Orange Dark Chocolate Brownies with Orange Blossom Cream / Prokofiev's "Love of Three Oranges"

Our favorite little Italian restaurant in Hollywood serves what might be the most exquisite dessert on earth. (Vivoli's "Mattonellina di Cioccolatto" is essentially a silky, dense dark chocolate terrine covered with a light orange syrup and candied orange peel.) Several days ago, I found myself craving the dark chocolatey, fudgey, orangey goodness of Vivoli's Mattonellina. Brownies proved to be the perfect guinea pig for my first chocolate + orange experiment.

 

Double Orange Dark Chocolate Brownies with Orange Blossom Whipped Cream

Recipe loosely adapted from Earthbound Farm Organic Farmstand

20 oz semi-sweet chocolate chips

2 sticks unsalted butter

1 1/2 tbsp instant espresso powder

1 tbsp vanilla extract

1/4 tsp orange extract

1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp unbleached all purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts or pecans

3 large eggs

1 cup plus 2 tbsp sugar

1 tbsp orange peel

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

Line a 13 x 9 x 2-inch baking pan with foil. Generously butter or spray the foil. 

Melt the chocolate and butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until melted and smooth. Add the espresso powder, vanilla, and orange extract and stir to blend. Cool the mixture for 15 minutes. (You'll be adding eggs later, and don't want to accidentally cook them!)

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Add the nuts and orange peel; toss to coat evenly. 

Whisk the eggs and sugar in a large bowl until just blended. Add in the cooled chocolate mixture and stir until just blended. Add in the flour mixture and, again, stir until just blended. (Overbeating will result in deflated brownies.) Pour the mixture into the foil-lined pan.

Bake the brownies for 35 to 40 minutes, or until a tester inserted in the middle comes out with moist crumbs attached. Cool the brownies completely in the pan and stick them in the refrigerator for 6 hours. (Eating them sooner is definitely ok; just know that the texture is so fudgey that they won't hold together in your hand, and need to be refrigerated for 6 hours to properly congeal). Keep chilled. 

To make the orange blossom whipped cream: in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat 1/2 cup of cream with a few tablespoons of powdered sugar (to your taste) and one tablespoon of orange blossom water. 

{Why no, doctor; nothing is wrong with this picture}

{Adding in the espresso powder and extracts created beautiful swirls}

{Fresh out of the oven. Should you fail to resist the urge to chill these before testing, I won't blame you}

{Somebody call animal cruelty!}

For a musical pairing, enjoy Sergei Prokofiev's "Love of Three Oranges." The opera is based on an Italian fairytale, in which an evil witch curses a prince with an obsession for three oranges. He finds two oranges and opens them; beautiful fairy princesses emerge, but quickly die of thirst. He opens the third orange and falls in love with the fairy princess inside. It's strange, absurd, surreal, and beautiful in the way that most fairytales are. Musically speaking, it's written neo-classically - meaning taking classic ideas and giving them a modern, sophisticated, playful twist. (Sort of like the addition of three oranges to a classic brownie recipe.) Enjoy!

Chocolate Peppermint Bark Cookies / Vivaldi's "Winter"

The holidays bring all kinds of sweet temptations to our neighborhood Trader Joe's. One of my favorites is their Peppermint Bark. While grocery shopping last week, I wondered what the creamy, minty stuff would do when added to my favorite chocolate cookie recipe.

My husband's response to these cookies - and I humbly quote - was this:

"Amazeballs."

{Pre-baked balls of amazement, indeed}

 

These cookies are truly dangerous fresh out of the oven. I made 18 last night, and by my last count, I believe only 5 are left.

Chocolate Peppermint Bark Cookies

1/4 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup white sugar

1 stick (1/2 cup) room-temperature unsalted butter

1 large egg

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 cup cocoa powder

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 pouch Trader Joe's peppermint bark, bashed into large and crumbly chunks (should yield 1 cup)

Maldon sea salt (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. (If you have a convection oven, these turn out beautifully: preheat to 325 degrees instead.)

