briciole

cannolo

The November 2009 Daring Bakers Challenge was chosen and hosted by Lisa Michele of Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drives. She chose the Italian Pastry, cannolo (cannoli is plural), using the cookbooks Lidia’s Italian-American Kitchen by Lidia Matticchio Bastianich and The Sopranos Family Cookbook by Allen Rucker; recipes by Michelle Scicolone, as ingredient/direction guides. She added her own modifications/changes, so the recipe is not 100% verbatim from either book.

In a previous post, I have briefly told the story of how I chanced to eat my first cannolo siciliano. Were it not for Daring Bakers, I don't think I would have tried to make this kind of cannoli at home. I know what a cannolo tastes like and knew from the beginning that I would not be able to come close to my memories, the best one being of eating countless miniature cannoli, where the ricotta filling was delicate, without candied fruit, the flavor of ricotta heavenly. That was a long time ago, during my first visit to Sicily. 

What I was not prepared for was disaster, in the form of my thermometer sliding into the 375 F-oil, which required the disposal of all of the oil as contaminated material. I am a notorious destroyer of thermometers. The one that ended up in the oil was a candy thermometer that I had broken open at the top. It still worked, except that when it slid into the pan, the hot oil penetrated inside and melted the measuring core. I decided not to give up: I went to the grocery store and got a new bottle of oil and a new thermometer.

In the meantime, the dough and I were not getting along. It was easy to roll and cut, but each piece sprang back to pre-rolled dimensions as soon as I let go of it. That was a problem, because I needed to shape the cannoli. I managed to get a couple of cannoli that reached the frying stage in decent shape. Frying (friggere) was not plain sailing either: before one minute was over, my first cannolo was burnt (leftmost in the photo). By reaction, the second cannolo ended up on the other side of the spectrum, called undercooked, and it puffed up beyond belief, because the dough was too thick, due to problem #1, about the dough, explained about (center in the photo).

I decided I would give it one more try. I shaped and fried an acceptable (give my lowered expectations) cannolo, filled it with my ricotta cream (more on this shortly), took a photo and served it to my husband. "The filling is good." What a sweet quality assurance professional he is! Of course, the filling was good: the homemade ricotta was freshly made (with milk as main ingredient, according to a recipe in the book The Home Creamery by Kathy Farrell-Kingsley, as mentioned in this post) and the candied orange peel was also of my own making, plus I used very good dark chocolate.

It was clear that the dough and I were not meant for each other. It was a sad farewell, because I didn't know what had not worked between us. Still disappointed by the unhappy ending of my adventure, I thought: "maybe this is a good time to try and make the other cannoli." Also called cannoncini (literally, small cannons), they are composed of a puff pastry shell filled with pastry or whipped cream, or variations thereof. I had my own puff pastry in the freezer, so it was easy to act upon my idea. I thawed a piece of the batch and implemented plan B. I cut a 12-inch long and 1-inch wide strip and rolled it around an oiled cannolo form, baked it at 375 F until golden, let cool, slid off the form and filled it with ricotta. I called it fusion dessert: cannolo siciliano filling in a cannolo shell. My husband smiled. He was not ecstatic, but happier than during the previous tasting.

I then made a couple of shells more in the cannolo siciliano shape, cutting a rectangle and uniting two opposing corners to close the loop. Finally, I made a few circles and prepared a sort of millefoglie. I split the baked circles in half to obtain six thinner circles and made two millefoglie out of three layers each, with some ricotta cream spread in between each layer. I know, it was a digression, but at least I can say that overall the exploration was not a total disaster.

You will find the recipe for the dough here. The recipe for puff pastry used in a previous edition of Daring Bakers is here. The recipe I used to make ricotta is described at the end of this post: it uses cultured buttermilk to acidify the milk and I used low-fat milk in it. This is not traditional ricotta, but I did not have time to make cheese before making cannoli to have the whey to make traditional ricotta. I drained the ricotta for two hours, then placed it in a bowl lined with some cloth to obtain a drier than usual consistency. The candied orange peel I made is not ready for prime time, so I defer discussion to a future post.

