Gold's Banana Bread and Circumstance

Here is what I know about banana bread. It happens under two circumstances.

One is that you get a craving for it on a Tuesday and then wait for the bananas to become speckled and chestnut in spots.  Then you satisfy your needs on Friday. 

The other is that you buy more bananas than you, and anyone in close cohabitation, could humanly eat in a three or four day period. The decreasingly yellow fruits make their presence known through aspirations of breakfasts gone by. And you must dispose of them.

The trash is not an option.  Banana bread happens when becoming wholly-rotten-to-the-point-of-disbandment is not an option.  Or when waiting is the only option.  It is a wonderful, strange thing that occurs when either too much or too little planning takes place. 

And thus, it is accessible to many types.  This is one of the reasons, I think, why it is so appealing.  

It is likely the person who makes you banana bread is either a good planner or someone who often makes the best of a bad situation.  Both types are handy to have around.  Particularly with concurrent skills in the banana bread making department.

The last time I made a loaf was November, 2011.  I documented it on a trip with some friends to the mountains of New York.  (Banana bread is good on trips.)  A solid recipe for sure, but arguably a little too bedazzled when simplicity is what you require.  It also suffers from inaccessibility with the cardamom-haters that walk the earth.

Then, a few months ago, a classmate brought in two loaves of still-warm banana bread—one with chocolate chips—both served with honey butter. It was the best banana bread ever.  The recipe came from the back of a bag of Gold Medal flour. Which should be a lesson to all of us.

Perhaps we should pay more attention to our negligence and to the ordinary. After all, that’s the stuff really good banana bread is made of.

Gold’s Banana Bread

Adapted from the back of a Gold Medal Flour bag

Ingredients:

• 1¼ cups granulated sugar
• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
• 2 eggs
• 1½ cups mashed very ripe bananas (3 or 4 whole)
• ½ cup buttermilk
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 2½ cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp salt
• ½ tsp cinnamon
• 1 cup chopped walnuts

Instructions:

Set the oven to 350 degrees. Grease the bottom only of one 9 x 5-inch (or two 8 x 4-inch) loaf pan(s).

In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the sugar and butter on medium-high speed until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes).  Add the eggs, bananas, buttermilk, and vanilla and mix on medium-high until fully combined and smooth. 

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon.  With the mixer running on low, add the flour mixture in three swift additions.  Stir in the walnuts with a rubber spatula until just combined (make sure bits of flour are no longer visible).

Bake for 60 to 70 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean when inserted into the center.  (Start checking around 55 minutes with the two smaller loaves.) Cool 10 minutes on a wire rack then, with a knife, loosen the sides of the bread from the pan.  Let cool one hour before slicing.

Makes one 9 x 5 loaf or two 8 x 4 loaves
 

Olive et Gourmando Brownies, Of Time and Chocolate

When someone suggests that you ought to go to graduate school, what they are really saying is that in two to five short years, you will arrive with a master’s degree wearing pants that have become hard to button, permanent under eye circles, and a new distain for structuralism. 

All for the cost of a down payment on a house.

I have worked as a dietitian for ten years and gastronomy graduate student for five.  Food has become a lens through which I view pretty much everything. 

I have examined French nationalism through wine and peered at fascism through a pasta noodle. Viewed the sensorial language of restaurant chefs using a twelve course tasting menu.  Analyzed normative gender identity in a professional kitchen. And theorized beer to be a fluid entity built by microbes and societal flux.

And I mention all this because I am tired.  I have one more class to go.  And have officially hit writer's block. 

It turns out the quintessential brownie can no longer be summed up so quickly.  That and I desperately need a vacation. So forgive me.

This recipe is a wonderful example of the complication that food often provides.  It is the best brownie recipe I have encountered.  And it comes from Canada. 

Specifically, from a bakery called Olive + Gourmando, which I visited a few years ago during a trip to Montreal.  It is the kind of shop that labels pastry baked in a muffin tin with a disclaimer that reads, “this is not a red velvet cupcake,” in typewriter font next to platters of chocolat belge biscuits and thick brownies. A place that can get away with holding its middle finger up high.

An unlikely source of such a treasured archetypal American dessert.  And yet, poetically appropriate.

These brownies are of the fudge-like persuasion.  They are unapologetically dense and deep, studded with homemade espresso ganache chips that shimmer like moonlight through the pines.  They call for advanced planning by a day or two and a shocking quantity of high quality chocolate. But if you are craving sensory overload, there is no better fix.

And if you want them, you had better get on it.  This is not the type of recipe built on hastiness. Like so many worthwhile things it requires an investment of time, and of chocolate.

