Yes, a cheese-cookie!

Christmas is, as we are all aware, a great time for sweets. Candies and cookies are as much a part of December as snow...well, as much as snow here in Ohio. Snow really isn't so much a part of December in, say, Australia. But they do like their sweets Down Under. I digress.

If you throw parties during the holidays, or host the family for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day at your house -- heck, if you work in an office -- you are bound to encounter more trays of cookies and gilded boxes of candy than your waistline appreciates. Chocolate abounds; gingerbread is all over the place; peppermint is omnipresent. How nice it is, then, to put together a savory and delicious cheese board from time to time to counteract the sugar. A little salty dairy to break the sweet-monopoly.

I love a good cheese board, one that's well-constructed with lots of different types of cheeses and complementary garnishes like toasted nuts, a bowl brimming with warmed and spiced olives, crispy crackers, dried or fresh fruit, maybe even a shallow dish of dukkah. I tend to favor sheep's milk cheese, hence my cheese boards always include Manchego or a young Italian Pecorino. There has to be something tangy in there, like the King Island Dairy Roaring Forties Blue or maybe the Humboldt Fog. Maybe an Australian cheddar if I can find it, or some solid aged Provolone if Dad will be coming over. When my friends Kerrie and Greg visited from Australia this past summer, I made it my business to stock the refrigerator with a variety of delectable cheeses, so a cheese board could be manufactured at a moment's notice.

So to properly outfit your holiday cheese boards, today I offer a dynamite Pecorino shortbread. These buttery, salty, cheesy bites fit squarely alongside whatever else in included in your cheese course, and with whatever cocktail is in your hand. They're not really a cracker, more like a cheese...cookie. Yes, a cheese-cookie! Brilliant, just devilishly brilliant. I can't think of a better thing than a cheese-cookie to inject a little savory into sugary December.

Pecorino shortbread is great homemade-gift material. Though, being shortbreads, these rounds are a bit crumbly so you'll want to choose your gift packaging carefully. I can see them stacked inside a wide-mouth Ball jar...beautiful to look at, amazing to eat.

But just for the record: you don't have to give them away. You don't even need to build a cheese board to go along with these shortbreads. Just eat them, yourself, straight off the cooling rack. I won't tell if you don't.

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PECORINO SHORTBREAD ROUNDS

Adapted from "Bon Appetit"

1 3/4 c. all-purpose flour

3/4 c. grated Pecorino cheese, plus more for sprinkling

1 t. kosher salt

1/2 small garlic clove, minced

Pinch of cayenne pepper

1 c. (2 sticks) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat or parchment paper.

Combine the flour, 3/4 c. Pecorino, salt, garlic and cayenne pepper in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse to combine. Add the butter and process until the dough begins to come together. This takes longer than you would expect, so keep processing. Eventually the butter will hydrate the dough and the mixture will begin to clump together.

Turn the crumbly dough out onto the counter and shape into a ball. Divide the dough in half. Roll each half into a 12-inch log. The dough is crumbly, but the log doesn't have to be perfect. Cut each log into 1-inch pieces, then roll each piece into a ball. Arrange the dough balls on the prepared baking sheet, spacing about 1 1/2 inches apart. Using the bottom of a drinking glass, press each ball into a 2-inch-diameter round. Sprinkle Pecorino over the rounds, to taste.

Bake the shortbread rounds until the tops are dry and bottoms are golden brown, about 20 minutes. Transfer shortbread to a rack and cool completely.

Makes 24 shortbread rounds. Shortbread can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature, or frozen for up to 1 month. So you can always have some on hand for when the cheese-mood strikes.

Here's some spinach

I know it is December. I know Christmas is in 10 days. I know this space should be full of scrumptious cookies, rich cakes and sweet candies worthy of a holiday feast. But you know, we all still need to eat dinner. All month long. And as much as I'd love to subsist on the baked good, sometimes I need some non-sugar sustenance. Maybe even a green vegetable. The horror!

