Recipe: Sweet & Savory Bacon Jam

As a Southerner I know I'm supposed to pledge a certain allegiance to bacon, but I have to admit the "bacon-makes-everything-better" trend had me rolling my eyes after the first month or so. (And that was five years ago!) Then I made this sweet and savory bacon jam, and I'll be damned if I didn't want to slather it on everything from breakfast sandwiches to cupcakes. Yep, I turned into "that" girl... Continue reading at The Kitchn

Recipe: Crunchy Cabbage and Ramen Noodle Slaw

A special thanks to my mother-in-law, Tina, for introducing me to the awesomeness that is ramen noodle slaw. Here's my yummy take on the classic! (Via The Kitchn)

Culinary Musings: What's Your Guilty Pleasure?

I was scanning my Google reader a few weeks ago and stumbled upon an enlightening New York Times article revealing famous chefs' guilty food pleasures. It made me laugh, because not I only do I crave some seriously trashy post-apocalyptic food every now and again, but so do most of the restaurant industry folks I know.

In the two years I worked at Floataway, I saw more McDonald's cheeseburgers, QuikTrip subs, and "Double Stuf" Oreo's consumed than you even want to know—and not by yours truly! Here I was working with some of the best chefs in the industry, only to discover even those with the most discriminating of palates can have plenty of (legal) vices.

For Friday kicks, I thought it would be fun to spill my ultimate guilty food pleasures (at the risk of considerable embarrassment) to see if maybe you would share yours. I'm sure some of you will turn your nose up at these—or me—but hey, you can you do. Okay, here goes:

1. Papa John's Pizza - I have a soft spot for delivery pizza, and Papa John's has been nursing my hangovers since college. To this day, it is still the only thing that can cure my aching head after the sporadic late-night bender.

2. Jif Extra Crunchy Peanut Butter - I have tried to get into the all-natural peanut butter thing. Really I have. But I just keep coming back to Jif. It's so damn peanut-y, and crunchy, and well, it's just plain good. The only accompaniment you need is a spoon!

3. Lay's Classic Potato Chips - I don't even like potato chips, but I do love me some Lay's. Kevin Sharkey (Martha Stewart's right-hand man) has been known to dump them in a silver bowl and serve 'em up with Lipton's French Onion Dip from the box. Oh snap, girl!

4. Dodger Dogs - There's not a better stadium dog in the world. (And I've been to two, so I consider myself an expert.) Walt and I like the L.A. made foot-longs so much, I smuggle frozen 100-packs in my suitcase for us every time I return from Cali. No joke.

5. Marshmallow Fluff - I like to eat marshmallow fluff plain and by the spoonful, just how some people prefer to eat peanut butter (see above) or Nutella. I am even eating some at this very moment. What can I say? It's all in the name of research...

6. Shells & Cheese - I have two stellar recipes for mac 'n' cheese—one cooked in the oven and the other on the stove. Both are delicious, yet serve very different purposes. But when a craving for "the cheesiest" strikes, there's really just one thing to do. Succumb.

7. Dairy Queen Cake - How'd I know Walt was the one? On my first birthday as a couple, he secretly drove to eight (8!) different dairy queens around L.A. to find me their elusive ice cream cake. He didn't succeed, but the effort was enough to keep me around.

8. Phish Food - So I used to think it was super cool that my favorite food was named after my (second) favorite band. But then I snapped out of my crazy hippy phase and actually tried comprehending their lyrics. The ice cream? Still a fave. The band? Not even close.

Okay, so I just let it all out there. But just so you know, I don't eat all this junk all of the time. (That's why they're called guilty pleasures, eh.) Okay, except for maybe Papa John's. Let's be honest here, I eat a lot of Papa John's.

Okay, now that I've bared it all it's your turn. Go on, spill it. What's your trashiest, most disgusting delight?

 Image sources: Row 1 - Serious Eats, Amazon, Amazon, Wikipedia Row 2 - Amazon, Amazon, Dairy Queen, unknown

Recipe: "The Best Ever" Southern Biscuits

It's a bold statement on my part to call a recipe the best. While I always attempt to uncover the "ultimate" version of a dish, it is virtually impossible to conclude whether something is or isn't, in fact, the greatest in the world. Personal taste, in addition to the countless other external factors that effect a recipe, can all swing the pendulum of perfection either way.

