Potlikker

my new favorite cake book- vintage cakes

Somehow Vintage Cakes snuggled deep inside my heart. Wasn't difficult at all, you see. Oh yes. I am shallow. I judge books by their cover. The prettier the better. But, if content doesn't match the pretty cover, then I'm done with it. I'll bury pretty covered book and never use or look at it again. Or even, pass it on to someone else or sell it for nothin' to a used book store. 

I spotted Vintage Cakes in the "coming soon" section of The Good Cook. Y'all belong to that book club? Knew I'd have to own it, so I didn't worry with contacting Richardson's publicist about a review copy.

Ya'll know how to do that, right, for your own blogs, whether they be food blogs or regular lit blogs? I posted about that process about three years ago, but I could probably re-write and update. Because when I think about value, what value this blog provides, well, I know a few things, and getting review copies of books is one of them.

In the meantime, read the old thing and see whether you have questions. Shoot me a comment and I'll include your concerns in an updated blog. 

What I love about living and what I love about almost everything that I do is the learning. So with cooking, and each new recipe, I usually learn something. Much of it comes from my inability to read through a recipe. I dive right in. I fail at mise en place. And then have to remind myself to pay attention, read ahead, be prepared.

Grow up. 

In the back of my mind I know whether I have ingredients on hand. Many times I dash out to the grocery for a half gallon of milk. Or some other thing. I turn the burner off. Slip something into the fridge to cool, or stop cooking, then grab Elsa, tuck the dogs away--just locked in the den, but Ginger, our Jackrat, goes into her kennel, because she's the one who can jump 4-5 feet onto our gathering table and snarf cake batter like a Hoover. 

Did I set the scene? 

It's the same with knitting. I love a new knitting project, because I learn something new. Have to rip out stitches because I was distracted by Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead and then got to do over, do over. These moments of grace are what make us human. What keep me real.

But cake. Let's get to cake. That's what you came for, right? Oh. My. Goodness. 

Vintage Cakes has recipes to die for. Erin Kunkel shot the photos and they are mouth-watering. Styling credits go to Robin Valarik and prop styling to Ethel Brennan, but this book does for cake what Photoshop does for Vogue. I pay attention to photography, and styling because that's a major aspect of cookbookery. 

Obviously, there's the recipe. If it doesn't work, well, there you have it. But, to put it plainly, simply reading the list of ingredients don't float my boat. However, a sharp photo with snazzy styling makes me want to try a recipe every damn time. Pardon my cursin. I've spent too much time on twitter of late, where the cursin is abundant. Surely, you see it too, photography and styling are important when packaging a cookbook, just as it fantastic typography and layout--which, I don't believe the graphic designer for Vintage Cakes is credited, unfortunately.

Maybe you've noticed in other cookbooks when fonts are too small or distracting--should have gone with a serif--or not, or they prevent you from reading the list of ingredients, or instructions? Not the case in Vintage Cakes. 

Julie Richardson is the brain behind the recipes inside Vintage Cakes. She co-owns Baker & Spice, a Portland bakery. Naturally, her skills are displayed in the book, but she also trained at the Culinary Institute of America. 

And somehow I threw photos of this yellow cake with white icing into this post and the recipe doesn't appear in the book (I think it's from Miette or Sky High: IrresistibleTriple-Layer Cakes). Oh well. Cake photos happen, ya know? During the time I was playing with Vintage Cakes my sister was approaching matrimonial bliss and I volunteered to make the wedding cake and the grooms cake. Then my step-mother said

No, just make the groom's cake.

Whew, lots of pressure off me. So there was a lot of cake baking and a lot of cake book interplay going on at my house. And just a little bit of cake photography as well. Hence, the mix up herein, but a good cake photo for illustrative purposes can always be forgiven, right? 

