of the most valuable aspects of Cooking Hard Stuff. Personally, nothing has changed my ability to weather frustration with grace as much as regularly exposing myself to manageable failures. I’m not going to pretend like I spouted inspirational platitudes when my cake toppled and had to be turned into a trifle (I threw an outright fit), but I can see myself becoming a better person over time. I love that.

Finally, you might find that Cooking Hard Stuff creates a new culture in your home and a new mood in your family celebrations. It’s fun to rally around a special accomplishment — particularly when said accomplishment is a big ol’ cake.

I don’t play the piano or knit. I’m willing to give anything an earnest try, but not every hobby is going to be right for me. In the same way, I don’t expect that every one of you should Cook Hard Stuff on a regular basis. (In fact, I haven’t even mentioned that Cooking Hard Stuff is a luxury that plenty of people don’t have due to location, income, transportation, supplies, and background knowledge.) I’ll keep on writing about the simple recipes, too. But if you haven’t tried Cooking Hard Stuff and you’re able to — and especially if you’ve just been thinking of cooking as a quick means of getting dinner on the table — I hope you’ll accept a little challenge from me.

THE COOKING HARD STUFF CHALLENGE: Pick a recipe that you normally wouldn’t try. Maybe it takes a little longer than you usually spend, or has a few more steps than you usually do. Pick a weekend in the month of March and set aside time to tackle that recipe. When you finish, even if it’s not perfect (remember that the goal is the process, not the product!), snap a photo and send it to me at julie ‘at’ willowbirdbaking ‘dot’ com with a little summary of how your experience went. In the coming weeks, I’ll share tips for Cooking Hard Stuff, and at the end of the month, I’ll post a roundup of the Hard Stuff everyone cooked.

Need some ideas? Try baking your own homemade croissants (there’s even a phototutorial), making breakfast cereal from scratch, making those awesome coconut pie bars, or baking a fancy layered cheesecake.

Make me proud, y’all.

Tres Leches Coconut Cake Trifle

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, adapted from All Recipes (cake) and Zoe Bakes (coconut pastry cream)
Yield: serves about 10 people

This is a coconut lover’s dream. Dive into billowy, moist clouds of Tres Leches Coconut Cake, coconut pastry cream, fresh whipped cream, and toasted coconut. This dessert is best made at least a day in advance so the flavors can meld and the cake can soak up all its coconut love. Even though there are several steps to making this trifle, the end product (and the process!) is totally worth the effort.

Cake Ingredients:
1 cup white sugar
5 egg yolks
5 egg whites
1/3 cup coconut milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon coconut extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

Three Milks Sauce Ingredients:
1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk, minus 1/2 cup
3/4 cup coconut milk

Coconut Pastry Cream Ingredients:
1 can (14 fluid ounces) coconut milk
3/4 cup sugar
3 teaspoons vanilla extract
pinch kosher salt
3 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons corn starch
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup sweetened coconut flakes
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream

Whipped Cream Ingredients:
2 cups heavy whipping cream
6 tablespoons icing sugar
toasted coconut for assembly and topping

Directions:
Note: This trifle actually tastes better if it can sit in the fridge for a day, so feel free to make it in advance. To toast coconut, spread it on a baking sheet and bake it at 350 degrees F for a few minutes, stirring every now and then, until it’s toasted and browning. Transfer it to a plate to cool before using it.

Make the coconut pastry cream: Mix the coconut milk, sugar, salt, and vanilla in a medium saucepan and heat it over medium heat. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and corn starch. When the coconut milk mixture gets hot, temper the egg yolks by scooping up 1/2 cup of milk and slowly drizzling it into the yolks while whisking. This prepares them to be added to the hot mixture without becoming scrambled eggs! Now add the tempered yolks back into the coconut milk mixture that’s still on the stove and whisk for 3 minutes on medium-high, or until the mixture turns thick and bubbles. Make sure to whisk constantly for the full 3 minutes so your pastry cream doesn’t separate later. After the 3 minutes, whisk in the butter and then the coconut. Pour the cream into a shallow dish to let it cool.

Cover the cooled cream with plastic wrap pressed right against the pastry cream, which will prevent a skin from forming. Refrigerate the pastry cream for an hour as you do the following steps. Once it is cold, stir the pastry cream to loosen it up. Whisk the 1/2 cup of heavy cream to medium peaks in a chilled bowl. Stir in a third of the whipped cream into the pastry cream to lighten before folding in the rest.

Make the cake: Preheat oven to 350 degrees F and grease two 9-inch cake pans (I use Wilton’s Cake Release and put a circle of parchment paper, also greased, in each pan). In a medium bowl, beat the egg yolks with the 3/4 cup sugar until they are light and doubled in volume. Mix in the coconut milk, vanilla and coconut extracts, flour, and baking powder.

