Ah, comfort food.

You have no idea how much we were looking forward to the Fourth of July. First, we were going to drive to my parents’ house for our annual Red, White, and Blue Breakfast–an event that started after Momma handed Daddy the business end of a sparkler and we had to come up with a fireworks alternative.

Then we were going to drive to Jeff’s hometown for the Fourth of July Family Reunion. Imagine hundreds of people gathered near a huge oak tree with so many grills going that they use refrigerators powered by hundreds of yards of extension cords to store the uncooked meat. Older people explaining how everyone’s related and children underfoot. Taking your turn shooting the potato cannon–a PVC pipe that, with a little pump action, will blast a raw baking potato into the middle of next week.

And after a day with family, we were going to drive to the small-town festival where we got engaged. It’s a sign post on blacktop, but the entire city raises money 364 days of the year for the fireworks show, and it is spectacular. People drive in for miles.

But Jeff got sick. Very sick. The nurse told me to restrict his meals to white flour, which was quite a blow to a man with visions of slathered ribs dancing in his head.

So, I baked him some angel biscuits.

Angel biscuits are the biscuit/roll hybrid that have been a staple of Southern ladies’ luncheons and the dinner table for at least 60 years. They are light, foolproof (thanks to three leaveners), and the yeast gives them a unique flavor. Plus, the dough will keep in the refrigerator for up to a week, so you can bake them off as needed.

While I was looking for the right recipe, I found Kitty Crider’s “Anything For Mother,” a column the food editor wrote about flying to visit her dying mother, a Southern cook who had lost her appetite. Kitty offers to cook anything. Her mother sits silently for a long time, sips her tea, and settles on angel biscuits. It’s a beautiful piece. One worth reading.

Just like Kitty, I burned the first batch. But the second batch was delicious. Jeff ate enough to take his antibiotic, and I ate enough for a third-world country.

After the jump, you’ll find the angel biscuit recipe from The Blue Willow Inn Restaurant in Social Circle, Ga. These biscuits are true comfort food–easy to prepare and proven to comfort the sick, soothe the soul, and serve as an excellent vehicle for both butter and love, which are often the same.

Angel Biscuits

Adapted from The Blue Willow Inn Bible of Southern Cooking by Louis and Billie Van Dyke

• 4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 3 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup shortening
• 1 (1/4-ounce) package active dry yeast
• 2 teaspoons warm water
• 2 cups buttermilk

1. Preheat the oven to 475 degrees F.

2. In a medium-size mixing bowl, sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Cut in the shortening.

3. In a small bowl, soften the yeast in the warm water and stir until dissolved.

4. Mix with the buttermilk and combine the mixture with the dry ingredients. Mix until a dough ball forms.

5. Place the dough on a lightly floured surface and roll out to 1/4-inch thickness. Cut the dough with a biscuit cutter.

6. Place the biscuits on a buttered baking pan and bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown.

Yield: 12 to 15 biscuits

My sister is always telling me she can’t do the Tuesdays with Dorie recipes at home. Too many pans, too many steps, weird ingredients.

Jennifer, this one is for you: apple cheddar scones.

You probably have most of the ingredients right now. And if you don’t, this is a great recipe for substitutions. Not feeling the apples? Replace the 1/2 cup of apple juice with water and the 1/2 cup of dried apples with something else (i.e. a 1/2 cup of smoked bacon, country ham, sausage, dried blueberries, dried cranberries). Or trade the cheese for toasted walnuts or pecans.

Seriously, you don’t even need a rolling pin. Stir the ingredients together, sprinkle a little flour on the counter, and pat the dough into a circle or rectangle, 1/2-inch thick. Then cut it into 12 slices. If you’ve patted it into a circle, cut it pizza-style. If you’ve done a rectangle, cut it into 12 smaller rectangles or grab a glass and cut it biscuit-style. Then place the slices on a baking sheet, and bake them for about 15 minutes.

If you don’t want 12 scones, divide the recipe in half.

