Molly Killeen’s St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake via The New York Times

I'm technically graduating from grad school this month, which means that my student loan is entering its grace period, which means that I had to take this mandatory exit counseling session for the loan I took out before I exited. (By the way, this is my new favorite non-euphemism for graduating--exiting. Congrats, exit-or!) (I know, I know--they use the word because not all exit-ors necessarily graduate.) Anywaaaay, as the last step, I had to make a budget for my life, only there was no section for gourmet-food-blog-related expenses, so I just added it to food. No biggie, right?  Well, let's not get into specifics here. Let's just say, I was over budget.

So this attempt is a dedication to balancing the budget. Thanks to all the leftover unsalted butter in the refrigerator from Thanksgiving, I had everything on hand for this recipe and you probably do too.

Molly Killeen's version:

 Andrew Scrivani for The New York Times

our version:

I am a huge fan of mildly sweet desserts, and so when I read Melissa Clark's article about this two-layer cake with a bottom layer that sounded more like bread than cake, I was totally sold. 

I hadn't baked in a while and forgot about the foresight needed when it comes to room-temperature ingredients. My solution was to put both the milk and butter on top of the hot toaster oven for a few minutes though I didn't feel great about the partially melted butter.

This bready/cakey layer needed to rise for three hours, which would have meant me putting it in the oven around 9pm. Instead, I remembered something from a previous baking attempt (battle challah?) about allowing bread to rise in the refrigerator overnight--that it actually made for a slower, more complex rise. (I might be making this up about the complex part, but I feel like it's true?)

In the morning, I was convinced that I'd ruined it. It was supposed to have doubled in size, but it didn't  look like it had risen even a quarter of its size. I braced myself for failure, put the bottom layer on top of my warm stove (in hope that it might rise) and continued onward with making the top layer--the layer that puts the gooey in this recipe's name.

I took my time, cleaning up as I went along, and guess what? By the time I pulled the cover off the bottom layer, it looked a little puffed up--probably not doubled, but certainly puffed.

Slightly less braced for failure, I poured what was destined to be the gooey layer over the bready layer and put it in the oven.

Uhm. Allow me to explain in terms of The Twilight Saga. Eating this cake is a lot like being a teenager who falls irrevocably in love with an extremely good-looking vampire. You know it's not good for you, but you just can't help yourself! (So I got into The Twilight Saga. So what? Matt started it.)

RECIPE via NY Times:
3 tablespoons milk at room temperature
1 3/4 teaspoons active dry yeast
6 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature
3 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 large egg
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

For the topping:
3 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon light corn syrup
2 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 large egg
1 cup plus 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
Confectioners’ sugar, for sprinkling.


1. In a small bowl, mix milk with 2 tablespoons warm water. Add yeast and whisk gently until it dissolves. Mixture should foam slightly.

2. Using an electric mixer with paddle attachment, cream butter, sugar and salt. Scrape down sides of bowl and beat in the egg. Alternately add flour and the milk mixture, scraping down sides of bowl between each addition. Beat dough on medium speed until it forms a smooth mass and pulls away from sides of bowl, 7 to 10 minutes.

3. Press dough into an ungreased 9-by 13-inch baking dish at least 2 inches deep. Cover dish with plastic wrap or clean tea towel, put in a warm place, and allow to rise until doubled, 2 1/2 to 3 hours.

4. Heat oven to 350 degrees. To prepare topping, in a small bowl, mix corn syrup with 2 tablespoons water and the vanilla. Using an electric mixer with paddle attachment, cream butter, sugar and salt until light and fluffy, 5 to 7 minutes. Scrape down sides of bowl and beat in the egg. Alternately add flour and corn syrup mixture, scraping down sides of bowl between each addition.

5. Spoon topping in large dollops over risen cake and use a spatula to gently spread it in an even layer. Bake for 40 to 45 minutes; cake will rise and fall in waves and have a golden brown top, but will still be liquid in center when done. Allow to cool in pan before sprinkling with confectioners’ sugar for serving.

Spatchcocked turkey and other Thanksgiving firsts

Matt and I've grown up so much. Just two years ago when we spent Thanksgiving on our own, we ordered and picked up our dinner from our local grocery store. The following year, we spent with family. And then, this year, we found ourselves all alone again, only this time there would be no ordering pre-cooked meals. This time we would cook everything ourselves. Starting with the turkey.

The November Martha Stewart Living is what originally got me thinking that we could do it--specifically the step-by-step guide on how to cook spatchcocked turkey. And before you get totally freaked out (there will be many more opportunities for this), as far as I can tell, spatchcocking is basically just butchering the turkey so that it can flatten out and you can cook it in about 70 minutes instead of 4-5 hours.