So here's some spinach. But do not fret; this is spinach at its most amazingly delicious. The dish is called palak paneer and it's my very favorite item on any Indian restaurant's menu. (I dig you, too, naan, please don't feel left out.) I have long been a fan of Indian food. Husband and I enjoy going out for Indian; in fact, during our lengthy courtship I recall the two of us seeking Indian food on King St. during a visit to Charleston, South Carolina. We ordered some Indian beer...there might have been some pakora...I am pretty sure it was phenomenally romantic.

Cooking Indian at home, however, would seem to be a different matter. You think: too many ingredients! Too much time! It won't be as good as the restaurant's! Hand me the takeout menu! But I swear to you...there aren't that many ingredients, it doesn't take that long and, holy cow, it is better than the restaurant's. If you have everything on hand, and with just a slight bit of planning, in fact you can whip up some palak paneer -- the recipe includes a batch of homemade cheese, even! -- on a weeknight.

Your effort will be handsomely rewarded with an amazingly flavorful, mouth-watering dinner. Deep yet subtle, just a hint of spice even though the recipe doesn't call for anything hot, rich yet light. The homemade paneer, which is a simple Indian cheese, is mild and creamy, yet fried in vegetable oil to develop a pleasing brown crust: perfect little nuggets studded throughout the creamy spinach. Paired with saffron rice, the dish takes on a patina of professionalism. When you pack up the leftovers in translucent plastic containers, you will think you have takeout in your hand.

Give this recipe a shot. Fill up on the delicious spinach. Eat a square and nourishing meal. Then, get back to the sugar. Christmas is in 10 days, don't you know?!?

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PALAK PANEER WITH SAFFRON RICE

Paneer recipe adapted from "Gourmet"

Note: This recipe is equally delicious, if a little different, if you sub extra-firm tofu for the paneer. It saves a little time and is really quite a yummy alternative. Just press the tofu between a few kitchen towels to extract some of its moisture, then brown in a skillet just as you would the paneer in this recipe.

For the paneer:

10 c. whole milk

2 t. kosher salt

1/3 c. freshly-squeezed lemon juice

For the spinach:

5 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

3-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled

1 lb. baby spinach

1/3 c. vegetable oil

2 t. coriander seeds

1 t. cumin seeds

4 whole cloves

2 allspice berries

3-inch cinnamon stick

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

4 plum tomatoes, peeled and chopped

1/2 c. heavy cream

1/2 t. kosher salt

Make the paneer. Line a colander with four layers of cheesecloth; set aside. In a large pot, bring the milk to a full boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. This happens quicker than you might think, so keep an eye on it to avoid a boil-over. Add the salt and lemon juice and remove from the heat. Stir gently as the milk separates and the curd forms. Let stand for about 2 minutes.

Pour the separated milk into the cheesecloth-lined colander. Allow to cool enough so that you can handle it.

Gather up the edges of the cheesecloth and twist to squeeze out as much of the liquid as possible. With the cheese still in the cheesecloth, wrap the whole thing in a kitchen towel. Place the package in a bowl, put a plate on top of it and weigh it down with a large can or a mason jar full of beans or pasta. Let stand at room temperature until firm, about 1 hour. Unwrap the cheese and, using a serrated knife, cut into 1/2-inch cubes.

While the cheese is firming, make the spinach. Place the garlic, ginger and 2 T. water into the bowl of a food processor and finely chop until it becomes a paste. Remove from the food processor and set aside.

In a large covered pot, cook the spinach with 1/2 c. water over medium-high heat until wilted and tender, about 2 minutes. Let cool slightly. Place the spinach, without draining, in the bowl of the food processor and chop roughly. Set aside.

Heat the vegetable oil in a large non-stick skillet (non-stick is key) over medium-high heat. Brown the paneer, gently turning with a wooden spoon to avoid breaking the pieces. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the paneer to a plate lined with paper towel, leaving the oil behind in the skillet.