The apple cheddar scones are great plain or with butter. But if you decide to go with fruit and nuts instead, try making a glaze with powdered sugar, milk (or cream), and a little vanilla. And invite me over.

For the full recipe, visit Karina of The Floured Apron.

This morning, I completed June’s Daring Bakers challenge, the Danish braid, because we don’t have enough carbs in the house. What with the cake, the biscuits, the Tuesdays with Dorie scones. If not for Simply Orange, we’d have scurvy.

There are three things you should know if you decide to make this Danish braid:

1. The entire process takes at least eight hours. The dough rests in the fridge for five. So, you’ll need to set aside an afternoon or evening to prep the dough. The process isn’t all that intense, but you’ll be rolling and folding the dough four times, with 30-minute breaks in between. Plenty of time to catch up on the laundry, take a multivitamin, or watch way too much Law and Order. Guess which one I did.

2. If you’ve neither seen nor eaten a Danish braid before, it’s basically a glorified Hot Pocket® with buttery, flaky layers. You can fill it with roughly a cup of anything you like: ham and cheese, apples and almonds, Nutella and hazelnuts, spinach and feta, cherries and cream cheese. The dough recipe you’ll find at the end of this post makes two Danish braids. My first was cinnamon, sugar, and toasted pecans. The second was pepperoni, ricotta, mozzarella, Parmesan, and basil. If you decide to make a savory braid, use the given dough recipe, but leave out the orange zest, cardamom, vanilla, and orange juice.

3. The braiding is no big deal. A Danish braid is a laminated dough. Instead of combining the butter and a flour mixture, you keep them separate and fold the butter between the layers of dough. Your first one or two turns of the dough might look pretty ragged; just keep going. With every turn, the dough will get smoother. And, if you can lace your shoes, you can braid this dough.

Once you’re done, you’ll have two rich, buttery braids that look impressive, taste delicious, and contain 100 percent of your daily allowance of vitamins and minerals. And by “vitamins and minerals,” I mean butter. Enjoy!

Danish Dough
Adapted from Sherry Yard’s The Secrets of Baking

For the dough:

• 1 ounce fresh yeast or 1 tablespoon active dry yeast
• 1/2 cup whole milk
• 1/3 cup sugar
• Zest of 1 orange, finely grated
• 3/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1/2 vanilla bean, split and scraped
• 2 large eggs, chilled
• 1/4 cup fresh orange juice
• 3 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon salt

For the butter block:

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

Dough
Combine yeast and milk in the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and mix on low speed. Slowly add sugar, orange zest, cardamom, vanilla extract, vanilla seeds, eggs, and orange juice. Mix well. Change to the dough hook and add the salt with the flour, 1 cup at a time, increasing speed to medium as the flour is incorporated. Knead the dough for about 5 minutes, or until smooth. You may need to add a little more flour if it is sticky. Transfer dough to a lightly floured baking sheet and cover with plastic wrap. Refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Butter Block
Combine butter and flour in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment and beat on medium speed for 1 minute. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and  beat for 1 minute more, or until smooth and lump free. Set aside at room temperature.

After the dough has chilled 30 minutes, turn it out onto a lightly floured surface.  Roll the dough into a rectangle approximately 18 x 13 inches and 1/4-inch thick.  The dough may be sticky, so keep dusting it lightly with flour. Spread the butter evenly over the center and right thirds of the dough. Fold the left edge of the dough to the right, covering half of the butter. Fold the right third of the rectangle over the center third. The first turn has now been completed. Mark the dough by poking it with your finger to keep track of your turns. Place the dough on a baking sheet, wrap it in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Place the dough lengthwise on a floured work surface. The open ends should be to your right and left. Roll the dough into another approximately 13 x 18 inch, 1/4-inch thick rectangle. Again, fold the left third of the rectangle over the center third and the right third over the center third. The second turn has now been completed. Refrigerate the dough for 30 minutes.

Roll out, turn, and refrigerate the dough two more times, for a total of four single turns. Refrigerate the dough after the final turn for at least 5 hours or overnight.  The Danish dough is now ready to be used.

