Banana Cream Pie with Chocolate Ganache & Salted Caramel Sauce

I've been dreaming of banana cream pie ever since I had a taste of Melissa Chou's (Aziza) deconstructed version inspired by The Essential New York Times Cookbook. I thoroughly enjoyed Chou's elegant take on the dessert, but I had a hankering for something a little homier.

I had visions of a pretty Southern belle of a pie, with little flair, of course. A classic golden graham cracker crust coated with dark chocolate ganache, sweet bananas, thick vanilla-specked pastry cream, and pillows of soft whipped cream swirled with salted caramel.

Mmm…I could almost taste it already.

Graham cracker crust

To start, I got my crust in order. Honey Maid made it even easier than usual with pre-crushed graham cracker crumbs. I mixed it with some melted butter and a touch of sugar and baked it until it was golden brown and firmed up.

Chocolate ganache bottom

Then, I coated the bottom with a rich layer of dark chocolate ganache (flair #1).

Pastry Cream

For the pastry cream, I combined whole milk, sugar, and vanilla bean and let it come to a simmer. A tip with the vanilla bean, if it's too hard to split in half, throw the entire bean in the saucepan so that it softens as the milk warms up. Once it's pliable again, fish it out, splice it open, and scrape the seeds out. Meanwhile, I whisked together some sugar, cornstarch, and eggs. When the milk boiled, I whisked in the egg mixture. As it heated up again, the mixture thickened up to a pudding-like consistency. To finish off the pastry cream I folded in some freshly whipped cream and bananas.

Salted Caramel

For my second bit of flair, I wanted to bring some burnt salted caramel into the picture. The subtle tinge of bitterness and pop of salt in the caramel added an interesting dimension to the mix. Plus, salted caramel is always a good decision in my book. Making caramel is surprisingly easy, but for some added reinforcement, I turned to David Lebovitz for some great detailed tips on making the perfect caramel.

Assembly

Now that all the pieces were ready, I layered in all the goodness and got ready for my dreams to come true. It was even better than I imagined it would be! The flavors complemented each other beautifully. The banana and chocolate -– a classic combo -– but brought to another level of interesting with the addition of the salted caramel, which also played nicely with the buttery graham cracker crumbs. Cool, creamy, sweet, and decadent. This is the kind of pie you want to take home to meet the parents.

Beautiful Banana Cream Pie

Banana Cream Pie with Chocolate Ganache & Salted Caramel Sauce
Inspired by Amanda Hesser's The Essential New York Times Cookbook.

Serves: 8

Ingredients:

Graham Cracker Crust
1 ¼ cups graham cracker crumbs (10 or 11 whole crackers)
1 teaspoon sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Ganache Layer
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 ounces bittersweet chocolate (about 1/2 cup chocolate chips)

Pastry Cream
1 2/3 cups whole milk
¼ cup plus 3 tablespoons sugar
1 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped out and reserved
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 large egg
2 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Salted Caramel Sauce
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel (or kosher salt)

For Assembly
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
3 medium bananas

Preparation:
Make the crust:
1. Preheat the oven to 325 F. Combine the crumbs and sugar in a bowl. Add the butter and mix until the crumbs are moistened. Pour the mixture into a 9-inch pie pan and use a flat-bottomed cup to press the crumbs evenly over the bottom; press it up the sides with your fingers. The edges of the shell will be crumbly.
2. Bake until lightly browned, 10-12 minutes. Cool completely.

Make the ganache:
3. Set the chocolate into a bowl. Heat the heavy cream to boiling point and pour over the chocolate. Let stand a couple of minutes and gently stir until fully incorporated and glossy. It should be the consistency of warmed chocolate syrup. Cool to room temperature. Pour over the cooled pie crust and refrigerate.