Martha's version:

Our version (the next three pictures):

1. Cut out the backbone.

2. Look on in disbelief at the backbone you had someone else (Matt) just cut out of this turkey carcass. Marvel at it. Talk about how disconnected we are from the food we eat. Call a few friends and recommend the movie Food, Inc. again.

3. Step out of the room and fail to take pictures of the step where Matt breaks the breastbone. You are sort of freaked out.

4. While Matt puts the flattened bird in the oven, pour a glass of champagne and mix in a little apple cider. Take a time out and then, when you feel ready, psych yourself up for your next first: Caesar salad.

...In my family, my mom always serves up Caesar salad with Thanksgiving dinner. Despite my deep desire to continue to rag on my mom on this blog as she continues to never check it and/or defend herself, I must say that her Caesar salad is fantastic. That being said, when it came time to buy all the ingredients, Mom was nowhere to be found, so I ended up using Tyler Florence's recipe.

The recipe didn't call for Flott anchovies by name, but after spying this packaging, I may be sold for life. Is that fish wearing a chef's cap on his head or is it a button mushroom?!

Flott + raw egg yolks = the same kind of problem I ran into with the carbonara. The dressing tasted good, but how could I really concentrate on that when part of me knew I was eating the above. (Aggh! Why am I so disconnected from the food I eat?? I was so much happier when I ordered Thanksgiving from the grocery store!) OK, I'm kidding. Mostly.

It's sort of embarassing to admit, but here are some more firsts for us: mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. I guess we are adults for real now?

Matt's plate:

The wrap up: everything was amaaaazing. The turkey was cooked to perfection. The mashed potatoes and gravy, in particular, were insane. We did Ina Garten's recipe for both and she does not disappoint. The Caesar was good, too, but maybe a little too citrusy.

I'll leave you with my favorite picture from the whole day: Matt's to-do list next to my champagne/apple cider cocktail with a section of a clementine tossed in.

Happy Thanksgiving! Hope yours was great!

Jodi's Guest Attempt: A Day with Thomas Keller’s BOUCHON Cookbook--seriously, an entire effing day.

Dear Readers:
Welcome to the Guest-attempt-gone-wild zone. Read along as my good pal, Jodi (of Saucy Little Dish fame), takes on Thomas Keller's Bouchon cookbook. Things are about to get super French and super freaky...

Two years ago, my wonderful husband (merely my boyfriend at the time) bought me Thomas Keller’s Bouchon Cookbook for Christmas. It is gorgeous--larger than your average-sized cookbook, hefty, shiny, with amazing photography and inspiring prose detailing Keller’s philosophies of cooking and the history of the casual “bistro” style of French comfort food. I loved it. I paged through, drooling over the potted food, the terrines, the glistening oyster glamour shots, and then…I put it on a shelf. For two years. Because, as beautiful as it was, it was utterly impractical. Sure, that vinaigrette might be a good staple, but beyond his tips and technique hints, these recipes were so detailed, so skill-heavy, so elaborate–for what he claims is such casual food–they were just too much for me.

Now, I think I’m a pretty good cook. I can whip through most Bon Appétit recipes with no problem at all and know my basics pretty well. So for my first guest Appétempt, I figured I’d brave Mr. Keller’s masterpiece. I’d try to recreate the meals of one of America’s greatest. We’d just gone to the original Bouchon in Napa on our honeymoon, and I was feeling inspired. I’d use his damn cheesecloth idea; use every freaking pot in the house and DO IT. And I would invite Matt and Amelia (and our friends Rachel and Jared) over to enjoy the fruits of my labor. One Day, Three recipes: Salmon Rillettes, his Bibb Lettuce Salad, and the big momma…Boeuf Bourguignon. Let’s do this.

8 am: Wake up and immediately go out to finish shopping. I go to 4 different stores looking for Pernod. Give up and buy Sambuca at CVS instead.

(NOTE: lots of this stuff was done concurrently all day, but I’ll divide it up for reading ease and space conservation.)

10 am: I tackle the Rillettes. Now, Rillettes means potted food. Yummy? This is a steamed and smoked salmon pate. The husband, excited to have a new kind of liquor in our cupboard, starts making weird cocktails with the Sambuca and having me taste. Nothing better than hard liquor at 10:30 am.

Marinated the salmon for a bit in Sambuca, salt and pepper, steamed it, mushed it up, and stirred with crème fraiche, cubed smoked salmon, softened shallots, egg yolks, lemon juice and good olive oil. Smooshed it into pots, smoothed out the top, covered in a “lid” of clarified butter, sealed it up and refrigerated. Served this with baguette slices as an appetizer and it was a hit. Smokey, creamy, and frankly, pretty easy. I’d do this one again.