For the ricotta filling, I loosely followed the recipe here. I had 9.5 oz. of ricotta and sweetened it with 1 oz. of vanilla powdered sugar (zucchero vanigliato) and a tablespoon of agave nectar. I then added a scant tablespoon of candied orange peel, diced, and a tablespoon of finely chopped dark chocolate. I also added a dash of orange blossom water. I mixed all the ingredients well with a fork to achieve a creamy texture. 

A special thank you goes to our host for her choice and her efforts. Regardless of the bumps on the road, it was a valuable learning experience. I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

Hear me pronounce the words on the cannolo audio file [mp3] or go to the cannolo audio page for more listening options.

strudel di mele

The May Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Linda of make life sweeter! and Courtney of Coco Cooks. They chose Apple Strudel from the recipe book Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague by Rick Rodgers.

A few months ago, I wrote a post on a traditional dessert from my home region (Umbria, Italy) called rocciata, which I introduced thus: "A thin layer of dough envelopes pieces of apple (mela), nuts and raisins. It looks like a strudel, but it isn't." I think it is fitting that this month, to fulfill the Daring Bakers' challenge, I baked rocciata's kindred dessert. By the way, the similarity between rocciata and strudel is the subject of interesting speculations, but, as far as I know, there are no certainties. Strudel is a delicious dessert of Austrian origin and it is part of the tradition of the Italian regions that border Austria and were once part of the Austro-Hungarian empire. 

The hosts' only requirement was to make the strudel dough. We were then free to fill it as we wished. I decided to stay close to the original recipe and made strudel di mele, with apples bought on purpose at the farmers' market, from a vendor who has a bin labeled "uglies." I honestly don't care about apple beauty contests, probably because as a child I was told that often the least esthetically appealing apples are the best ones in terms of flavor. And in any case, apples with a dent make perfect filling for strudel.  

You will find the recipe provided by the hosts here. While I followed the instructions for the dough to the letter, as required, I approached the filling from my usual low-sugar and low-butter perspective. Hence, I added only 1 tablespoon of sugar to the apples. I also decided to use only half a cup of breadcrumbs, toasted in 1 tablespoon of melted butter. I make breadcrumbs using my homemade bread and with the help of my grattugia (grater). Finally, I melted only two more tablespoons of butter to coat the inside of the dough and the finished product.

Making rocciata had already exposed me to the challenge of getting the dough to be really thin. I am proud to report that I did not tear it and I made a rectangular ellipse (a kind of geometric figure that I invented for this purpose) 32" wide and slightly over 2 feet long. I did all the rolling with my two matterelli (rolling pins) and did not try the hand and forearm method described in the recipe. I did not cut away any dough around the edges, because my dough was uniformly thin. I also departed from the given instructions in the distribution of the filling and subsequent rolling of the strudel. I basically did what I do for rocciata, spreading the filling over the entire surface of the dough, minus a ring all around, and rolling from the longest side.

I spread butter on the dough first, using a pastry brush, then distributed the toasted breadcrumbs (these two steps are not in my recipe for rocciata), then the apple slices and raisins (uvetta), and finally the chopped walnuts (noci), leaving a a 2"-wide ring all around. I then folded the free dough along the two short sides, as I saw it done in this video mentioned by a fellow Daring Baker (the filling part starts at about 4:20), then rolled from the longest side, using the cloth as prop (photo above). Once the strudel was formed and settled on the baking sheet, I brushed the surface with the remaining melted butter. I baked the strudel for 40 minutes. The result looked nice and received top rating from my husband.

A special thank you goes to our hosts for their efforts and support: I enjoyed the challenge. I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

Hear me pronounce the words on the strudel di mele audio file [mp3] or go to the strudel di mele audio page for more listening options.

lasagne

The March 2009 challenge is hosted by Mary of Beans and Caviar, Melinda of Melbourne Larder and Enza of Io Da Grande. They have chosen Lasagne of Emilia-Romagna from The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper as the challenge.

