TasteFood

Rich Chocolate Brownies

Chocolate: a Swiss Remedy  

Living in Switzerland for 10 years gave me a certain perspective on chocolate as sustenance.  In this special country, chocolate is considered a staple and a panacea for all that is fraught in the world.  It's found in every lunch box, ski-pack and pantry.  It's not considered a dessert, but really it's own food group that transcends all nutritional categories and is arguably a national symbol, right up there with banks, cows and the Matterhorn.  In a manner of efficiency, as only the Swiss can do, chocolate is the the multi-tasking equivalent of a power bar, a balanced diet, a healthy psyche and an aspirin.  How can you not love a country for this?

When I lived in Crassier, near the French border about 15 miles outside of Geneva, I crossed the border regularly to shop in the French supermarkets.  When I returned to Switzerland, the Swiss border guards would often stop me and question my purchases.  (There were strict restrictions on quantities of wine, cheese, and meat that could be purchased abroad.)  One day when I was still new to the country, I returned with some French chocolate.  When I informed the Swiss guards that I had chocolate in my shopping bags they gaped at me in disbelief.  Forget the case of Burgundy wine, the kilos of runny French cheese, or the side of beef in my backseat - zut alors! - they were aghast and appalled that I had the gall and obvious lack of taste to purchase French chocolate instead of Swiss.  I had committed an act of treachery in their minds, and diminished my already lowly foreign status.  The next time I crossed the border, I would have to wear a paper bag over my head.

I learned my lesson.  Clearly, integrating meant more than learning the local language and paying taxes.  It also meant buying Swiss chocolate.  (Like I said, how can you not love a country for this?)  Now, many years and several countries later, I continue to buy Swiss chocolate - a.k.a. the Swiss remedy for everything.  And these days when life is throwing lots of curve-balls our way, a little chocolate medicine is a comforting and restaurative pleasure.  Straight-up and dark is my preferred manner of consumption, but when a little extra TLC is needed, there is nothing like a gooey, decadent, home-baked brownie. 

Chocolate Brownies
This brownie recipe is one of those no-fail, crowd-pleasing brownies.  It's dense and fudgey, chocolate-y enough to please the adults and sweet enough to appeal to kids.  I use Lindt 70% dark chocolate, bien sûr. 

Makes 32 small squares

1 cup (225 g.)  unsalted butter
12 oz. (350 grams) good quality dark chocolate (70%), coarsely chopped
3/4 cup (85 g.) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 eggs
1 1/2 cups (340 g.) granulated sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Butter a 9-inch square baking pan.  Line bottom and sides with parchment paper.  Butter paper. 
Melt butter and chocolate in a double boiler or heatproof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring occasionally, until smooth.  Remove from heat.  Mix flour, baking powder and salt together in a medium bowl.  Whisk eggs, sugar and vanilla together in a large bowl until the mixture lightens in color.  Add chocolate to the eggs and stir to combine well.   Add flour to the chocolate batter, stirring with a wooden spoon, until combined. 
Pour batter into prepared pan.  Bake 30 minutes, or until top is set and sides begin to pull away from pan.  Brownies will be fudgey and a wooden pick will not come out clean.  Cool completely on rack.  For best results, refrigerate brownies covered overnight in pan. To cut, remove brownies from pan by lifting paper at sides.  Cut in small squares.

Tip:  These brownies are very rich and soft.  Keep them stored in the refrigerator, and they will last for up to one week. 

Need more chocolate medicine?  Try these recipes from TasteFood:

Chocolate Oblivion Cookies

 

 

 

Chocolate Terrine with Orange Crème Anglaise and Gran Marnier Oranges

Flourless Chocolate Cake with Raspberry Coulis

 

Chocolate Terrine with Orange Crème Anglaise

We are having a fondue party, and I plan on making it the authentic real deal.  In other words, fondue as the Swiss would serve it, minus, unfortunately, the alpine setting.  No extra accoutrements that wouldn't be seen on a chalet farm table; cow bells and ski attire welcome.  The question I face, however, is what to serve for dessert?  (This is where I might stray somewhat from the alpine theme.)  With 12 adults and as many children expected, I would like to serve something that can be assembled in advance - something that is sweet and intense, but not terribly filling following all that cheese, and, of course, something worthy to serve for wonderful friends.  Oh, and if I can use my French when I talk about it, all the better.

