There’s a somberness that comes with the end of summer and beginning of fall. The air is drier, there sun is lower, and the sky feels a little bluer. Maybe it’s because the wind is a little colder.
But with every changing season, I reflect on the past few months — for me, summer was exhilarating. I was jet setting between California and New York and spotted through Europe (can I go back please?). The day job and the freelance clients have all been pretty amazing lately, so it’s safe to say I’m in a good spot.
I spent a couple of hours on Kristen’s floor with Winston last night, drinking wine and catching up after a busy day of work and biking all over DC. I’ve actually had a couple of anxiety filled days, mostly coping with the realization that no one is happy all of the time. It’s painful, to see people you care about struggling. Whether you’ve been in their shoes or not, it hurts. We meowed with Winston, told stories about how we’re too old to be drinking as much as we do, and chatted about the ups and downs, the balancing act of good times and bad times in our circles of friends.
A few of our close friends are going through some rough transitions in life, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the best ways to help them. Most of the time, I just want to rescue the people I love, take a few days off work and sit them down in my living room while I blast music and bake up a storm. Or fly to wherever they are and do the same in their own kitchen. It’s the company that matters; the location is usually meaningless.
Long story short, if you’re reading this, you know who you are. I love you, and this pumpkin tea cake is for you.
1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon + 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 cup + 2 tbsp pumpkin puree
1 cup vegetable oil
1 1/3 cup sugar
3/4 tsp salt
3 large eggs
Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F. Line one 9-by-5-inch loaf pan (or three mini loaf pans) with parchment paper, and brush with oil or rub with butter.
In a mixing bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves together. Set aside.
In your stand mixer, beat together the pumpkin puree, oil, sugar, and salt on medium speed, until well-mixed. Add each egg, one at a time, fully incorporating before adding the next. Slowly add the dry ingredients with the mixer on low speed, beating until combined. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a silicone spatula, and then beat on medium speed for 10 seconds to make a smooth batter.
Transfer the batter to the prepared loaf pan (or pans) and smooth the surface with your spatula. Bake until the centers are set and a toothpick comes out clean — the time will depend on your oven, but it should take about 1 hour.
Serve the cake at room temperature. It keeps well if wrapped in saran wrap, but it won’t last long.
Today, I’d like to try something different. I’d like to introduce you all to a friend of mine — Rochelle and I went to UC Santa Barbara together, and I unfortunately transferred schools before I realized how amazingly talented and creative she is. But even if I did realize it back then, I probably wouldn’t have appreciated her creativity as much as I do in this very moment, naturally because we were both in very different places in our lives six or seven years ago.
One of my closest friends encouraged me to reach out to her because we had both transformed our hobbies into our jobs — and we share the passion that comes with absolutely loving everything about your job. If you’ve been reading for a while, you’ve surely followed my journey as someone chasing a dream. I couldn’t help but share Rochelle’s story with you.
So, ladies and gents, this is Rochelle, and her handmade woodworking business based out of her home in Los Angeles. Her cheese boards honestly do make the perfect gift (and start around $48), so with Mother’s Day and Father’s Day coming up, I strongly encourage you all to check out her beautiful website and her Etsy shop. And, if you enjoy the creative process in all of its glory as much as I do, follow her on Instagram @primitivereserve. She sent me the beautiful cheese board you see in these photos — and you’ll be sure to see it in many more recipes, as I was instantly smitten with how it turned out in photos!
Goat Cheese and Jalapeño Pop Tart recipe — after the jump.
Full Name: Rochelle Chavez
Age: 27 When you started Primitive Reserve: October 2012
Educational background, work experience highlights: B.A. in Theater with a concentration in design from The University of California Santa Barbara and a M.F.A. in Production Design from The American Film Institute. Since graduating I’ve used my degrees in themed entertainment, interior design and now woodworking. Beyond Primitive Reserve I also work as an art director for a themed entertainment company.
Take us on a quick career bio. What’s the story behind Primitive Reserve? What’s the biggest lesson you’ve learned about yourself, or about your work in general?
