EVERYONE SAYS I LOVE YOU......WITH CAKE.

[Originally posted on 2/14/15]

As symbols of romance go, some are unmistakable.

A single chocolate smudge clinging languorously to china. The whisper of a kiss etched in lipstick on the edge of a tipped over glass. An abandoned napkin, hastily swept from a lap, cast aside to lie in a mass of wrinkled linen as the main action switches from the dining room to another room entirely. A wisp of sinuous, bluish-grey smoke trailing from the wick of a just blown out candle.

But a single, chocolate-covered cherry may just be one of the most unmistakable edible symbols of all. In super-sized cake form? It might just turn out to be irresistible.

Romance is a difficult subject for some people, especially in this era of instant dating apps and Fifty Shades of Grey nonsense. I'm always all for romance, though, no matter what form it takes in your world. A meaningful gesture (beyond just clicking 'like' and adding a heart emoticon, please) is the very heart and soul of true romance. Stumped for ideas? There are just so many ways to show love. Give a handwritten note, a handful of picked flowers, or just an extra smattering of 'just because' kisses, just above the neckline. Give a freshly baked cake steaming from the oven, a naughty glance, an arched eyebrow. Give a hand-lettered note, give a smudgy and intense pencil sketch, give a heartsick glance, give a low whistle. Go corny, or be original. Just give your sweetheart something, choose to mark this all-too-often-fumbled-and-abused occasion with something more than digital ephemera.

In other words, you can't text your way out of this one, kids.

Go with a time-honored symbol of St. Valentine's Day, if you want to keep it classic. Give the waxy but heartfelt mixed chocolates in the red satin box, the dusty-sweet astringent 'conversation hearts'....or perhaps, the rich perfection of one syrupy cherry encased in deep dark chocolate. Love them or hate them, the chocolate-covered cherry is here to stay, and can be found absolutely everywhere--from velvet-draped tables in high end food markets to dusty, forgotten gas station shelves full of last minute gifts--in the days surrounding Valentine's Day. Sometimes they're amazing and sometimes they're truly terrible, especially if high fructose corn syrup doesn't fit with your vision of 'romance'.......but this year, why not re-invent the whole concept?

After all, the rich perfection of one syrupy cherry encased in deep dark chocolate is pretty hard to beat. I decided to expand the idea into one large dream of a cake, made of two shapely bundt layers of rich, sweet cherry-laced cake, draped in dark chocolate ganache. One slice of this will erase the memory of every unworthy chocolate-covered cherry you've ever been given in the past, and make you consider starting a new tradition with your sweetheart......romantic baking? ;)

Chocolate Covered Cherry Cake

Makes ever so many more than two servings, so you can just go ahead and keep celebrating Valentine's Day over and over and over again.,...

Although February is a wonderful time for romance, it's not always the best time of year for fresh, juicy summer fruits like cherries and raspberries. I used frozen fruit this time because it's often the best out-of-season option, but if you miraculously happen to find some lovely fresh berries in your local market, I say go for it! Just substitute an equal amount of fresh fruit (be sure to pit the cherries, of course.....pits aren't romantic!).

For the cake:

5 cups flour, plus two extra tablespoons for flouring the pans

6 tsp (1/8 cup) baking powder

1 1/4 teaspoon salt

8 egg whites

3 1/2 sticks room temperature, unsalted butter, plus one extra tablespoon for buttering the pans

4 cups sugar

2 cups pureed raspberries (thawed completely if using frozen)

1 1/2 cups pureed dark sweet cherries (thawed)

3/4 cup milk

2 cups dark sweet cherries, halved

For the ganache:

8 oz dark chocolate, chopped (I used Lindt Dark 70%, this is two bars plus a little extra)

1 cup heavy cream

pinch of salt (1/8 teaspoon)

Preheat oven to 350. Melt one tablespoon of butter and, using a pastry brush, cover the inside of one 12-cup bundt pan and one 6-cup bundt pan. Sprinkle the inside of each pan with a tablespoon of flour, tap and rotate pan until inside is evenly, lightly floured. Combine remaining flour, baking powder and salt in a mixing bowl, set aside.