Make the pastry cream:
4. Combine the milk, ¼ cup of sugar, and the vanilla bean and seeds in a medium saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat. (Tip: If the vanilla bean is hardened, throw the entire bean in the saucepan so that it softens as the milk warms up. Once it's pliable again, fish it out, split it in half, and scrape the seeds out. Add it all back into the saucepan until the mixture simmers.)
5. In a small bowl, sift the remaining 3 tablespoons of sugar together with the cornstarch. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg and yolks.
6. When the milk comes to a simmer, strain out the vanilla bean pods. Add the cornstarch mixture to the eggs and whisk until well combined. While whisking, slowly pour in about one-quarter of the milk to temper the egg mixture. Transfer this mixture to the saucepan, set over low heat, and simmer, whisking constantly, until it reaches the consistency of thick pudding. (Be careful not to curdle the eggs.)
7. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter until incorporated. If the mixture isn't quite as smooth as you'd like, you can always run it through a sieve. Pour into a shallow bowl, place plastic wrap directly on the surface, and chill.

Make the caramel sauce:
8. In a heavy saucepan set over medium-high heat, stir together sugar and water, and bring to a boil. Let boil until amber-colored. Once it starts taking on color, keep a close eye because it will turn quickly.
9. Immediately add butter and stir to incorporate. Remove from heat, add cream and salt (be careful, it will splatter), and mix well. It should be smooth and have a syrup-like consistency. Let cool to room temperature.

To assemble:
10. Using an electric mixer or a whisk, whip the heavy cream into peaks. Add powdered sugar and incorporate. Transfer the pastry cream to a large bowl and whisk until smooth. Fold in about half of the whipped cream.
11. Line the bottom of the pie crust with a layer of bananas (approximately two bananas sliced into rounds). With the remaining banana, slice half if it into rounds for garnish, and roughly chop the other half to fold into the pastry cream.
12. Drizzle a thin layer of caramel sauce over the bananas.
13. Spoon the pastry cream evenly into the crust. Mound the remaining whipped cream on top. Drizzle some caramel sauce over the whipped cream, swirling it decoratively. Decorate with remaining banana slices.
14. Chill, and serve within 24 hours. Plate with remaining caramel sauce.

I know this is going to sound crazy, but I love ice cream. I also happen to have an deep affection for Manhattan cocktails. So one evening after a rather unpleasant night at work, I came home, plopped myself in a comfy chair, and thought to myself:

"What'll it be, Michael? Ice cream or alcohol?"

And then, feeling that I needed a double dose comfort after dealing with puffed up politicos and sleazy guests who ask me to feel up parts of their bodies in front of their co-diners, I thought again:

"Why not have both?" To borrow a phrase: Why can't I have my drink and eat it, too?

And so the idea was born.

My original idea was to make a sort of milkshake: ice cream, bourbon, a little milk, and then whirr in the blender. Though delicious-sounding, it felt like a rather desperate concoction-- something made by an alcoholic who had lost his teeth from neglect and a diet consisting solely of rot gut. Besides, it doesn't exactly scream Manhattan, but I'll be damned if I'm going to add sweet vermouth to a milkshake for any reason. And there is no way on God's green earth that I would ever subject good and drunken Morello cherries to the blender's chopping blades.

No thank you.

Tired and stymied, I drank a large glass of water, crawled into bed, and filed the idea away in my now-hydrated brain.

It was a few days later at work that the solution presented itself in the form of a hot fudge sundae I was delivering to a table populated by a name-dropping, bring-your-own-wine family of four.

"What if I made a sweet vermouth caramel sauce?" I asked myself as I pretended to find the father's joke about the hugeness of their dessert both amusing and original. "Would it be disgusting?" There was only one way to find out.

Back at home the next morning, I made three batches of Cinzano caramel sauce: one that burned when answering the phone, another that was entirely too boozy, and a third that both looked and smelled right. I stuck my (clean) finger in.

