Of goddaughters and tres leches cake

We just adopted a goddaughter Chinese style.  While Western adoptions of this sort take place in the church at the time of baptism, taking on a gannuer (or even a ganerzi, or godson) is something that's often done when the adoptee is able to make the decision, so it's a lovely way for both sides to say, "Yes! I want you as part of my family!" Which is what happened with us.

We've known Jennifer Cheng for ages and watched as she grew up into a stunning young poet and all-around wonderful young lady.  (That's her on the left with her sister Tiffany.)

Over the past couple of years, Jen and the two of us have become closer and closer until it occurred to us all (including - in an amazing instance of perfect Vulcan mind meld - her mom Samantha) that joining families was exactly what we should do, and so we did.  Yesterday we had the perfect party with the perfect friends, and it was like adopting the ideal daughter as our own.

Jen

This ceremony is taken quite seriously among traditional Chinese, and so everyone dressed up to the nines.  We held the ceremony and party at our home, and Dr. Yuanzhi Li acted as the m.c., since he has a godmother (ganma) and so knew what he was doing. First, Jen's father and mother addressed everyone, then Jen, and then J.H. and myself, telling them why we were linking our lives.  Jen kowtowed to us three times, we presented her with welcome gifts, she and her family gave us gifts in return, and then the party began!


Now, Jen had served in the Peace Corps in Paraguay, so what better way to celebrate than with a traditional Latin American cake, dulce de tres leches.  And I had the perfect recipe:  my friend Flo Braker's fantastic new cookbook, Baking for All Occasions, included what looked to be the most delicious cake of any in my collection of cookbooks, and now that I've made it, I have to declare that it was without a doubt the best dulce de tres leches that I have ever tasted!  Flo wisely offers a stunning berry sauce on the side for color and taste contrast, but it's the cake that takes, well, the cake.

Tada!

 It's not a difficult cake to make at all, the steps are numerous but not that complicated, and the directions are clear and well-written.  What we have here is nothing more than a delicious genoise slathered in a caramel cream sauce until the cake soaks up every bit of the liquid like a sponge.  At the last minute it is frosted with a lightly sweetened whipped cream, and that's it!  If you have never made a cake from scratch before, you could do worse than start with this one.  In fact, having this genoise under your belt will make you pretty fearless when it comes to future cakes.

I doubled the recipe to make a sheet cake, and very little was left.  In fact, although I was pleased that everyone like it so much, I was stunned that only a tiny bit remained, because while most of the Chinese folks that I know like the idea of a frosted cake, they find most American confections way too sweet.  But nobody daintily pecked at the cake this time.  In fact, even the sveltest of the ladies polished their plates, making this a definite winner.

With Flo's generous permission, here is her recipe just as it appears in her cookbook, with my own personal observations added in [brackets].  You'll notice that her recipe has you use only half of the caramelized dulce de leche cream, which to my mind is an excellent reason to double it and make enough to freeze and/or share. Flo suggests that you "Bake the cake at least 1 day ahead so that it dries out slightly to make it thirsty for the filling."

Dulce de tres leches fiesta cake with red fruit sauce

Latin America
8 to 12 servings
[Double this recipe for a 9 by 13 inch sheet cake and increase the baking time, of course]

The Huangs & Chengs

Yellow genoise:

¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons (3½ oz / 100 g) cake flour
½ cup plus 1 tablespoon (4 oz / 115g)  granulated sugar, divided
⅛ teaspoon salt
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Dulce de leche cream:

One 14-ounce (400 g) can sweetened condensed milk [or a 14-ounce (or so) can of ready-made dulce de leche, in which case skip the directions for making the dulce de leche cream]

Dulce de leche filling:

½ recipe (½ c / 4¾ oz / 135 g) dulce de leche cream [above]
¾ cup plus 3 tablespoons (7½ fl oz / 215 ml) heavy cream
¾ cup plus 7 tablespoons (7 fl oz / 210 ml) whole milk
⅛ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons dark rum [I used Malibu Coconut Rum]

Simply berry sauce:

1 cup (5 oz / 140 g) strawberries, hulled and cut in half if large
½ cup ( 2½ to 3 oz) red raspberries, picked over for stems [I used a bag of frozen mixed berries here instead of the fresh strawberries and raspberries since the berries weren't in season yet, and they worked out perfectly; just let the berries partially thaw before processing them.]

¼ cup (2½ oz / 70 g) strawberry jam [I used my cousin Leigh's homemade berry jam, the best there is!]