But when it comes to Southern biscuits, I'd like to think I have a pretty decent grasp of the qualities a good one should possess. I worked at a Cracker Barrel for goodness sake, home to the airiest, most angelic of them all. (And no, the following is not their recipe. This is soooo much better.) And just in case you were wondering, here are my personal requirements for an unparalleled biscuit:

1. A superior biscuit, to me, is featherlight and fluffy as a cloud. It should spring to the touch, crumble when cupped, and melt away the minute it hits your lips.

2. I want—wait, scratch that—I demand big flavor. A biscuit needs plenty of salt, and a biscuit isn't good if it must be slathered in condiments to be edible. Hot-from-the-oven, it should be a divine sensory experience all on its own.

3. Last but not least, a biscuit needs butter. Lots and lots of butter—I'm talkin' inside, on top, and everywhere in between. Trust me here, this is definitely not the time to be holding back on the calories.

Are y'all with me?! You see, biscuits are practically in my blood. One of my fondest food memories involves my six-year-old self, devouring a Tyler's all-butter biscuit in the backseat of my parents' yuppy station wagon. We were headed to church, and I vividly remember the look on my mother's face when she saw streams of butter dribbling down my chin, grease splattered across my pressed cotton jumper and formerly-white tights. Boy was she mad. (And lets just say it wasn't the first time, and definitely not the last!)

I've spent many years since trying to recreate the perfect Southern biscuit—the one that requires a fistful of napkins; I've even blogged about the search here (and here and here). I've found pretty good recipes, and less-than-decent ones, but none that ever pulled me from the power of Pillsbury. At least until I discovered Shirley Corriher, the apple of my biscuit-lovin' eye. More importantly, I discovered her "Touch of Grace" Biscuits. Deemed a "genius recipe" by the smart gals at Food52, it was unlike any biscuit recipe I had ever seen. Which is why after reading it, I headed straight to the kitchen to see what all the fuss was about.

Let's just say my prayers were answered—no other biscuit recipe will pass through these oven doors again. Seriously, they are that good. So good, that you just want to devour them all by yourself, straight from the oven, afraid if you take them any further there won't be any more left to eat. And with that, my friends, I leave you with the best. biscuit. ever.

P.S. Pair with sausage gravy if you're feeling particularly indulgent.

SOUTHERN BISCUITS
Source: Inspired by Shirley Corriher's "Touch of Grace" Biscuits
Yields: 6 biscuits

As much as I love the original recipe, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I have made significant changes to suit my tastes, which are reflected in the version below. To see my detailed notes, scroll to the end of the recipe. To view the unaltered version, follow the Food52 link below.

2 cups spooned and leveled SELF-RISING flour, preferably White Lily
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt (or table salt)
1/4 cup very cold shortening
2 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter
2/3 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup buttermilk
1 cup plain ALL-PURPOSE flour, for shaping
Melted butter, for brushing

Preheat the oven to 425°F. Grease a cast iron biscuit pan (or use a cake pan according to Corriher's original recipe).

In a large mixing bowl, sift together the SELF RISING flour, sugar, and salt. Using the large holes on a box grater, grate the shortening and butter into the dry ingredients. Toss gently to evenly distribute the fats. Stir in heavy cream and buttermilk until the mixture becomes a very thick, wet batter (cottage-cheese texture, according to Shirley.)

Spread the ALL-PURPOSE flour into a shallow pan. Roughly divide the batter into 6 dough balls. Turn each ball around in the flour, dust off excess, and pat into the biscuit slots (there will be one empty one).

Bake the biscuits until they are light golden brown, about 17 - 20 minutes. Generously brush the hot biscuits with melted butter. Allow to cool in the pan for a few minutes, then remove with a small offset spatula or knife. Get 'em while you can!

