Hamming It Up...

Despite the disastrous clean-up situation after our last round of waffle-making that brought me to the brink of throwing away a brand-new waffle iron, I found myself pulling it out of the depths of the kitchen cabinet in order to give things another try. I had spotted a recipe in the latest issue of Bon Appetit that provided one-stop shopping for brunch: ham and cheese waffles. They combined sweet and savory, protein and carbohydrates, and most importantly, I had all the ingredients in the house between our leftover Easter ham and the buttermilk I used to bake my blogiversary cake earlier this week. I couldn't ask for more.

The waffles turned out crisp yet fluffy, with a nice salty kick from the ham and cheese. I was a little wary of how they would pair with the maple syrup suggested in the recipe, but the combination was spot-on. If you like getting maple syrup on your ham or sausage when you go out for breakfast, it's a safe bet you'll like these waffles.

Most importantly, the cooked waffles released cleanly from the waffle iron, without creating another epic mess. We made these waffles for dinner, and it would have been miserable to spend our evening scraping food debris from our cooking implement. Now that I've gotten a successful batch of waffles under my belt, I'm ready to dust off the waffle iron with a bit more frequency, and explore a variety of conventional and unconventional recipes alike.

Ham and Cheese Waffles

adapted from Bon Appétit

1 3/4 c. flour

1 tablespoon sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon kosher salt

3 large egg whites

3 large egg yolks

1 cup melted butter

1 cup buttermilk

3/4 cup soda water

1 cup thinly-cut strips of ham

3/4 cup shredded sharp white cheddar

Maple syrup

Preheat oven to 300°. Heat waffle iron until very hot. Whisk flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and kosher salt in a large bowl. Using an electric mixer, beat egg whites in a medium bowl until medium-soft peaks form. Whisk egg yolks, melted butter, buttermilk, and soda water in a medium bowl; gradually whisk into dry ingredients. Fold in egg whites.

Coat waffle iron with Pam. Pour batter onto iron, spreading it into corners (amount of batter needed will vary according to machine). Scatter 1 rounded Tbsp. ham and 1 Tbsp. white cheddar over each waffle. Cook until golden brown and cooked through. Transfer to a baking sheet; keep waffles warm in oven between batches. Serve with butter and warm maple syrup.

Gonna Eat A Lot Of Peaches...

I may not be moving to the country, but it's hard to deny that I am eating a lot of peaches this summer nonetheless. With a huge chunk of my freezer dedicated to the frozen fruit, I decided to tap some of my resources to create a frozen dessert that I had recently spotted on one of my favorite food blogs, the Galley Gourmet. Though I was initially attracted to her blog for her cakes, most of her recipes fall into the realm of things that sound good in theory, but would be too labor-intensive for me to seriously consider making. When I saw her recipe for a buttermilk peach sherbet that purportedly captured the flavors of peach pie in frozen form, however, I was intrigued. Not only was it a quick recipe to throw together, I was fresh off of actually baking a peach pie and figured this sherbet would be a good pinch-hitter for the more involved recipe if it panned out.

Without a doubt, this recipe was a cinch to make. With a stockpile of peaches peeled, sliced, and ready to go in the freezer, all I had to do was dump the ingredients in a blender and puree until smooth. From there, they went into the ice cream maker, since the frozen peaches already had the mixture quite frosty, then into a Tupperware container to freeze until firm. It was quite possibly the easiest peach creation I've attempted all summer.

However, I was slightly disappointed in the finished product. Though I have a seriously fierce addiction to the tart white peach frozen yogurt at Red Mango, the combination of tangy buttermilk and peaches in this sherbet was too much for me. Also, I think it could have used more cinnamon (perhaps a 1/4 teaspoon instead of an 1/8?), but then again, I think basically everything in the dessert would would benefit from a heavier hand with the cinnamon. Plus, I was afflicted in my sherbet effort by the same problem I had with my ill-fated apple sorbet, namely crumbliness.I'm not sure why I keep having this problem -- this sherbet had peach Schnapps in it to keep it from freezing too hard, just like my always-perfect peach sorbet -- so I think I'll stick to my tried-and-true frozen dessert recipes for a while, at least.

Even Dad, perhaps the greatest aficionado of peach desserts in my life, proclaimed it, "not my best work," so I doubt I'll be attempting this recipe again. If you like tangy frozen desserts, however, feel free to give it a try. Just remember to season to taste...