Place egg whites in bowl of a stand mixer (or in mixing bowl to beat by hand), beat on high until they reach the stiff peak stage. Transfer beaten egg whites to another bowl and wipe out bowl of stand mixer. Cream butter and sugar together in stand mixer (or by hand) on medium until light and fluffy, about two minutes. Reduce speed to low and add fruit purees slowly to avoid splattering. Add milk, mix until smooth. With mixer on low, slowly add flour mixture just until thoroughly combined (do not over-beat). Fold in egg white mixture just until combined.

Divide batter between the two pans. Sprinkle halved cherries over the batter, poking them gently down into the cake and smoothing the top of the batter afterward. Bake at 350 degrees for approximately 60 minutes for the small pan, 75 minutes for the large pan, or until a knife inserted at the center of each cake can be removed cleanly. Let the cakes cool for 15 minutes, then carefully invert onto plates and remove from pans.

Prepare ganache by breaking up chocolate and placing in a heat-proof bowl. Heat the cream just to a boil, then pour over chocolate and let sit for five minutes, undisturbed. Sprinkle salt over ganache, whisk to emulsify all ingredients. The ganache will at first look streaky, then more homogenous, and will eventually thicken into a creamy chocolate glaze that can be poured or spread over a cake. Be sure to taste some off a spoon first. You know, for science.

Once cakes have cooled completely, stack the small one on top of the larger one. Drizzle ganache slowly over cake. Decorating with candied, edible flowers (Gardenista has a great tutorial for sugared violas exactly like the ones I used) or fresh fruit is optional, but looks gorgeous. Pairs well with flickering candles, pearls, half-full crystal glasses of wine, and moodily draped floral arrangements, of course. Here's to romance! <3

KALE ME NOW.

I know, guys. I know. 

Kale recipe posts in January are as inevitable as cherry pie in July or hot apple cider in October. Fresh off the last round of New Year's resolutions (but not so far into the new year that we've all fallen off that wagon and begun eating chocolate by the handful....yet), it seems everyone's eating big bowls of dark leafy greens in between juice cleanses and probiotic shakes, right? Well, this is a kale recipe. And I did warn you it was coming. And I'm a well-known kale enthusiast from way back. 

But this is no mere austere bowl of greens....it's got style. Soul. Swagger. Cojones. Whatever. It's got tender bits of prosciutto, mingling with the brightness of fresh lemon zest and a hint of red pepper. It's got silky shreds of sauteed kale, woven cozily into a bowl of golden pasta, all snuggled under a sprinkling of grated parmesan and a drizzle of olive oil. Seriously, isn't that just about the coziest thing you could imagine right now? Let's make some of this tonight, and let's keep eating it until the weather outside is warm again, shall we? It's one resolution you won't mind keeping.

 Pasta with Kale, Prosciutto, Lemon & Parmesan

Serves 2 generously

6 oz. pasta of choice (in my house, it's Barilla's GF spaghetti)

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon of olive oil

3 oz. prosciutto, sliced into roughly 1/2" squares

1 bunch of organic kale, washed, ribs removed & roughly chopped (size of bunch will vary, but you should have at least 3 loosely packed cups of chopped kale)

1 tablespoon shallot, minced

1 garlic clove, minced

2 tablespoons fresh lemon zest

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

salt, to taste

freshly grated parmesan, to taste

 Fill a large pot with water, add salt generously and bring to a boil. Add pasta and cook until done to your desired degree of firmness. Drain and set aside.

In a skillet over medium high heat, add one tablespoon of olive oil (reserving the rest) and heat until shimmering, then add prosciutto and saute quickly until it just begins to color. Add kale one handful at a time, stirring constantly. The kale will wilt quickly in the heat and make room for the next handful, continue doing this until all the kale is in the skillet. Add minced shallot and garlic and continue to saute, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon. The mixture is done after about five minutes, once the kale has turned dark and tender. Remove from heat and add the lemon zest and red pepper.

Return warm pasta to pot and add kale mixture, tossing to combine thoroughly. Drizzle with remaining olive oil and let sit (cover the pot to keep remaining warmth in) for a few minutes to allow flavors to intermingle. Serve in bowls, showered with freshly grated parmesan, and enjoy!

