This month’s challenge actually had nothing to do with baking, but, really, I’m not complaining, because it had to do with chocolate. We even learned how to temper chocolate, which was really useful, since there’s a technique you have to master if you don’t want to screw up your chocolate (see this pic to understand).

The August 2011 Daring Bakers’ Challenge was hosted by Lisa of Parsley, Sage, Desserts and Line Drive and Mandy of What the Fruitcake?!. These two sugar mavens challenged us to make sinfully delicious candies! This was a special challenge for the Daring Bakers because the good folks at http://www.chocoley.com offered an amazing prize for the winner of the most creative and delicious candy!

I went with two chocolate-dipped candies:

1. marzipan with Grand Marnier-infused candied orange peel and pistachios
2. honeycomb (sponge) candy

The former was very, very easy to make. The latter, um, not quite as easy.

The first attempt at making honeycomb candy resulted in an enormous river of caramel lava overflowing out of the glass dish that I was hoping would contain it. It also was a bit too moist (I cooked it until 285F), so the second time, I made a much smaller batch that I heated to 300F. The candy was perfect – crunchy, not sticky or chewy. It’s actually easy to make once you have the recipe/technique down, and dramatic. Even my caramel-hating boyfriend liked the taste of it, too.

I used the seeding method of tempering the chocolate, since I don’t have a scraper and didn’t want to mess with the marble/granite method. As it turns out, with a decent thermometer and a microwave, the seeding method turned out just fine.

More pics after the jump…

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Po kazdej wojnie
ktos musi posprzatac
Jaki taki porzadek
sam sie przeciez nie zrobi.

After every war
Someone’s got to clean up
After all, some kind of tidyness
Isn’t going to come about on its own.

Ktos musi zepchnac gruzy
na pobocza dróg,
zeby mogly przejechac
wozy pelne trupów.

Someone’s got to sweep aside the rubble
to the side of the road
So that carts full of corpses
Can pass through.

Ktos musi grzeznac
w szlamie i popiele,
sprzynach kanap,
drzazgach szkla
i krwawych szmatach.

Someone has to bury
in the sludge and ashes
couch springs
shards of glass
and bloodied rags.

Ktos musi przywlec belke
do podparcia sciany,
ktos oszklic okno
i osadzic drzwi na zawiasach.

Someone has to drag the beam
to support the wall
Someone has to glaze the window
and set the door in its hinges.

Fotogeniczne to nie jest
i wymaga lat.
Wszystkie kamery wyjechaly juz
na inna wojne.

It’s not photogenic
and it takes years
All the cameras have already left
for another war.

Mosty trzeba z powrotem
i dworce na nowo.
W strzepach beda rekawy
od zakasywania.

Bridges must be rebuilt
along with train stations
Sleeves will be in shreds
from being rolled up.

Ktos z miotla w rekach
wspomina jeszcze jak bylo.
Ktos slucha
przytakuje nie urwana glowa.
Ale juz w ich poblizu
zaczna krecic sie tacy,
których to bedzie nudzic.

Someone with a broom in his hands
remembers how it used to be
someone listens
and nods with the head that hasn’t been cut off.
But already around them
Those who have become bored
will start to fidget.

Ktos czasem jeszcze
wykopie spod krzaka
przezarte rdza argumenty
i poprzenosi je na stos odpadków.

Someone will still occasionally
dig up from under a bush
some rusty old arguments
and carry them over to a pile of debris.

Ci, co wiedzieli
o co tutaj szlo,
musza ustapic miejsca tym,
co wiedza malo.
I mniej niz malo.
I wreszcie tyle co nic.

Those who knew
what happened here
have to give up their place to those
who know little.
And less than little.
And, finally, those who know nothing.

W trawie, która porosla
przyczyny i skutki,
musi ktos sobie lezec
z klosem w zebach
i gapic sie na chmury.

In the grass, overgrown with
causes and effects
someone has to lie back
with a straw in his teeth
and stare into the clouds.

This month I made a significant variation from the standard recipe outlined by the Daring Baker Challenge host: I went vegan. My cousin V. was in town, and, among a number of her other dietary peculiarities, she is currently not eating dairy (she does eat fish, and just started eating gluten again, so it is something you have to check in every now and then about). So I used the suggested recipes for making the vegan pastry cream, and vegan chiffon cake, and came up with something that was visually unappealing but still tasted quite good.

Blog-checking lines: Jana of Cherry Tea Cakes was our July Daring Bakers’ host and she challenges us to make Fresh Frasiers inspired by recipes written by Elisabeth M. Prueitt and Chad Robertson in the beautiful cookbook Tartine.

The pastry cream was essentially a pudding – sweetened, flavored (with lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla) almond milk, thickened with flour. It unfortunately didn’t have any stiffness to it whatsoever, and without the ability to put in some whipped cream or gelatin, I was a bit at a loss at what to do. As you can see above, the thing started to collapse within seconds of me lifting away the plastic wrap.

The chiffon cake was pretty dense and chewy–apparently a common problem among gluten-free cakes (I certainly didn’t have to make this gluten-free, since the pastry cream was full of it anyway), according to V.–but not too disagreeable. Most everyone loved the addition of the thin layer of almond paste at the top, and, of course, the big pile of sliced strawberries I had picked up at the farmer’s market earlier that day.