Add the coriander seeds, cumin seeds, cloves, allspice and cinnamon stick to the skillet and cook, stirring, until the spices are fragrant and the cinnamon stick unfurls slightly, about 1 minute. You will think: Unfurls?! This cinnamon stick is not going to unfurl. Whatever, recipe. But it does!

Add the onions to the spices and cook, stirring frequently, until lightly browned, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic-ginger paste and cook for about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes and cook, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the spinach puree and simmer the sauce, stirring occasionally, until thickened and most of the liquid evaporates, about 10 minutes. Add the cream and simmer, again stirring occasionally until thickened. Gently stir in the paneer and the salt.

Serve immediately with saffron rice; season with more salt, if needed.

For the saffron rice:

1 c. basmati rice

1 1/2 c. turkey or chicken stock (homemade is best)

1 T. olive oil

Pinch saffron

Pinch kosher salt

Place all ingredients in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Bring the mixture to a boil, uncovered, stirring occasionally. When the rice is boiling, cover with a tight-fitting lid, reduce the heat to low and simmer for 15-20 minutes. Fluff with a fork and serve.

Makes 6 servings. 

I'm going for the saltine

Saltines, at least for me, are one of life's simple pleasures. Fancy crackers have their place, certainly, but offer me a choice between a Carr's Table Water cracker, a glorious imported Arnott's Cheeseboard or a humble saltine, chances are I'm going for the saltine. I just love the light, crispy texture and the copious flaky salt -- even the low-sodium version packs enough zing to please my tongue's insatiable salt receptors. Plus, they're so old-fashioned and nostalgically charming. I can eat a whole sleeve without a second thought.

There was, then, much rejoicing the day I discovered a recipe for chocolate toffee candies built upon a salty foundation of saltine crackers. Because if there's anything better than saltines -- at least in the realm of cracker-dom -- it's saltines smothered in bittersweet chocolate and toasty almonds. And buttery caramel. And frozen into sheets that can be broken into any desired size. So you can honestly state, "I just had one piece," and nobody has to know that "one piece" comprised half a baking sheet.

I'm not going to lie to you: I'm kind of salivating as I type this.

No doubt you've already begun your holiday baking, or at least you've started making lists in your head about which treats will make their annual appearance on your cookie tray, and which will be lovingly baked, tied into pretty cellophane bags and shared with friends and family. My list is long this year. And chocolate-almond saltine toffee is on it.

In the days to come I'll be writing about many of my favorite Christmas desserts. Some of them are very fancy, while others are basic and reflective of a childhood full of sweet pleasures. Some were part of each and every one of my Christmases growing up, some have only entered into my culinary repertoire over the past few years. Some are baked in out-of-the-ordinary cake pans and require specialized ingredients; another relies on a simple saltine for its structure, texture and flavor.

Come to think of it, we should all rely on the saltine. It's also not such a bad idea to rely on a slab of chocolate and a quarter-inch sheet of delectable toffee.

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CHOCOLATE-ALMOND SALTINE TOFFEE

Adapted from "Food & Wine"

4 oz. sliced almonds (about 1 c.)

50-60 saltine crackers (a little over one sleeve of saltines)

1 1/2 c. sugar

3 sticks unsalted butter

2 T. light corn syrup

1/2 lb. bittersweet chocolate, at least 60% cacao but preferably 70%, chopped into 1/2-inch pieces

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Spread the almonds on a baking sheet and toast for about 6 minutes, until golden brown.

Line a rimmed baking sheet with a Silpat or a lightly-buttered piece of parchment paper. Arrange the saltines on the baking sheet in a single layer, patching any holes with cracker bits (slight gaps are okay).

In a medium saucepan, combine the sugar, butter and corn syrup and cook over low heat until the sugar is melted. Insert a candy thermometer into the syrup and increase the heat to medium. Cook the syrup, stirring frequently with a wooden spoon, until a honey-colored caramel forms and the temperature reaches 300 degrees Fahrenheit.