Danish Braid
Makes enough for 2 large braids

• 1 recipe Danish Dough (see above)
• 2 cups filling (your choice)

For the egg wash: 1 large egg, plus 1 large egg yolk

Line a baking sheet with a silicone mat or parchment paper. On a lightly floured  surface, roll the Danish dough into a 15 x 20-inch rectangle, 1/4-inch thick. If the dough seems elastic and shrinks back when rolled, let it rest for a few minutes, then roll again. Place the dough on the baking sheet.

Along one long side of the pastry make parallel, 5-inch-long cuts with a knife or rolling pastry wheel, each about 1 inch apart. Repeat on the opposite side, making sure to line up the cuts with those you’ve already made.

Spoon the filling you’ve chosen to fill your braid down the center of the rectangle.  Starting with the top and bottom  flaps, fold the top flap down over the filling to cover. Next, fold the bottom flap up to cover filling.  This helps keep the braid neat and helps to hold in the filling. Now begin folding the cut side strips of dough over the filling, alternating first left, then right, left, right, until finished. Trim any excess dough and tuck in the ends.

Whisk together the egg wash in a bowl and with a pastry brush, lightly coat the braid.

Spray cooking oil (onto a piece of plastic wrap, and place over the braid. Proof at room temperature or, if possible, in a controlled 90 degree F environment for about 2 hours, or until doubled in volume and light to the touch.

Near the end of proofing, preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Position a rack in the center of the oven.

Bake for 10 minutes, then rotate the pan so that the side of the braid previously in the back of the oven is now in the front. Lower the oven temperature to 350 degrees F, and bake about 15-20 minutes more, or until golden brown. Cool and serve the braid either still warm from the oven or at room temperature. The cooled braid can be wrapped airtight and stored in the refrigerator for up to 2 days, or freeze for 1 month.

I love cobbler. When I was a kid, summer started when my Mommaw pulled the season’s first huge, bubbling, lattice-topped baking dish of peach cobbler out of the oven. She would let me eat it as hot as I could stand it, with a huge scoop (or two) of Breyers Natural Vanilla. And when I spent the night at her house, instead of oatmeal or scrambled eggs or Shredded Wheat, she’d let me eat peach cobbler for breakfast, saying, “It’s got all the food groups: fruit, flour, and fat.”

So, I bent the rules a little on this week’s Tuesdays with Dorie recipe, mixed berry cobbler, chosen by Beth of Our Sweet Life. I used Dorie’s filling (five cups of frozen berries, plus sugar, lemon zest, and cornstarch), but instead of her biscuit topping, I substituted my grandmother’s pie crust on the top and bottom. It gave me an excuse to try a lattice top for the first time. And it will make an excellent breakfast.

Summer officially arrives in the U.S. tonight at 11:59 p.m.

This is the year we make friends.

Life’s too short to dread the humidity, chlorine, and mosquitoes big enough to rape a chicken. And the sweating. The sweating! No, I’m not going to focus on that.

Last January, Gourmet printed “What Is Southern?,” a previously unpublished essay by the late Edna Lewis, one of the South’s most celebrated chefs. Here’s the part that caught my attention:

“Southern is a hot summer day that brings on a violent thunderstorm, cooling the air and bringing up smells of the earth that tempt us to eat the soil. Southern is Tennessee Williams and Streetcar … Southern is a pitcher of lemonade, filled with slices of lemon and a big piece of ice from the icehouse, and served with buttermilk cookies.”

Now, there’s a vision of summertime in the South I can get behind.

I promised myself I’d bake buttermilk cookies for the first day of summer, and I did. Sweet and lemony, with a slightly tangy glaze. Cakey on the inside, crispy around the edges. They sneak up on you.

In fact, the experience was so nice, I’ve decided to kick off The Buttermilk Cookie Experiment: a summer of learning how to make classic Southern foods. Fried chicken. Biscuits. Fried green tomatoes. Peach cobbler. Lane cake.