Thomas Keller/ Bouchon's version:

Mine:

11:00am (and beyond): Now here’s where the adventure really began. I refuse to bore you with exact amounts and technical recipe lingo--the recipe in the book is 4 pages long. It’s intense. Basically, you need a shit load of carrots, onions, leeks, mushrooms and shallots because you will cook THREE SEPARATE BATCHES OF THEM.

A fundamental part of Keller’s cooking is keeping textures right and infusing flavor as much as possible. So we start with a bunch of onion, mushroom stems, carrots, leeks, shallots, thyme, bay, peppercorns, parsley and garlic and cook the hell out of them with an entire bottle of Cabernet until it’s reduced to a glaze (45-60 minutes).

Meanwhile, trim and cube the boneless beef short ribs and brown them in a skillet, in batches.

Once the red wine reduction is ready, and all the meat is browned, add in a crap load MORE garlic, leeks, carrots, thyme, bay leaves, and parsley and stir together.

Yes, the first round was just to flavor the wine reduction. THIS round is to flavor the beef. BUT, heaven forbid these veggies get to TOUCH the beef. Oh no, that would contaminate the beef with mushy veggie particles. Keller wants you to, on top of the wine and second round of veg, make a little nest for the beef out of dampened cheesecloth.

I fold the cheesecloth over the beef, and cover the whole shebang with beef stock. I bring it to a simmer, cover and put in a 325 degree oven (which had been preheated to 350, but then immediately turned down when I put the pot in because Thomas told me to.) for a couple hours, or until the meat is very tender.

3:30ish: The meat is soft, the house smells amazing. So we put the meat in another oven safe pot, discard the cheesecloth, and strain the veggies, keeping the stock.

Strain a couple times, and then strain the stock OVER the beef. Then laugh your head off when you read that you should keep the beef and stock refrigerated for 1-3 DAYS. HA. You get 3 hours--if you’re lucky. I chuck all the cooked veggies and herbs into the garbage. They have served their purpose in Keller’s mind. Then I go on a walk with the (now tipsy) husband. (Oh yeah, he’s still testing out drink recipes. The winner is a Via Veneto – brandy, Sambuca, lemon, sugar and an egg white.) I need some fresh air and I’m not even near done.

Back from our walk, we still have another round of veg to tackle. Earlier, I’d trimmed baby carrots (or bought 'em trimmed like I did), cut up fingerling potatoes, trimmed and cleaned mushrooms and cleaned and trimmed pearl onions which, out of full commitment to this project, I peeled MYSELF. (No Ina Garten-style frozen onions here.) Very proud I didn’t cut myself while peeling these little suckers. Never need to do this task again as long as I live.

Simmer those until soft with peppercorns, garlic, bay and salt. Same with the fingerling potatoes. Same with the pearl onions. Sautéed a bunch of button mushrooms til browned and soft, and crisped up a bunch of lardons in the oven.

Put all the cooked veggies aside. These are your actual veggies for eatin!

About a half an hour before you plan on eating, take the beef and stock from the fridge, heat in a warm oven to soften the stock, and then strain it ONE MORE TIME into another ovenproof sauté pan.

FINALLY, combine veggies, meat, stock and add some chopped parsley, stir it all together, put in the oven til it’s all hot, then dish it up.

Meanwhile, we tossed a bunch of Bibb lettuce with chervil, chives, parsley, and the Bouchon house vinaigrette (using canola oil! Weird!) and then promptly decided to ignore Keller’s suggestion that you reassemble the heads of lettuce on the plates before serving. My people are hungry. That is just silly. Still it looked pretty damn good and tasted even better.

Thomas Keller/Bouchon's:

Mine:

Now, the Bourguignon was good. Maybe too dry? Maybe the sauce wasn’t quite rich enough? But it was warm, comforting and you could definitely taste the POUNDS of veggies that had given their souls to flavor my meat. Or not. At this point, I really didn’t care. It was 8 pm. I’d been working on this for 12 hours. I needed to sit.

Though I’d probably never again spend 12 hours making a bowl of veggies and meat, it was a good meal, casual, comfortable, filled with the fun chatter of people I love. My house was transformed into the bistro that Keller spent 20 pounds of book describing, and it was Boeuf-tiful.

Keller's:

Mine:

(NOTE: the book is back on the shelf, where frankly, it will probably stay for a while, though we finished those rillettes this weekend and I might whip up some more…)