So, I remember a few weeks back when I was in bed with Bouchon while recovering from the flu. For some time I had been thinking about making a Marquise au Chocolat, or Chocolate Terrine for a dinner party, but hadn't come across a recipe for one that sounded right to me.  I pictured a thin brick of smooth, dark chocolate, soft yet firm, glistening but not runny,  arranged in a pool of ethereal crème Anglaise, garnished with fruit to lend some acidity.  As I thumbed through Thomas Keller's wonderful book, voilà! there was the Marquise staring me in my face.

So fast forward to my fondue party, and I know what I will make for dessert.  Oh, too rich! you may think.  Yes, but the beauty of this chocolate-y block of silken goodness is it can be cut in very small portions: the brick becomes a square, the square becomes a domino, the domino becomes a sliver.  Slice away until you end up with a little jolt of intense chocolate, floating in airy, light crème anglaise.  In this case I have infused the custard with a hint of orange and finished the dessert with a garnish of glistening orange fruit segments marinated in Gran Marnier.  So, while this would hardly be found in a lost Swiss alpine village following a fondue meal, I may stretch the theme a bit for this dessert.  After all, aren't the Swiss known for their chocolate?  And they even speak French in Gruyère.

Chocolate Terrine with Orange Crème Anglaise and Gran Marnier Oranges
Adapted from Thomas Keller's Bouchon Cookbook

Serves 10-12

For the Chocolate Terrine:
Canola oil
12 oz. (350 grams) 70% dark chocolate (I prefer Lindt)
8 oz. (225 grams) unsalted butter
4 large eggs, separated
4 large egg yolks
1 cup sifted confectioners' sugar
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup (125 ml.) heavy cream
2 teaspoons granulated sugar

Lightly oil a 6 cup terrine mold or loaf pan.  Line mold with plastic wrap.
In a double boiler melt chocolate and butter over barely simmering water, stirring occasionally.  Remove from heat and cool slightly.
Add 8 egg yolks to cooled chocolate mixture, stirring to combine.  Sift together confectioners' sugar and cocoa.  Stir into the chocolate mixture.
In bowl of electric mixer, beat cream until soft peaks form.  Transfer to small bowl and refrigerate until use.  Beat egg whites with sugar in clean bowl of electric mixer until soft peaks form. 
Fold egg whites into chocolate mixture, then fold in whipped cream. 
Pour into terrine mold and cover with plastic wrap.  Refrigerate 12 hours.  (Terrine can be made up to 3 days in advance.)

For the Orange Crème Anglaise:
Makes about 2 cups

1 cup (250 ml.) heavy cream
1 cup (250 ml.) whole milk
6 tablespoons sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped
2 teaspoons grated untreated orange zest
5 large egg yolks

Combine the cream, milk and 4 tablespoons sugar in a medium saucepan.  Add the vanilla bean with seeds and orange zest.  Heat to a simmer, stirring.  Remove pan from heat, cover and let sit 30 minutes to let flavors infuse.
Whisk egg yolks with the remaining 2 tablespoons sugar in a medium bowl until mixture thickens and lightens in color.  Whisking constantly, pour 1/3 cream mixture into egg mixture.  Return egg mixture to the saucepan.  Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until mixture thickens and coats the back of the spoon, about 10 minutes.  (To check if done, run a finger down the back of the wooden spoon.  The line should remain clearly intact without the custard running.)
Strain custard through a fine meshed sieve into a metal bowl set in a larger bowl of ice water.
Cool custard, stirring occasionally.  When completely cool pour into a container.  Place plastic wrap over surface of custard.  Cover container and refrigerate.  Can be made 3 days in advance.

For the Gran Marnier Oranges:
2 navel oranges
2-3 tablespoons Gran Marnier (or Cointreau)
1 teaspoon sugar

Cut away peel and pith of oranges with a knife. 
Slice oranges horizontally, about 1/4" thick
Cut out orange segments.  Toss segments with Gran Marnier and sugar in a bowl.  Let sit at least 2 hours and up to 1 day.

To serve:
Remove terrine from mold.  Run a knife under hot water and wipe dry.  Slice terrine in 1/4" slices.  Arrange 1-2 slices on a plate.  Drizzle Orange Crème Anglaise around terrine.  Garnish with Gran Marnier Oranges.

Can't get enough chocolate?  You might want to try these:

Flourless Chocolate Cake with Raspberry Coulis





Chocolate Mousse with Raspberries and Cream

 

 

 

 

Chocolate Oblivion Cookies

In Bed with Bouchon

Yep, that pretty much sums it up.  I am home sick, and I have spent a quiet morning in bed reading my Bouchon cookbook cover to cover.  It makes for good reading.  Not only are the recipes spot on and authentically French bistro cuisine, but the essays wonderfully articulate the essence, philosophy, and ambience of bistro cooking.  It makes me very happy.