Jen cutting the cake while we look on

Whipped cream topping:

1 cup (8 fl oz / 240 ml) heavy cream
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon dark rum, optional [I used another glug of that coconut rum]

1. Before baking: Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly coat only the sides of an 8 by 2-inch round cake pan with nonstick spray, then flour the sides, tapping out the excess flour. Line the bottom with parchment paper.

2. To make the Yellow Genoise:  Sift together the flour, 1 tablespoon of the sugar, and salt onto a sheet of waxed paper; set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk together by hand the eggs and the remaining 1/2 cup (3 1/2 oz / 100 g) sugar. Place the bowl in a shallow pan, such as a 10-inch skillet,and add water hot to the touch (120 to 130 F) to the skillet to a depth of 1 1/2 inches.  To prevent the eggs from setting, whisk them continuously until the sugar has dissolved and the mixture is close to body temperature, about 100 degrees F on an instant-read thermometer or tested with a fingertip, 30 to 60 seconds.

3. Remove the bowl from the water bath, attach the bowl to the mixer, and fit the mixer with the whisk attachment. Whip on medium speed until the mixture has cooled, increased in volume (tripled or more), and appears light in texture and almost white, 3 to 4 minutes. To test if the mixture is ready, lift the whisk. The mixture should fall back into the bowl in a ribbon that rests softly on the surface and remains there for at least 15 to 20 seconds. If it sinks into the batter right away, continue whipping for a few more minutes until it has the desired consistency. Add the vanilla during the final moments of whipping.

4. Detach the whisk and the bowl from the mixer, and tap the whisk against the side of the bowl to free the excess egg mixture.  Using a long metal spatula, scoop up one-third of the flour mixture and scatter it over the egg mixture. Using a rubber spatula, gently fold in the flour mixture until just incorporated. Repeat with the remaining flour mixture in two additions, folding just until all of the flour has been absorbed. 

4. Gently pour the mixture into the prepared pan. With the rubber spatula, spread the batter from the center outward, creating a slightly raised ridge around the outside rim. (Since heat is conducted faster near the metal rim, mounding the batter around the edges ensures the cake will bake more evenly and will be more level.) [Also, genoise batter doesn't rise a whole lot more as it bakes, so if your pan is full, don't be too concerned about it overflowing. I like to place a baking sheet under the cake pan, though, to not only catch any drips, but also to protect the bottom of the cake from burning. If you're using a glass pan, this is especially important.]

5. Bake the cake until the top springs back slightly when lightly touched, sounds spongy when tapped, and the sides are beginning to come away from the pan, 25 to 27 minutes. An aroma reminiscent of freshly scrambled eggs should pervade your kitchen when the cake is done. [Pure poetry!] Transfer to a wire rack and let cool in the pan for 5 to 10 minutes.

At the side of the master: Flo

6. Tilt and rotate the pan while gently tapping it on a counter to release the cake sides. Invert a rack on top of the cake, invert the cake onto it, and lift off the pan. Slowly peel off the parchment liner, turn it over so that the sticky side faces up, and reposition it on top of the cake. Invert another rack on top, invert the cake so it is right side up, and remove the original rack. Let cool completely. The cake may remain on the rack, unwrapped, at room temperature for up to 36 hours before assembling the dessert. [You don't need to worry about it drying out because of all the cream it is going to sponge up.]

7. To make the Dulce de Leche Cream: Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Open the can of condensed milk and pour the contents into a 9-inch pie dish. Cover the dish with aluminum foul and place the dish in a shallow roasting pan. Pour very hot (130 degrees F) water into the pan to come halfway up the sides of the pie dish. Bake the milk until it turns caramel brown and thick, 1 to 1½ hours. Refill the roasting pan with hot water as needed during the baking to maintain the level. 

8. Remove the pan from the oven and remove the pie dish from the water bath. Discard the foil and let the caramelized milk cool completely at room temperature. Use half of the caramelized cream right away, or cover the dish with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to 4 days. [Leftover dulce de leche is great drizzled over vanilla ice cream, baked in a flan, or just spooned into your waiting mouth.] 

