Finishing My First Week of Crazy

It’s official. I have survived my first week of law school. There were tears and sleepless nights and times when I very sincerely questioned both my intelligence and my sanity, but I got through it in one piece.

So now, I am allowing myself to take a step back, walk into my kitchen, and decompress. Never have I been more grateful for the routine motions of measuring and whisking and pouring. I honestly think I can say this with some authority…Cake is comfort.

When I began to think about what the most comforting baked good would be after the week I went through, a phrase came to mind that I’ve heard many times but never really understood: nursery dessert.

It’s a term I’ve heard Ina Garten use when referring to iles flotttantes and panna cotta. I’ve also come across it during my time researching children’s tea as an undergrad. The expression always makes me think of warm milk, honey, and cinnamon; pigtails and petticoats; crescent moons smiling benevolently; and twinkling stars pirouetting through the night sky.

I’ve been told I have a very active imagination, but it turns out my assumptions weren’t entirely incorrect. Nursery desserts, it seems, were a practical tool in the Victorian mother’s arsenal.

“…[I]f a simple dessert will tempt a child to eat a sufficient meal it should undoubtedly be given, as it may, with care, be made to contain a great proportion of the nutriment required for each meal, and prove a valuable supplement to a child’s menu,” wrote Louise E. Hogan in an article titled “Nursery Desserts” found in Babyhood: The Mother’s Nursery Guide, Vol. 11.  

Thus, Hogan continues, fruit desserts like apples baked until soft and milk- and egg-laden custards and puddings with the additions of rice and bread were staples.

According to Phebe Wescott Humphreys’ article “Remedial Food and Drink” in Table Talk, Vol. 27, nursery desserts could also have medicinal value by the inclusion of nuts and fruits like figs and prunes, as they aided digestion.

In present times, however, the term “nursery dessert” seems to carry the same connotation for the English that “comfort food” does for Americans, and refers to milk and bread puddings, whether healthy or not.

Well, I took this “comfort food” idea and ran with it, lumping in nostalgic back-to-school feelings in the process, and came up with peanut butter banana bread.

Because peanut butter + banana bread = delicious.

When you smear a slice with jam, it’s like a hug from an angel and a good, long nap, which, trust me, I needed after my first week of school.

A note about smooth versus crunchy peanut butter…I say go with the crunchy. I tried the recipe with both, and I think the crunchy peanut butter is so much better. It’s kind of like the equivalent of adding walnuts to your banana bread, and adds fabulous texture.

Peanut Butter Banana Bread (Yield: 2 9x5” loaves)

1 stick butter, at room temperature

1/2 c. crunchy peanut butter

2 c. flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. salt

1 1/2 c. sugar

2 eggs

1/4 c. milk

2 tbsp. plain yogurt

1 tsp. vanilla

3 bananas, mashed with a fork

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF and prepare two 9x5” loaf tins by greasing them with butter and dusting them with flour.
2. In a small saucepot, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Once melted, add the peanut butter and stir until smooth. Take the pot off the heat and allow the mixture to cool slightly.
3. Meanwhile, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt in a medium-sized bowl. Set the dry ingredients aside. In a large bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar together until the mixture lightens and looks slightly fluffy and bubbly.
4. While whisking the eggs and sugar gently, drizzle in the melted peanut butter. Mix in the yogurt, vanilla, and mashed bananas. Lastly, fold in the dry ingredients. 
5. Divide the batter evenly between the loaf tins and bake for 40 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out almost clean. (Don’t over bake the banana bread—the bananas will keep it very moist, so the toothpick test can be a little misleading. If the toothpick is completely clean, the banana bread may turn out slightly dry.)
6. Cool the banana bread in the pan for about 10 minutes, and then serve it warm or at room temperature. A slice of warm peanut butter banana bread smeared with your favorite jam and a glass of milk is the best thing ever.

Mad Tea Party – A Bohemian Repast

It’s time for A Fanciful Twist’s 8^th Annual Mad Tea Party!

Come! Come in out of the heat and sit for a spell. Brush the dust off your weary feet and leave your worries at the door. 

