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Strawberry Lemonade Cheesecake Bars with a Shortbread Crust

I haven’t met my future 8th grade students yet, but I’m pretty certain they are wonderful. Just a hunch. To prepare for our time together this fall, I’m reviewing their summer reading book, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, wherein Mark Twain evokes the joy and angst of rural childhood.

One of the scenes in the book finds the spunky young protagonist tragically imprisoned in a church pew as “the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the state; for the state officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for the President . . . .”

Tom noticed whenever the minister added a new detail to the prayer and “his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly.”

The prayer sounds mighty familiar to me. During my own childhood, it had not issued forth from a droning minister but from my own hyper-organized and hyper-devout conscience. I had a careful mental list of people and things I needed to pray for, and even sublists of what to pray about each of those people and things. My daily prayers grew to the point of absurdity. I would head into prayer time like a prisoner might trudge into her jail cell, schlepping her heavy chains along behind her. Doesn’t sound quite right, does it?

I didn’t know it, but my prayers were suffering from what I call “keeping the plane up” syndrome. I’m terrified of flying, and on an airplane, I’ll sometimes anxiously concentrate on keeping myself in the air. While I know it’s silly, it feels like my extreme focus gives me some control over the situation, and like breaking it might send the plane spiraling. To snap out of this, I have to very deliberately jar my focus — by reading SkyMall or walking to the restroom, usually — and let myself realize that everything is still okay.

My childhood prayers were the same thing. I was “keeping the plane up” — keeping people alive, keeping the house from burning down, keeping floods and severe weather at bay — all by focusing my tiny 8-year-old attention. While I think the minister in Tom Sawyer probably just enjoyed hearing himself pontificate, my own bloated prayers felt urgent to me. If I left a bit out, perhaps God would leave that bit off of His own list. Maybe that person would go unblessed, unhealed. The situation seemed quite weighty and desperate. When I got older, I realized I had to snap out of this much like I snapped out of keeping the plane up: by purposely upsetting the routine and watching for God’s continued faithfulness.

A few years ago I was reading through Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest and for some reason, something I’d heard over and over again, and indeed read over and over again in the Bible itself, finally clicked for me. It was the idea that God already knows what you need before you ask it. For some reason, it hadn’t really sunk in that the reason to pray was not to inform God what you needed, inform Him what you thought about Him, inform him what you were thankful for. He knew these things. So why tell Him? Radically, Chambers noted that like most things we think of as “serving God” (tithing, worshipping), this task was given to us for us — that is, prayer did more for us than it did for God.

What it does for us is connect us to the source of abundant life, allowing us to commune with God. It’s looking to the Father for a “security check,” abiding in Him, and therefore it replenishes and reassures us. It trains us for the life events that will bring us to our knees, when that communion will become a lifeline that we’re clinging to for survival (I believe this is why Christ encouraged the disciples repeatedly to commune in prayer with Him in the garden of Gethsemane — He knew the spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak, and they needed preparation for what was to come). It also allows us to explicitly do what Christ instructed and love our neighbors by lifting them in prayer.

But the key piece of this puzzle was, for me, He already knows. You can’t mess anything up by forgetting a part of the script. Indeed, I’m reminded that sometimes even when you have no words or are so heartbroken that you can’t remember how to pray, “the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.”

Later in Tom Sawyer, a bored Tom rifles through his pocket and finds a box holding his most recent capture, a busy tick, whereupon “his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it.”

Thankfully, I’ve experienced that sort of prayer, too. I remember it from the car ride to see my mom after she woke up from a surgery she almost didn’t survive. I remember it from the night Mike proposed to me. I remember it from watching Byrd run to fetch her rubber bone after her double knee surgery and months-long recovery. I remember it from sitting in a church pew with my nephew, Caleb, when he asked what the preacher meant by “committed to God” and after hearing my explanation, declared, “I’m committed to God.” I remember it from the day I received the phone call in my classroom telling me that my dad’s cancer was gone.

* * *

For those of you who pray — and I know there are those of you out there who don’t, and I hope you know you are as welcome here as anyone else — tell me about your prayers. Tell me about how your prayer life has changed over time. And have you felt that glowing moment of gratitude yourself?