I started Primitive Reserve as a small side project to get my mind off of my day job as an art director. Spending my day behind a desk made me miss sketching designs and making products with my own hands. I started to draw different concepts from furniture to housewares, made a few miniature wood mock ups and eventually began to build my designs at full scale. Let’s just say I’ve been addicted to this handmade lifestyle ever since.
Learning more about myself/work in this process:
I immediately realized how much I love to create things from start to finish, the concept phase just isn’t enough anymore. I need to draw something and then make it a reality in order to get my creative fill.
How did you discover your passion for woodworking? What made you want to turn something you loved into your career?
I was always busy building sets and props in school. I love working with my hands and am incredibly happy when I can make things that others can appreciate, so woodworking has been a natural progression for me.
Do you have a career highlight yet?
Nina Garcia complimented my woodwork recently at the Rose Bowl Flea Market in Pasadena. I love her editorial work and should have been paying her the compliments, it was an unexpected and exciting moment for me.
Five years forward: Where do you see yourself and your business? In five years, I see myself creating more and enjoying a relaxed lifestyle, perhaps on a small farm with a little woodshop. The ultimate goal is for Primitive Reserve to become my full time job creating what I want and hoping others enjoy it as well.
Five years back: Where were you five years ago, and what advice would you have given yourself back then? Five years ago I was in my last year of undergrad at UC Santa Barbara. Advice for my younger self: “Let go of expectations! Things don’t always turn out as planned and you will love it.”
Something that I haven’t been quite honest about, reader, is that the past year or so has been some sort of limbo for me. I know I’ve mentioned it, but I thought I’d address some things that have had a lot of impact on my writing, my cooking, and my outlook on life in general.
So much of my life is weighted upon my work – even for those of use who have workaholic tendencies (guilty as charged), what you do is your means to how you live your life: it determines what you eat, how you sleep, where you live, and how you spend the majority of your time awake as a person. What you ultimately do for work says everything about who you are – everything, and no less.
When I first started working, my parents advised me to work for the weekends, and to savor time spent away from the office, while my peers say not to work too much or too hard. Both options, to me, are a waste of time that you will never get back – as a single twenty-five year old, anyway. If I had a family to support, my story might have been different.
Note to self: if you are not satisfied where you are, you should never be satisfied until there is a (non-fluorescent) light at the end of the tunnel, and you should never, never – ever – settle for anything less.
Maybe this is a generational thing. I feel like I’m surrounded by incongruencies: people saying that you can’t do anything without a graduate degree, others saying that you don’t need any sort of degree to be successful. Some people are unhappy at their jobs, but stay for the benefits, and/or the ability to have their cake and eat it too. Or they just complain, and stay where they are solely because they’re not working to change it. Or, they put in the work to find satisfaction. Those who pursue satisfaction – however long or winding the road may be – well, I hope with all my heart that they find it.
After twelve long months, I think I have a good idea of what will happen to me next.
I’m wrapping up my position at CIPE, where I was able to learn so much about what I want to do. Next week, my family arrives, and I’ll be able to share a tiny slice of what my life has been like since I found my home here in Washington – and my Washington friends will finally meet my family, and probably do a long-awaited beer bat with my father. I’m hoping for another Fourth-of-July Eight Clap.
After that, this American girl is going to Mexico for a week.
And after that, I’m taking the next step – so thank you, all of you who have dealt with my bitching and moaning, my neglect, and my stress. Your unconditional support means the world to me, and I promise, I can pay you with food, friends, and long, chatty runs along the Potomac river.
Sweet, delectable food. Happy fourth of July, America.
1.5 cups AP flour, plus whatever you need to make the dough workable
1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 stick plus 1 tablespoon (9 tablespoons; 4 1/2 ounces) very cold (or frozen) unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 large egg
Whipped Cream Filling
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 Tablespoon confectioner’s sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2-3 cups fresh raspberries
1 cup fresh blueberries
Directions
You’ll need two rectangular tart pans to make the American flag shape – the dough recipe gives you just enough to fill both.