It was, mercifully, just right: Excellent color, not boozy at all, but with enough of a little something-something that one who was not clued in might ask, "What is that flavor? I can't quite make it out." I was so proud of myself for achieving a rare (for me) state of subtlety, that I gave myself a little pat on the back.

And then I had to go change my shirt because I'd forgotten that my fingers were sticky with said subtlety.

Making the ice cream base was a breeze. I knocked it out on Tuesday morning and placed it in my refrigerator to chill overnight. Everything was clean and ready for the big chill the next morning.

Everything, that is, except my ice cream maker.

I didn't see it coming. I got out my trusted little Krups machine, set it on the counter and... nothing happened. This, I thought, was a device made by the same company that powered the Imperial German Army's war machine. This simple piece of equipment, I believed, was created by the very same organization that came up with the Big Bertha (in honor of the Krupp munitions heiress)-- the largest siege gun known to man (circa 1914). I'd even named my ice cream machine "Little Bertha" in its honor, because it had knocked out so many batches of frozen cholesterol bombs in my previous life as a dessert maker.

Where did I go wrong? I wondered if perhaps it wasn't a matter of machinery at all but, rather, generalship. I had in common with the Germans an over-confidence in superior equipment, but whereas the Imperial command overtaxed and exhausted its army, mine merely suffered from neglect. It had been nearly six years since I'd bothered to turn the damned machine on.

How could a company that helped pummel the Belgians and lay waste to northeastern France let me down with a simple machine that had only one switch? I was mortified.

And then I realized something.

There's only one "p" in the brand name of my ice cream maker. I went online to double check for misspelling. The Krupp family, it turns out, had absolutely nothing to do with the making of Krups kitchen appliances. My little machine was in no way connected to the outfitters of death and destruction.

I returned to the machine and stared at it. I really didn't have the money to purchase a new one and told it as much (yes, I do sometimes speak to inanimate objects). Whether it was my pathetic plea of poverty or its sudden realization that it had been cleared of any and all war crimes against the Low Countries, the machine came to life.

It was a bloody miracle. Since there is no official patron saint of ice cream, I have decided to place my offering of thanks at the altar of St. Honoré of Amiens who, though his home town was in the path of Big Bertha, now felt free to bless Little Bertha, since it was discovered that they were in no way related.

Little Bertha still makes a lovely batch of ice cream. I placed the freshly-churned batch of bourbon-vanilla in the freezer to firm up, assembled all the components of the sundae, photographed it, and set about writing up this piece for you today.

And then, as I was saving this charming, completed bit of food blogging confection at 3:55 pm, WordPress decided to log me out of my account resulting in the loss of almost the entire post. So here I am, finally home from an unpleasant night at work, re-writing the whole thing. It is now 2:03 am.

It has been a Manhattan Sundae melodrama indeed.

Thank God it's delicious.

And so, my friends, I'm going to leave you with a clip from the film Manhattan Melodrama*. As far as I can tell, no sundaes were consumed in the making of this 1934 gem, but two of its stars-- Myrna Loy and William Powell-- went on to make a series of delightful Thin Man films in which they solve crimes and drink a hell of a lot of cocktails-- Manhattans included.

Manhattan Sundae

Like all sundaes, this is a dessert of components. Both the ice cream and caramel sauce can be made well in advance of company, which gives you plenty of time to drink a real Manhattan or two (sans ice cream) either with your guests or before they arrive, depending upon the sort of company you keep.

Makes about six charming little sundaes.

Ingredients:

For the Bourbon Ice Cream (I used Lucy Baker's [of Serious Eats] adaptation of Bill Addison's recipe):

1 3/4 cups heavy cream

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1 vanilla bean

7 egg yolks

3/4 cups sugar

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1/4 cup bourbon

For the Sweet Vermouth Caramel Sauce:

2 cups sugar

1/2 cup water

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 1/4 cup heavy cream

1/4 cup sweet vermouth (Cinzano or your preferred brand, if you even have one)

For the Whipped Cream:

1 1/2 cup heavy cream, chilled

3 tablespoons sugar

For Garnish:

Brandied Cherries (I used Morello. You can certainly make your own, if you like. If you are the type of person who actually likes maraschino cherries, I would keep that to yourself, if I were you).