Olive et Gourmando Brownies with Espresso Ganache Chips

Adapted from Dyan Solomon

Ingredients:

for the espresso ganache chips

• 375 grams (about 13½ ounces) 70% chocolate
• ½ cup heavy cream
• 2 tbsp instant espresso powder
• ½ tsp cinnamon

for the brownie batter

• 3 sticks (1½ cups) butter, cubed
• 455 grams (about 16 ounces) 50% chocolate, cut into cubes ½ to 1-inch
• 6 eggs, room temperature
• 1½ cups sugar
• 2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• 1½ tsp salt

Instructions:

for the espresso ganache chips:

These need to chill, so plan to make them a few hours ahead (or the day before).  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.  Place a metal bowl over a pan of slowly simmering water about 1-inch deep.  Melt the 70% chocolate in the bowl, stirring regularly.  Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, warm the heavy cream and mix in espresso powder and cinnamon; stir to dissolve. 

Pour the heavy cream into the melted chocolate; stir rapidly to combine and pour on parchment paper, smoothing the chocolate out towards the pan edges.  Place in the fridge to cool.

for the brownies:

Set the oven to 350 degrees.  Grease two baking dishes with butter and cover with parchment paper—letting the paper sides hang over the dish (this will make it easier to remove the brownies). Grease the parchment paper with butter. (I used a 9 x 9 and a 6 x 12 pan: you may be able to get away with one large rectangular baking dish but it may alter the cooking time.)

Place the butter in a medium saucepan on medium heat to melt; add in the 50% chocolate and stir constantly; taking care not to let the chocolate burn.  When the chocolate has melted, remove from heat and set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine eggs, sugar, and vanilla extract; beat until it turns a pale, frothy yellow (about 5 minutes). 

In a separate small bowl, sift together flour and salt.  Remove the ganache from the fridge and break up into bite-sized pieces.

Drizzle the melted chocolate into the egg mixture (the chocolate should be warm but not scalding hot); fold together. With the mixer on low, add the flour in three additions; remove the bowl from the stand.

Fold in the ganache chips and continue to fold until no flour remains, taking care not to over mix.

Pour the batter into prepared pans and bake for 35 to 45 minutes, or until the top looks set and starts to crack.  (Since the batter is so rich, it will be difficult to use a toothpick to test for doneness.) Let cool and then refrigerate overnight in the pan; this will aid in creating a fudge-like texture.

Makes about 25 brownies

Notes:

1. You’ll want to use high quality chocolate, especially as it is such an integral part of the recipe, Callebaut or Valrhona are two options.                                                                                                 
2. I recently had a person suggest to me that graduate students have more time on their hands.  Which I think could be an accurate statement—if you align that sort of existence with someone who sits in coffee shops drinking lattes and writing about the sensorial discourse of, say, coffee shops.  

A Dark and Stormy Triple-Layer Birthday Cake, In the Dust of this Planet

A few days ago I was listening to a podcast about a man who wrote a book called In the Dust of this Planet. The joke was that he writes books for no one.  Part of his interview went like this:

   “Are you a pessimist?”
   “On my better days.”
   “Are you a nihilist?”
   “Not as much as I should be."

A part of my soul—which can get a bit dingy from time to time—exhaled.  Sometimes it can be really tough to be a human.  Recognizing some self in someone else makes it a little easier to breathe.

It inspired me to write down a few notes.  For myself, mostly. About getting older and how to reconcile that with things around you.

This may not interest you.  There is dessert at the end.  So feel free to skip ahead.  If you are not a nihilist sympathizer, you may very well be someone who likes cake.

It so happens I am both.  I made the cake for my brother’s birthday last weekend.  If we are talking in binary terms, he is a Dust person.  He likes skulls, hates birthdays, and is partial to dark spirits, particularly if they are named after an old man.  But more on all that in a bit.

Dear human,

What you should first recognize is that you are aging, minute by minute. One of life’s only certainties. 

This means you are still among the living for the time being.  And so allow me to offer a few words of advice. 

You may very well experience crow’s feet and pimples at the same time.  And they really don’t have a proper cream for this.  Also, you’re probably going to develop some back or knee pain, so enjoy unencumbered sex, or squats, or both, while you can.

If you live alone, you will—at some point—worry about choking on your dinner and recognize things could end very badly, and swiftly for you at the hand of, say, a poorly groomed salmon.  If you are someone who has never lived alone, you might think this sort of thing is silly.  Or dramatic. Or neurotic. It’s not, so don’t be an asshole.

You’ll probably need to learn to love something a little less along the way too.  It might be gin martinis, or a man, or money, or cheeseburgers.  These things can be vampires under the right circumstances.