In the meantime, let’s share some strawberry lemonade cheesecake. These bars are a version of one of my dad’s favorite desserts, Lemon Blueberry Cheesecake Bars, and they are so creamy and delicious. This summery version includes a little extra lemon tang, big fresh strawberries, and a buttery shortbread crust. They’re also super easy to whip up, making them one of my favorite summertime treats. I hope you enjoy them.

One year ago: Lemon Raspberry Squares
Two years ago: Soft Sugar Cookies
Three years ago: Spicy Peach and Cucumber Salsa
Four years ago: Overnight Yeast Rolls

Strawberry Lemonade Cheesecake Bars with a Shortbread Crust

Recipe by: Adapted from King Arthur Flour (crust) and Shared Sugar (cheesecake)
Yields: about 18 bars

These cheesecake bars are the perfect summer treat: sweet, creamy, tangy, buttery, and easy to prepare!

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

Cheesecake Layer Ingredients:
32 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
4 eggs
5-6 tablespoons lemon juice, depending on how tart you usually like your lemonade!
lemon zest from one lemon (reserve a little to sprinkle on top)
1 cup sugar
strawberries, quartered*
powdered sugar for topping
*Note: I probably bought 2 pints of strawberries but didn’t quite use them all. I didn’t quarter mine because I thought they’d be pretty whole, but they were a bit hard to eat and I’ll quarter them next time I make this recipe!

Directions:
Preheat your oven to 350°F. Prepare a 9 x 13 in. baking dish with a parchment paper sling. Cut the butter into the flour and confectioners’ sugar and press into the baking dish (I used a food processor to cut the fat into the flour, and then the bottom of a dish to press the mixture into the pan). Bake 20 minutes or until light brown. Let cool on wire rack.

In a bowl with an electric mixer, add the cream cheese, eggs, lemon juice, lemon zest, and sugar. Mix until the ingredients are creamy and the cream cheese is fully incorporated. Pour into the pan with the cooled crust. Then evenly distribute the strawberries.

Bake 30-35 minutes or until filling is set. Remove from the oven and cool completely. Then refrigerate for at least 3 hours. Remove the cheesecake from the pan using the parchment paper. Cut into bars and sprinkle with powdered sugar and/or lemon zest.

July 15, 2013 by Julie Ruble | 18 Comments

other

Red, White, and Blue Desserts!

Happy 4th of July! Here are some red, white, and blue desserts for your celebration. And don’t forget the sparkling raspberry lemonade and soft pretzel dogs, while you’re at it.

July 2, 2013 by Julie Ruble | 2 Comments

pies and tarts

Strawberry Coconut Cream Pie

When I was 14 years old, I did something I had never done before. I outright lied to my parents. (Don’t tell my students; I’ve convinced them that I was above reproach as a middle schooler.)

I would say that I don’t know what possessed me, but I do: there was this bold, irreverent high school boy (with long hair, swoon!) who wanted to meet me.

Mike and I had been talking online for weeks. I’d accidentally contacted him while trying to instant message his sister, who was my classmate and friend, and after awhile I was smitten. We’d tried to arrange a meeting, but my parents had understandably forbidden it because of his age. One weekend, though, Mike had a movie date with another girl and I had a parent-sanctioned very public “date” with another boy my age. We were both really only interested in meeting each other, though, and saw this as an opportunity: I fudged the time of my date and asked my parents to drop me off at the mall hours before I was actually supposed to be there. I wore my cutest black pants and white button-down shirt and told Mike to meet me by the fountain.

To be clear, I was the goody-two-shoesiest kid you could imagine. Lying to my parents was not a thing I did, much less lying to my parents to meet a boy. I don’t know how I kept it together. My face burned the whole time I stood by the fountain. When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I thought I might die. Through waves of intense teenage angst, agonizing pangs of conscience, and tremendous excitement, I turned around to finally meet Mike.

He was just so cool, y’all. He was wearing a South Carolina Gamecocks baseball cap that just said COCKS in gigantic letters, a choice I found hilarious and characteristically bold. His long hair (!) was pulled back in a ponytail. He wrapped me in a hug first thing. I died. The end.