Preparation:

To make the ice cream:

1. Combine cream and milk in a medium-sized saucepan. Slice vanilla bean in two lengthwise, scrap as many seeds as you can from the pod, and add both the seeds and the pod to the mixture.

2. Bring mixture to just below boiling point, then remove from the heat, and cover. Let steep for about 20 minutes.

3. Whisk the egg yolks together with the sugar and salt until it becomes roughly the color of this skirt. Slowly whisk about 1/2 cup of the hot cream into the egg mixture to temper, then add egg mixture to the saucepan with the rest of the cream. Cook over medium heat until it thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon without running all over the place.

4. Strain mixture through a fine-meshed sieve, which can be rather a pain but, texture-wise, is well worth the effort. Add bourbon and vanilla.

5. Deposit ice cream base (covered) in a refrigerator for at least 4 hours or over night, then freeze in your (hopefully) operational ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. You do still have the instruction manual, don't you? It's more than likely in your junk drawer underneath those half-used packs of birthday candles and Chinese take away menus. I'm happy to wait while you look.

For the Caramel:

1. In a medium saucepan (if you are using the same sauce pan you used for the ice cream base, please have the good sense to wash and dry it first), add sugar, salt, corn syrup, and water. I prefer to let these ingredients sit together for a minute or two to let the water disperse itself evenly. Bring to a boil over high heat, brushing the sides of the pan with a clean wet brush to wash down any stray bits of sugar as often as needed. Continue to cook, without stirring, until the color of the sugar begins to turn a charming amber color. Remove from heat immediately.

2. Carefully stir in the cream. Do not under any circumstances stick your face into the pan to find out if your concoction smells nice and caramel-y, since this will more than likely lead to painful sugar burns and permanent facial scarring. Let cool for about 1 minute, then stir in the vermouth. Bring the caramel to a boil once again, but this time over medium heat. Transfer caramel to a heat-proof bowl and reserve.

For the Whipped Cream:

I feel mildly ridiculous telling you how to whip cream. If you find these instructions necessary, you should really re-assess your fitness to make ice cream. And you really, really aren't ready for caramel-making.

1. Whip chilled cream until it thickens. Add sugar before the cream has achieved soft-peak stage. Continue to whip until cream holds stiff peaks, but not long enough so that it in any way resembles butter. Transfer whipped cream to a pastry bag that has been fitted with a star tip.

To Assemble the Sundae:

These sundaes should be served in martini glasses for one obvious reason. If you do not know the reason, I again urge you not to make this dessert. If you are the type of person who prefers his Manhattans on the rocks, you should also abandon this endeavor.

1. Place martini glasses in the freezer for several minutes to chill.

2. Warm your bowl of caramel sauce in a microwave on low setting (or whatever it's called on your machine) or in a pan of hot (but not boiling) water. Keep warm.

3. Insert 2 medium-sized or 3 small scoops of ice cream into each glass.

4. Spoon two heaping tablespoons of warm caramel sauce over the ice cream, pipe in as much whipped cream as your doctor will allow, drizzle a little more caramel over the top (for color), and garnish with brandied cherries.

5. Serve immediately to your guests. Regale them with stories of everything you went through in order to make this special dessert for them.

6. Pour yourself a shot of bourbon for accompaniment.

7. Pour yourself a second shot. You've earned it.

*If you didn't know this already, Manhattan Melodrama was the film Public Enemy #1 John Dillinger had just emerged from seeing when he was shot to death outside the Biograph Theatre in Chicago, Illinois exactly 76 years about this week. Happy Deathday, John!