Carefully and evenly pour the toffee over the crackers. Using an offset spatula and working quickly, spread the caramel to cover the crackers evenly. Let cool for 3 minutes, then sprinkle the chopped chocolate evenly over the toffee. Let stand until the chocolate is mostly melted, then spread the chocolate over the toffee. Sprinkle the almonds over the chocolate. Freeze the toffee until set, about 20 minutes.

Invert the toffee onto a work surface and peel off the Silpat or parchment. Invert again, break into large shards and serve. The toffee can also be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.

Makes 2 1/2 pounds of toffee.

A cassoulet in name only

This vegetarian cassoulet is neither vegetarian nor a cassoulet. Discuss.

Back in my veg days, Mom would pass along any vegetarian recipes she discovered that she thought I might find delicious and intriguing. One day she handed me two pages ripped from a magazine, "Southern Living," perhaps. On one page was a lengthy recipe for a traditional cassoulet -- the French slow-cooked, stew-like melange of various cuts of meat and white beans. On the second page was a recipe for "vegetarian cassoulet," the magazine's way of capturing the rustic soul of the cassoulet without all the pork and duck and mutton and goose. I squirreled the recipe away for a long time, awaiting the right winter day to try it out.

That day finally came, but it did not come until after I ceased being a vegetarian and began eating poultry. So while I maintained the majority of the recipe as originally written -- especially the inclusion of a rainbow of root vegetables in place of the meat -- I did substitute chicken stock for the called-for vegetable stock. You know, just for a little extra oomph. Not that there's anything wrong with vegetable stock. And today when I made this dish, I used my homemade turkey stock. (I couldn't bear to let the Thanksgiving turkey carcass go to waste and instead got busy the next day cooking an enormous batch of stock, which is now frozen in old-fashioned ice cube trays awaiting delicious applications over the coming year.) Out with the veg stock, in with the poultry.

So, this vegetarian cassoulet is not vegetarian.

Nor is it a cassoulet. The purists among you will no doubt take a look at this recipe and exclaim, "Cassoulet?! This is no cassoulet." It is just a simple matter of fact: one cannot make a vegetarian version of a dish that includes meat from several animals. Even though the root vegetables are filling and hearty, they are not duck legs and do not taste as such. Then there is the matter of the chickpeas. Traditional cassoulet includes white beans; this recipe calls for chickpeas. Of course you could substitute, but I like chickpeas as well and decided to leave the recipe as written. Without the significant meat content -- and without the white beans -- this dish is a cassoulet in name only. A better name for it might be root vegetable and chickpea stew.

Anyway. Regardless of its name, this dish is still really tasty -- perfect for an early-December frigid, windswept day. And if you're anything like me, you'll find it immensely gratifying to cook such an earthy dish in your perhaps-underutilized yet completely lovely Dutch oven. No matter if it is or is not vegetarian and/or a cassoulet.

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VEGETARIAN (OR NOT) "CASSOULET"

I used a two-pound rutabaga for this recipe. When I selected it from the rutabaga basket at the grocery store and placed it in my cart, a man standing next to the kohlrabi who apparently was some sort of root-vegetable-weight-soothsayer muttered to me, "That one's two pounds." I weighed it at home and he was correct: 2.12 pounds.

1/4 c. unsalted butter

4 T. minced garlic, divided

8 oz. cremini mushrooms, stems removed and cut in half

1/2 t. dried thyme

1 bay leaf

1 t. fresh rosemary, finely chopped

1/2 t. dried oregano

1 c. dry white wine

3 T. tomato paste

1 20-oz. can of chickpeas, rinsed and drained

6 turnips, peeled and cut into fourths

4 large red potatoes, peeled and cut into fourths

1 rutabaga, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces

2 large white or yellow onions, cut into eighths

6 carrots, peeled and cut into 2-inch pieces

1/2 t. kosher salt

1/2 t. freshly-cracked black pepper

1/2 c. olive oil

1 quart (32 oz.) vegetable, turkey or chicken stock

1/2 c. panko

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add 2 T. of the garlic, mushrooms, thyme, bay leaf, rosemary and oregano. Cook, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes.