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and the sugars. Mix in the egg until smooth. Add in the vanilla extract, salt, and baking soda. Slowly add in the cocoa powder on low speed until fully incorporated. Do the same for the flour. When all traces of flour are gone, add in the peppermint bark. 

Spoon the dough onto a prepared cookie sheet. Press a few more chunks of peppermint bark into the tops of the cookies. Sprinkle with Maldon salt if desired (YES). 

Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, until set. Allow to cool for a minute or two on the cookie sheets before transferring to wire racks for further cooling. 

Note: due to the obscene proportion of peppermint bark to cookie, these will need to cool for several minutes before you can eat them all in one piece. But best not to wait too long: they are absurdly good when the chunks are still somewhat melted.

{Warm and gooey with a cold glass of milk, even Poochini can't resist}

For a musical pairing, enjoy a part of "Winter" from Vivaldi's "Four Seasons." The poem that accompanies this movement reads:

Before the fire to pass peaceful
Contented days while the rain outside pours down. 

Most violinists agree that the orchestra plucking their strings represents raindrops falling, and the solo violin represents the individual staying cozy indoors. I love Giardino Armonico's interpretation because the orchestra sounds so gently percussive and rain-like, while the solo line sounds so sweet and warm. 

Here in Los Angeles this past weekend, we were subjected to not rain but rather severely strong winds that left many friends and family members without power or hot water for several days. Amazingly, my neighborhood was unaffected. Hoping that you all are able to enjoy the comforts and flavors of home despite any inclement weather!

Red Velvet Cupcakes / Brahms First Symphony

{Homemade - with a little help. Thanks, Sprinkles!}

In just a few days, I'll be heading to St. Louis to visit one of my best friends. Jess and I became close several years ago while carpooling to Pacific Symphony rehearsals. (Three hours in a car together can do a lot for cultivating friendships.)

{Celebrating her achievement at a BBQ back in 2009}

Although I was, of course, elated that she won a position in the St. Louis Symphony two years ago, I was extremely sad to see her go. Luckily, we've had ample time to spend together during her numerous planned and spontaneous trips to LA. Now, it's my turn to visit! We've got loads planned, including attending an exposition tennis match (her cousin, Michael Chang, will be going head-to-head with fellow legend John McEnroe) and making these bourbon pumpkin pie milkshakes.

{Instructions and Cream Cheese Frosting recipe}

During one of Jess's recent visits, she left me with a sweet parting gift: a package of Sprinkles-brand Red Velvet Cupcakes. I was inspired to make them in anticipation of my impending trip to St. Louis. In all honesty, however, I've been desperate to bake ever since my husband hopped on this cockamamie "diet" bandwagon. (Baked apples are great and all, but moral support might be a tiny bit over-rated.) I saved him one and brought the rest to LA Chamber Orchestra rehearsal.

Having followed the instructions exactly, I thought these turned out fantastically well. I'd made red velvet cupcakes from scratch in the past; and while they were moist and their flavor was great, they almost always left their paper wrappings saturated with unappetizing oil. The Sprinkles mix resulted in cupcakes that were fluffy, moist, and flavorful, but not nearly as oily as other recipes I'd tried. I happily took all the credit for my colleague's complements. The cupcakes looked, smelled, and tasted homemade, so who's to say they weren't? Plus, what they really loved was the frosting - and I had no packaged help there. I subtracted a bit of the recommended quantity of sugar and found the balance perfectly sweet and perfectly tangy.

Cream Cheese Frosting
Recipe adapted from Sprinkles Cupcake Mix

One stick of butter, firm but not cold
3 1/4 cups powdered sugar
8 oz cream cheese
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/8 tsp salt

In an electric mixer, beat the butter, salt, and cream cheese together on medium-low speed for 2 minutes. Gradually add the sugar 1/4 cup at a time. Once it is incorporated, add in the vanilla.