Actually, bistro food should make all of us happy. It's comforting, generous, convivial, and unpretentiously rooted in French tradition. Interestingly, the excellence of Bouchon Restaurant has made it a destination of sorts requiring advance reservation, but typical bistro dining is accessible, local and immediate throughout France. Found in every neighborhood, soothing in its predictability, comfortably well worn in its ambience, and satisfying in its timelessness, the French bistro is a home away from home.

 

I became familiar with bistros when I lived in Paris and then Geneva.  The bistro was the go-to restaurant for consistent, delicious, and fun food.  Welcoming, bustling, and casually elegant, I knew what I could get - whether it was a date night or a group dinner, whether I was pregnant or with young children in tow.  Now, years later, there isn't a bistro in my neighborhood, and I don't have a standing reservation at Bouchon, but I do cook bistro fare at home.  It's perfect for entertaining and families, and since my family was raised eating bistro food in Europe, it's one of our preferred cuisines  for home cooking.

 

Roast chicken is a staple in bistro cuisine.  Inspired by recipes in both the Bouchon and Zuni Café Cookbooks, I roast the chicken in an oven-proof skillet in a very hot oven.  Nearly an oven to table dish, all it requires is resting before carving and capturing the delicious juices from the bird for basting and serving.  Save the bones to make chicken stock after the meal. 

 

Roast Chicken
Serves 2-4

 

One organic chicken, 2-1/2 to 3-1/2 lbs. (1- 1.5 kg.)
4 thyme, sage or rosemary sprigs
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Salt the chicken: 
Rinse the chicken and pat dry thoroghly with kitchen towels outside and inside the cavity.  Sprinkle all over with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Refrigerate up to 24 hours before continuing. 

 

Preheat the oven to 450 F. (225 C.)
Slide your finger under the skin of each breast.  Insert an herb sprig in the pocket.  Repeat with the skin at the thighs.

Place chicken breast-side up in an oven-proof skillet or shallow roasting pan.  Place the chicken in the oven.  Roast 30 minutes, then turn chicken over breast-side down.  Roast additional 20 minutes.  Turn chicken over, breast-side up.  Roast 10 minutes more or until done. 
Remove from oven, baste chicken with juices.  Transfer chicken to a cutting board, and let rest 15 minutes. 

Pour fat from skillet, leaving drippings in pan.  Pour any juices from resting chicken into pan.  Add 1-2 tablespoons water or chicken stock into pan and deglaze.  Keep warm.

Carve chicken and arrange on warm serving platter.  Spoon juices over chicken.

Garnish with additional herb sprigs.

 

Serve with  a green salad and roasted potatoes.

 

Fondue Season

The rains have come, and I am excited.  This means that I can finally make a rainy day meal.  Big deal, you may say, if you are in blustery New England, or, say, drizzly London.  Well, in California where the event of rain can often warrant breaking news on television, when the calendar says November, yet the unfailing sunshine and blue skies imply al fresco, this transplanted 4-season girl gets positively giddy when the weather takes a turn to the gray.  Finally, my hankering for warm, comfort food is actually in sync with the precipitation and wind outdoors.

Tonight's dinner will be a cheese fondue.  I know I am getting ahead of myself with such a wintry meal, but I am seizing the opportunity to make a family favorite.  Fondue is something I prepare with a great deal of nostalgia, as it takes me back to life in Switzerland where I lived for a number of years and developed an affinity to the Swiss approach to cheese.   Read more on that... 

Cheese Fondue

This recipe is my version of the traditional fondue. Serves 4-6.

2 cups white wine - typically a Swiss white wine, but you may have noticed that this is rarely exported. I substitute a Semillon or a Sauvignon Blanc.
1 garlic clove, minced
1 lb. grated alpine cheese such as Gruyère, Emmental, Appenzel, Comté - Of all ingredients this is most important. A Gruyère cheese that says "Made in Wisconsin" is absolutely not the same as a genuine Swiss or French alpine cheese, and I recommend you try a taste test to see. I prefer using a mixture of Gruyère and Emmental.
3 tblsp. Kirsch or Calvados - as I have moved around and at times found it hard to purchase Kirsch, I substitute Calvados with nice results.
3 tblsp. cornstarch
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
Freshly ground black pepper
1 loaf peasant or sourdough bread, cut in 1" cubes

Note:  Have all your ingredients ready before you begin. Once you start, the fondue will come together quickly, and during this time it must be constantly stirred.