This pink cake with raspberry buttercream made my toes curl up, twas so delish. Was my first time making buttercream. Trying to recall that process. Admittedly, I was fearsome scared. Didn't know what to expect, especially since Julie's instructions warned me about some kind of curdling and such. I remained calm. I breathed through the so-called curdling like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

Had to mash or muddle the raspberries and add their juice to the icing to tint it pink, though it was such a pale color I would call it cream. When I make this again, I'll probably add a dab of natural food coloring to the mix for a proper pink color instead of replicating such a wimpy conclusion again. And my chocolate batter doesn't look as deep and dark as the one in her photo. Perhaps it came down to the difference in chocolate used? I was on an organic kick whilst cooking up this cake, so twas all natural Green & Black's.

Anyway, here's my advice: If you don't already own Vintage Cakes, you should. Though I've only shown two of the cakes I've made from its pages, it's filled chockablock with standards that you can replicate in your kitchen that will make your family and friends rot each and every one of their teeth out until their last days. 

Vintage Cakes offers a plethora of cake recipes as well as baking and icing techniques that will stretch your skills. There's something inside to please everyone. Granted, there are flips and rolls, which I think are tacky as sin, but they might appeal to you. And there are lots of kitschy and "regional" type cakes that "time has forgotten" like the Stack Cake, which most Appalachian folk are quite familiar with, but y'all from off would not be. 

Richardson says this about the Stack Cake:

This was the traditional wedding cake for settlers in the southern Appalachians. Back in the day, wedding guests would each bring one layer of cake, and the bride's family would assemble the layers with a spiced dried apple compote in between... the more popular the bride (and groom), the taller the cake. 

Naturally, finding the Stack Cake within VC's pages tickled me, but I've never seen nor eaten the fabled Stack Cake. As a native Southern Appalachian, dontcha find that rather strange? I don't love apples, maybe that's why. Or maybe they're more like Sasquatch of the foodie world. 

Or not, those were some strong words, no doubt. Wink. So, drop by your public library and browse Vintage Cake's pages, or stroll to your independent bookstore. Develop an acquaintance with the book with it and then commit. You won't be sorry. Promise. 

back in the day bakery

Back in May, when we drove to Florida, I so wanted to stop in Savannah so I might visit Back in the Day Bakery and sample their signature baked goods. That was not to be. On our trip south, we missed them because we drove through Georgia to late, after they closed and on driving north the bakery was closed that day. So, another time, for sure, we'll stop in Savannah. 

I received gallies for the Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook : Cakes, Pies, Cookies, Bars, and Breads from the Best Little Bakery in the South sometime ago, but haven't had a chance to cook from it until last week. I have a serious backlog of recipes that I want to make, and not enough egg money on hand to make them all. 

Almost every time Elsa and I visit Earth Fare she grabs one of the mini shopping carts because she enjoys grocery shopping, picking out produce, and navigating the aisles. It's mostly a harrowing experience for me. I correct her "Mind the endcaps!" "Don't bump that person!" "Slow down!" and all sorts of other cautions escape my mouth. She asks for bananas and apples and strawberries, and carrots and all sorts of veggies, even if she doesn't eat them herself, she knows I like them. Invariably we have bananas on hand. We bring them home, and then she won't necessarily eat them. So I'm always seeking recipes using bananas and had flagged the Brown Sugar Banana Bread recipe early on. 

My banana bread baking experiences have been spotty in the past. Thus I approach banana bread recipes with trepidation. I perked up when I read the ingredients list and saw mace and sour cream listed. Mace is unusual. I have it on hand, for the rare recipe that calls for it. And, if you don't know what it is, it's the bright red lacey outer covering of nutmeg. But it appears orangish when its dried and in a glass container. Naturally, the sour cream keeps the bread super moist. And another peculiar thing, was that the recipe called for toasted pecans. Most banana bread recipes I've made in the past have you throw them in untoasted. 

Undoubtedly, the addition of mace, sourcream, and toasted pecans combined to make this banana bread the Most Fantastic banana bread recipe I've come across yet. I'm not a banan a bread fan at all. I make it and I might taste a bite. Then I expect others in my house to eat the rest, or foist it off on folks at work or I take it to my Dad who gets little homecooking anymore since my step-mother returned to the workplace several years ago. But I ate slice after slice of this banana bread. And my dogs ate it too. Of course, they'll eat almost anything.