{Hubby couldn't resist}

For a musical pairing, enjoy the last movement of Brahms' 1st symphony. The french horn call in 2:45 always makes me think of my most treasured friendships. While vacationing in the Alps, Brahms heard an Alphorn (of Ricola commerical fame) play a beautiful theme. He jotted down the notes on a postcard to his best friend, along with these words:

"High on the mountain and deep in the valley, I greet you a thousand times."

A pretty poetic way of writing just to say hi! Admittedly, his feelings for this particular best friend of his were hardly just platonic. But regardless, this musical moment always makes me think of the special majesty and sweetness of close friendships. It's like a musical representation of what great friends can do for your mood and your life. Prior to the horn call in 2:45, the music is intense, anxious, and brooding. It's like someone going around in circles inside their own head. And out of nowhere, the noble friendship theme turns music that was dismal and complex into something sunny, simple, and rich with joy.

{In a less-than-serious moment, but one that sums up our friendship quite nicely}

See you soon, Jess! And thanks for the cupcakes.

Baked Apples with Bourbon Maple Caramel / "William Tell" Overture

Although I grew up eating baked apples frequently as a "healthy" dessert, it had never occurred to me to make them myself. If it's going to be "apple ____," shouldn't it be apple crisp, apple strudel, apple pie, or otherwise laden with delicious carbohydrates?

{All the fixings: dried figs, dried mixed berries, pecans}

For better or for worse, my husband and I are on something of a pre-holiday diet. Naturally, my version of a diet cannot exclude dessert entirely. When I thought of what kinds of treats I could prepare on chilly fall evenings (yes, we have those in Los Angeles!), my memory darted back to the baked apples my mother used to make for us when the weather cooled down. I would initially be disappointed that oreos weren't in my cards that night. But every time, I bit into a warm and juicy baked apple, I had to concede that I'd underestimated them.

Baked Apples with Bourbon Maple Caramel

Adapted from The Last Course

2 large baking apples (I used Honeycrisps), cored but not peeled or sliced
2 tablespoons dried fruit of your choice (I used 1 tbsp mixed berries and 1 tbsp dried figs)
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon nuts of your choice (I used pecans)
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 tablespoon bourbon
splash of vanilla extract
1/2 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup apple or pear cider

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Combine your dried fruit and sugar in a small bowl. Divide filling evenly among the cavities of the apples. Top them off with a thin pat of butter. Place the apples in a shallow baking dish.

Pour the cider, vanilla, bourbon, and maple syrup around the apples.

Bake for 25 - 35 minutes, basting every 5 to 7 minutes, until the apples are tender. Place apples on a serving tray and cover with foil to keep warm.

Transfer pan juices to a small saucepan. Bring to a boil; then reduce to a simmer. Simmer the caramel until it reaches your desired consistency and color. Pour over the apples and serve.

(Vanilla ice cream is a great complement to baked apples, although it significantly reduces their dietetic potential.)

{Apples out of the oven, pre-carameled. See how the skin is slightly wrinkled, but not cracked?}

For a musical pairing, enjoy Rossini's "William Tell" overture. The apple theme is the obvious connection here. (William Tell is the legendary man who shot an arrow through an apple standing atop his son's head to win his freedom). But for me, the famous "galloping" section (thank you, Bugs Bunny) perfectly captures what fall means for me in my life. Summer is a relatively calm season for me, since the concert season slows to a crawl. And do I ever relish it: the annual slowdown allows for traveling and socializing on weekends, and accounts for the very existence of this blog. But come September, I am off to the races in a major way. I am never fully prepared for the abrupt explosion of performances and general busy-ness that takes hold. I don't even really have time to bemoan the end of summer; I get swooped up in a mad rush that carries me all the way til the middle of June. It's a lot like Rossini's trumpet blare right as the famous finale begins, at 8:15 in the clip. He wrote absolutely no "transition" between the restful section and the mad dash; it just explodes out of nowhere. The conductor in this version, Riccardo Muti, gives a fantastic cutoff in 8:25 that is awesomely brutal and commanding. As for the craziness that happens in the violins at 10:05: when I've performed this, it's always so unrelentingly fast that you just have to hang on for dear life. God forbid your standpartner makes a mistake - or you second-guess just one of those lousy little notes - and you may fall off the wagon completely.