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. In a food processor, combine 1.5 cups flour, 1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Pulse grind until evenly mixed. Then, add the cubes of butter and pulse grind, slowly adding in the egg. Pulse grind (about ten seconds each) until it won’t mix any more. At this point, the dough was too sticky for me to work with, so I gradually added flour – about another half cup – until it was more of a pie-dough consistency.
Deb recommends chilling the dough, but I’m horribly impatient these days, and frankly, since it wasn’t required, I didn’t do it. I rolled the dough out to about 1/4 of an inch in width, and transferred to a buttered tart pan. I like giving tarts a nice, thick crust – the dainty crusts always fall apart on me. I’ve given up on them.
Bake for 20-30 minutes, until the crust is golden to your liking. Then, remove it from the oven, and let cool.
While that’s resting, beat your whipping cream in a stand mixer for a couple of minutes, until it looks like, well, whipped cream. Look for stiff peaks. As it begins to form, gradually add the sugar and vanilla extract. Set aside in the refrigerator until your tart is ready to serve.
To prepare, use a spatula to fill the tart with whipped cream. If you want it to be extra decadent, line the tart with a layer of fresh strawberry jam before filling with the whipped cream (that was my original intent, but I got distracted when I made this, and then forgot to do so). Arrange your berries on top of the whipped cream to look like a star-spangled banner, put on an American flag bikini, and share your tart with some of your best friends, American or not.
Washington, DC, is a bit of a late bloomer: Fall is only really hitting the district as we speak. Yes, the fall I’ve been longing for since the heat wave in June. The fall that carries a breeze, the fall that tints foliage into my favorite color (orange), and the fall that finally satisfies you with the comfort of staying in on a Friday night to make French onion soup. Continue reading “Apple, Cheddar, and Caramelized Onion Tart”
Weird, right? I know. I used to think all bakers were morning people, too. Sorry. I was wrong. I’m one of those girls that has to set an alarm at 6 AM to wake up sometime between 7:30 and 8. I really do hit the snooze button that much. It’s a problem. How am I ever going to own a bakery? Continue reading “English Muffins”
To be honest, I haven’t done very much since then… I’ve been telling myself that the metabolism from running thirteen miles more two weeks ago would carry me through. My leftover shin splints did not help with the laziness. And my body definitely cannot handle this carbohydrate consumption for very long.
I guess I’ll start running this week, since eating and drinking have been the only real activities I’ve taken part in for the past two weeks.
I don’t have much to write about today. I’ll let you enjoy this focaccia, while I desperately await a decisive spring.
WHAT YOU NEED:
2 and 3/4 cups all-purpose flour 1 and 1/4 cups warm water 1 tablespoon salt 1 tablespoon active dry yeast 1 teaspoon sugar 3 tablespoons olive oil Coarse sea salt
WHAT TO DO:
In a medium mixing bowl, sift the flour, salt, yeast, and sugar. Add the water and 1 tablespoon of olive oil. When the dough forms, transfer to your counter and sprinkle with flour. Knead until smooth, coat with the remaining olive oil, and return to the mixing bowl. Cover with a kitchen towel and allow to rise for thirty minutes.
Preheat your oven to 450 degrees.
I made two types of focaccia: cherry tomato and rosemary, and caramelized onion.
For the rosemary-tomato bread, mix two tablespoons dried rosemary into the dough before you allow it to rise. While the bread is rising, slice your cherry tomatoes in halves or thirds.
For the caramelized onion bread, take 2 or 3 medium sized onions, in thin slices. Saute the onions in olive oil, salt, pepper, and a drizzle of a dry white wine. After the onions begin to darken, lower the heat, and stir frequently, until the onions are dark brown — about 15 to 20 minutes.
When the bread has risen, stretch onto a greased baking sheet. Allow to rise for another ten minutes or so. For the tomato bread, press the tomatoes into the dough, and sprinkle with more rosemary, coarse sea salt, and olive oil. For the onion bread, spread the caramelized onions, and drizzle with sea salt and olive oil.