Combine kirsch, cornstarch and nutmeg in a small bowl, stirring to combine.
Add wine and garlic to a large heavy saucepan. Heat over medium heat until tiny bubbles begin to form giving wine a fizzy appearance, without bringing to a boil.
Add cheese one handful at a time, stirring constantly until each handful is melted before adding the next.
Once cheese is added, continue stirring 1 minute - do not allow mixture to boil.
Stir in cornstarch mixture. Continue stirring until mixture thickens to fondue consistency.
Remove from heat.  Pour cheese mixture into a pre-warmed fondue pot and serve immediately with freshly ground black pepper.

Tip:
Use bread cubes on fondue forks to stir the fondue in the pot at the table. Avoid letting the fondue boil in the fondue pot. 
In addition to bread, try dipping parboiled broccoli and cauliflower florets, baby potatoes, carrots and apple chunks in the cheese.

Border Crossings

As mentioned, Switzerland is a landlocked country bordering a handful of countries. From Geneva, you can be in France within 10 minutes, Italy in an hour, and from Basel and Zurich you are close to Germany, Leichtenstein, Austria. To an American this is just nifty. I mean, honestly, the most common border to an American is a state border, and crossing from California to Nevada or Massachusetts to New Hampshire is not nearly as thrilling as driving across a Swiss border to another country! When you cross a Swiss frontière, suddenly you enter another culture with another language, another way of making very good espressos, another set of road signs that you don't understand. Crossing a U.S. state border, you mostly find speed traps.

The first house I lived in was in a small village between Geneva and Lausanne. In this small hamlet, there was a marie, or town hall, a boulangerie(no self-respecting village would be without one) and a douane, or border guard. We lived one mile from the French border and could easily drive to and fro between Switzerland and France to our hearts' content. On Sundays we would shop the open air market in Divonne-les-Bains, purchasing fresh seasonal fruit and vegetables, roasted chicken, artisan cheese, paté and foie gras. We would then head to the local tearoom and recharge ourselves with a luscious croissant d'amandes and cappuccino before crossing back over the border to our home in Crassier.

When I first arrived, I loved casually inserting into a conversation with friends or family back in the U.S. that I had just shopped for groceries that morning in France, or that I would dine that evening in a French countryside auberge. My friend Kingsley arrived from the U.S. to visit me, and one of our first outings was to walk to France. Now, mind you, this was not the most scenic walk to do in the area, but, by golly, what a good story to talk about after. We nonchalantly waved bon jour to the Swiss border guards as we strolled past their guardhouse and casually glanced at the decidedly empty French border guardhouse (the guards were most likely fortifying themselves over a 2 hour lunch break) and then voilà! We were officially in another country! We trudged on to our destination, a simple café in a French village where we ordered Salade aux Crottins de Chavignol, a glass of wine and the French version of very good espresso. We then walked back over the border and still are, clearly, talking about it.

Swiss Cheese

You may wonder why on earth I would start with a cheese fondue recipe, especially since I had just arrived in Geneva after 6 months of cooking and eating my way through Paris. Well, I start with this, because this question best mirrored my own sentiment upon arriving in Switzerland and getting busy with one of my favorite extracurricular activities: Eating in restaurants.

On the heels of Parisian dining I found that Swiss dining was somewhat, well, limited. At least this is what I found in the spring of 1991. Yes, there were many fine establishments serving haute cuisine, but for those preferring less of an impact on wallet, digestion, and trouser-size, this was not an option for frequent dining. For more casual outings, the common option was the local auberges. These were cafés and inns located in every town and village; a convenient stop for those who tired of eating at home. Quickly, one discovered, however, that variety and choice were not necessarily the operative terms when the menus were devised.

I do have a theory. Did you know that Switzerland is approximately the size of the combined area of Massachusetts and Connecticut and has 4 national languages? Did you know that for a small land-locked country, Switzerland is blessed with the alps, many lakes (Lake Geneva or Lac Lèman is the second largest lake in Europe), meadows and vineyards, cosmopolitan cities and tiny mountain villages? That it offers a sports-lovers' heaven with myriad outdoor activities (skiing, hiking, white water rafting, sailing, hangliding, and the list goes on), and perhaps, more-tellingly, is the seat of one of the largest international communities in Europe as Geneva is home to the UN, WHO, WWF, the Red Cross, and more.

So, I think that when it came to the auberges, the Swiss were just plain spent in terms of variety. After all, they are Swiss, and to some, variety and choice are not words that leap to mind when describing the Swiss way of doing things. In fact, the auberges were a wonderful way to express their authentic Swiss-ness, if you will; variations, substitutions, alternatives, special requests were not on offer.