Heat the oven to 500 degrees Fahrenheit.

Add the wine and tomato paste; cook, stirring frequently, for 2 minutes. Add the chickpeas and cook another 3 minutes. Remove the from heat; discard the bay leaf. Pour the chickpea mixture into a Dutch oven and set aside.

In a large bowl, combine the remaining 2 T. garlic, turnips, potatoes, rutabaga, onions, carrots, salt, pepper and olive oil. Toss to combine, then pour the root vegetable mixture into an aluminum foil-lined roasting pan. Bake at 500 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 minutes.

Remove the vegetables from the oven and reduce the heat to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Spoon the roasted vegetables over the chickpea mixture in the Dutch oven. Pour the broth over the vegetables. Sprinkle with panko. Bake at 325 degrees Fahrenheit for 1 1/2 hours, until vegetables are tender. Taste, and adjust seasoning if necessary.

Serve with a massive hunk of crusty bread.

Makes 12 generous servings.

"Girls, I'm under the MISTLETOE!"

So there's nothing terribly Christmasy about turkey meatballs, per se. Turkey meatballs are savory and delicious and hearty and filling, but they are not necessarily evocative of pine and reindeer and tinsel and large men in red suits.

Unless you cook them for dinner while you're decorating the tree and listening to Christmas music by the Ray Conniff Singers. When you're hauling boxes of festive cheer out of the basement, carefully unwrapping treasured ornaments from the 1970s and singing along with the effusive, sugary Conniff carolers, well, a no-fuss, tasty, stick-to-the-ribs meal is just what Rudolph ordered.

And so it is that tonight -- as I carefully place my great-grandmother's glass teapot ornament on the tallest branch, safely out of the reach of errant canine tails, and hang the painted plaster trilobite ornament that I made at middle school fossil camp (true) on the very back of the tree -- I make a delicious batch of turkey meatballs to enjoy atop a mountain of rigatoni. And at the same time a jolly Ray Conniff singer lecherously appeals, "Girls, I'm under the MISTLETOE!" I will most likely be serving myself another helping.

On Halloween I like to have a big pot of soup or stew or chili bubbling away...something warm and seasonal to feed Nephews when they come in from their chilly trick-or-treating adventures. Something easy to make that keeps the adults sated and toasty on the inside as they hand out candy and don embarrassing masks and wigs. Serving turkey meatballs on Christmas-tree decorating night serves much the same purpose: comfort food to fill your belly as you attend to the important holiday tasks at hand.

Welcome, December. Welcome, beautiful, nostalgic and lovely Christmas season. Welcome, Ray Conniff and your earnest Singers. Come in, unwind a strand of brightly colored lights and have a turkey meatball.

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TURKEY MEATBALLS

20 oz. ground turkey

1/4 of a large white or yellow onion, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 t. kosher salt

1/4 t. freshly-cracked black pepper

2 T. fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

1 1/2 t. fresh rosemary, finely chopped

1 t. dried basil

1 t. dried oregano

1/4 c. grated Pecorino cheese

1 egg

3/4 c. matzo meal or panko

1/4 c. olive oil, for frying

About 2 quarts of your favorite marinara sauce (here's mine)

Place all the ingredients, through the matzo meal or panko, into a large bowl. Mix thoroughly, using your hands. (I suppose you could use a spoon, but there's nothing like your hands to really incorporate the ingredients well.)

In a large pot over medium heat, heat the marinara sauce until it begins to bubble. Reduce the heat and allow the sauce to simmer.

While the marinara sauce is coming up to temperature, heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Shape the turkey mixture into meatballs a little larger than a golf ball; place in the oil. Fry, turning the meatballs to brown them evenly, until just cooked through, about 10 minutes.

Transfer the browned meatballs to the marinara sauce and cook for another 10 minutes.

Serve with pasta, or slice and serve between some yummy crusty bread. Or, just eat them on their own.

Makes 10 large meatballs.