A sense of humor is indispensible.  Knowing someone with a boat is helpful too, but it may require wearing horizontal stripes. You’ll have to weigh the pros and cons.

If you eat meat, you should know how to roast a chicken.  It is generally cheap, easy to learn, and a reminder that your food came from something with legs and, formerly, a neck.

Breathe.

If you are on the sidewalk, do not take up the whole space. If you are on the metro, do not usurp the subway pole.  If you are on a bike in the city, stop at red lights.  And if you are in a car, remember, we can still see you.

It is okay to say, “I don’t know.” Context is everything.  And try not to lie, you will have less to remember.

Celebrate your birthday.  You only get so many.  And, whenever possible, make cake.  For you and for those you love.  You never know when it could be the last slice.

Now, for the cake.  It starts with lime curd.  Proceeds with a ginger beer syrup that could probably get coaxed into jelly with the right amount of gelatin.  Finishes with salty peanuts and crystalized ginger topped by meringue buttercream with five shots of Island rum forced in.

There is also three layers of vanilla cake infiltrated with crunchy buttered nuts to contend with.

I call it a barstool cake.  Which, if I am honest, you might need after you are done with the recipe. It took me over four goddamned hours to make start to finish. But it is worth it.  Why are nuts included?  Because bar nuts are awesome, silly.

The cake was wholeheartedly inspired by a Dark and Stormy cocktail.  It has notes of spice and strength.  It is not overly sweet, but it is no diet dessert to be certain.  And it is just salty enough to keep things interesting.

My birthday-hating brother had a whole piece.  And said it was good. Also, my friend David volunteered to eat it with his hands.  It did not work out that way, but this sort of behavior would not have been prohibited.

Both life and cake are fleeting, enjoy them as much as you can.

Dark and Stormy Triple-Layer Birthday Cake

Ingredients:

for the lime curd 

(Adapted from Barefoot Contessa Parties! by Ina Garten)

• 2 limes
• ¾ cup sugar
• ¼ cup unsalted butter
• 2 eggs, room temperature
• pinch of kosher salt
• for the ginger beer syrup
• 12 ounces ginger beer (I prefer Maine Root ginger brew)
• 3 nobs of ginger (each about thumb-sized), peeled and chopped in half
• 3 tbsp sugar
• juice of 1 lime
• pinch of kosher salt
• ½ tsp powdered gelatin (see note)

for the vanilla nut cake

Adapted from Momofuku Milk Bar by Christina Tosi

• 230 g (2 sticks) butter, room temperature
• 500 g (2½ cups) sugar
• 120 g (½ cup) muscovado or dark brown sugar, packed
• 6 eggs
• 220 g (1 cup) buttermilk
• 150 g (1 cup) canola oil
• 25 g (2 tbsp) vanilla extract
• 370 g (3 cups) cake flour (see note)
• 8 g (2 tsp) baking powder
• 8 g (2 tsp) kosher salt
• 1 cup buttered or toffee or spiced nuts, roughly chopped (if you’d like to make them try this)

for the rum meringue buttercream

Adapted from Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston’s Flour Bakery + Café by Joanne Chang

• 1½ cups sugar
• 6 egg whites
• 1½ cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, room temperature and cut into 2-inch chunks
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• ¼ tsp kosher salt
• 8 ounces dark rum
• additional ingredients
• ½ cup salted peanuts
• ½ cup finely chopped crystalized ginger, plus more for garnish if desired
• fresh mint (optional garnish)

Instructions:

for the lime curd

Using a peeler or sharp knife, remove the zest from the limes, shaving off any residual white pith with a knife; slice the zest into strips and roughly chop and then place in a food processor with the sugar.  Pulse until the zest is very finely minced, fragrant, and well incorporated.  Squeeze the limes (you should get ¼ cup juice). 

In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream the butter with the paddle attachment; beat in the lime sugar.  

Add the eggs one at a time, then the juice, and salt.  Mix until well combined.

In a medium saucepan, cook the mixture on low heat, stirring regularly with a rubber spatula, until thickened.  The curd is ready when it coats the back of a spoon (this will take about 10 minutes).  

Take care not to overcook or the curd will curdle.  Remove from heat and refrigerate. (You should have about 1½ cups of curd.)

for the ginger beer syrup

In a medium saucepan, place the ginger beer, peeled ginger, sugar, lime, and salt; cook on medium high and adjust the heat as necessary to maintain a robust simmer.  Cook for about 15 minutes or until the liquid has reduced by about two-thirds (you should end up with roughly a scant cup of syrup). 