9. To assemble the cake: Transfer the cake to a shallow plate with a rim and proceed to make the Dulce de Leche Filling. [I returned the cake to the pan in which it had been baked - cleaned of course - and found that this allowed the cake to absorb the cream more quickly with no puddles around it.] In a small, heavy saucepan over low heat, stir together the Dulce de Leche Cream, 2 tablespoons of the milk, and the salt until smooth and warm. Remove from the heat and pour into a large bowl or medium pitcher. Stir in the remaining ¾ cup plus 1 tablespoon ( 6½ fl oz / 195 ml) cream, the remaining ¾ cup (6 fl oz / 180 ml) milk, and the rum until well blended. Slowly pour the mixture over the cake so the cake absorbs the filling. Pause briefly, if necessary, to give the cake time to absorb what has been poured. Refrigerate the cake, loosely covered with plastic wrap, for several hours to allow the flavors to blend and the texture to set. 

Celebrating our extended family

10. To make the Simply Berry Sauce: In a food processor, combine the berries and jam and process until pureed. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve placed over a small bowl to remove any seeds. Cover lightly and refrigerate until serving. You should have about 1 cup (87 fl oz / 240 ml).

11. To make the Whipped Cream Topping: Just before serving, combine the cream, sugar, vanilla, and rum, (if using) in a deep, medium bowl. Using a whisk or a handheld mixer, whip until soft peaks form. Using an offset spatula, spread the whipped cream evenly over the top of the cake.

12. Using a sharp knife, cut the cake into slices. Drizzle some of the berry sauce decoratively over each plate, or pass the sauce at the table. Cover any leftover cake loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate for up to one day. [Freeze any leftovers in a plastic container with enough headway that the whipped cream doesn't get squashed. Defrost in the fridge overnight.]

(All party photos courtesy of John Liu, copyright 2011.)

The rolling donkeys dinner

Way back a couple of months ago, I described a traditional palace sweet called Rolling Donkeys to Deborah Madison. 

These donkeys are actually chewy little bundles of mochi-like rice dough wrapped around red bean paste and covered in ground roasted soybeans. Always up for something new in the food department, Deborah said that she really wanted to try it, and I was eager to whip up a batch. (See the recipe below.)

As with so many things in my life, one thing led to another, and soon we were talking about her coming over for dinner at the end of November, since she was looking forward to spending Thanksgiving with her mother and family here in California. She planned to drive over from New Mexico with her husband, artist Patrick McFarlin, and join up in Mill Valley with two other friends, author Elissa Altman of Poor Man's Feast and her partner, book designer Susan Turner. Elissa and I have been pen pals for ages, and she's also a remarkable foodie and food writer, so this was great news. To round out the dinner party, I invited baking great Flo Braker and her husband, Dave, because Flo is just too fun not to invite and I'll take any opportunity I can find to have her over.

So... was I a bit nervous about this? You bet!

Me, Flo, Elissa, & Susan

The dessert was already a given, of course, which led me to wonder whether I should do an all North China feast. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do dishes that were centered around my very own true love (at least for the present, for mine is a fickle love indeed) in the grand pantheon of Chinese cuisine: the dishes of Jiangsu. Yes, that was my plan, and I knew these folks would approve. 

Our local Dungeness crabs had just barely come into season. Duck is good in cold weather, and Jiangsu's way with duck is lovely, so on the menu went duck. Gingko nuts had just hit the Chinese markets, which meant that they would be perfect with the sweet napa cabbage and bamboo shoots I was pondering. Chinese ham. Fresh shiitake mushrooms. A nice piece of pork. Everything was coming together easily. All I needed were bottles and bottles of Shaoxing rice wine. Good. After weighing all the contestants, the final lineup was this: 

Appetizer platter

Drunken chicken with wolfberries

Snow peas with sesame sauce

Crispy duck with lotus buns

Bean curd custard with crabmeat & roe

Corn &  fresh soybeans with pine nuts

Steamed clams with fresh garlic leaves

Ham, chicken & bean curd shreds

Napa cabbage with gingko seeds & bamboo

Cherry pork with fresh pea sprouts

Dungeness crab legs in bean sauce

Rice crumb sole in lotus leaves

Bombs over Tokyo

Bamboo pith mushroom soup

Yin yang sweet sesame soup

Rolling donkeys (Beijing)

Patrick, me, Deborah, & Dave

I am sure that lots of this looks unfamiliar, particularly the one called Bombs over Tokyo. Also known as Crispy Rice with Shrimp, I'll talk about that recipe soon, as it's a real winner. And I should also discuss Cherry Pork, which has no cherries in it, its gorgeous color and heady flavor provided instead by red wine yeast. 

Here's my recipe for Rolling Donkeys, the odd man out in my menu. This Beijing native was a palace favorite during the times of the emperors. I've been told that these little sweets are called Rolling Donkeys because they look like they're covered in the fine yellow dust that blows around northern China. Donkeys are also part of the local scenery, so it's only fitting that these little morsels are called donkeys instead of, say, alligators or marmots, neither of which show up much in and around Beijing.