Which brings me to cheese fondue. Cheese would be considered a staple of the Swiss diet. After people, cows probably come in second in terms of population numbers (if not number one - I must check that.) The cows enjoy the countryside, chewing the very green grass, nibbling the lovely wildflowers, and generally having a blissful cow-life. They give milk, and wonderful things happen in terms of cheese products. All these happy, healthy cows make great cheese. Towns and villages have their own cheese that is named after the towns and villages. Cheese is served for breakfast, lunch and dinner in numerous forms (cold, melted, grilled, gratinéed.) During the harsh snowy winter months, cheese fondue was a traditional warm and satisfying dish to make with limited fresh products at hand. A little stale bread, some aged cheese from the cave, air-dried meats, pickled vegetables or cornichons, would sustain a family through the season.

And when you are living like a local, you do what the locals do. (Tip: If you have a problem with this philosophy, it's best if you travel away frequently, or perhaps return home.) So, as the weeks became months and then years of living the Swiss life, cheese fondue became our staple of sorts. While not for summer dining*, it was fast and delicious on a cold evening, whether or not we had been skiing. All the accoutrements were at our disposal, and some of the homes we visited actually had a designated room for eating melted cheese in, as the potent smell of melted cheese could linger on after the meal. Did I mention that the Swiss are fastidious?

* My daughter would disagree about summer fondue dining. She is a summer-born child, and one of our traditions is to make a family dinner of choice for our children on their birthday. She chooses cheese fondue to this day, and so we do have the pleasure of enjoying it every summer. (She was born in Switzerland, lest we forget.)

Cheese Fondue

This recipe is my version of the traditional fondue. Serves 4-6.

2 cups white wine - typically a Swiss white wine, but you may have noticed that this is rarely exported. I substitute a Semillon or a Sauvignon Blanc.
1 garlic clove, minced
1 lb. grated alpine cheese such as Gruyère, Emmental, Appenzel, Comté - Of all ingredients this is most important. A Gruyère cheese that says "Made in Wisconsin" is absolutely not the same as a genuine Swiss or French alpine cheese, and I recommend you try a taste test to see. I prefer using a mixture of Gruyère and Emmental.
3 tblsp. Kirsch or Calvados - as I have moved around and at times found it hard to purchase Kirsch, I substitute Calvados with nice results.
3 tblsp. cornstarch
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
Freshly ground black pepper
1 loaf peasant or sourdough bread, cut in 1" cubes

Have all your ingredients ready before you begin.
Combine kirsch, cornstarch and nutmeg in a small bowl, stirring to combine.
Add wine and garlic to a large heavy saucepan. Heat over medium-low heat until tiny bubbles begin to form giving wine a fizzy appearance, without bringing to a boil.
Add cheese one handful at a time, stirring constantly until each handful is melted before adding the next.
Once cheese is added, continue stirring 1 minute - do not allow mixture to boil.
Stir in cornstarch mixture. Continue stirring until mixture thickens to fondue consistency.
Pour cheese mixture into a pre-warmed fondue pot and serve immediately with freshly ground black pepper.
Tip: Use bread cubes to stir the fondue in the fondue pot. Avoid letting the fondue come to a boil.

Bon Appétit

For the past 18 years I have lived in 5 countries. In 1990 I moved to Paris to study cooking with the intention of lingering on after my cooking program finished and finding a job. Originally I planned to work as an interior designer. After all, that was my profession in Boston before I moved, and while I loved cooking, I approached it more as a hobby and a ticket to Europe. I figured that once I got myself to Paris, learned the ropes of La Cuisine Française, magically learned French (I studied Spanish in school), endeared myself to the all-embracing French population and became a local, well, then, I might just get a design job with Euro-Disney, which was in the process of being constructed on the outskirts of Paris. I would nimbly straddle the French-American culture, drinking café au lait and eating baguettes (I was on a tight budget, after all) while involving myself in the construction and decor of the Magic Kingdom and home of Mickey Mouse. Sounded like a plan.

As all best laid plans go, before I even boarded the Jumbo to take me to Paris, I met a Dane who was in town on business from Geneva, Switzerland. What does this have to do with anything, you may ask. Well, everything. We hit it off, we liked each other. I thought he was cute, and apparently he felt the same about me. So, when I did fly over to Paris to cook, that was not the only thing that began cooking. Geneva and Paris are a 3 hour TGV train ride apart, and for the next 6 months we spent nearly every weekend together either in Paris or Geneva. So, upon my graduation from La Cuisine Base de Française in Paris, I decided that Euro-Disney would have to be built without me, packed my bags and took another TGV ride to Geneva - this time with the plan to stay.