I grew up eating my mother's lasagne and had so far avoided trying to follow in her footsteps, because it is a tall order. She makes her own pasta all'uovo (egg pasta), with consistently excellent results. She makes the béchamel sauce, she prepares il ragu (tomato and meat sauce) using the bottled puréed tomatoes that she makes at home every year. While I had made pasta before, making do with a spianatoia (kneading board) smaller than the one my mother has, I had limited myself to fettuccine and never ventured near lasagne. You can make fettuccine, cook them and then add as simple a sauce as some freshly made ricotta. But with lasagne, the pasta is only one chapter of the story.

Thanks to this month Daring Bakers' challenge, I pushed the envelope, so to speak, but not before conferring with my mother and getting some instructions from her. But let's go in order and review each component of the dish and then the final assembly. You will find the recipes here. I decided to make half the dose of pasta.

My mother has never made pasta all'uovo verde (spinach egg pasta), so for this part I was on my own. I was intrigued by the option with raw spinach, but worried about the resulting texture. I decided to consult Deborah Madison and she was very helpful. In Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone, her spinach variation for egg pasta involves the puréeing of fresh spinach and eggs. This worked out perfectly: I easily combined the resulting paste with the flour to obtain pasta of a beautiful green color.

For the béchamel sauce, I followed the proposed recipe, halved it, and went vegan, using whole wheat flour, olive oil instead of butter and vegetable broth instead of milk. I have actually been making béchamel sauce this way for years, again following Deborah Madison's recipe.¹

For the sauce, I went vegetarian and made a simple tomato sauce. I cooked in warm oil a quarter cup of minced onion, a small carrot, sliced, and a small rib of celery, chopped. When the vegetables were soft, I added a 14.5 oz. can of diced tomatoes and simmered for 10 minutes or so. I then used an immersion blender to purée the sauce. 

For the cheese, I grated the last piece of my Montasio.

I cooked the lasagne verdi and drained them, as I remember seeing my mother do. I then assembled the dish following the given instructions and my mother's recommendation to go light with the besciamella. I used up all the béchamel and all the tomato sauce before the pasta, so next time I will make more of both. Following my mother's instructions, I did not finish with a layer of béchamel sauce. The top layer of my lasagne was tomato sauce sprinkled with cheese. The baking time and modality was done according to the recipe here.

The result was very favorably received at the table. I was so glad! I feel that I have passed a big test. Of course, I will make lasagne again.

A special thank you goes to our hosts for their efforts and support: it was a nice challenge. I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers. By the way, have you noticed the new logo? Daring Bakers has also a new site.

¹ As Angela correctly notices in her comment, the change of ingredients makes the sauce a vegetarian velouté.

Hear me pronounce the words on the lasagne audio file [mp3] or go to the lasagne audio page for more listening options.

torta al cioccolato Valentino

The February 2009 challenge is hosted by Wendy of WMPE's blog and Dharm of Dad ~ Baker & Chef. We have chosen a Chocolate Valentino cake by Chef Wan; a Vanilla Ice Cream recipe from Dharm and a Vanilla Ice Cream recipe from Wendy as the challenge.

Another month and another fun challenge, especially for a chocolate lover. To make the cake (recipe here) I assembled a few bars (tavolette di cioccolato) of different brands, mostly with 70% cocoa content, a couple with 60%. The melting of the chocolate is the step that requires some care and patience, but the smell helps quiet the mind. I baked my cake in a 9" springform pan. While offering a vanilla ice cream recipe each, our hosts let us free to accompany the cake with the ice cream of choice, made by us. I have been making ice cream and sorbet (gelato e sorbetto) at home for several years, so I must admit that this was a welcome requirement.

I decided to go with berries, having a substantial amount of frozen locally-grown blueberries (mirtilli) in my freezer. First I made Blueberry and Buttermilk Sherbet, a recipe I have described in my recent post on homemade buttermilk (latticello fatto in casa).