So, welcome, Summer. Bring your appetite. Skip the swimsuit.

Buttermilk Cookies
Adapted from Gourmet, January 2008

Makes about 5 1/2 dozen cookies

For Cookies

• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
• 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 2/3 cup well-shaken buttermilk

For Glaze

• 1 1/2 cups confectioners sugar
• 3 tablespoons well-shaken buttermilk
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter two large baking sheets.

Whisk together flour, zest, baking soda, and salt.

Beat together butter and sugar in a large bowl with an eletric mixer until pale and fluffy. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating well after each addition, then beat in vanilla. Mix in flour mixture and buttermilk alternately in batches at low speed, beginning and ending with flour mixture, until smooth.

Drop level tablepoons of dough about 1 1/2 inches apart onto baking sheets. Bake, 1 sheet at a time, until cookies are puffed and edges are golden, 12 to 15 minutes per batch. Cool cookies on sheets 1 minute, then transfer cookies to racks.

To glaze the cookies: Whisk together all glaze ingredients and brush onto tops of warm cookies.

Let stand until cookies are completely cooled and glaze is set.

I’ve lost my techno mojo.

Saturday morning, I baked this week’s Tuesdays with Dorie recipe, a cream puff ring chosen by Caroline of A Consuming Passion. Monday night, I plugged in my digital camera, and the photos were gone. The next day, I baked another cream puff ring, took more photos, wrote another post, and our cable Internet connection went out. The cable came back; the post didn’t. Yesterday, I wrote another post. Added the photos. It didn’t save.

So, once more with feeling, let’s talk cream puffs.

Before you ignore the recipe link, let me warn you that you’ll be missing out on something amazing. You probably have everything you need for the dough right now: milk, butter, sugar, salt, flour, and eggs. You’re going to boil the liquid, add the flour, and stir the mixture until it makes a smooth dough that smells like really buttery grits. Place the dough in the bowl of your mixer, and paddle out the steam before you add the eggs.

To form the cream puffs, either pipe or spoon the dough into portions the size of a golf ball onto a prepared baking sheet. They’ll need to be about two inches apart. If your kitchen is really warm and things are looking messy, pop the entire baking sheet into the freezer for up to 30 minutes.

Once your cream puffs have baked and cooled, slice them in half and fill them with whatever you’d like: pastry cream, flavored whip cream, fruit, nuts, Nutella, chocolate, tofurkey. Then put the tops of the cream puffs back on, and dust them with confectioner’s sugar.

The hollow pastries can hold a surprising amount of filling, but once you add it, the meter is ticking. You’ve got approximately eight hours before they go soggy. Prepare to share!

P.S. I hope this post actually makes it to you this time. One, two, three … PUBLISH!

Internet, if you thought my baking week couldn’t get any weirder than the catfish cake, you would have been right. Until yesterday. That’s when I spent the day on a cake designed to look like a 2 1/2-foot male member as the final project for my Wilton Fondant and Gumpaste class.

Kidding! Or am I?

No, the cake was a special order for a client’s birthday.

So, I’m finishing this cake when I remember the deadline for the Barefoot Bloggers‘ first official assignment: Pasta, Pesto, and Peas.

I was in luck, because most of the ingredients are house staples: pasta, olive oil, mayo, garlic, spinach, peas. I picked what basil I could from the plants in the backyard (grow, babies, grow!) and made due with the pasta we had–a mixed bag of interesting shapes and unfortunate colors.

While the pasta boiled, I made the pesto (the smell!) and started prepping the other ingredients. I didn’t bother measuring the mayo–just used what was left in the jar. Ina’s recipe calls for defrosted spinach, but we had just the right amount of fresh, so I used it instead.

Even with the recipe cut in half, there was enough pasta salad to feed Lower Guam.

The entire recipe takes about 20 minutes. Plenty of time to grill some chicken, get the drinks on the table, and take a call from your grandmother asking if your cake is circumcised.

Bon appetit!