That's what Fall means to me: hang on for dear life til you start coasting. Along the way, try not to stop and think too hard about having absolutely no weekend evenings free. Savor the manic, unrelenting joy of the concert season. Await summer with no small amount of eagnerness as the wild ride comes to an end. Bask in the bliss of relaxation while it lasts, before being snapped back to reality with a brutal, brassy blare. Repeat.

Peach Raspberry Crisp / Appalachia Waltz

Apple Crisp was my grandmother's specialty. The buttery, shortbread-like topping was beloved by every member of our family, and legendary amongst our friends. Even my chocoholic husband came around after tasting it; over the years, crisps have become his "desert island" dessert.

As much as I'd like to think that crisp-making skills are heritable, I can't bring myself to try to replicate my grandma's version. Unfortunately for posterity, she never followed a written recipe. And naturally, I was too busy drooling over her shoulder in anticipation of the finished product to pay much attention to detail. All I can remember with certainty was that copious amounts of butter were involved. Whatever her secrets may have been, she would prepare crisp after crisp for any of our visits to New York. Her tireless baking was just one of the many ways she would tell us she loved us. I can't help but think of her whenever I make one.

{My Grandma & I circa 1982}

For a musical pairing, here is Mark O'Connor's moving Appalachia Waltz. It captures a sweetness and a sense of deep nostalgia that is utterly American, and profoundly comforting. I thought it would be especially appropriate given the tenth anniversary of September 11th. This version is performed by my partner Kevin and myself.

Peach Rasbperry Crisp
(adapted from the Barefoot Contessa)

4 pounds firm, ripe peaches
1 orange, zested
1/4 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
1 cup light brown sugar, packed
1 1/2 cups plus 2 to 3 tablespoons flour
1 pint raspberries
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup old-fashioned oats
2 sticks (one half pound) cold, unsalted butter, diced

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

If you'd like to go through the trouble of removing the skin from the peaches, you can immerse them in boiling water for 30 seconds to one minute, then shock them in ice water. The skins should slide right off when you pinch them. (Personally, I don't mind the skins. They have such a beautiful color; and because they literally hold the peach slices together, they prevent the filling from becoming a complete mush.) Cut the peaches into large wedges.

In a large bowl, combine the peaches, 2 to 3 tablespoons of flour (this depends on how juicy your peaches are; the juicier they are, the more flour you will require to prevent the filling from becoming soupy), 1/4 cup of the brown sugar, the orange zest, and the vanilla. Add the raspberries and toss gently. Pour the filling into any dish that will fit it and the topping.

In an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, blend the butter, the remaining sugars, the salt, and the oats until the mixture crumbles into pea-sized bits. Spread evenly over the peach mixture. Bake for 1 hour and serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

{Nothing beats rivulets of melted ice cream}

{Poochini, intrigued}

Salted Pistachio Dark Chocolate Macarons / Ravel Piano Concerto

Last week, I received an incredibly sweet birthday present from a good friend and colleague at Pacific Symphony: a cookbook entitled "Mad About Macarons." On opening the gift, I was touched that my friend had thoughtfully indulged my obsession with decadent baking. But the more I learned about macarons - and even about the author of the cookbook, who is a musician herself - the more special the gift became.
 

{at various stages of preparation}

Having never made macarons before, I was unaware of just how much time they require to achieve the most perfect results. First, the egg whites age in the fridge for 4 to 5 days before being beaten. Once the shell batter has been prepared and carefully piped onto baking sheets, it rests on the counter to set for about an hour before baking. Finally, the fully baked and assembled macarons themselves taste best after spending at least 24 hours in the fridge.

But the end result was well worth the wait(s). Despite my wondering if I was doing everything right (because there is just so much that can go wrong: cracked/bubbly/hollow shells, the dreaded lack of "feet"...), it all worked out in the end - thanks to graceful aging. What a fitting birthday metaphor... especially reassuring since this year's my 30th.