Add gelatin, stir, and refrigerate.

for the vanilla nut cake

Set the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter, line with parchment paper, and butter again three 9-inch cake pans.  In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream the butter and sugars with the paddle attachment on medium-high for 2 to 3 minutes.  Scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula and with the mixer running on low add the eggs one at a time.  Beat on medium-high for another 2 to 3 minutes.  Scrape down the sides.

On low speed, slowly pour in the milk, oil, and vanilla. Mix for 4 to 6 minutes on medium-high until the batter becomes white and almost doubles in volume.  Don’t skimp on time here.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt. On low speed, add in the flour mixture until the batter just comes together.  Scrape down the sides and mix with the rubber spatula to ensure all the flour has been incorporated. 

Divide the batter among your three prepared pans.  Give each a quick whap on the countertop to help disperse the batter.  Divide your nuts evenly among the top of the pans and push down gently with a rubber spatula so they are mostly covered with batter.  Bake for about 30 minutes or until the cake tops turn golden and their middles no longer jiggle (the edges should spring back slightly when gently poked). 

Cool completely on a wire rack.  Loosen each cake by running a knife along the edges and gently tapping the bottoms on the counter.  Gently invert the layers and store in the fridge wrapped in plastic wrap until ready to use. (They can be made up to 5 days in advance.)

for the meringue buttercream and final assembly

Place a medium saucepan with a few inches of water on medium heat and allow to come to a simmer. In a medium heatproof bowl, whisk the sugar and egg whites.  Place the bowl over the simmering water and whisk for 6 to 8 minutes or until the mixture gets hot to the touch and very foamy.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, place the heated foam mixture and whip on medium high with the whisk attachment for 6 to 8 more minutes or until the mixture becomes a light, white meringue consistency and is cool to the touch.

Turn the mixer speed to low and slowly add the butter chunks one at a time (it may initially look curdled; mix for about 2 minutes).  Increase the mixer speed to medium and beat for 2 to 3 minutes more; it should start to look like buttercream at this point and should be smooth.  Add in the vanilla and salt and about half the rum and whip until everything combines.  Then slowly drizzle in the remaining rum, about 1 tablespoon at a time, waiting until it incorporates fully before adding more.

To assemble the cake, place three small pieces of parchment paper on top of a cake plate or serving platter; they should overlap slightly (you’ll remove them after you frost the cake; they are there to help reduce your mess).  Select which cake layer you want for your bottom layer (reserve your best layer for the top) and invert so that the top of the cake is turned over on the parchment paper and the flat smooth bottom layer is facing up. 

Using a pastry brush, spread about ½ the ginger syrup over the bottom layer and gently brush down the sides.  The liquid will seep into the cake (unless you’ve opted for more gelatin, in which case you probably won’t want to put it on the sides and it shouldn’t seep into the cake).   Top with half the curd.  Sprinkle half the peanuts and minced ginger over the top.  Then spread one-third of the buttercream on top.

Place the second cake layer on top of the frosting, again inverted so the smooth bottom is facing up.  Spread the remaining syrup on top and down the sides.  Spread on the remaining curd.  

Sprinkle with the rest of the peanuts and ginger and top with more buttercream, reserving enough to frost the last layer.  Top with remaining cake (this can either be inverted or with the top facing right side up, your preference; inverted will be flat and smooth while the top facing up will yield a slightly more rustic effect).

Using an offset spatula, frost the top with the remaining buttercream. (Dip the offset spatula occasionally in hot water to help ensure the top gets smooth.)  You can fill in the side crevices with any leftover frosting, if you see fit, smoothing as you go.  Garnish with additional crystalized ginger and mint, if desired.

Remove the parchment paper and transfer the cake to the freezer for at least an hour or so (long enough so the layers will set).  Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to five days (or store for up to 2 weeks in the freezer).  Let the cake warm up at least an hour before serving.

Makes enough for 12 to 16 people

Notes:

1. I would suggest making the curd, syrup, and perhaps even the vanilla cake the day before you plan to assemble everything.
2. I think the syrup would be even more interesting as a jelly.  Next time, I plan to double the gelatin (at least). If you do this, let me know how it turns out.
3. If you do not have cake flour you can use 2 cups plus ½ cup plus 2 tbsp all-purpose flour and ¼ cup plus 2 tbsp cornstarch.  (The ratio is 2 tbsp cornstarch for every 1 cup flour, replacing 2 tbsp flour.)
4. About the rum, I used Old Man Guavaberry rum from a recent family trip I took with my brother to Sint Maarten. (The below photo is from Karakter Beach bar and it is one of my favorites. The photo above is from another Sint Maarten beach, on a much stormier day.)