My recipe notes and alterations:

- Reduced amount of sugar from 1/4 cup to 2 tablespoons
- Increased amount of salt by 1/4 teaspoon
- Added 2 tablespoons butter to the recipe in addition to shortening
- Reduced amount of buttermilk
- Changed baking equipment from cake pan to cast iron biscuit pan
- Included my personal method for grating cold butter & shortening into dry ingredients

Recipe: Southern Coconut Layer Cake

First and foremost, let me just start by saying this coconut cake is my masterpiece. But it didn't come easy. What you see here took lots (and lots) of licked fingers, too many slices to count, and a few more tears than I'd like to admit.

It all started out simply enough, when I decided to surprise Walt with an impromptu 30th birthday party on a particularly nondescript Sunday afternoon. In years past, the menus have been very much the same and always include my "famous" chocolate chip cookie cake. But milestones are milestones (no matter how hard we try to avoid them) and deserve something a bit more over the top. I took it upon myself to whip up the most impressive, most irresistible, most Southern cake I could think of—the one and only coconut cake.

To get started, I needed to do my homework. (It should be noted that when I take on a project like this, I demand perfection.) I trolled the many reputable food websites and culled through all of my cookbooks. I compared and contrasted and left no stone unturned. The sheer amount of recipes available to me was overwhelming, but I persevered and marched into battle ready to bake.

Unfortunately, all the research in the world does not guarantee a perfect cake. I learned this the hard way. I made a costly impulse decision, putting my usually hard-earned trust in the hands of a yet unproven cookbook (by a famous Southern chef, no less!), when I should have followed my instinct and chosen a more reputable source. Just ask Walt. Because he's the one who found me sitting alone and defeated on the kitchen floor, black streaks of mascara the only remaining proof of the tears I had shed. Three sullen, sunken cake layers glared down at me from the counter, a bittersweet reminder of how much I still have to learn.

I spent the next few hours feeling beaten up and broken down. I'm a pretty chill girl, but for some reason mistakes in the kitchen get me and they get me good. And it's cakes that always pack the hardest punch, it seems. So I decided to sleep on it. I knew a little rest would ease the pain, and then with the party only hours away I wouldn't have too much time to sulk, anyways.

It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do. I woke up ready to bake, armed with a new recipe in hand. This time I went straight for Cook's Illustrated, which never lets me down in a moment of need. Sure enough, two golden, flat, and damn near perfect cake layers emerged from the oven safe from harm's way. Talk about a huge sigh of relief!

The final product was a piecemeal of recipes: a Food & Winebuttercream and a Martha cream cheese frosting. I even salvaged one cake layer from the previous day's disaster, which yielded a triple-stacked Southern beauty. My tragic coconut cake had gone from ugly ducking to beautiful swan in almost an instant.

Of course one of the major conversation starters at the party was coconut-gate 2012. But all the drama was forgotten as soon as it was time to blow out the candles and cut into the cake. The silence from my guests seemed to be a good sign. I took one bite and must admit that even I was impressed. (And I really am my worst critic, you know.) It was so good, in fact, that I didn't even get a moment to snap a blog-worthy photo, because every last slice was gone in the blink of an eye.

Since this recipe was too good not to share, I'm giving y'all a dessert encore, however this time around I made the recipe my own. I think you'll very much like the changes. Of course, three cakes in as many days is a lot for anyone—I'm going to need a short break from all things coconut, piña coladas not included. I truly hope you enjoy this coconut cake as much as Walt and I did. It was definitely a labor of love, but worth every single second of blood, sweat, and even those pesky tears.

COCONUT LAYER CAKE
Source: Nealey Dozier, adapted from Cook's Illustrated and Martha Stewart
Yields: 16 or more slices

I developed the base recipe of this 3-layer coconut cake after too-many-to-count hours of baking research, in addition to my previous testing using versions from both Cook's Illustrated and Bottega Favorita. It is a fairly traditional butter cake steeped with lots of extra coconut flavor, and yields a dense, super-moist crumb.

The filling, which I adapted from Martha Stewartvia Charleston's Peninsula Grill, is nothing short of spectacular. I think I went into shock from deliciousness upon my first taste from the bowl. Next time I'll probably double the recipe—half for the cake and half for me.