In a separate bowl (don’t use the same bowl as the yolks, because with any fat in the bowl, the whites won’t beat up), beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Add the remaining 1/4 cup sugar and beat until stiff peaks form (but not until the whites become are dry). Fold the whites gently into the yolk mixture until no streaks remain and pour the batter into the prepared pans. Bake them at 350 degrees for 12-15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow them to cool for 10 minutes in the pan before running a knife around the edge of the cake layers and inverting them onto a cooling rack. Cool them completely.

Make whipped cream: Whip the 2 cups of cream and icing sugar together in a chilled bowl to stiff peaks.

Assemble the trifle: Whisk together the condensed milk, evaporated milk, and the coconut milk for the Three Milks Sauce. Place one cake layer in the bottom of your trifle dish and poke holes in it with a fork. Pour about 1/3 cup of the milks mixture over it and let it sit for around 30 minutes. Top it with all of the coconut pastry cream, a generous layer of toasted coconut (saving some for sprinkling on top), and half of the whipped cream.

Poke the other cake layer with a fork (you do this before you put it in the dish because it’s kind of hard to poke it once it’s on top of the splushy cream). Place it on top of the whipped cream layer in your trifle dish and pour another 1/3 cup of the milks mixture over it (you’ll have quite a bit of the milks mixture leftover, since your trifle would be too mushy if you used all of it. One resourceful person on All Recipes said she whisked an egg and some spices in, dipped bread in it, and used it to make French toast.) Cover the trifle and refrigerate it for 30 minutes. After chilling, frost the trifle with the remaining whipped cream and top with the remaining toasted coconut. Let the whole thing sit overnight in the fridge before eating — it gets better with time! Give it a whole day in there if you have the time.

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March 6, 2012 by Julie Ruble | 79 Comments

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Chocolate & Coconut Cream Pie Bars

Several months ago, I attended the Foodbuzz Blogger Festival in San Francisco, California, 2,700 miles away from my home. Traveling alone is always a meaningful, reflective experience for me. To process my trip, I periodically share vignettes that I hope are meaningful to you, as well.

. . .

Normally, I would have said no.

On-the-spot requests for money make me nervous, and I made a rule years ago to always say no. I give food or supplies freely, as I’m able, to anyone who asks me for them. But I only give money if I have a space to sit, read about the organization, and make a thoughtful choice. That’s my rule, anyway.

But I wasn’t standing at a check-out counter being asked to donate a dollar to a charity, or walking down the street being asked for change. I was sitting on the BART, the Bay Area’s system of trains, and the little boy in front of me was adorably nervous. I waited politely as he took a deep breath and began a clearly well-rehearsed speech. It came out as one halting sentence.

“Hi-I-am-part-of-the-Boys-&-Girls-Club-and-we-are-raising-money-to-go-to-our-basketball-tournament-in-Reno-I-have-already-collected-all-but-$55-can-you-help-by-donating-today?” He took another big breath, obviously relieved to have finished his spiel.

I saw his friend delivering a similar pitch across the car and briefly considered that this might be an elaborate scheme to get more video game or snack money. My innate cynicism comes from personal experience, since I may or may not have canvassed my neighborhood when I was a tiny entrepreneur telling folks that I was an orphan soliciting donations for cancer treatments. Not one of my prouder moments. Thankfully, I don’t think anyone was fooled. A few people tried to tame their amusement as they slipped me some change, which, in hindsight, was unnecessarily generous.

Regardless of my own childhood scheming, I instinctively felt the child in front of me on the train was being honest, and what’s more, I decided I didn’t care. He had mustered up plenty of pluck to come ask me for a few dollars, and I was going to give them to him. I opened up my envelope of cash (such a tourist) and pulled out a few bills for him. His relief turned into joy. “Thank you!” he cried as he walked across the car.

I heard him deliver his pitch to another woman with a satisfied emphasis on his new balance: “…and all I need is $48 now!” She grinned at me as she handed him a couple of bills as well.

A few minutes later, I saw another passenger on the train say no. The boy, clearly coached to deal with this politely, veiled his disappointment as best he could and gave a resigned little nod. I glanced over at the woman and noticed she’d been watching the exchange as well. When she looked over at me, her face had the same sympathetic smile I was sure my own face was wearing. I didn’t blame the other passenger — after all, any other day and any other mood and I might have decided to follow my own rule — but I did resolve to pray for all the boys to get to go to their basketball tournament.

(And you know what? If he’s playing video games or eating some cheesy poofs with my money at this very moment, by golly, I hope he’s enjoying them.)