Well, that’s what it felt like, anyway. In reality, I awkwardly broke the hug and we started walking around the mall. I’m sure I was laughing nervously every 5 seconds. I’d never been on a real date-date before — like, with someone I really liked! An older boy! With long hair! Ahhh! — and I had no clue what to actually do. Questions raced through my mind: Should we walk through stores? Is that boring? Should we eat? But who pays? Does he expect me to kiss him? Will he try and kiss me? Is that a thing people do? Hyperventilate, rinse, repeat.

I walked in a happy/anxious daze through the wide mall corridors, talking about who knows what. Mike was so much more comfortable than I was. He held my hand without a second thought. He decided he wanted Chinese food, but I felt too shy to let him buy me anything other than a Coke. He took about 4 straws and drank his water through all of them at once without saying a word about it. Who does that?! He was so cool. Ahhh.

Finally, way too soon, it was almost time for my legitimate “date” to arrive. Mike saw that I was disappointed and asked me if I wanted to continue hanging out, but I knew it’d be wrong to ditch the other guy. We reluctantly said our goodbyes. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but I told him I was way too nervous! It was a good thing: right at that point, my “real date” walked up. I introduced Mike as a friend and then he left. I thought about him the rest of the day, the rest of the week, the rest of the month, the rest of my life since then.

And in case you’re wondering: Miss Goody-Two-Shoes spilled everything to her parents that very evening, and assured them Mike was a perfect gentleman. They were Not. Amused.

This past Saturday, 15 years after that first meeting, Mike and I were walking hand-in-hand again, this time around one of our favorite little shopping centers in Raleigh. A live band was playing covers of Otis Redding and Tracy Chapman and the sun had just started to set, so the weather was cooling off. We walked out of a store and stood by a fountain in the twilight, giving each other a little hug. “Julie,” he started. Before I knew what was happening, he was down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

At first, the words didn’t register. I thought he was asking . . . I don’t know. Casually? Generally? Like, “Hey, you want to get married someday?” My brain wasn’t working. But it quickly got into gear: he’s down on his knee! in his nice linen pants, even! that means this is, like, the REAL THING.

I think I said something like, “Yes. Wait, really? What? OH. This is happening! YES.” Cue so many tears and so much laughter. He held up the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen — a vintage art deco band from the 1930s, it turns out, though at the time, all I could think was, he even has a ring; oh man, this is totally the real thing!

I’ve always wondered: after the big proposal and related kerfuffle, what does the newly engaged couple do? How do you follow that? Do you talk? Do you pile in your car and go home? Do you go celebrate?

For us, the answer was a lot more nervous laughter and a lot of crying. We probably sat by that fountain for at least 45 minutes afterward, calling my parents, thanking congratulatory passers-by, holding hands, and thinking about our 15 years together. At one point I demonstrated my Zumba moves to Justin Timberlake’s “Mirror.” To be honest, nothing was making sense at that point. We were just so happy, so in love, so excited.

I told Mike as we were walking to the car, “Well, this is the best day of my life so far.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Definitely.”

But if I had to pick a second place, I might pick that first day we met, by that first fountain — the first time I saw the man who I would someday marry.

One year ago: Crispy Baked Sweet Potato Fries with Basil Salt and Lemon Garlic Dipping Sauce
Two years ago: Blueberry Cream Cheese Almond Braid
Three years ago: Blueberry Walnut Bread

Strawberry Coconut Cream Pie

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, with basic pie recipe modeled on my Aunt Pat’s pie and coconut cream from Zoë Bakes
Yield: one 9-inch pie

This pie is one of the best pies I’ve ever eaten, and Mike’s already asked for a repeat appearance! It doesn’t hold it’s shape well — it’s more of a pudding pie — and so I serve it in a bowl. It’s more than delicious enough to make up for that, though.

Pie Crust Ingredients:
1 blind baked (until golden) and cooled pie crust

Coconut Cream Filling Ingredients:
1 can (14 fluid ounces) unsweetened coconut milk
3/4 cup sugar
2 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 whipping cream

Topping Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups fresh strawberries
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons cornstarch
red food coloring (optional; I skipped this)
mint leaves or whole strawberries for garnish (optional)

Directions:
To make filling: Heat the coconut milk, sugar, salt and vanilla in a medium saucepan over medium heat. In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks and corn starch. Add 1/2 cup of the hot cream slowly to the yolks, whisking as you add. Then pour the yolk mixture into the pot of hot cream and whisk. Continue to whisk with heat on medium-high for 3 more minutes. The mixture will turn thick and bubble. You need to continue to whisk for the full 3 minutes or the pastry cream will separate once it is cool. After the 3 minutes, whisk in the butter. Add the coconut flakes. Pour into a shallow dish to cool.