Peach Buttermilk Sherbet

adapted from The Galley Gourmet

2 lb. fresh peaches, peeled, pitted, and chopped

2 c. buttermilk

1/2 c. brown sugar

1/2 c. white sugar

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

pinch of nutmeg

pinch of salt

2-3 tablespoons peach Schnapps

Place all the ingredients in a blender and puree until smooth. If peaches are frozen, you may churn right away. If peaches are room temperature, pour the puree into a bowl and refrigerate overnight until well-chilled. Churn in the bowl of a 2-quart ice cream maker, as per manufacturer's instructions. Transfer to a airtight storage container and freeze until solid.

Don't Mess With Texas...

(Cue the theme song to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.)

As it turns out, I have a nemesis in the kitchen. My history with this recipe goes far back, as it is actually a family recipe from my Grandma Betsy. The cake that it produces, known in the Wyatt clan as Texas cake, but called Texas sheet cake or cookie sheet cake in other corners of the U.S., might possibly be my favorite dessert in my genius dessert-baking Grandma's repertoire. It's got moist, chocolate cake accented with a hint of cinnamon (and we all know how I feel about that pairing), topped with luscious chocolate frosting and rich pecans. I might even love it more than Grandma's red velvet cake. I often alternate between the two when making requests for my birthday. And yet...

I've managed to bungle the recipe every time I've attempted to recreate it on my own. The first time, everything was going to plan until I mixed up the ingredients for the frosting. I thought it looked awfully anemic in the pan, but I'd followed the recipe as written, so I figured perhaps it darkened as it dried on the cake. Needless to say, it did not, and I discovered that I had transcribed the recipe incorrectly from Grandma's original. Instead of 4 tablespoons of cocoa powder, I had written down 4 teaspoons of cocoa powder, so my frosting was lacking a full 66% of its chocolate content. Oops.

The second time, despite my recipe being flawless, I had another measuring mishap with the frosting. The recipe calls for a pound of powdered sugar, but my digital scale's battery was dead. I couldn't recall having used the powdered sugar for anything besides making my first Texas cake, and since it's sold in two pound packages, I figured I could just use the remainder of the box for my icing. Except I forgot about using the powdered sugar for another project after all, so my icing was thin and runny. It soaked right into the cake instead of resting on top, and my second attempt was a soggy but still tasty mess. I believe Mom's commentary at the time was something along the lines of, "Maybe you should give up on this one?"

However, I refuse to go gently into that good night. Ever since my last Texas cake failure a few years ago, I've been haunted by my inability to achieve chocolate-cinnamon perfection, but in recent months, the hunger to finally slay my white whale has grown steadily stronger until it could no longer be ignored. Since Justin and I are having dinner guests over tomorrow and we'd have people to help us eat the Texas-sized cake, I thought I'd live dangerously and take another stab at it. At least by preparing it the night before, I'd have time to make something else should I have another failure on my hands.


Unfortunately, but perhaps unsurprisingly, the Texas cake managed to best me once again. The problem, as always, came with the frosting. This time, it dried with a weirdly crispy top layer that is decidedly absent in Grandma's version. It wasn't inedible, it just wasn't right. I decided that if I slapped a little ice cream on top, it probably wouldn't be noticeable, so I opted to serve it to my guests anyway and forgo making a back-up dessert.

The more I thought about it, however, I began to have a realization: every Texas cake I've eaten in recent years has been frozen and defrosted prior to making its way to my plate. Due to health issues, Grandma doesn't have the stamina for marathon cooking and baking sessions whenever people come over, so she prepares food when she's feeling up to it and freezes it until family arrives to consume it. I haven't eaten a freshly-baked Texas cake in years, so I really have no way of knowing how my version compares to hers. Still, I'm not willing to proclaim a victory just yet. For now, Texas cake is going to remain my culinary equivalent of Moby Dick, but at least it gives me something to aspire to. Someday, I will conquer it, and until then, there will be plenty of chocolate practice cakes to sample!


Texas Cake
recipe from Grandma Betsy

2 c. sugar
2 c. flour
1 stick unsalted butter
1/2 c. vegetable oil
6 tablespoons natural cocoa powder
1 c. water
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 c. buttermilk
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon vanilla
2 eggs

Icing
1 stick butter
4 tablespoons natural cocoa powder
6 tablespoons milk
1 lb. powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 c. chopped pecans

Preheat oven to 350.

For cake:
Sift together sugar and flour. Heat to boiling: butter, oil, cocoa, and water. Pour over flour/sugar mixture. Mix well and add cinnamon, buttermilk, baking soda, vanilla, and eggs. Pour into a jelly roll pan and bake 25 minutes.

For icing:
While cake is baking, in last 10 minutes, heat to boiling: butter, cocoa, and milk. Add powdered sugar and vanilla. Ice when cake is hot. Garnish with pecans.