The traditional recipe calls for a red bean paste filling and a dusting of ground, roasted soybeans. However, I've never been a big fan of ground, roasted soybeans, as I've found them seriously lacking in flavor and possessing so dessicated a texture that I usually end up coughing quite a bit. JH suggested peanut dust, and that I thought was a fabulous idea. 

Susan, JH, Patrick, Deborah, & Dave

And instead of everyday red bean paste, I cooked up some pitted, chopped Chinese dates with rock sugar, a bit of sesame oil, and a dash of salt before stirring in a handful of toasted pine nuts. This added the final exotic touch I was seeking, as the dates and pine nuts lend a wonderful perfume to the filling, and the pine nuts are used throughout Jiangsu cuisine, so they tied this final sweet to the rest of the meal. (The following recipe calls for red bean paste, though, since that is a lot easier to find and use.) 

This dish doesn't keep and turns hard within a day, so make it the morning that you want to serve it, store it covered at room temperature, and enjoy this excuse to lots eat more than you should.

Steaming the dough

Rolling Donkeys 
Lü dagun 驢打滾
Beijing
Makes about a dozen pieces 

1-1/2 cups rice flour (Mochiko brand sweet rice flour recommended)
1-1/2 cups filtered water
3/4 can bean paste (Ogura-an brand recommended)
2 tablespoons roasted sesame oil
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1-1/2 cups skinned peanuts, roasted

Looking like a jellyroll

1. Mix the rice flour and water together to form a dough, and then knead the dough until smooth, adding just a bit more water if needed. Form the dough into a smooth ball. Wrap the ball in a piece of cheesecloth and steam it for about 40 minutes, adding more water to the steamer when necessary. At the end of the steaming time, remove the dough from the steamer and let it cool down until you can work with it without burning your fingers, but don't let it get cold.

2. While the dough is steaming, gently fry the bean paste and sesame oil together until the bean paste absorbs the oil; sprinkle on the salt and mix well, and then remove the bean paste to a plate to cool off completely. Grind the peanuts until they are a fine powder, but don't let them turn into peanut butter; the best way to do this is in small batches so that the peanuts don't heat up. Pulse the peanuts in a small processor or blender until they are chopped very fine, remove to a bowl, and then process the rest in small increments until done.

3. Spread about a cup of the ground peanuts on a smooth, clean work surface, like the underside of a cutting board. Place the warm dough on top of the peanuts and use wet hands to pat it out into a square. Shape the dough into a rectangle that's about 12 inches on one side and 8 inches on the other, scooting the peanuts under the dough as you shape it so that the dough doesn't stick to the board. 

A dusted-up donkey

4. Use a rubber spatula to smooth the bean paste over the dough, leaving an inch strip on a 12-inch edge, which will eventually be the outside of the roll. Starting from the other 12-inch edge, roll up the dough over the bean paste so that it looks like a jellyroll, using a pastry scraper as needed to encourage the dough to turn over. Gently pinch the long edge into the roll. 

5. Use a thin, sharp knife to take a thin slice off of both of the rolled-up ends to even it up and then cut the roll into 12 pieces. Dust the pieces with the remaining ground peanuts and serve with hot tea. You can eat these with little bamboo skewers as shown in the photo at the top of this page, offer small forks, or eat the rolling donkeys with your hands.

Diva of the Cucina: Diana Kennedy

It's difficult to think of a greater honor than watching culinary idols enjoy my food. But that's what happened last week at our house. There they were, women I've adored for ages, all standing around, noshing on Chinese food and talking to the center of attraction, Mexican cooking authority Diana Kennedy. 

DK was in town on a book tour for her new and fabulous survey of the food in just one gorgeous area of southern Mexico, and the result -- Oaxaca al Gusto -- is breathtaking, beguiling the reader with not only mouth-watering foods but lovely photos that include many by the author herself.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here. There's a story behind the party, one that needs telling, because how in the world did I find myself with great cooking mavens crowded in my kitchen?

Frankie, Alice, Linda & DK

This all began about two months ago when I was interviewing DK for my upcoming book, Culinary Goddesses. As we chatted away, we started talking about one of my favorite DK books, Nothing Fancy, which is a selection of some of her favorite, non-Mexican recipes.

Now, I've built up quite a bit of a name for myself among my friends over the years for the elderflower champagne I make every year. And I told DK that, which surprised her. "You're the only person I've ever met who's actually made my champagne," she told me.