A CASE OF THE JANUARIES

'Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.' --Oscar Wilde

Welcome, 2015. Sorry we haven't really been introduced before now. I've been slow to really grab hold of you in the thirteen days since we met, but I think I'm getting with the program, finally. A little bit of the usual seasonal unease has me dragging my heels into the new year, looking backwards toward the tail end of the holiday season. I didn't really embrace the holidays this time around until it seemed they were nearly over, and for a while--long after the tree should have come down and the mistletoe been packed away--my heart was still aching for warm candlelight and bright paper packages tied up with bows, for cinnamon-spiced things and holly berries and cheer. 

It's really kind of cruel, anyway, isn't it? The way the television commercials instantly switch from scenes of families sipping hot cocoa together to ads for gym memberships? The way we're all expected to snap ourselves briskly into shape like triathletes instead of the eggnog junkies we've become? The way the season just ends and we're left with....January? I may not be huddled in a tiny New York apartment shivering my way through the coldest month of the year this time around (thank goodness for that), but even in the comparatively balmy winters of the Southwestern desert, January is just.....January. A bit grey. A bit gloomy. And after the fleeting glitziness of New Year's Eve passes, totally bereft of golden, twinkling lights, warming cocktails and happy songs. Well, this year I'm fighting my raging case of the Januaries with a warming cocktail of my own, and one that's perfect at any hour of the day: Ginger, lemon & honey tea.

2015, you are nothing to fear. In fact, I've been waiting for you--we have some truly epic things planned around my household, all scheduled to start taking place this year--I just wasn't...you know...ready for you. But I'm getting there. Like every other human on the planet, I find I am constantly failing, a saintly sinner with an uncertain future. 2014 was epic in its own way, and we moved a lot of mountains, the members of my small household and me. But there are always more mountains left to move. Looking back on a completed year, I see a lot of incomplete actions, a lot of disappointments, a lot of small-minded moments.

Cold, blustery January is maybe the starkest possible reminder of the failures of the year before, which I think accounts for all the resolutions and cleanses and new gym memberships, all the broken promises of the year before seeping their way into our vision for the new year. And yet, and yet.....there is hope. Even in the midst of all this midwinter gloom, there is a way forward (even if we don't find it a physical possibility to exist only on virtuous kale* smoothies for the first month of the year), there is light, there is hope. There is beauty in our most ordinary days, there is grace in humility, there is strength to be gained even in our failures. There is happiness--and healthiness!--to be found in a quietly sipped cup of ginger, lemon & honey tea. Every one of us saints has a past in 2014, and every single one of us sinners has a future. 

To your very good health. :)

(  *Look for a recipe coming tomorrow featuring kale! And no, I'm not kidding, and yes, I'm aware that my timing is ironically hilarious. Don't worry. It's delicious.)

Ginger, Lemon & Honey Tea

This warming beverage is absolutely EVERYTHING in winter. The champion of 'cleanses' for those who may have overdone it on the holiday spirit, and the immune system-boosting hero of cold & flu season, one way or another....drink this to fight whatever form your own case of the Januaries may be taking.

Bright, fresh lemon juice boosts your vitamin C intake, while naturally warming ginger and cinnamon (optional, but I always like to add a dash of ground cinnamon to spike my tea) help the body release toxins. Ginger also fights nausea and aids digestion, and honey, with its antimicrobial and antibacterial properties......well, honey is basically a supernaturally perfect food. Plus, this concoction tastes delicious. Need I say more?

Makes one serving

1 cup water
1 inch piece of fresh ginger root, peel removed & thinly sliced into coins
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon honey, or more

Optional garnishes:

cinnamon stick, or ground cinnamon
fresh lemon slice

Bring water just to a boil on the stovetop or in a microwave, pour into a cup and add ginger. Let steep and cool for around five minutes, then add lemon juice and honey, stir to dissolve. If you're a cinnamon fan, swizzling your drink at this point with a whole cinamon stick is a wonderful trick, and allows you to use the delightful verb 'to swizzle'. ;)

You can strain your tea at this point to remove solids, or you can be a little more devil-may-care about them like me, and just leave them in bottom of the cup. I like to garnish my tea with a thin slice of lemon partly because it looks pretty, and partly because it keeps the slices of ginger where they belong, i.e. underneath the slice of lemon and not in my mouth. Do what works for you, and enjoy!