Cover with plastic wrap pressed right against the pastry cream. This will prevent a thick skin from forming on the surface. Refrigerate for at least an hour or freeze for 30 minutes. Once it is cold, stir the pastry cream to loosen. Whip the 1/2 cup cream to medium peaks. Stir in 1/3 to the pastry cream to lighten. Fold in the remaining cream until the pastry cream is nice and light. Fill baked, cooled pie crust with your coconut filling.

Slice 1 cup of strawberries in thin slices lengthwise and layer the slices in pretty concentric circles around the top of the coconut cream. Set this in the fridge to chill while you make your glaze.

Make the glaze: Crush remaining 1/2 cup of strawberries and boil with water in a saucepan over medium-high heat for two minutes. Strain through a fine mesh sieve and discard the pulp. Add the juice back to the saucepan over medium-high heat and gradually whisk in sugar and cornstarch. Cook until thickened. Mine had lumps of cornstarch despite my best efforts, but no worries; I just strained it again once thickened. If you want, you can tint this glaze with food coloring to desired hue, but mine was plenty bright enough!

Cool the glaze slightly (I transferred mine to a heat-proof measuring cup with a pour spout to cool for a bit) and then pour over top of strawberry slices on your pie. Garnish with big mint leaves, if you’d like, or whole strawberries. Chill entire pie for at least a few hours for best results; cut with a knife held under hot water and then dried. It’ll still be a bit puddingy, so I served mine in a shallow bowl! Use a pie gate (or a makeshift pie gate made from aluminum foil) to keep remaining pie from oozing in the pie plate after slicing.

June 12, 2013 by Julie Ruble | 162 Comments

cakes

Flan Tres Leches Cake

Before I say anything else, I have to make sure you understand that this post contains a recipe for a Flan Tres Leches Cake. Like, Flan and Tres Leches Cake in the same dessert (which turned out even more delicious than it sounds, if you can believe it.) Did you get that? Just checking.

Other than that, this post is about Buckle and my $600 leather couch, which was a hand-me-down from my sister because you guys know I’m a teacher, right? My furniture generally either comes from generous family members or Goodwill. Ikea is my splurge.

So owning a $600 leather couch was decidedly awesome.

“I was told there’d be cake.”

Buckle is also awesome. He’s a good cat. He’s sweet and fun. He looks and acts just like Milton from Office Space. I really couldn’t ask for anything more. Except, maybe, for him not to ruin my $600 leather couch.

Upon letting him out of his little cardboard carrier when we got home from the Humane Society, as a matter of fact, that was the one thing I was very clear to him about (well, that and not shredding the poodle): Please do not ruin my couch.

The first time I left Buckle alone, I was terrified he would decide my couch was a scratching post. But he met me at the door when I arrived home, purring and cuddly, and I didn’t find a single scratch. It was a kitty cat miracle.

As I left him alone more often and continued coming home to intact furniture, I think I got a little . . . overconfident.

Finally the weekend came where I needed to leave Buckle alone to visit Mike in Raleigh. I hired a petsitter to check in on him (Buckle, not Mike, although perhaps I should consider that), and everything seemed to go fine. I found a cheery note from her when I arrived home. But something just smelled a little off. I figured it was his litter box. Except that when I went to check, the door to his litter box closet was closed. So that couldn’t be it . . .

Wait. Closed.

The door to his litter box closet was closed.

Bless Buckle’s sweet kitty heart (which those of you who are Southern will be able to translate appropriately), he had apparently rubbed against his litter box closet door and closed it. With nowhere to potty, he had made the very best choice he could. You guessed it: to use the couch.

He couldn’t have used the carpet or, even better, the linoleum kitchen floor. It had to be the $600 leather couch.

If you’ve ever tried to deal with the uniquely pungent problem of a cat accident, you won’t be surprised that after a month or so of cleaning the cushions with every method known to humanity, the $600 leather couch ended up by the dumpster. All’s well that ends well, I guess: I received my tax refund, splurged on an Ikea couch and coffee table, and wedged a billion washcloths in Buckle’s litter box closet door so that it will never close again.