Cupid's arrows hit Bernal Heights hard this week. Along Cortland Avenue, every storefront from the card store to the cafe to the taqueria is emblazoned with huge red and pink hearts and flowers. What's so romantic about a quesadilla or a double nonfat mocha with whip? Well, anything's romantic when you're sharing it with your honey. Or maybe Bernal just loves window dressing.

Still, the holiday is nearly upon us, and if you've got a sweetheart, you're probably wondering, with eagerness or dread, what to do about it. Personally, I don't ascribe to the fancy-jewelry, table-for-two view of Feb. 14. If you asked me to name my most romantic gifts or moments I've had, I'd remember the poem by Sappho an old girlfriend inscribed for me in gold ink on pink rose petals, one word per petal. Or being picked up from work on Valentine's Day by another date, who whisked me across the Golden Gate Bridge to the Headlands, where we sat on the hood of the car, looking out over the bay and eating take-out shrimp dumplings boxed up from my very favorite dim sum dive. (He knew me well enough to know that heaven, for me, is an endless supply of shrimp dumplings.)

The most romantic notion is the most personal, the gift that makes you feel truly seen. So, what does your husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend secretly like best? At home or in the company of like-minded sensualists, this week offers dozens of ways to tease and titillate your valentine.

Popping the cork on a bottle of good champagne may work for me, but for plenty of people, beer's the drink of choice. And conveniently enough, it's Beer Week in San Francisco now through the 14th, with dozens of bars offering many delectable suds, along with brewmaster meet-and-greets. And who says beer and chocolate aren't a perfect match? Serious Eats has an exhaustive guide to pairing the two. Although many of their picks are geared towards East Coast brands like Jacques Torres, the flavor profiles can certainly apply to your favorite Bay Area treats.

Or you can head to Humphry Slocombe and bring home a pint or two of their this-week-only beer ice creams, made with local brews. Beer ice cream! I think someone out there is just waiting to plant a big wet Homer Simpson m'waaah on you for thinking of this, and better yet, bringing it home, stripping down to your underwear, and grabbing a couple of spoons. Especially if you add a side order of Slocombe's cult-favorite caramels (made with Boccalone lard, and much better, and more bacony, than they sound).

In fact, caramel is breathing hard down chocolate's neck this year, a happy development for those less inclined towards the bean. Bi-Rite Market has a particularly fetching selection right now, starting with the salted caramel ice cream from their own Bi-Rite Creamery. Then there are the tamarind-spiked treats whipped up by local Indian baker and confectioner Spice Vice, as well as the vanilla-speckled, cajeta-inspired softies from Happy Goat, enriched with caramelized goat's milk.

Can't decide between caramel and chocolate? Local Charles Chocolates offers the best of both worlds: fleur de sel caramels covered in chocolate, arranged in an edible, flower-printed chocolate box. Or you can invest in Michael Recchiuti's dynamic duo, a jar each of Extra-Bitter Chocolate Sauce and Burnt Caramel Sauce. Who needs a spoon when you can just pour it on and...well, the rest is up to you.

Prefer to play with your food? Check out this list of chocolate spa treatments for two. Get rubbed down (or revved up) with a chocolate-espresso scrub, let yourselves be macerated in rose petals or painted with cocoa butter and chocolate oil, all while enjoying truffles and bubbly. Remember that goofy Axe chocolate man commercial? Like that, only pricier (and presumably, much more pleasing to the nose).

Can't quite swing that spontaneous weekend in Paris this year? Happily, in our European-minded city, there will always be croissants to wake up to (I may be Bernal-biased, but the delicate, extra-flaky ones at Sandbox Bakery are worth the trip up the hill) and pastel macarons in more flavors than Hermès has scarves. People who love macarons really, really love them, and while Miette has its fans, the latest buzz is about the stylishly packaged dainties at Paulette in Hayes Valley, the first NorCal branch of a popular shop in Beverly Hills. Or you can dream of escaping to the French countryside, à la Juliette Binoche in Chocolat, as you melt and roll your own ravishing truffles at La Cocina's chocolate-making class on Feb. 10.