Really, sugar

November is an especially challenging month to be a Daring Baker. You know, with Thanksgiving and all.

There's an awful lot to cook and bake in November. And just when you think you can relax for a moment -- after the Thanksgiving feast has been enjoyed and the leftovers have been stored away and even the turkey stock has been made -- along come those wily bakers with their rules and confections. Hence I found myself, on the Friday after Thanksgiving, making a caramel cake when there were remnants of three pies covered in aluminum foil sitting on the counter. Talk about excessive. Good thing the SciFi Channel was airing a "Mork & Mindy" marathon; episode after episode kept me and Husband entertained as I caramelized sugar late into the evening/early into the morning. In fact, Mork and Mindy were already married and honeymooning on Ork by the time I was ready to frost the cake.

The caramel cake with caramelized butter frosting recipe comes to us from Shuna Fish Lydon. Our lovely hosts for this challenge were Dolores from Chronicles in Culinary Curiosity, Alex from Blondie and Brownie and Jenny of Foray into Food -- with an admirable assist from gluten-free goddess Natalie of Gluten-a-Go-Go. OK! With all those credits out of the way, let's get on with it.

The requirement this month was to make the cake and frosting. We were also presented with an optional challenge: Alice Medrich's golden vanilla bean caramels. Unfortunately for my own sugar skills, I ran out of time this month and didn't get to the caramels. I thought it more pressing to get the outside Christmas lights up, especially since today was a sunny and snow-less day. But I will be making them in the weeks to come, just for the challenge of it. Plus, I already have golden syrup on hand for when the ANZAC biscuit craving strikes. So I really have no excuse not to give these candies a whirl.

Now about that caramel cake. Man alive. It is delicious. And a textural masterpiece: crunchy, golden brown and caramelized crust; soft, light, moist crumb. It smells divine and tastes even better, sweet but not too sweet, sugary but not overwhelmingly so. I just couldn't get over the texture of the cake. Simply gorgeous.

The caramelized butter frosting is another story, at least in terms of sweetness. I suggest setting out your toothbrush and toothpaste preemptively. You will need it. The frosting has great flavor and texture, but, really, sugar. In fact, the next time I make this cake -- and there will be a next time, it is that good -- I think I might omit the frosting and mix a handful of toasted walnuts into the batter. That, to me, sounds perfect.

But that cake as I made it this go 'round was pretty perfect too. I cut it in half, filled it with melted apricot jam and garnished it with a few dried apricots that I chopped finely and rolled in a bit of sugar. (Sugar! Because there wasn't enough already.) Husband ate a piece this morning as an appetizer before his Belgian waffle, so you know the cake must be good. (Another thing that is good: the fact that Husband runs marathons! You can have a cake appetizer when you run marathons, you see.)

Although it's true I wanted to go to bed a little earlier than I did last night, I am grateful to the Daring Bakers nevertheless for introducing yet another magnificent baked good to my life. And I'm grateful that Orson didn't turn Mork into a shaggy dog before he married Mindy.

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CARAMEL CAKE WITH CARAMELIZED BUTTER FROSTING

Adapted from Shuna Fish Lydon

As with any cake with multiple components, it's best to approach this recipe in pieces. First, make the caramel syrup. While it cools to room temperature, get all the ingredients ready to make the cake. Then, make the cake. While the cake is baking, brown the butter for the frosting and let it cool. Assemble the frosting while the cake cools. (It would be even better to make the caramel syrup and frosting a day ahead; store the syrup, covered, at room temperature and the frosting in the refrigerator in an airtight container.) It's all about dividing the work into small tasks.

For the caramel syrup:

2 c. sugar

1/2 c. water

An additional 1 c. water for "stopping" the caramelization process

It's best to have a small bowl of ice water nearby when you work with hot sugar; if any spatters and lands on your skin, you can cool it right away.

In a medium saucepan with tall sides combine the sugar and 1/2 c. water. Stir until the mixture resembles wet sand, brushing down any stray sugar crystals with a wet pastry brush. Cook over medium-high heat until the sugar is an amber color. Throughout the cooking process, brush down any sugar crystals that accumulate on the sides of the pan.