I then made an ice cream, again using blueberries, drawing inspiration from a recipe in the same book, Frozen Desserts by Caroline Liddell and Robin Weir: Strawberry and Mascarpone Ice Cream (gelato alle fragole e mascarpone). I could not pass up an opportunity for using my mascarpone fatto in casa (homemade mascarpone). My gelato ai mirtilli e mascarpone (Blueberry and Mascarpone Ice Cream) was excellent (and this is not just my opinion). I made a custard with two whole eggs, half a cup of sugar (100 g) and a cup of non-fat milk. Once the custard had cooled down slightly in a cold water bath, I added 250 g (8 and 3/4 oz.) of freshly-made mascarpone. I expected the mascarpone to easily blend into the egg custard, but that did not occur, so I ran the mixture through a wire mesh strainer, covered it, then chilled it. [Update: the last time I made the ice cream, my mascarpone blended well into the egg custard as I stirred it with a wooden spoon.]

I placed two cups of frozen blueberries in a pan and warmed them up until some of them started to break open, then removed the pan from the heat, cooled then chilled in the fridge. When I was ready to churn the ice cream, I used a potato masher (schiacciapatate) to mash the blueberries (as it is done in the sherbet recipe referenced above) before adding them to the custard. I then churned the mixture to obtain a mauve ice cream that complemented the chocolate cake and purple blueberry sherbet: the ensemble was a delicious trio.

A special thank you goes to our hosts for their efforts and support: it was a nice challenge. I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

Hear me pronounce the words on the torta al cioccolato Valentino audio file [mp3] or go to the torta al cioccolato Valentino audio page for more listening options.

tegola

This month's challenge is brought to us by Karen of Bake My Day and Zorra of 1x umruehren bitte aka Kochtopf. They have chosen Tuiles from The Chocolate Book by Angélique Schmeink and Nougatine and Chocolate Tuiles from Michel Roux.

The French word tuile means (roofing) tile in English, tegola in Italian. The word is also used to indicate a thin, light cookie whose curved shape reminds one of a roofing tile. I find it interesting that a word originally indicating something rather heavy, is used to describe something that is the total opposite in terms of weight. In Italian, mi è caduta una tegola in testa (literally: a tile fell on my head) means: something serious and unexpected happened to me.

I like the idea of lightweight cookies in the shape of tegole, though I shaped my tuiles differently, as we were allowed to do. The challenge included different recipes (one of them savory) and I chose the first one, from The Chocolate Book by Angélique Schmeink (you can find all the recipes on the hosts' blogs here and here). The batter was easy to assemble and to work with. I had a sheet of mylar at home, which I used to create a stencil, with the help of a star-shaped and a heart-shaped cookie cutter. I also decided to try and spread the batter in a sort of free form that would allow me freedom in post-processing the tuiles, i.e., in shaping them after they were baked. I must admit I did not plan my actions in advance, so the whole process had an haphazard quality to it, or maybe I should say a creative quality.

I shaped the hearts and stars as well, using the top of a vitamin bottle and the tip of my wooden pestle to make small baskets. I rolled the free form (roughly rectangular) tuiles into cannoli and from there to making a lighter version of the famous Sicilian pastries (cannoli siciliani) was just a step, aided by the fact that I had some leftovers from the experiment described at the very end of my previous post. I sweetened the ricotta with a small quantity of lavender honey, then filled the cannoli, and finally decorated the ends with some diced candied orange peel. Not shown in the photo is the cocoa version of the cannoli, obtained by adding some cocoa powder to the batter. I decorated those with chocolate chips.

For the heart- and star-shaped tuiles, I chose a blueberry filling. I have a substantial amount of frozen mirtilli in my freezer, and love to use them in novel ways. I put some blueberries in a bowl, added a touch of miele (honey) and finely thawed them in the microwave, then let them cool. The assembled baskets were a pleasant surprise for my husband's breakfast and they were fun to photograph.

A special thank you goes to our hosts for their efforts and support: it was a nice challenge. I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

Hear me pronounce the words on the tegola audio file [mp3] or go to the tegola audio page for more listening options.

pizza

This month's challenge was difficult for me, because our trip to Italy, the preparation for it and the catching up after our return took up a good portion of the available time, so I found myself doing things in fretta e furia (in a rush) right before the deadline. I don't work well under pressure, so to avoid disasters, I decided to focus on the limited goal of making the recipe, pasta per la pizza (pizza dough), with the required sauce and topping, and left the acrobatics for a future date. But let's go in order.