Buckle is helping me get used to the new furniture by using it as a jungle gym. One of my students actually asked me after the incident, “Are you going to take him back to the Humane Society?” But I’m happy to say that Buckle’s a part of my family now, flaws and all.

One year ago: Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake
Two years ago: Mini Doughnuts for Your Coffee Cup (a creative use for yeast dough scraps!)
Three years ago: Pasta Carbonara

Flan Tres Leches Cake

Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, inspired by and/or adapted from Bake Love Give and All Recipes
Yield: 10-12 servings

If you love flan and/or tres leches cake, you’re in for a treat. This cake has an incredible flavor and an even more fantastic texture. It’s also surprisingly easy to whip up. It’s perfect for Cinco de Mayo, but I hope you’ll make it all year long.

Flan Ingredients:
1 (13.4-ounce) can can dulce de leche (or make your own)
3 eggs
1 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1 (12-ounce) can evaporated milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Cake Ingredients:
3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 cup white sugar
2 1/2 eggs (To get 1/2 egg, break one egg into a bowl and lightly beat it; discard half)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

Tres Leches Ingredients:
1/2 cup whole milk
1/4 (14-ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1/4 (12-ounce) can evaporated milk
2 cups heavy whipping cream
3 tablespoons powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F and spray a 10-inch bundt cake pan really well with cooking spray. Pour the dulce de leche evenly over the bottom of the pan and set aside.

Make the flan batter: In a large bowl, mix together the 3 eggs, 1 can sweetened condensed milk, 1 can evaporated milk, and vanilla extract until well combined. Pour this mixture evenly over the dulce de leche layer.

Make the cake batter: In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. In a separate bowl (if you used a spatula to scrape all your flan batter out of its bowl, just use that one again), cream together the butter and sugar until pale yellow and fluffy (about 2-3 minutes). Add in the 2 1/2 eggs and 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract and mix well. Add the dry ingredients slowly, mixing after each addition. Pour batter over the flan layer in the bundt cake pan (it’ll sink in a bit — no worries). Bake for 40-45 minutes or until tester inserted into just the cake comes out with just a few moist crumbs. Pierce the cake several times with a skewer or fork. Let the cake cool.

Drench the cake: Whisk together 1/2 cup whole milk, 1/4 can condensed milk, and 1/4 can evaporated milk. Pour this mixture over the top of the cooled cake. Cover and chill the cake overnight (or at least a couple of hours, I’d say — you want the mixture all to sink into the cake) before loosening with a thin knife or spatula all around the sides. Carefully invert onto a serving plate (caramel and milks will ooze — it’s a saucy dish — so one that has a shallow lip or even a slightly bowl-like platter is ideal). Whip up the heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract to stiff peaks and dollop or pipe it all around the cake. Serve chilled with strawberries.

May 5, 2013 by Julie Ruble | 24 Comments

cakes, other, pies and tarts

Valentine’s Day Dessert Recipes from Willow Bird Baking

It’s that time again: Valentine’s Day. You either love it or you hate it, but you have to admit . . . at least it’s an excuse to eat dessert? Here are a few that will definitely score you brownie points with your sweetheart (or your own solitary tummy as you sit on the couch and watch reruns of 30 Rock, thank you very much.)

By the way, I’ve included a difficulty rating after each recipe so you can pick one perfect for your skill level and schedule. And how much you love your partner. JUST KIDDING, just kidding.

1. Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake (very easy)
2. Thick Chocolate Cake with a Big Red (Velvet!) Heart (not hard, but probably easier as a 2-day process.)
3. Gooey Chocolate Skillet Cake Ice Cream Sundae (very easy)
4. Chocolatey Red Velvet Pull-Apart Bread with Cream Cheese Glaze (includes rising time; a 2-day process)

5. German Chocolate Cheesecake (not hard, but probably easier as a 2-day process.)
6. Red Velvet Cheesecake-Stuffed Cake Balls (advanced; easier as a multi-day process)
7. Heart-Shaped Palmiers (sweet or savory; very easy)
8. Red Velvet Cheesecake (not hard, but probably easier as a 2-day process.)