. . .

It’s funny how sometimes things — like a brief exchange on a train — build a little nook in your heart. Some moments are like that. Some people are like that.

I made these Chocolate & Coconut Cream Pie Bars for a special person who occupies her own shelf in my heart. Martha is Mike’s great-aunt, for all intents and purposes, and she’s truly a crackerjack of a woman. She deserves all sorts of sweet things — video games and cheesy poofs, even! — but I decided on these bars for her birthday because I know she enjoys coconut. The chocolate layer was a whim, but what a great one — the bittersweet ganache is just enough to add a rich background flavor while still allowing the coconut cream to shine.

These bars take a little time and a little arm muscle, but they’re easy to assemble and more than worth the time spent by the stove. If you love a good coconut cream pie, you’ll love them.

Tell me about a moment when you broke one of your own rules.

Chocolate & Coconut Cream Pie Bars

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking with filling adapted from All Recipes
Yield: 12-16 bars, depending on size

Okay, 30 minutes of stirring sounds like a lot. But now that I know how incredible these bars are, I would stir for an hour if I had to — maybe even two! They combine all the goodness of an old-fashioned coconut cream pie with the perfect amount of rich ganache. In short, these things are amazing. I used stabilized whipped cream on top of my bars, but if you’re serving them immediately and don’t anticipate keeping them long, feel free to just use plain whipped cream.

Crust Ingredients:
1 cup (2 sticks) butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup icing sugar

Ganache Ingredients:
3/8 cups heavy cream
about 3 ounces bittersweet chocolate chips (I love Ghirardelli’s 60% cacao chips)
about 3 ounces semisweet chocolate chips

Coconut Cream Filling Ingredients:
3 cups half-and-half
3 cups coconut milk
4 eggs
1 1/2 cups white sugar
2/3 cup cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cup flaked coconut
1/2 teaspoon coconut extract
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Whipped Cream Topping Ingredients:
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon cold water (for stabilizing)
1 teaspoon gelatin (for stabilizing)
3-4 tablespoons icing sugar
1/2 cup coconut, toasted

Directions:
Make shortbread crust: Preheat your oven to 350°F. Prepare a 9 x 13 in. baking dish with a parchment paper sling (I use one long sheet across the length of my dish, and two overlapping short sheets across the width of my dish — just arrange it so that it has some overlap and overhang to help you pull the bars out after they’re finished). Cut the butter into the flour and icing sugar and press into the baking dish (I used a food processor to cut the fat into the flour — about 6 pulses — and then the bottom of a glass to press the mixture into the pan). Bake 18-20 minutes or until light brown. Set on a wire rack. Keep oven preheated for coconut toasting.

Make ganache: While the shortbread is baking, place the chocolate in a medium bowl. Bring the cream to a simmer in a medium saucepan (or microwave it for a couple of minutes). Once the cream reaches a simmer, pour the cream over the chocolate and let stand 1-2 minutes. Whisk in small circles until a smooth ganache has formed. Set it aside until your crust is finished and has cooled for a few minutes, and then pour it over the crust (it’s okay if it’s not cooled all the way). Place the chocolate covered crust in the fridge to chill until the ganache is set into a firm layer.

Toast coconut for the topping: Spread about 1/2 cup of the coconut flakes out on a baking sheet and toast for a few minutes, stirring every minute or so, until the coconut is golden brown. Spread it out on a plate to cool completely.

Make coconut cream filling: Combine the half-and-half, coconut milk, eggs, sugar, cornstarch, and salt in a large saucepan and bring it to a boil over medium-low heat, whisking constantly (this can take anywhere from 30-38 minutes. Some folks on All Recipes said you could zap it in the microwave for a minute at a time, stirring after every minute, until it was thickened. It was only supposed to take around 5-10 minutes, but I was too chicken to try. Let me know if you do.) Add coconut and vanilla extracts and the 1 1/2 cups of untoasted coconut and stir. Pour this filling over your chilled ganache and stick the whole thing in the fridge to chill until firm, about 2 to 4 hours.

Make whipped cream topping: Put 1 tablespoon cold water in a small bowl and sprinkle the gelatin evenly over the top. Let it soften for 2 minutes before microwaving it for 30 seconds and whisking to dissolve the gelatin. Using a chilled bowl and beater, whisk the 2 cups of heavy cream and icing sugar together until the cream forms stiff peaks, stopping to add gelatin mixture about halfway through. Dollop the cream over your bars and gently spread it around. Sprinkle on toasted coconut. Chill until ready to serve to let the whipped cream set up. Use the sling to pull the bars out of the dish, slice with a sharp knife, and enjoy!