When the color is achieved, very carefully pour in 1 c. of water to stop the caramelization process. Whisk continuously to prevent crystallization. BE CAREFUL with this step: the sugar is very hot and the addition of the water will cause some bubbling and spattering. Be prepared to take a step back if you need to.

Reduce the heat to medium and whisk constantly until the syrup reduces and thickens slightly. Remove from heat and cool to room temperature.

For the caramel cake:

10 T. unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/4 c. sugar

1/2 t. kosher salt

1/3 c. caramel syrup (see recipe above), at room temperature

2 large eggs, at room temperature

1 t. vanilla extract

2 c. all-purpose flour

1/2 t. baking powder

1 c. milk, at room temperature

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Spray a tall (2 - 2 1/2 inches deep) 9-inch cake pan with non-stick cooking spray.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter until smooth. Add the sugar and salt and mix until light and fluffy.

With the mixer on low, pour the caramel syrup into the bowl in a slow stream. Scrape down the sides of the bowl then increase the speed to incorporate the syrup. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla, then scrape down the sides of the bowl again and beat until the mixture is light and uniform.

In a large bowl, sift together the flour and baking powder.

With the mixer on the lowest speed, add one third of the flour mixture. When incorporated, add half of the milk. Then add the second third of the flour mixture, followed by the rest of the milk, followed by the remaining flour. Beat well between each of these additions.

Remove the bowl from the mixer and, using a spatula, fold the batter a few times to make sure it is uniformly mixed. Turn the batter out into the prepared pan.

Place the cake pan on a cookie sheet and bake for 30 minutes. Then, rotate the pan and bake for another 15-20 minutes, until the sides of the cake pull away from the pan and a skewer inserted in the center comes out clean. Do not over bake!

Turn the cake out onto a wire rack and allow to cool completely before frosting. (The cake can be made up to three days in advance; store at room temperature wrapped in plastic wrap.)

For the caramelized butter frosting:

12 T. (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter

1 lb. confectioner's sugar, sifted

4 T. heavy cream

2 t. vanilla extract

2 T. caramel syrup (see recipe above)

Pinch fleur de sel or sea salt

In a small saucepan, cook the butter until it's brown. Strain it through a fine wire-mesh strainer into a heat-proof bowl; this will catch the browned solids and separate them from the browned butter. Set aside to cool to room temperature.

Pour the cooled butter into the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Add the confectioner's sugar a little at a time. After adding about a third of the confectioner's sugar, add the heavy cream and mix well. After another third of the sugar has been incorporated, add the vanilla and mix well. When you have finished incorporating the sugar, add the caramel syrup and mix well to combine. Stir in a pinch of fleur de sel (or sea salt).

For the apricot filling and garnish:

1/3 c. apricot jam

1 T. water

A few dried apricots, chopped

1 T. sugar

Combine jam and water in a small saucepan over low heat. Cook until the jam is "melted" and thinned, about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool.

And now, to assemble the cake! Cut the cooled cake in half using a serrated knife and a gentle sawing motion. With a pastry brush, brush the cut side of the bottom half of the cake with apricot filling. Place the two halves of the cake together and frost with the caramelized butter frosting. (Reserve a little of the frosting in a pastry bag for decorating, if desired.) Roll the chopped dried apricots in the sugar; garnish the top of the cake with the sugared apricots.

Makes one (1) hell of a rich cake.

Present blessings

I was set to share one last Thanksgiving recipe with you all today, but, you know, actual real life stepped in and instead of cooking green beans and fennel for you, tonight I am brining a turkey for my family.

It's hell when cooking gets in the way of cooking!

So as we all begin preparing our feasts -- or traveling to our feasts -- I leave you with the following, from Charles Dickens:

Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has many, not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.

Indeed. Happy Thanksgiving!

(Special thanks to Alex, who brought this Dickens quotation to my attention earlier this week.)