I like to start by thanking this month's host, Rosa of Rosa's Yummy Yums for a fun challenge. You will find the recipe for the basic pizza dough and the challenge requirements here, together with Rosa's creative toppings.

Once again, I read the recipe, followed it halving the quantities (which was really easy), and things worked out fine. Instead of relying on my tried and true tomato pizza sauce topped with store-bought mozzarella (pizza margherita, name given by the pizzaiolo Raffaele Esposito in 1889 to honor Queen Margherita di Savoia, who had tasted and appreciated Esposito's output), I came up with a different sauce and produced the topping at home.

For the sauce, I used pomodorini ciliegia (cherry tomatoes) e zucchine: I sprayed a small frying pan with olive oil, warmed it up and added two cloves of garlic, peeled. When they were slightly golden, I added 4 oz. zucchini, halved or quartered, depending on the size, and sliced 1/8" thick. I stirred a few times and let cook over medium-low heat until soft, but not completely cooked. I cut in half 4 oz of cherry tomatoes and added to the zucchini. I also added a few strands of zafferano (saffron) and cooked a few more minutes, then sprinkled a few leaves of basilico (basil), slivered, and salt to taste, and turned off the heat.

For the topping, I made mozzarella following the recipe for 30-minute mozzarella from "Home Cheese Making" by Ricki Carroll. I had a couple of technical glitches, which affected the final product, but I was still able to use it successfully for its intended purpose. After flattening one portion of dough on a piece of parchment paper, I spread the sauce over it, baked for 4 minutes at 550 F, then added the mozzarella, diced, and baked for two more minutes.

The result of my efforts was my husband's dinner one night. A second portion of dough became his breakfast the morning after. For the pizza per colazione I sort of skipped the sauce part, using half a pound of cherry tomatoes, cut in half, and lightly seasoned with salt and slivered basil leaves as above. Mozzarella from the same origin as before was the topping. The verdict favored the zucchini and tomato sauce from the previous evening (for which, I am sad to report, I have no photo).

I have had a third portion of dough ready in the fridge and I can give you a preview report: it will be was baked today for lunch with a bean and mushroom stew as sauce and grated Gruyère as topping, An update on this will be posted when it becomes available. and it received top rating.

I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers, and also at their tossing skills (that's the acrobatics I referred to at the beginning).

Hear me pronounce the words on the pizza audio file [mp3] or go to the pizza audio page for more listening options.

Lavash cracker

In Italian, we use the English word cracker. The singular and plural forms are identical¹.

Another month without tragic tales of disaster to tell: does it mean that I am getting better at handling the challenges? It it probably too early to tell.

I liked this month's challenge as it asked us to make something I had been wanting to try for a while, i.e., crackers. And I like that the recipe was light, more in the style of a flatbreads than of crackers I am familiar with. Once again, I read the recipe, followed it, and things worked out fine. The result of my efforts was highly appreciated. It was appreciated so much that a crunching noise became the soundtrack of the house. A second batch produced the same result. And the third followed suit. Hence, if a constant crunching does not irritate you, I recommend you give this recipe a try.

First of all, many thanks to the this month's hosts, Natalie of Gluten A Go Go and Shel of Musings From the Fishbowl. They left us free to top the crackers however we liked. And they asked us to create an accompaniment (dip, spread, relish or salsa) for them that was vegan and gluten free (vegano e senza glutine).

For my decoration, I simply opened the cupboard where my spices are jumbled together (disorder there reigns supreme) and let my hands go wherever they wanted. They chose semi di sesamo (sesame seeds), semi di papavero (poppy seeds), paprica (paprika), cumino (cumin), sale marino con tè verde matcha (matcha salt), zucchero non raffinato e cannella (unrefined sugar and cinnamon).

To go with the Lavash crackers, I made a batch of plum spread using agave nectar instead of honey (which I have been using to make my fruit spread local, but is not vegan). I don't call it plum jam, because the proportion of sweetener to fruit I use is about 1 to 10. For some reason, I don't feel comfortable about using pectin, so I just let my fruit spread simmer longer. The beautiful color comes from deep purple prugne I got at our farmers' market.