{cooling off below the book that made the process relatively foolproof}

I made very few changes to the recipe outlined in the book. My most substantial addition was a sprinkling of Maldon salt to enhance the flavors of both the ground pistachios and the dark chocolate. And for color, I added a few grams of cocoa powder to the shell batter.

{Sadly, no chocolate for Poochini!}

Musical pairing: the first movement of Ravel's Piano Concerto in G major. It is a joyful explosion of flavors and colors; sophisticated, but with a palatable sense of whimsy and fun; and exquisitely French in a very modern way. Enjoy!

Frozen Key Lime Pie / Gershwin Prelude

After taking a much-needed vacation to South America, I returned to the northern hemisphere desperate to enjoy summertime in a proper summer climate. And did I ever get it: Los Angeles was so oppressively hot that I found myself craving things that were light, refreshing, and (above all else) COLD. This frozen key lime pie fit the bill perfectly.

I've made it twice since we returned, with a few modifications the second time around. Since the first pie I made suffered from a tragically skimpy proportion of crust to filling, I added 50% more crust. I also mixed half a teaspoon of vanilla extract into the melted butter before adding it to the graham cracker crumbs - to which I added a 1/4 teaspoon of salt. (Because any self-respecting margarita lover worth her, well, salt knows that limes demand as much.)

{my kind of golden ratio}

Being a doctor's daughter, the consumption of raw egg doesn't sit all that well with me. (Salmonella: not the greatest secret ingredient.) So once I'd creamed the eggs and sugar, I put them over a double boiler with a half a cup of the lime juice, whisking constantly, until my handy little infrared thermometer let me know that the mixture had reached 140 degrees. After letting it cool, I added in the sweetened condensed milk and remaining lime juice/zest.

{fit for consumption}

And so as not to let 6 egg whites go to waste, I used 2 of them to make these.  (I threw the remaining four in the fridge to age for a few days in preparation for the macaroons' similarly named brother-from-another-mother, the macaron.)

Musical pairing: Gershwin's Prelude #2, arranged by the legendary violinist Jascha Heifetz. It's always reminded me of hot, humid, languid summer days. It's utterly American, and has a refreshingly simple yet rich sweetness to it. Enjoy!

Rose Panna Cotta with Raspberry and Lychee / Mother Goose Suite

Being married to a chocoholic can be surprisingly hard on a recreational chef with as indiscriminating a sweet tooth as myself.  If only I could turn my husband away from the chocolatey-dark side; far enough, at least, that he would actually enjoy a slice of lemon meringue pie! I would die a happy woman, confident that the dessert-making force was with me. To be fair, though, he's come a very far way already - thanks to ridiculously exquisite (and foolproof) recipes like this one.

{cream + sugar + mascarpone + rosewater + cute ramekin = panna cotta}

Martha Stewart's light and delicately floral Rosewater Panna Cotta seemed just right for a dinner party in the garden earlier this week. The original recipe calls for fresh raspberries and chopped canned lychees, with the accompanying clear syrup reserved as a sauce. But when I spotted fresh lychees at Trader Joe's, I imagined a simple coulis made out of fresh lychees and raspberries instead.

{Coulis is just Fancy for "fruit sauce"}

After pureeing a pint of raspberries with 10 peeled, pitted lychees and 2 tablespoons of powdered  sugar, I pushed the liquid through a sieve to remove seeds. The resulting sauce was heavenly: sweet, floral, and ever so slightly tart. (If you don't have access to fresh lychees, canned would work just as well; just skip the sugar.)
                      
I served the panna cotta with this ginger shortbread.

Lastly, a word to the wise: don't be in a hurry to remove the panna cotta from its container. I may or may not have shattered a plate in my haste to shake a particularly stubborn one free. Loosen the bottoms first by placing them in a baking dish filled with half an inch of very hot water for several minutes.

{chocolate who?}

Musical pairing: "Laideronette, Empress of the Pagodas" from Ravel's Mother Goose Suite. It's silken, snowy, and boasts an elegantly eastern flavor - not entirely unlike this dessert. Enjoy!