Got a honey who's more salty than sweet? Well, take it from the Fatted Calf: the couple that grinds together, stays together. Head over to the Calf's headquarters in the Oxbow Public Market in Napa for their I Heart Sausage class on Feb. 13th, and get busy making it all: fresh, smoked, poached, and, for all you vampires out there, boudin noir, the infamous (and delectable) blood sausage. Or pencil in a plan for Whole Hog Butchery, Part 1, upcoming on Feb. 27.

To go with your sausage-fest, pick up a bloomy Heart's Desire cheese. Molded in the shape of a heart, it's named after a charming beach along Tomales Bay and made by Cowgirl Creamery this month only, available in their store in San Francisco's Ferry Building as well as at Tomales Bay Foods in Point Reyes. Out of town? You can order it online in a gift pack along with Jasper Hill Farm's Constant Bliss and Redwood Hill's Camillia cheeses, plus a selection of Tcho chocolates. Farmstead Cheeses and Wines in Montclair and Alameda will also be carrying a selection of heart-shaped cheeses this week, including French goat cheese Coeur de Gariottes, sold with rose petal jam; creamy cow's milk Coeur de Bray; and Coeur Cendrée, a goat cheese dusted with ash. And in keeping with the holiday, their weekly Friday & Saturday wine tasting will focus on sparklers and rosés.

Then again, what about dinner? Just about every restaurant in the city will be angling for your V-Day dollar with passion-fruit mousse and hearts of palm salad. Still, I'd like to imagine that all kinds of polyamorous, four- or more-some wake-ups will be happening the morning after the Wild Kitchen's Valentine's Day Dinner. That secret Mission location, those candlelit communal tables full of curious couples, those shared platters of candycap mushrooms and foraged mussels...how can they not inspire more than just gustatory exploration?

As an appetizer, the two (or more) of you can tango down to the Ferry Building on Feb. 12, from 5 to 8pm, for the annual Food from the Heart. After the food-court tourists have gone home, the elegant main promenade will be transformed into a place to sip, nibble, flirt, and perhaps even dance. Local restaurants and wineries will have tables set up offering drinks and small plates for tasting, $2-$4. The money goes towards sending one lucky Ferry Plaza Farmers Market seller to Slow Food's Terra Madre event in Italy this fall.

I have recently completed a consulting job with Poulet, deli/restaurant with a humble, kitchy interior. Started by Marilyn Rinzler and the infamous Bruce Aidells, Poulet has stood in the same spot since 1979! With the hopes of providing honest, healthful food, with a chicken slant, it is still owned by Ms. Rinzler and manages to makes heaps more food than the diminutive kitchen implies.

A family friend, Ms. Rinzler asked me one day last Spring if I could look at some of their baked good recipes and help her out with advice and suggestions. I began baking 2-3 days a week alongside Lucila Hernandez, Poulet's long term kitchen manager, to test the recipes they had on hand, and re-work them to provide a more viable repertoire of baked goods for their clientele and kitchen staff.

"What is this consulting thing you speak of?"

I get this question a lot. The exact sort of consulting I do depends on what I've been hired to do. It depends on how much time the employer wants me there. Being the overachieving, A-type of employee that I am, I tend to give a little something extra. Throw in some extra information they might not even know to ask for.

At Poulet I tested all the recipes, tasted them with the staff and fixed what needed fixing. I trained and taught Lucila better baking skills and techniques. I created Excel spread sheets for keeping track of what we made, sold and tossed. Seasonal fruit was bought and recipes created around what was at it's seasonal best. "Cake mixes" were made well in advance, so getting a baked good in and out of the much used oven took less time. While spending time re-working recipes I got a feel for who did what when. I learned that if I did not get there before 7 am, the lunchtime dessert could not arrive until after lunch had begun.