Late in life I've come to appreciate sweet potatoes. They never appealed to me earlier I think because of how they were presented. My aunt made a candied sweet potato dish at Thanksgiving which was topped with marshmallows. Tempting as the marshmallows were, I was repelled by what was underneath: oily orange muck. It didn't appear appetizing at all. 

Suddenly, I've made sweet potato pie, and I love it. Same thing happened with pecan pie and me, also. Must be a personal food pattern. Or, it's just this fantastic recipe. I think it's mace. Must be the mace effect. Gotta love a cook who uses mace liberally in her recipes. And that's what I really appreciate about Cheryl Day, her mace in your face attitude toward cooking. 

Bring on the mace! What's in this pie, you ask? sweet potatoes, heavy cream, eggs, molasses (or sorghum---I didn't have sorghum on hand, but I really want some Muddy Pond Sorghum, I may have to make a special trip up there because no store nearby sells it.), light brown sugar, cardamon (my favorite, btw!), cloves, mace, ginger, and sea salt.

Time for a confession: I almost constructed this pie with an out-of-date Pillsbury piecrust. I didn't want to go to all the trouble of making a crust from scratch. It would take too much time. Yeah for readymade! The box had been sitting in my fridge for sometime. I won't tell you how long. I glanced at the use by date, and thought I'd try it anyway. Once out of the plastic packaging though I couldn't peel the dough apart, it was mushy. Ugh. 

I almost gave up on making this Sweet Potato Pie! Then I looked more carefully at the list of ingredients and saw that Shortcut Piecrust was listed. So amazing. Flour, butter, and sugar (white or brown sugar). This will be my go-to pie crust. Ian asked about the piecrust, even. He LOVED it. Super easy and a time-saver. No rolling, you don't have to be easy with it or anything. Just pat it into the pie dish.

The only thing I didn't do was make the Fresh Whipped Cream topping. Didn't have enough heavy whipped cream for the recipe. Surely, it would have been a heavenly addition. But the pie was thick and luscious and rich alone. Yeah, so it was a bit stringy, but that's because of the sweet potatoes fiberousness. Ian thought it was quite similar to pumpkin pie, so it's possible that you could pass this off as a pumpkin pie to your family and friends. 

With these three recipes to go on I conclude that the rest of the book is sure to please me, and anyone else with with a range of traditional Southern baked good like Blueberry Buckle, Pecan Sandras, and more. Nouveau baked goods such as Buttermilk Biscones, Guava-Sweet Cheese Turnovers, Creole Brownies, and a slew of savories including yummy Vegetable Potpie and a Pancetta-Fontina Bread Pudding dreamed up by Griffith Day.

The photography (125 color photos as indicated by the gallies) and styling looks amazing, from what I can see of the black and white galley images and so I cannot fully comment on the effect of the published book. I love food photographers and food stylists and follow their work. Reviewing their work and what it brings to each cookbook is as much a part of my review as the recipe. Many cookbook readers browse the pages and have visceral reactions to the photography and styling. Sometimes the right photograph compels a reader to her kitchen to replicate a recipe by her own hands. Obviously, that passion and emotion was lacking in my experience with the gallies. Squire Fox shot the photos for Back in the Day Bakery Cookbook. 

bacon the only crunchy meat

For a short time Ian and I worried that our baby was switched at the hospital. Elsa wouldn't eat bacon. But then she came around. She loves it as much as we do. Yay! The family who eats bacon together, stays together. Unless, of course, you're a vegan or vegetarian family. But that's not the focus of this blog, or my problem, really. 

There is a new cookbook called I Love Bacon! and I have a copy of it. The photos of bacon are to die for, naturally. The photographer is the awesome Ben Fink whose work I admired in Cider Beans, Wild Greens, and Dandelion Jelly. 