Maybe I’m still an East Coaster at heart. Or maybe I’m getting old and crabby.

Me at a popular sandwich spot. Bubbly hipster employee. All of her delivery using HRT.

BHE: “Hi! Welcome to ____! Can I help you choose a sandwich? We have-”

Me: “I’ll have the ________.”

BHE: “Oh, yeah! That is one of my favorites! I really like the hummus that’s in it. Good choice! Y’know, I think some crispy cucumber slices really, like, add something to this sandwich, and they’re only like 30 cents more. Would you like to give them a shot?”

Me: “Sure.”

BHE: “Awesome! Now, like, what kind of bread would you like? We have, like, sourdough, Dutch crunch, whole wheat-”

Me: “Sourdough.”

BHE: “Awesome! And what cheese would you like with that? I personally like-”

Me: “Provolone.”

BHE: (Looks like she’s about to tell me I have terminal cancer) “Ohhhh, I am SO sorry. We don’t have provolone. I totally understand you wanting provolone because it is like SO great-”

Me: “Cheddar is fine.”

BHE: “Oh, OK. Cheddddaarrr [types it into the terminal]. Is there anything else you’d like? We have a lot of really awesome drinks, like chocolate-”

Me: “Just water, thanks.”

BHE: “OK. A bottle of water. Really a great choice because you can get like TOTALLY thirsty eating one of our sandwiches! That’ll be $13.91 [yes, that expensive].”

Me: [hands over card]

BHE: [looks at card] “Thank you, J___! Now that will just take a couple of seconds here. [5 seconds later] I am SO sorry this is taking SO long. Sorry, J___! It should only take like a FEW more seconds.”

Me: [looks at her incredulously]

BHE: “Awesome. Could you sign here? Now you get to choose a bag of chips. Do you like barbecue-flavored chips, J____?”

Me: “Um, I don’t know. Whatever.”

BHE: “I REALLY like the Funky Fusion chips. They are like this melange of barbecue, cheese, vinegar, pepper and all these other great flavors. They’re really great! [laughs] Thanks, J____! Your sandwich should be out in just, like, 5-10 minutes, J____!”

—-

We should have nipped the “Would you like fries with that?” stuff in the bud when we had the chance…

The whole hipster movement has brought to the fore a new aesthetic for men: skinniness. Women have wanted to be skinny since time immemorial (i.e. for the last 40 years or so), but it’s only recently that (straight) women have really wanted the same from their boyfriends and husbands. Traditionally, women have liked men to be muscular—a sign of strength, confidence and vitality—but now even waifish-looking men can get love from women.

Why? I know a LOOOOOOT of women and can put forth 2 guesses based on the way I know they tick:

1) They’re hoping it’s catching. Just like women like to hang out with other skinny women, many women are hoping they can catch skinniness from their rail-thin boyfriend or husband like an STD. After all, there have been recent studies that suggest that if you hang out with fat people, you’re likely to get fat, and, speaking less sociologically and more biologically, certain intestinal bacteria can influence your weight, too.

2) They want skinny daughters. It’s only since the era of Twiggy that really thin models have been in, and it’s only been since a number of these models have had similarly-thin, pretty daughters (think Bianca and Jade Jagger, Isabella and Elettra Rossellini, Kelly Emberg and Ruby Stewart, Beverly and Anansa Johnson…an endless list, really) that consciousness that you might want to pass on skinny genes to your progeny has spread. And not only do the mother’s genes matter: witness skinny rocker men with gorgeous, willowy daughters (Keith Richards and Steven Tyler come to mind). NONE of this is lost on young women who are paying attention.

These reasons—the latter, especially—help to explain why gay men don’t like skinny boyfriends; some might want to be skinny themselves, but almost all gay men (except the chickenhawks) like muscular, fleshy boyfriends. They’d rather try to get/stay skinny by hanging out with skinny, bitchy queens.

This month’s challenge was a lot of work, a TON of calories, but so incredibly delicious…baklava! The challenge part came with the phyllo dough: we had to make it ourselves. It was very time-consuming (it took me about an hour to roll out 18 sheets) but very gratifying, and surprisingly easy since the pictures, directions, and video that Erica provided were really excellent.

Erica of Erica’s Edibles was our host for the Daring Baker’s June challenge. Erica challenged us to be truly DARING by making homemade phyllo dough and then to use that homemade dough to make Baklava.

I made a few alterations to the recipe she provided:

• my glass dish was 8″ x 8″, so I increased her recipe by about 50%
• I used a bit less honey and more sugar, since I didn’t want honey to overpower the flavor of the dessert
• I omitted the almonds and just increased the quantity of pistachios and walnuts
• I cooked the allspice berries in the syrup instead of adding them to the nuts
• I added cardamom and a dash of homemade walnut liqueur to the syrup, and only used the zest of the lemon; I omitted the cloves (didn’t have any!)
• I used a combination of butter and olive oil for buttering the layers of the phyllo

I was too afraid to make any alterations to making the phyllo and I’m glad I didn’t. They turned out very good.