At Poulet the most important item is the chicken. And with one oven working overtime, my sweet things stood in a very long line for hot box space!

Commercial cooking and baking is all about streamlining. It's about efficiency. As cooks we are constantly finding way to have our food be sent out of our respective workplaces in the fastest way possible. "What can be done in advance without hurting the end product," could be our tag-line.

Amid the costing-out, training, rewriting recipes, testing and re-testing, writing a newsletter, photographing, spreading the word and tasting, I was able to create some favorites. Because most of my training has been in restaurants, I've spent little time making pretty frosted cakes, pre-packaged puddings and tart slices. So, as many of you know, I had a lot of fun at Poulet creating these sorts of items.

Although right at the beginning I began working on the caramel cake. And because so many of you have requested the recipe, here it is. Of course if you took my if you took my caramel class, you own the recipe and watched it being made!

CARAMEL CAKE with Caramelized Butter Frosting

10 Tablespoons UNSALTED BUTTER, ROOM TEMP
1 1/4 Cups SUGAR
1/2 teaspoon KOSHER SALT
1/3 Cup CARAMEL SYRUP*
2 each EGGS, ROOM TEMP
splash VANILLA EXTRACT
2 Cups AP FLOUR
1/2 teaspoon BAKING POWDER
1C MILK, ROOM TEMP

*Caramel syrup recipe follows

Preheat oven to 350F
Butter one tall 9" cake pan.

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream butter until smooth.
2. Add sugar and salt & cream until light and fluffy.
3. Slowly pour room temperature caramel syrup into bowl.
4. Scrape down bowl and increase speed. Add eggs/vanilla extract a little at a time, mixing well after each addition. Scrape down bowl again, beat mixture until light and uniform.
5. Sift flour and baking powder.
6. Turn mixer to lowest speed, and add one third of the dries.
7. When incorporated, add half of the milk, a little at a time.
8. Add another third of the dries, then the other half of the milk and finish with the dries. {This is called the dry, wet, dry, wet, drry method in cake making. It is often employed when there is a high proportion of liquid in the batter.}
9. Take off mixer and by hand, use a spatula to do a few last folds. making sure batter is uniform.

Place cake pan on cookie sheet or 1/2 sheet pan. Set first timer for 30 minutes, rotate pan and set timer for another 15-20 minutes. Your own oven will set the pace. Bake until sides pull away from the pan and skewer inserted in middle comes out clean. Cool cake completely before icing it. Cake will keep for three days unrefrigerated.

CARAMEL SYRUP

2 Cups SUGAR
1/2 Cup WATER

1 Cup water for "stopping"

1. In a small stainless steel saucepan, with tall sides, mix water and sugar until mixture feels like wet sand.
2. Brush down any stray sugar crystals with wet pastry brush.
3. Turn on heat to highest flame.
4. Cook until smoking slightly: dark amber.
5. When color is achieved, very carefully pour in one cup of water. Caramel will jump and sputter about! It is very dangerous, so have long sleeves on and prepared to step back.
6. Whisk over medium heat until it has reduced slightly and feels sticky between two fingers. {Obviously wait for it to cool on a spoon before touching it.}

For safety reasons, have ready a bowl of ice water to plunge your hands into if any caramel should land on your skin.

CARAMELIZED BUTTER FROSTING

12 tablespoons UNSALTED BUTTER
1 Pound CONFECTIONER'S SUGAR, SIFTED
4-6 Tablespoons HEAVY CREAM
2 teaspoons VANILLA EXTRACT
2-4 Tablespoons CARAMEL SYRUP
Kosher or sea salt to taste

1. Cook butter until brown.
2. Pour through a fine meshed sieve into a heatproof bowl, set aside to cool.
3. Pour cooled brown butter into mixer bowl.
4. In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle or whisk attachment, add confectioner's sugar a little at a time. When mixture looks too chunky to take any more, add a bit of cream and or caramel syrup. Repeat until mixture looks smooth and all confectioner's sugar has been incorporated. Add salt to taste.