Dip your head beneath the silk veils and lounge in my quiet corner. If we are lucky, there may even be a tale or two…

Here, have a glass of mint tea.

Refresh yourself with succulent oranges and sticky roasted figs drowning in cream. Mmmm…that should please a Jinnee or two.

Can you smell it?

The fragrant perfume of orange blossoms and sweet mint is wafting in through my humble door, and the summer air is redolent with the savory scent of toasted almonds, the warm spice of cinnamon, and the citrusy aroma of cardamom.

That would be the sweetmeats and confections, fresh from the oven and dripping in sugar syrup. With recipes hailing from Morocco and Lebanon and Israel (with a few of my own special twists thrown in), we’re sure to have a delicious afternoon.

Just-sweet-enough ma’amoul cookies…fig and orange centers coated with a crumbly semolina shortbread and dusted with powdered sugar.

The cake of many names…whether it’s called basbousa, namoura, or revani, this semolina and coconut cake soaked in syrup is fit for a sheikha.

Tales of Shahrazád and her one thousand and one nights float through the room.

With an empty teapot and only sticky crumbs left on our plates, it may be time for a nap…and maybe a midafternoon hafla?

Who needs tales when life is as mouthwatering and magical as it is?

I have read that ma’amoul are celebration cookies, prevalent all over the Middle East, where they are made for both Muslim and Christian holidays. Traditionally shaped in decorative wooden molds and stuffed with dates or nuts, I have taken a liberty by stuffing my ma’amoul with ground figs (not unheard of, but not as customary it seems). Shaping them by hand is relatively easy, if not a bit time consuming. But it can be relaxing on a quiet morning. They are the perfect complement to tea or coffee.

Ma’amoul (Yield: 14 cookies)

Dough

3/4 c. flour

1/4 c. semolina flour

1 tbsp. powdered sugar

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt

5 tbsp. butter, at room temperature

1 tbsp. vegetable oil

2 tbsp. whole milk

1 tsp. orange blossom water

1. Stir together the dry ingredients in a bowl, making sure everything is fully incorporated.
2. Using a fork, smash in the butter, smearing it into the flour mixture until it becomes sandy.
3. Pour in the oil, milk, and orange blossom water, and fold the ingredients together until you have a homogenous dough. Allow it to sit while you make the filling.

Filling

Heavy 1/4 c. chopped walnuts

Heavy 1/4 c. chopped dried figs (about 5 dried figs)

1” piece of orange rind, pith removed and cut into thin strips

1/8 tsp. cardamom

1/8 tsp. salt

1 tbsp. fig preserves

1. Place all the ingredients, besides the preserves, in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until everything becomes finely ground.
2. Add the preserves and pulse until the mixture clumps together and begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl.

To assemble the ma’amoul:

1. Preheat the oven to 325º F and line a baking sheet with parchment or a nonstick mat.
2. On a lightly floured board, divide the dough into fourteen equally sized portions and roll them into balls.
3. Do the same with the fig mixture. You’ll use about a teaspoon of mixture for each portion, and they will come together like little truffles.
4. Take a ball of dough and flatten it in your palm to make about a 2 1/2-3” circle.
5. Place a fig “truffle” into the center of the dough, pinch the sides of the dough together around it, making a little package. Roll the whole thing together between your palms until it is smooth, and then slightly flatten the top of the cookie. Prick the top with a fork. Place it on the baking sheet, and then repeat the process for the rest of the cookies. Leave about 1 1/2" between the cookies. 
6. Bake the cookies for 30 minutes, or until the bottoms are very slightly golden. Allow them to cool and then dust with powdered sugar.

Take a peek at last year’s mad tea adventure!

Sources:

Barbey, William, Edward William Lane, and Edward Stanley Poole. The Thousand and One Nights, Commonly Called, in England, The Arabian Nights' Entertainments. London: Routledge, Warne and Routledge, 1865. Print.

Roden, Claudia. The New Book of Middle Eastern Food. New York: Knopf, 2000. Print.