Two Days, Two Dozen Eggs: Part 2

For E.'s housewarming party this weekend I decided to go retro. Devilled eggs retro.

I was determined to make these the ultimate devilled egg, no ordinary oeuf mimosa. My instincts told me that despite the recipe’s European origins in ancient Rome and Andalusia, it might have been a while since the devilled egg made an appearance on the Oxford dinner party scene. I was right.

These little beauties were met with a bit of apprehension, and most of our friends went for the crisps and E.’s delectable bruschetta before venturing over to the Pyrex casserole lids filled with eggs (when one is many moons away from places where devilled egg serving plates are easily procured, one improvises). Somehow, though, by the end of a very enjoyable evening, the lids were empty...

Here is my version:1 dozen eggs

¼ cup mayonnaise

1 ½ Tbs. Dijon mustard

1 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

2 shallots, minced

2 Tbs. capers, drained and minced

1-2 Tbs. sambal oelec

3-4 dashes Tabasco

Salt and pepper to taste

1. Boiling the eggs

Here I decided to consult Julia Child’s egg chapter in The Way to Cook (my culinary Bible for methods), and it worked beautifully. Place the eggs in enough warm water so that the water level is at least one inch above the eggs. Bring the pot to a boil and then immediately pop the lid on the pot of water and remove from the heat, allowing the eggs to sit for exactly 17 minutes. Then, shock the eggs in cold water (this will prevent that woeful, nasty brownish/green discoloration around the yolk) for two minutes. Finally, pour boiling water over the cooked, cooled eggs, and peel. The temperature shock of cold water followed by boiling water will cause the membrane around the egg to release from the white more easily, making the peeling process far easier.

2. Filling

Halve the eggs (I found that cleaning the knife with a damp paper towel between slicing helped to make cleaner cuts) and add the yolks to the other ingredients listed. The filling is, of course, subject to personal taste, but I must say that the sambal oelek chilli paste really worked a dream! Place the mixture in a piping bag with a star tip and fill the white cavities.

The frizzled shallots are optional. But so good!

Remember the lemon curd from Part 1?

Try dipping shortbread cookies in it and dust with confectioner’s sugar.

Two Days, Two Dozen Eggs: Part 1

The bureaucratic gods smiled warmly upon me this month: the UK Border Agency returned my passport, visa therein, wait for it...one week early! In this age of cynicism and general ire directed towards government agencies, when immigration solutions seem all the more elusive even as the problem mounts and countries lock down their borders instead of looking to the roots of global poverty, I choose to look upon the early arrival of granted leave in the UK as a glimmer of light.

Hence, cupcakes. And how could there be a more hopeful, light variety of cupcake than Coconut Lemon Meringue Cupcakes! The egg itself, of which one needs 9 for this recipe, with its sunny yolk and billowing whites represents a new beginning which emulsifies, binds together, while also aerating and lightening.

Perhaps that was a bit much.

In any case, these were delicious cupcakes. The batter has coconut milk and 6 egg whites, which, together, create a fluffy batter that makes the top of the cupcake more like a cake-y macaroon than dense cake. The golden lemon curd in the middle counters the sweet, toasted meringue, and, all together, creates an irresistible combination.

The only modification I made to the recipe was to make a true Italian meringue. So, instead of just egg and sugar over simmering water, I made a 'softball stage' sugar syrup and drizzled it into whipped, then beaten whites. Julia Child's The Way To Cook is an excellent reference here. The egg chapter has a comprehensive section on meringues.

Sometimes You Just Need Cake

...From a box. I know, I know. Shock! Horror! I even have a kitchen scale. But when pressed for time, or when the comfort factor of a cake seems like it might be zeroed out by the stresses of managing not just cake but the icing as well...well, I have to admit that I don't really have a problem with turning to the red box of the baking aisle. To a point.

I recently saw a fairy cake box mix to which one adds only water, and that's just gross. Recently, I've been striking a balance that includes experimenting with homemade frostings and fillings, while cheating a bit on the actual baking. I promise to post a cake from scratch soon, but these three cakes (one a rainy day activity, one an impromptu birthday cake, and the other as cupcakes for a dinner party) were no worse off for their processed beginnings because they were coated and layered with fresh ingredients.

D. and I decided a couple of weeks ago that, well, we just needed some cake. With her thesis deadlines looming, summer seeming to have taken a hiatus, and my...unjustified lethargy, a cake was in order. We trotted off to the shops and returned with dark chocolate, Nutella, and all the other accoutrements necessary for the cake and a basic buttercream.


The box's directions were more or less followed, however, one addition really made a difference. Where the measurements for water are called for, I left room for a single shot of espresso. Coffee and chocolate are a natural pair, and the cakes were just ever so slightly more rich in chocolate flavour thanks to the addition.

Now for the buttercream. This is no ordinary buttercream. In fact, I think if consumed in excess it could provoke instantaneous cardiac arrest. However, that is neither here nor there...
It ended up as something of a melange between chocolate ganache and buttercream. We began by melting 3oo grams of good quality dark chocolate over a double boiler. This was then added to the creamed butter and sugar...and then we added the Nutella (about 1/3 jar)...and the rest is history. Paula Deen, eat your heart out!

~ ~ ~

D. exercising her piping skills
Cake No. 2

M. was on a flight from O'Hare to Heathrow as we spoke, staring at the communal kitchen table. It was time to kick into gear and get a birthday cake to end all birthday cakes together. A recent stop to Added Ingredients in Abingdon meant that I was wielding a proper piping bag and decorating tip set along with a Bialetti coffee maker for D. Needless to say, a couple shots from Mr. Bialetti got us going.

I remembered a cake I'd made out of Bon Appetit (June 2000)--a 'Mixed-Berry and White Chocolate Buttercream Cake', and decided it might work well again with the chocolate cake mix I had. Again, I added some espresso and baked according to the box directions. Bon Appetit's recipe makes an obscene amount of vanilla cake (there are 15 egg whites!), and this gateau had to be baked ASAP in a tiny oven.

For the buttercream, I followed Bon Appetit's recipe, but cut down on the quantities by approximately a third since my version had two layers instead of three:

8 ounces white chocolate, chopped
1/2 c. whipping cream
2 c. (4 sticks) unsalted butter at room temperature
1 c. egg whites (about 8)
2 1/4 c. sugar
2 1/2 tsp. grated orange peel
2 tsp. vanilla extract

We frosted with a crumb layer, topped the first layer chock-a-block with berries, and covered with the remaining buttercream, piping scalloped edges and and using seedless raspberry jam to decorate.

The third impromptu cake experiment was for a dinner party at E's, of Chef E. fame. I had just acquired some silicon cupcake forms, and I was eager to try them out. The end result was far more British 'fairy cake' in shape than American cupcake, but they tasted alright, just the same.

Half-way through baking, I studded each cake with a raspberry or two, and topped with a lemon Swiss meringue buttercream (in essence, the recipe above, minus the white chocolate and with the addition of 1 Tbs. lemon zest and a small squeeze of fresh lemon juice) and blackberries.

If that's not an end-of-summer cupcake, I don't know what is!