I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

¹However, on Italian cracker packages one can often find crackers printed.

Hear me pronounce the words on the Lavash cracker audio file [mp3] or go to the Lavash cracker audio page for more listening options.

éclair al cioccolato

chocolate éclairs
After having to skip a month, I am back with the story of the Daring Bakers' challenge. This time I have no tragic tales of disaster to tell. I read the recipe, I followed it, and things worked out fine, in the sense that the end result of my efforts was appreciated at the table, the usual ultimate test of success. 

First of all, many thanks to this month's hosts, Meeta of What's for Lunch Honey? and Tony Tahhan. Their choice for the challenge, chocolate éclairs, was a little less intimidating than usual for me, because I had recently made cream puff dough for bignè con la crema (cream puffs). The chocolate part was welcome, considering my lifelong affection for cioccolato.

According to my Italian dictionary, éclair is a "specie di bigné di forma allungata ripieno di crema e glassato" (a sort of cream puff of elongated shape filled with pastry cream and glazed). Éclairs and bigné are referred to generically as paste, pastries. On Sunday, my father would often say: Vado a comprare le paste (I am going to buy some pastries) a sweet-sounding sentence that translated into the appearance, at the end of the Sunday lunch, of a tray (vassoio) of tempting delicacies. As far as favorite pastry, I would go through phases and it was important to communicate the results of my shifting taste to my father, so he could make an informed purchase. Making pastries brings me back to my emotions as a child. Hence, it was particularly nice for me that the evening I served my éclairs al cioccolato there was also a young person at the table: the sparkle in his eyes was my best reward.

My éclairs were not very innovative. I halved the original recipe (using 2 whole eggs and one egg yolk) and obtained 11 éclairs. For the filling, I made half of my recipe for crema, then added to it, when it was still warm, 50 g of extra-dark chocolate (70%), broken in small pieces (half of a 3.5 oz. bar). For the glaze, I melted the other half of the chocolate bar and added to it a tablespoon of my home-made mascarpone.

There was a small glitch, actually: I took no photographs. There was too much going on in my kitchen that day, plus my éclairs were not satisfactory in terms of aesthetic. Let me offer you a nice photo of something else instead: these two fawns have been visiting us often recently, together with their mother. Don't they look adorable? I hope you will take the time to go around and look at the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

Hear me pronounce the words on the éclair al cioccolato audio file [mp3] or go to the éclair al cioccolato audio page for more listening options.

treccia danese

Danish braid
It's that time of the month, when I tell the story of the disasters small and big that occurred in my kitchen during various attempts at fulfilling the Daring Bakers' challenge. There is always hope that next months things will go smoothly. In the meantime, let me tell you a bit about the June challenge, which was not, despite my doomsday introduction, an unmitigated disaster.

First things first. Many thanks to Kelly of Sass & Veracity and Ben of What’s Cookin’? for choosing a great recipe and one that, unbeknown to them, I needed to know about. You can read the recipe here or here. You can easily halve the recipe, which is what I did. Remember that dimensions are affected by the halving process. And also that not all fillings are created equal. But let's go in order.

For my first treccia, I chose a crema (pastry cream) filling. However, instead of using lemon peel to flavor the crema, I used vaniglia (vanilla). The recipe for the Danish dough calls for half a vanilla bean. Since I made half the recipe, I split the half bean lengthwise, and used one half for the dough. I then had the other half ready to be used to flavor the filling. I infused the bean in the milk heated to almost boiling point, then scraped the seeds before removing the bean from the milk. Remember to save the used vanilla bean pieces: they can be placed in a jar of granulated or powdered sugar to make vanilla sugar. Once ready, the crema needed to be placed in a bath of cold water. Except that I got distracted and opened the faucet into pan with the crema. As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly pleased with myself. Batch number two of crema was completed without major mishaps.

I refrigerated the Danish dough overnight and the morning after the thought that things weren't going exactly as expected presented itself. The dough had not changed size at all. And it persisted in not changing size for several hours after I had shaped and filled it into a braid. Basically, the active dry yeast had not done its job. I was a bit worried when I put it in the cold milk the day before, since I am used to warming up the liquid into which I put yeast when I make bread. Having gone to all the trouble, I decided to bake it anyway and the result, though edible, was not what should have been.