It seems a little bit wrong for a book called I Love Bacon! to be written/published by an author who lives north of the Mason-Dixon line. But, oh well. What can you do? Surely they love bacon up there as much as we do in the middle and lower halves of the country.

It's a smallish book with a glossy cover that features a pile of bacon. Its recipes, much like the aforementioned Cider Beans, were gathered by Jayne Rockmill from folks she contacted such as Christopher Rendell, Chris Cosentino, Ellen Burke Van Slyke, Monica Byrne, etc. 

As expected, the dishes feature bacon as an ingredient or topping. Yet there is no full-on (full frontal!?) bacon dish. Bacon is paired with other things and never eaten alone. So the savory bacon bread pudding looked like a winner to me. As did the bacon-wrapped mango chutney and manchego-stuffed dates.

Now wait. Maybe that isn't just right. Bacon is the focus in first few recipes in I Love Bacon! There's classic cured bacon which takes you through the steps of rolling the pork belly in brown sugar, kosher salt, pink salt, and pepper. Then you seal this in a container, pop it in the fridge and take it out in a week. Next, there's spicy braised bacon and soy-ginger braised bacon and those require one pound or two pounds (slabs!!) of bacon. Next comes the pork belly. There's crispy pork belly and Chinese-style pork belly. Just hope you can choose between the two.

Bacony desserts (and drinks as well) like chocolate-dipped smoked almond-bacon brittle reinterpret the favorite peanut brittle. Chocolate bacon cupcakes? Meh. Maybe? I looked for a surprise in this one, like, perhaps bacon in the batter, but that was not to be. The bacon is used to sprinkle atop the icing. And the icing was made with bacon fat. Imagine that. For the maple bacon ice cream, you stir in three ounces of minced bacon as you're making the ice cream in your maker or churn.

Nevertheless, all the recipes looked fabulous. There's not one that I wouldn't try. Okay, probably won't do the oysters or any of the seafood dishes because Tennessee is not a coastal state. Fingers crossed, though. What with global warming and rising ocean waters, we can hope that we have an ocean an hour's drive away someday.

Probably not in my lifetime, either. But life is filled with a load of probability.

the cookbook experience

I can't pinpoint when marketers and customer service gurus started talking up the client's experience as the latest buzzword to focus efforts on. Maybe it has to do with the emphasis on Millennials who seem to drive corporate efforts. Or it could be the Gen Xers who like nesting and nostalgia. Nevertheless, we talk about how the client experiences the brand or experience design. And if the client's experience doesn't disappoint her, then she'll be back. She'll tell her friends, etc. 

What about the cookbook experience? Do publishers concern themselves about the reader's experience? The cook's experience? Decisions like which font to use, the recipe's positioning/layout on the page, the type of paper chosen for the book, and the photography--including the food styling, culminate in an experience for the reader/cook.

Some books are merely pretty with their layout and font. Some are functional with their Times New Roman and spiral bound spine. And many don't feature photos. The ones that do...well, they vary, right? 

In the end, it's not so much the list of ingredients that motivates me to try a recipe. It's the photo. Food styling and photography are the most important elements of designing a cookbook experience for me.

Is it for you? Or do you want a surface that's easy to make notes on as you tweak the recipe to suit you? Or for the book to lie flat while you're measuring ingredients? It's a shame to stain and warp glossy cookbook pages when they're heavily used. Forget the cookbook holder; those rarely work for me.

Perhaps you noticed that in the last few posts I've mentioned the photographer. Anymore, that's what I'm attuned to. Sure, there are average food photographers. Some publishers may not believe food photography is an important aspect of the book and they aren't mindful about the photographer they hire for the job.

But publishers attuned to aesthetics, perhaps the ones with spot on art directors, consistently produce eye-candy cookbooks with lust-worthy food photography. Of late, I've noticed the work of Deborah Whitlaw Llewellyn and Ben Fink, two photographers whose expertise shooting southern food jumps off the cookbook's page.