The baklava came out absolutely delectable – fragrant, rich, not too sweet. The texture is closer to the traditional baklava I’m used to – with a flaky but moist top layer of phyllo. Most of the commercially-available baklava here has a crunchy top (maybe a different style? Arab, maybe?) but when you pour syrup on top of the baklava, it does get moist, and this is what I’m used to.

One picture here – 3 more after the jump:

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This month’s challenge looked overwhelming (and very, very egg-heavy) at first read, but was actually a pleasure to make and eat. Not that I didn’t f*** up part of it – my meringues were downright bizarre – but the showpiece (the chocolate marquise) and the caramel accompaniment were delectable. They were a hit among my friends, including B., whose birthday it was and who got a candle plunked into the the middle of his marquise square.

The May 2011 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Emma of CookCraftGrow and Jenny of Purple House Dirt. They chose to challenge everyone to make a Chocolate Marquise. The inspiration for this recipe comes from a dessert they prepared at a restaurant in Seattle.

A marquise is similar to a semifreddo or even ice cream, except that it relies more on egg yolks and eggs than cream to give it its velvety texture. The custard is made by pouring in boiling sugar into a frothy yolk/egg mixture, and a chocolate base, this time with some cayenne and pepper for some extra zest, is added at the final stage for flavor. I personally think folding in the whipped cream wasn’t absolutely necessary, but it did give the marquise a bit of a rocky-road like appearance.

I also loved the tequila (OK, I used mezcal, which we had just bought in Mexico) caramel, which I drizzled onto the plate under the marquise. My meringues were just too odd and burnt from the broiler, more like toasted marshmallows. I thought I had had almonds at home and was planning to make the spiced almonds accompaniment, but I didn’t end up having them after all. They would have added a nice touch, but they were optional and I was under a bit of a deadline.

Walking up Market St towards Castro, crossing Octavia Blvd.

In front of me, a very short, bespectacled homeless woman, carrying her sleeping bag, muttering to herself. She basically looks like a shorter version of Fran Lebowitz. Equally neurotic.

“I don’t like Brazil nuts. (mumble mumble) I don’t like Brazil nuts. I don’t like Brazil nuts. (mumble mumble) I don’t like Brazil nuts. (mumble mumble)…”

This continues until we reach the Gay and Lesbian Center. She stops. Reaches for the door handle, but then stops herself. Continues walking.

“I don’t like lesbian Brazil nuts. (mumble mumble) I don’t like lesbian Brazil nuts. I don’t like lesbian Brazil nuts. (mumble mumble) I don’t like lesbian Brazil nuts. (mumble mumble)…”

….

My other favorite freaks: the screaming BART station lady and the crazy cat guy

Proof that in the world of new media, previous transgressions that prove that you’re a bigoted asshole will not necessarily be held against you. Keith Rabois works at Square, the credit card gadget for iPads and smart phones.

Mr. Rabois, in what he later characterized as an attempt at demonstrating the importance of free speech, harassed a Stanford professor while he was at law school there, repeatedly calling him a gay slur and, Ayatollah Khomeini-style, wishing death upon him. (“Faggot! I hope you die of AIDS!” and “Can’t wait until you die, faggot.”)

The irony? If my (notoriously accurate) gaydar is right, Keith is as queer as a $3 bill. Of course, this should come as no surprise to anyone who’s witnessed the hypocritical implosions of the likes of Ted Haggard and Larry Craig in recent years.

And judging by the childish defensiveness of some of his tweets, Keith might be hiding more than his sexual orientation. His 4th-grade Twitter bravado is the electronic version of a penis car.

I was raised Catholic, but by the time I entered college, had abandoned Christianity altogether. I went through a long period of being “nothing in particular,” identifying as atheist and agnostic, while dabbling in Buddhism and (more) Taoism, before finding my spiritual home in Judaism.

Before you start worrying, this post isn’t going to try to get you to convert to Judaism. Jews don’t do that!  Judaism is not a proselytizing religion (i.e. it accepts converts, but does not go out to seek them). Something else that Judaism is not is dogmatic. This is an important distinction that undergirds my choice to leave Christianity.

Christianity (and Islam) are dogmatic religions; that is, they have a dogma, or a set of required beliefs. If you don’t believe something required (that Christ is your savior), then the religion threatens you with eternal punishment.

Think about what this means. You are required to make yourself believe something, under threat of punishment. Think about how difficult, if not impossible, that really is. Jesus is always scouring your thoughts, trying to detect any doubt and send you down to the 9th layer of Hell if he finds any. This is little more than mind control.

I’ve been watching the Twilight Zone recently, the original series created and hosted by Rod Serling (unsurprisingly, a Jew) and saw this episode last night (“It’s a Good Life” - part 1 – part 2 – part 3) . The whole “think happy thoughts!” and “put it out of your mind!” attitude displayed by the perennially frightened villagers captures the essence of Christianity to me. The cornfield is nothing more than the threat of hell.

When people don’t feel the freedom to let their mind explore, much less say out loud or print an unconventional opinion, they are in prisons of their own making.