Bake for 20 minutes, then let cool on a wire rack. Slice with a pizza cutter, and serve warm.
I could probably still drive the route from my parent’s home in Los Angeles to my Santa Barbara beach houses of choice with my eyes closed. No, I wasn’t allowed to have a car while I was in college in Santa Barbara – that was a strategic move on my parents’ part in bribing me to transfer to UCLA. So no, I didn’t make that journey very often when school was in session. But during those summers, I found myself clocking out of my waiting job only to hop into my car and blast the CD de jour (CDs — am I dating myself?) for all 75 minutes of the drive, zooming out of that good old parking lot in Calabasas.
I often made the trip late in the week, and extended it through the weekend when I could. An most of the time, I stopped by a fruit stand on the mountain side of the Pacific Coast Highway in a little community north of Ventura, just nine blocks wide – La Conchita. The first time I stopped there, it was because of a ginormous (sp?), hokey-pokey sign that read “10 avocados for $1.”
Sold.
I bought some strawberries and limes. I had never done brunch before then. You know, the real kind of brunch, where you sit in a California bungalow-type house just 400 yards from the Pacific Ocean. Even in October, we’d walk around in bikinis and dance around the house, or make soap bubbles that we could stand in. I was nineteen. That’s not to say I still don’t do that, because I definitely do – if anything, I spend more time dancing around my house in a bikini as a twenty-three year old than I did when I was in college. But everything was new back then – cooking, living on our own, and stopping at a road side fruit stand if you wanted to. Spending a dollar on avocados. Getting a few extra avocados for free, which would never have happened if my parents were there. We coined the giveaways as part of the “cute girl discount.”
Anyway, there’s a photo of me when I was nineteen – I’m cooking – at my friends’ college beachside house in Isla Vista. The caption is something about my cooking skills, which were unquestionably mediocre. I knew how to cook eggs, which was about it. I even failed a pancake contest once… so embarrassing. I don’t even like pancakes! There was so much to learn. And here I am, dining room-less dinner party queen of Dupont. I don’t think I could ever handle living in Isla Vista again. But damn, those days were fun.
Oh, and before I forget — Sweetsonian has found a beautiful new kitchen on Capitol Hill. I’m moving! And I’ll have more to write about later. In the meantime, here’s the cute-girl-discount that Rachel earned for turning twenty-four: a decadent, bittersweet chocolate tart.
Bittersweet Chocolate Tart For the crust, adapted from David Leibovitz — which, by the way, you should really read his entry on how he came across the recipe. It really is spectacular, and is generally how I bake.
6 Tablespoons butter
3 Tablespoons water
1 Tablespoon vegetable oil
1 – 2 cups flour (read David’s blog; you will understand)
For the filling: 1/2 cup finely chopped, high quality, bittersweet chocolate
1 and 1/4 cups heavy cream
1 Tablespoon butter
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, plus 1 egg yolk
For the glaze:
2 Tablespoons heavy cream
1/3 cup finely chopped bittersweet chocolate
1 Tablespoon corn syrup
1 Tablespoon water
To make the crust, first combine the butter, oil, and water in an oven-proof dish. Heat the oven at 350 degrees, and bake the ingredients until they begin to boil. Then, add the salt and flour into your dish. I added the flour gradually, stirring with a fork, until I could delve my hands into the butter and form the dough myself. When you think there is enough flour to easily roll out a crust, don’t worry, you’re wrong — it will still stick to everything, even a French rolling pin coated in layers of flour that may or may not still be on my living room floor. Did I mention I’m moving? To a kitchen with real counter space?
Anyway, I rolled the dough between two sheets of parchment paper (even wax paper stuck to the dough). Transfer the crust to your tart pan, press in the sides, and fork holes in the base to prevent it from rising. Then, line your crust with foil, fill the foil with dry beans of some sort (I used, and wasted, rice). Bake for about 25 minutes, until the crust is brown.
For the ganache filling, heat the cream until it boils. Then, pour over the chopped chocolate in a separate bowl. Let it sit for a few minutes, and then whisk until even. While still hot, add the butter, and stir until integrated.