Pasta, Pesto, and Peas

Copyright 2001, Ina Garten

• 3/4 pound fusilli pasta
• 3/4 pound bowtie pasta
• 1/4 cup good olive oil
• 1 1/2 cups pesto, see recipe below
• 1 (10-ounce) package frozen chopped spinach, defrosted and squeezed dry
• 3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1 1/4 cups good mayonnaise
• 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan
• 1 1/2 cups frozen peas, defrosted
• 1/3 cup pine nuts
• 3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
• 3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Cook the fusilli and bow ties separately in a large pot of boiling salted water for 10 to 12 minutes until each pasta is al dente. Drain and toss into a bowl with the olive oil. Cool to room temperature.

In the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade, puree the pesto, spinach, and lemon juice. Add the mayonnaise and puree. Add the pesto mixture to the cooled pasta, and then add the Parmesan, peas, pine nuts, salt and pepper. Mix well, season to taste, and serve it at room temperature.

Pesto

• 1/4 cup walnuts
• 1/4 cup pine nuts
• 3 tablespoons chopped garlic
• 5 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 1/2 cups good olive oil
• 1 cup freshly grated Parmesan

Place the walnuts, pine nuts, and garlic in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. Process for 15 seconds. Add the basil leaves, salt, and pepper. With the processor running, slowly pour the olive oil into the bowl through the feed tube and process until the pesto is thoroughly pureed. Add the Parmesan and puree for a minute. Use right away or store the pesto in the refrigerator or freezer with a thin film of olive oil on top.

It’s too hot. For complete sentences. Sleeves. Maybe breathing.

Perfect weather for a fruit tart.

Unlike the wholesome, humble, “American-as” pie, the tart isn’t afraid to show off her goods. You wouldn’t catch a tart dead in a fussy lattice cover-up or quaint maple-leaf border. Tarts go topless. They’re bold. Confident. Hard-wired for a good time.

A pie will pay your bail. A tart will sit with you in jail and say, “Wasn’t THAT fun?”

This week’s Tuesdays with Dorie challenge is another one of Dorie Greenspan’s French favorites, La Palette’s Strawberry Tart.

The recipe is easy. Start with Dorie’s Sweet Tart Dough. While the crust is in the oven, grab a quart of strawberries and slice them into halves or quarters. Toss them with sugar, and add any extra flavorings you’d like. (Dorie suggests a splash of liqueur and a turn of freshly ground black pepper.)

Once the crust has cooled, spread it with a generous layer of strawberry jam, and top each slice with a tumbling spoonful of berries and a dollop of whipped cream or creme fraiche. Don’t worry about the berries falling off the crust. It’s not messy; it’s carefree.

As other fruits come in season, you can adapt this tart to other crust-filling-fruit combinations. Blueberries and pastry cream. Peaches and mascarpone. Raspberries and Nutella. Sautéed apple slices and caramel. Pears and ricotta. Feel free to mix-and-match.

If it’s true that we are what we eat, then by the time you finish a slice of Dorie’s strawberry tart, you’ll feel a little more relaxed. A little juicier. Two slices, and you’ll feel ripe and unruly. It’s mid-June. If you’re still wearing pantyhose, the tart says to stop.

Last year, I was at a total loss for what to give Jeff for his birthday. My brother-in-law, Taylor, had just scored a new-in-the-box PlayStation 3 from a police auction, and he gave it to me to give to Jeff. G-a-v-e. I paid him back the money he’d spent, but he never asked for it.

How much did Jeff like the gift? When I gave him the PlayStation, we were dating. Now, we’re married.

So, when my sister asked me to make a birthday cake for Taylor–a neapolitan cake topped with a huge catfish–I was all about it. Never mind that I’d never actually seen a catfish. Not without hushpuppies and tartar sauce.

Thank God for Google Image Search.

I started with three 9-inch cakes–one vanilla, one chocolate, and one strawberry–split and filled with vanilla buttercream, chocolate buttercream, and vanilla buttercream swirled with fresh strawberries. Then I crumb-coated the cake with vanilla buttercream and covered it in blue fondant.