Caramelized butter frosting will keep in fridge for up to a month.
To smooth out from cold, microwave a bit, then mix with paddle attachment until smooth and light.

The Caramel Cake is also wonderful on it's own. I've also been known to drizzle it with ganache, or serve it with whipped cream. You will be surprised how delicate the crumb is! The caramel not only adds flavor, it contributes to the cake's moist tenderness.

Enjoy!

I've had a bit of back and forth with a number of prospective students interested in the Sunday December 3rd Caramel Class. In the ultra specific vernacular of professional baking, I have found myself in the midst of trying to explain that, even though caramel is the name of some candies, it is also the name of an ingredient describing a method.

As an attempt to lay it all out on the table, I wrote this email over the weekend:
"The class is about learning how to make caramel and what to do with it as an ingredient. Most people are afraid of making caramel at home-- and they should be, as it is very dangerous. I will teach a number of methods on how to make it and teach arecipe or two utilizing different caramels.

Caramel as candy is another subject, as one needs to be comfortable making caramel at home in the first place. Caramel as candy deals with specific candy making temperatures, long cooks, and special equipment. If a person can learn to feel comfortable with making caramel in the first place, they can go on to make more specific items with it.

The classes I am teaching are "foundation classes." They are meant to start people at the beginning, for comfort, knowledge and ease. I may, at some point, teach more advanced classes, but it is my experience that most bakers, even good home bakers, only know the hows and not the whys of baking foundation principles/instructions."

Does this clear things up a bit? I hope so, I did not mean to confuse or lead astray.

When one understands the whys in conjunction with the hows, one develops a more thorough understanding of a subject. Many people can follow a recipe. But what do we do when:
a. we see a blatant error in the text?

b. are going merrily along following a recipe and it does not appear to be producing said results?

c. have made something over and over and this time it doesn't work?

d. want to substitute ingredients, lower sugars or increase volume?

e. are attempting to make a recipe in a new environment/oven/kitchen/geographical location?

f. Any, or all of the above??

Baking is a science, yes. But it is also about courage and intuition and experiment and craft. It's understanding how each ingredient plays a role in a play, or on a team. Why baking soda this time and baking powder the next? Why am I separating the eggs? How come I'm being told, in no uncertain terms, not to over-mix? Why all purpose flour for this cake and cake flour for that cake? Do I really need to sift?

And on and on and on. Right?

Caramel is a really interesting substance and ingredient. Like glass, it goes from solid molecule, to hot liquid, back to solid again. It sweetens in a deep way. It softens, in a mysterious way. It lowers freezing temperatures, smoothes out batters and custards, and makes candy chewy, in the darndest ways. And it's a fantastic cooking vehicle.

It is my goal, with these classes I have set forth, to help you to feel more comfortable with ingredients and methods and principles, so that you can go back into your home kitchen with some Foundation Basics. If a person can conjure the whys of baking, they are more likely to be able to figure out how to make changes immediately or feel confident taking risks.

My cookie classes covered creaming, air incorporation, leaveners and the importance of ingredients in a simple, uncomplicated baked good. The pate a choux class thoroughly explained the hows and whys of eggs, a twice cooked dough and piping. The pie dough class will explain the tenuous relationship between butter, flour/gluten, and what the oven does when it's introduced to these delicate structures. With caramel I set you forth to both be afraid (it's the most dangerous substance in any kitchen, professional or home) and comfortable with melting sugar, mounting it with various fats, and how it changes baked goods/sauces it gets added to. A class on custards will focus on the egg as it can be manipulated when you know exactly the light hand in which to treat it.

Interested in taking one of my Baking Foundation classes?
Follow this link to Eggbeater and send me an email.

Come one, come all, come hungry to learn.