In another bowl, combine the eggs, salt, and vanilla. Temper the eggs by adding just a few spoonfuls of the hot cream mixture — adding too much will scramble your eggs, and result in an ultimate failure. Once the mixture is a medium chocolate color, you can pour the rest of the chocolate cream in. Then, fill your tart crust with the ganache. Place in a centered oven rack, and bake at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes. Remove from oven; the center will not be stiff yet, but as it cools, the filling will set. Let it cool for an hour or two.
For the smooth glaze that makes the tart pretty, heat two tablespoons of cream in a small saucepan. When it boils, add the remaining chocolate, and stir until dissolved. Then, combine the corn syrup and water. When even, pour the glaze over the filling, and feel free to lift and tilt the tart until the glaze covers the entire chocolate surface. Refrigerate for one hour, and serve with red wine and blackberries.
Anyway, there’s a photo of me when I was nineteen – I’m cooking – at my friends’ college beachside house in Isla Vista. The caption is something about my cooking skills, which were unquestionably mediocre. I knew how to cook eggs, which was about it. I even failed a pancake contest once… so embarrassing. I don’t even like pancakes! There was so much to learn. And here I am, dining room-less dinner party queen of Dupont. I don’t think I could ever handle living in Isla Vista again. But damn, those days were fun.
Oh, and before I forget — Sweetsonian has found a beautiful new kitchen on Capitol Hill. I’m moving! And I’ll have more to write about later. In the meantime, here’s the cute-girl-discount that Rachel earned for turning twenty-four: a decadent, bittersweet chocolate tart.
Bittersweet Chocolate Tart For the crust, adapted from David Leibovitz — which, by the way, you should really read his entry on how he came across the recipe. It really is spectacular, and is generally how I bake.
6 Tablespoons butter
3 Tablespoons water
1 Tablespoon vegetable oil
1 – 2 cups flour (read David’s blog; you will understand)
For the filling: 1/2 cup finely chopped, high quality, bittersweet chocolate
1 and 1/4 cups heavy cream
1 Tablespoon butter
1 Tablespoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, plus 1 egg yolk
For the glaze:
2 Tablespoons heavy cream
1/3 cup finely chopped bittersweet chocolate
1 Tablespoon corn syrup
1 Tablespoon water
To make the crust, first combine the butter, oil, and water in an oven-proof dish. Heat the oven at 350 degrees, and bake the ingredients until they begin to boil. Then, add the salt and flour into your dish. I added the flour gradually, stirring with a fork, until I could delve my hands into the butter and form the dough myself. When you think there is enough flour to easily roll out a crust, don’t worry, you’re wrong — it will still stick to everything, even a French rolling pin coated in layers of flour that may or may not still be on my living room floor. Did I mention I’m moving? To a kitchen with real counter space?
Anyway, I rolled the dough between two sheets of parchment paper (even wax paper stuck to the dough). Transfer the crust to your tart pan, press in the sides, and fork holes in the base to prevent it from rising. Then, line your crust with foil, fill the foil with dry beans of some sort (I used, and wasted, rice). Bake for about 25 minutes, until the crust is brown.
For the ganache filling, heat the cream until it boils. Then, pour over the chopped chocolate in a separate bowl. Let it sit for a few minutes, and then whisk until even. While still hot, add the butter, and stir until integrated.
In another bowl, combine the eggs, salt, and vanilla. Temper the eggs by adding just a few spoonfuls of the hot cream mixture — adding too much will scramble your eggs, and result in an ultimate failure. Once the mixture is a medium chocolate color, you can pour the rest of the chocolate cream in. Then, fill your tart crust with the ganache. Place in a centered oven rack, and bake at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes. Remove from oven; the center will not be stiff yet, but as it cools, the filling will set. Let it cool for an hour or two.
For the smooth glaze that makes the tart pretty, heat two tablespoons of cream in a small saucepan. When it boils, add the remaining chocolate, and stir until dissolved. Then, combine the corn syrup and water. When even, pour the glaze over the filling, and feel free to lift and tilt the tart until the glaze covers the entire chocolate surface. Refrigerate for one hour, and serve with red wine and blackberries.
or How I taught my friends to stop freaking out and love running in the cold.