The frosting contains both butter and cream cheese; it has a slightly thicker texture than the filling and adds just a bit more tang. And last but not least, a coconut cake isn't a coconut cake without a cozy blanket of sweetened, shredded goodness. This cake must be the taste of heaven!

For the cake layers:
1-1/2 cups sweetened shredded coconut
13-1/2 ounces cake flour (approximately 3-1/4 cups, spooned and swept)
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
1-1/4 teaspoons table salt
1 (13-1/2 ounce) can coconut milk
1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons stirred, sweetened cream of coconut (such as Coco Lopez)
5 egg whites
1-1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1-1/2 teaspoons pure coconut extract
10-1/2 ounces granulated sugar (approximately 1-1/4 cups, spooned and swept)
8 ounces (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 large eggs

For the coconut filling:
1-1/2 cups sweetened shredded coconut
4 ounces (1 stick) unsalted butter, cubed
1-1/4 cups heavy cream
3/4 cups granulated sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon water
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste or pure vanilla extract
Pinch of kosher salt

For the coconut frosting:
2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 ounces cream cheese
2 teaspoons pure coconut extract
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste or pure vanilla extract
1 (16 ounce) box confectioners' sugar
3 cups sweetened shredded coconut plus more as needed, for garnish

For the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Generously coat 3 (9-inch) round cake pans with shortening and flour the pan, discarding the excess. (I use Baker's Joy, a shortening spray with flour added. It's fabulous!)

Place shredded coconut in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until very finely chopped.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the chopped coconut, flour, baking powder, and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk the coconut milk, cream of coconut, egg whites, vanilla, and coconut extracts until completely blended.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the sugar and butter on high speed until very light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Reduce speed to medium-low and beat in the three whole eggs, one at a time, until well combined. Add the flour mixture, alternating with the coconut milk mixture, to the creamed butter, starting and ending with the flour.

Divide batter equally into the three prepared pans (I use a kitchen scale for accuracy). Bake the layers until they are light golden and set, and come out clean when pricked with a toothpick, approximately 35 minutes. Cool the cakes in the pans for 15 minutes. Cut around the edges with a pairing knife and remove the cakes to wire racks. Cool completely before moving forward with the recipe.

For the filling: Place shredded coconut in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until very finely chopped. Set aside.

In a medium to large saucepan, bring butter, cream, and sugar to a boil over medium-high heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the butter is melted and sugar completely dissolved.

Meanwhile, whisk the cornstarch, water, vanilla bean paste, and a pinch of salt together in a small bowl, then stir the mixture into the saucepan with the cream mixture. Bring cream back to a boil, stirring constantly. Once the mixture returns to a boil, cook for an additional minute or so, until just thickened.

Remove the saucepan from the heat and stir in the chopped coconut. Continue stirring for another minute or so to release some of the heat. Transfer the filling to a mixing bowl and cool at room temperature for an hour. Transfer to the refrigerator and chill, stirring occasionally, until cool, 3-4 hours (or overnight).

When ready to assemble the cake, beat the chilled filling with a handheld mixer on high speed until thick, light, and fluffy, approximately 1-2 minutes.

For the frosting: Place butter and cream cheese in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or with a hand mixer) and beat on medium speed until light and creamy. Turn mixer on low and add coconut extract and vanilla bean paste, followed by the confectioners' sugar. Continue beating until smooth, about 3 minutes.

To assemble the cake: Place one cake layer on a large plate or cake stand and coat with half of the coconut filling. Add the second cake layer and cover with the remaining coconut filling. Add the third cake layer. Frost the top and sides of the cake with a crumb coat of coconut frosting, followed by thicker layer. Thoroughly cover the frosted top and sides of the cake with shredded coconut, pressing gently to adhere it to the cake.

Kitchen tip: I recommend breaking this cake into steps—at least baking the cake layers ahead of time. The layers can be made up to three weeks in advance. If making two days in advance or less, just wrap each individual layer tightly in plastic wrap and tuck into a large Ziploc bag. Store the cakes on the counter at room temperature. To store the layers longer than two days (and up to three weeks), wrap a layer of aluminum foil around the layer of plastic wrap before freezing. Allow layers to thaw to room temperature before continuing with the recipe. The frosted cake will keep three or four days in an airtight container.