So I said, "When was the last time you had some?" To which she answered, "Ages." And that led to an invitation to our house for a glass of bubbly, and then I thought, well why not invite some other foodies? And all I had to do was drop DK's name to get a bevy of lovely ladies (and one gent) to stop by.

Eleanor, Jerry, Alice, Linda, 
me, Tom, Dona, 
DK, Flo, & Betsy

I am nothing if not enthusiastic. So I went ahead and wrote or called to some of the people I've adored from afar, as well as some friends of friends who turned out to be every bit as charming as the famous names.

The roster? Flo Braker, Alice Medrich, Sunset's food editor for decades Jerry Di Vecchio, former Sunset food writer (and new cookbook author) Linda Lau Anusasananan, Dona Tomas restaurant's Dona Savitsky and Thomas Schnatz, chef Jessica Boncutter, My Mexico Tours's Betsy McNair, food publicist Eleanor Bertino, designer Ani Albers, and baking expert Frankie Whitman. A couple greats sent their regrets at the last minute - including Carol Field, Marlena Spieler, and Bruce Aidells -- but that only lowered my terror a few notches.

What to prepare for people who've eaten just about everything the world has to offer? That was the question that plagued me for days and days. 

Ani & Jessica

And then I realized that they had probably never had real Chinese food, the stuff that I came to love when I lived in Taiwan and that for some strange reason hasn't made it to our shores. Ah happiness at last. Now I know the general location that the food is to come from - China - but where in China? 

I mean, Sichuan alone is as big as France, so what to do, what to do. How do I show the incredibly huge variety of cuisines that China has to offer? And how do I balance everything so that there's a nod to all the different ways of cooking as well as ingredients and locations? Crunch has to be followed by the pillowy soft, the piquant and the subtle contrasting with the rich, meats balanced with vegetables, ribbons of starch winding through the dishes, and savory bouncing up against the sweet. 

One thing I knew for sure was that there had to be tamales... Chinese tamales, that is. It was a bit of a joke in honor of Sra. Kennedy, but I hoped a welcome one. The savory ones would be in the style of my father-in-law's Hakka relatives, and the sweet ones would be filled with date paste and pine nuts as they're done in Jiangsu. 

Fortunately for my own sanity and that of my long-suffering husband, I quickly understood that there was no way this could be done as a sit-down dinner; everything had to be out there as a buffet. And so I divided it into a battery of cold foods to start that would allow people to graze and chat, and when everybody's appetites were more or less piqued, out would come the hot dishes. And this was the result:

Menu

Assorted candied nuts & pickles – various provinces

Drunken chicken in red wine lees – Fujian

Preserved eggs with aged garlic vinegar –

nouvelle Shaanxi

Smoked quail eggs – Jiangsu

Braised beef shin & heart – Beijing Muslim

Fried scallion bread – Shandong

Chinese savory tamales – Hakka

Magistrate’s chicken – Guangdong

Wuxi ribs with stir-fried spinach – Jiangsu

Fried prawns with candied walnuts – Hong Kong

Boneless pork hock braised in red soy cheese

with flash-fried pea sprouts – Shanghai

Dongpo pork – Jiangsu

Steamed lotus buns - Beijing

Snap peas with XO sauce – Hong Kong

Assorted cookies – Shanghai

Date walnut chews – Beijing

Sweet jujube & pine nut tamales – Jiangsu

Elderflower champagne à la Kennedy

Once I had the menu nailed down, I still had three weeks to go, and the planning required an attention  to detail that I associate more with little things like D-Day than with a luncheon. It went something like this: 

Shop for the ingredients for one of the entrees, such as Dongpo Pork. Make three batches of the pork (see the recipe in the next blog entry) and figure out which one's not only the best, but find out ways to make it better without devouring the results, and freeze the results so that I'm no longer tempted to sample. Multiply this by every single item on the menu.

Clean the garden, trim plants, sweep driveway, wash the pets, clean the house to a fare-thee-well, buy new dinnerware, repaint the downstairs, buy new pots and pans, get new glassware, find something presentable to wear. Somewhere along the way I realized that the stove was giving out and the landlord wasn't going to be buying a new one in time, so I got a magnetic invection burner (Tatung brand from Taiwan - highly recommended) to help me avoid a nervous breakdown. Oh, did I mention that I was on a strict diet?

But do you want to know what made all of this worthwhile? The great DK spent most of the afternoon talking with me as I cooked, and she ended up liking everything, including my walnut shrimp!