Have I ever told you that I started a running club? I don’t think I have — so, for your information, I did. And it’s fabulous.
At the cookie rager, a couple of friends expressed their interest in running, but also a fear of pain and suffering. We established a weekly running club, which meets on Monday evenings for an easy jog around Washington, and ends with a Sweetsonian dinner — called Monday Rundays. Oh, and it’s ladies only. Very important.
It’s happened a few times now, with the holidays interrupting a few weeks — travel schedules, abhorrent weather, etc. In my opinion, it’s a great way to start off each week: one easy run. Add girlish chatter, a smidgeon of complaints, and a slew of sarcasm. Within thirty minutes, I have a dinner party of women (girls?) who had no idea that they could be hooked on running. I only know they are hooked because Rachel skipped the run tonight (so lame, I know) and came to dinner feeling so guilty and lazy that she pledged not to skip out on our run again.
I usually put the girls to work as space permits in the closet that is disguised as my kitchen, and we normally assemble a very healthy runner’s dinner — high in protein, low in complex carbs.
I would never in my life make this — this beautiful tart — after a run. What a waste! No way. I would only make this dish on a day of complete lethargy and indulgence. A day filled with shopping, sleeping, and probably (obviously) gluttony.
But anyway, days like that balance out the other days in my life, most of which are spent training for half marathons. And speaking of, tomorrow is day three of training. Good-bye, gluttony :(
WHAT YOU NEED:
for the crust (makes about 2 6-inch tarts): 1 and 1/2 cups all purpose flour 6 tablespoons butter, cold and diced into 1/4-inch cubes 1/4 teaspoon salt 2 to 3 teaspoons cold water
for caramelized onion the filling: 1 or 2 medium-sized onions enough goat cheese to fill your tart mold
for the spinach quiche: 2 eggs 150 mL of milk (I didn’t try to convert the European measurements) 1 small onion, finely diced a generous handful of fresh spinach, chopped finely sprinkles of cheddar or goat cheese salt and pepper to taste
WHAT TO DO:
To make the crust, simply combine all the ingredients in a food processor and pulse-grind until finely mixed, and the dough begins to form a ball. Then, remove the dough, knead in any straggling pieces, and roll to your desired thickness. I prefer a very thin crust, usually about 1/8 of an inch. After rolling, transfer to your tart dish, fork the base to prevent bubbles, and bake at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes.
For the caramelized onion and goat cheese tarts, first slice the onions as thinly as possible. Drizzle a few tablespoons of olive oil into a wide, shallow pan, and sautee the onions until soft. Add one minced clove of garlic, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Cook on low for about twenty minutes, stirring frequently. Some people like to add a little sugar to speed the caramelization, but I prefer my onions as savory as possible — there’s enough sugar in them to begin with! When your onions are fairly transparent and a deep brown color, you’ll know you’re done.
crumble the goat cheese in your tarts, and top with the hot caramelized onions. I let them sit in the oven at 350 degrees for another ten minutes — it added a little bit of color to the crust and melted the goat cheese to better mold into the tart.
For the quiche, first whip the eggs and milk in a medium mixing bowl. Then, sautee the onion in a tablespoon or so of olive oil. Add the spinach, and remove from heat after spinach has completely collapsed — 30 seconds to one minute. Combine with the egg and milk mixture, and pour into your half-cooked tart crust. Bake the quiche at 300 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes.
Anyway, there’s a photo of me when I was nineteen – I’m cooking – at my friends’ college beachside house in Isla Vista. The caption is something about my cooking skills, which were unquestionably mediocre. I knew how to cook eggs, which was about it. I even failed a pancake contest once… so embarrassing. I don’t even like pancakes! There was so much to learn. And here I am, dining room-less dinner party queen of Dupont. I don’t think I could ever handle living in Isla Vista again. But damn, those days were fun.