While I baked the cakes and made buttercream, Jeff molded the catfish out of Rice Krispies treats. We let the “body” dry overnight, and then I wrapped it in chocolate fondant and sculpted the whiskers, gills, and fins the next day.

I held the cake on my lap while Jeff drove to Jenn and Taylor’s house. Rush hour traffic. Forty-five minutes. On the interstate.

I’ve never been so relieved to have something out of my car.

But the looks on their faces were worth it. Taylor was surprised. Jenn was beaming. My nephew, Logan, wanted the fish head, and his younger brother, Jackson, was pulling off the fondant and eating it by itself.

So, neapolitan? Check. Catfish? Check. A 200 proof sugar rush for the 3-year-old? Check.

My work there was done.

Happy birthday, Taylor!

We took these French Chocolate Brownies to a “Lost” season finale party Thursday night, and it’s a good thing the room was dark, so no one noticed exactly how many I wolfed down.

I needed something to supplement our dinner, which was a menu of Things That Are Difficult If Not Impossible For Me To Eat In Public. We’re talking corn-on-the-cob, which makes me obsess about my teeth. I think there’s something stuck between them. Can he see it? Maybe if I drink some water. Nope. Where’s a mirror? Maybe I can just keep my mouth shut all night. Is that a kernel?

And there were vegetables that had to be sliced with a knife.

Remember that scene in “Pretty Woman” where Julia Roberts tries to shuck an oyster and winds up hurling it across the restaurant? That’s me. That’s why I like to order things that stay put, like taters.

Anyway, I made a meal of these brownies. The crackly top adds a little texture to an otherwise completely moist, melt-in-your-mouth, fudgy brownie. Perfect for picnics, parties, and corn malfunctions.

French Chocolate Brownies
Adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours

• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)
• 1/3 cup raisins, dark or golden
• 1 1/2 tablespoons water
• 1 1/2 tablespoons dark rum
• 6 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
• 1 1/2 sticks (12 tablespoons; 6 oz.) unsalted butter, at room temperature and cut into 12 pieces
• 3 large eggs, at room temperature
• 1 cup sugar

Getting ready: Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 300°F. Line an 8-inch square baking pan with foil, butter the foil, place the pan on a baking sheet, and set aside.

Whisk together the flour, salt and cinnamon, if you’re using it.

Put the raisins in a small saucepan with the water, bring to a boil over medium heat and cook until the water almost evaporates. Add the rum, let it warm for about 30 seconds, turn off the heat, stand back and ignite the rum. Allow the flames to die down, and set the raisins aside until needed.

Put the chocolate in a heatproof bowl and set the bowl over a saucepan of simmering water. Slowly and gently melt the chocolate, stirring occasionally. Remove the bowl from the saucepan and add the butter, stirring so that it melts. It’s important that the chocolate and butter not get very hot. However, if the butter is not melting, you can put the bowl back over the still-hot water for a minute. If you’ve got a couple of little bits of unmelted butter, leave them—it’s better to have a few bits than to overheat the whole. Set the chocolate aside for the moment.

Working with a stand mixer with the whisk attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the eggs and sugar until they are thick and pale, about 2 minutes. Lower the mixer speed and pour in the chocolate-butter, mixing only until it is incorporated—you’ll have a thick, creamy batter. Add the dry ingredients and mix at low speed for about 30 seconds—the dry ingredients won’t be completely incorporated and that’s fine. Finish folding in the dry ingredients by hand with a rubber spatula, then fold in the raisins along with any liquid remaining in the pan.

Scrape the batter into the pan and bake 50 to 60 minutes, or until the top is dry and crackled and a knife inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean. Transfer the pan to a rack and allow the brownies to cool to warm or room temperature.

Carefully lift the brownies out of the pan, using the foil edges as handles, and transfer to a cutting board. With a long-bladed knife, cut the brownies into 16 squares, each roughly 2 inches on a side, taking care not to cut through the foil.