For my second treccia, I used the instant yeast that I use to make bread and warmed up the milk slightly. Not sure which of the two changes made the difference, but when I retrieved my second Danish dough from the fridge, it had clearly risen overnight. I did not feel like making yet another batch of crema, so I sliced fresh fragole (strawberries) and added a tablespoon of sugar to them. By the time I had prepared the treccia for filling, it became clear that the strawberries would bleed during the proofing period. So, when the treccia went into the oven, there was a pool of blood, that is, strawberry juice, around it.

I kept going, because, you see, this was on Sunday morning and I had no time to do a third treccia before the deadline for posting. And, of course, the treccia came apart at the seams during baking, so what came out of the oven was not pretty. Fortunately, it was good, and the guests at the table, focus on the flavor of their breakfast, were not troubled by its appearance. I had cut four slices before I was able to grab the camera and take a photo, which should be considered simply a proof of the fact that I fulfilled the challenge.

A third treccia will be made shortly. It will have crema as filling and it will be prettier than its predecessor. Hopefully I will also have a better photo to show you that I can do better than just go from one disaster to its successor. In the meantime, see what a Danish braid can look like in the hands of skillful people by perusing the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

Hear me pronounce the words on the treccia danese audio file [mp3] or go to the treccia danese audio page for more listening options.

torta Opéra

Opéra cake
When I read the name of the recipe for the May Daring Bakers' challenge, my reaction was a big question mark: what's an Opéra cake? What I learned was that it is a cake made up of five elements: a joconde to make the layers, a syrup to wet the joconde, a buttercream for filling (ripieno), a ganache or mousse for the top layer, and a glaze (glassa) over it. I read that and I started to enumerate all the possible ways in which things could go wrong for me. The result was TMTC (i.e., too many to count). Don't worry, however, I won't recount them all.

As a matter of fact, things went pretty smoothly until I tried to glaze my cake with cioccolato bianco (white chocolate). The warmed up chocolate did not behave well and the addition of cream (panna) made things even worse, so that when I poured the melted mixture over the top of my cake, it slid to the bottom, forming a pool of gooey stuff that fortunately the underlying tray was able to contain. I would have none of that and therefore, armed with a spatula, I scraped off as much as I could and saved my poor cake.

But I guess I should start from the beginning and it helps if I reference the recipe, compliments of Daring Bakers' glorious founders Ivonne of Cream Puffs in Venice and Lis of La Mia Cucina. I halved the recipe for the joconde, which was easy, so I had a cake of reasonable size. This part turned out well. I then made crema instead of buttercream so that I could eat the cake (read: dietary requirement). The ganache was optional and I opted out of it.

As overall flavor I used mandorla (almond), adding Amaretto to the syrup and almond extract to the crema. Ground almonds are an ingredient of the nicely textured joconde. The joconde is really good sponge cake  that was easy to work with, both before and after baking. I am familiar with crema, so that was not a problem, apart from the fact that I underestimated the amount I would need, so I had to make two batches.

After recovering from the white chocolate debacle, I sprinkled the cake with sliced almonds and the visual effect was not altogether bad. The photo, which is the only shot I could salvage (even the camera rebelled against me that day), shows half the cake already sprinkled with sliced almonds and half the cake still scarred after the disastrous glazing attempt and subsequent painful scraping. If you would like to see what an Opéra cake looks like, peruse the gorgeous creations of my talented fellow Daring Bakers.

I try to look at this as a learning experience. I must admit that it is more fun to look back at it a little while afterwards, since, while it happens, I cannot say I am always enjoying myself. I would like to be better at making pretty cakes. But for now I must content myself with the flavor. As long as guests around my table eat what I make with a smile on their face, I am happy, very happy. I am planning to make this cake again soon and, when that happens, I hope I will have a nice photo to share.

Hear me pronounce the words on the torta Opéra audio file [mp3] or go to the torta Opéra audio page for more listening options. Note that I am pronouncing Opéra in the original French.