Cinnamon-Pecan Tea-Cakes

It's cookie-swap time, y'all!

One of the many things I look forward to this time of the year is the Great Food Blogger Cookie Swap--sort of a "secret Santa" for food bloggers.

Last year I sent each of three participating strangers a dozen Elf Cookies, my homage to Keebler's E.L. Fudge, and I received an assortment of delicious treats from three different food bloggers. This year, in keeping with my theme of childhood favorites, I had planned an homage to Nabisco's Nutter Butters--delicious, right?

But as I started to draft my recipe, I realized my heart just wasn't in it. Prepping for family to come for the holidays, keeping up with my rambunctious two-year old, and fighting off morning sickness (!!) made the massive undertaking of developing a sandwich-cookie copycat recipe seem a little more daunting than usual.

So with the nutter-butter concept on the back-burner, I racked my brain for a new idea. It would have to be something that could be packed and shipped, something that would keep well, and ideally, get even better after a few days.

Then it came to me: Tennessee Tea-Cakes!

The rules for the cookie swap stipulate that the blogger must choose a recipe he or she has never posted before--but it can be a variation of a previous post. Though I'd written about the fudge-textured confection of Southern legend in the past, I'd been wanting to do a variation on the mythical treat for quite a while (stopped only by the knowledge that I would eat them all within a two-hour period if allowed), so with the flavors of the season in mind (and with recipients' addresses in hand), Cinnamon-Pecan Tea-Cakes were born.

The addition of a cup of chopped pecans to the batter means your yield will be a little greater than a dozen. Resist the urge to fill the muffin liners all the way to the top--simply bake off the remaining batter after the first batch is done. The tea-cakes do not rise much, but filling them to the top requires them to cook for longer, and the texture won't be quite the same.

In the original post, I baked the tea-cakes in a 350-degree-Fahrenheit oven. Since that time, I have moved a couple of times, and my current oven produces slightly better tea-cakes at 375. Unfortunately, I have yet to follow the advice of every cooking authority EVER and purchase a removable oven thermometer, so I don't know which temp is the truest, or if the addition of the pecans somehow changes the ideal temperature. If possible, you may want to do a test batch to see which temp gets the best results for you.

The MOST important thing to remember with this recipe, however, is to let the tea-cakes cool completely before dusting with powdered sugar and to let them rest even longer before serving. Powdered sugar will get goopy on still-warm tea-cakes. Also, remember the texture of these tea-cakes should be akin to that of a fudgy brownie. Right out of the oven, the tea-cakes will seem underdone on top and overdone on the bottom, and the taste will be far less complex. The taste and texture achieve perfection after a day or two. Wait that long if you can, but definitely wait at least a few hours before digging in. You won't be sorry.

Cinnamon-Pecan Tea-Cakes
There is just a kiss of cinnamon in this recipe, letting the pecans, butter, and brown sugar really sing. 

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup chopped pecans
1 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon or cassia (aka Saigon cinnamon)
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter
1 T pure vanilla extract
1/4 tsp apple cider vinegar
4 oz (1/2 a standard package) Neufchatel or reduced-fat cream cheese, not whipped
1 large egg

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F and line a 12-cup standard-size muffin pan with muffin liners.

In a small bowl whisk together flour, pecans, salt, baking powder, and cinnamon. Set aside.

In a medium-sized saucepan, melt butter and brown sugar over med-low heat, whisking to combine. Bring just to a boil, remove from heat, and add vanilla, vinegar, and cream cheese, whisking until smooth. Thoroughly whisk in the egg. Whisk in the dry ingredients. 

Fill the prepared muffin cups about half-full with batter, reserving remaining batter for second batch.
Bake at 375 degrees F for 16 minutes. Repeat with remaining batter. Cool completely. I cannot stress this enough.

These tea-cakes are going to come out of the oven smelling so good that your anticipation is likely to get the better of you. DO NOT GIVE IN.

When you first take the tea-cakes out of the oven, the bottom halves will seem too cake-y and the top halves will seem too gooey. They need to hang out for a while in order to settle into textural and flavorful perfection.

In fact, they'll be even better after a day or two. . . if you can manage to wait that long.

Once completely cool, dust with powdered sugar and store tightly covered at room temperature for up to 5 days.

Makes about 16 tea-cakes.

Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.

Fried Okra

The Setting: It is downright gorgeous outside right now. Might have to bust out the stroller and go for a jog...which is probably a good idea after Saturday's big dinner.

The Soundtrack: 9 to 5. Has there EVER been a better threesome than Dolly, Lily, and Jane?

Steaming up the oven: Toast.

The Scenario: Time for the next in the series of Music City in the Midwest recipes. Let's hear it for Fried Okra!

It may not be the kind of exotic bizarre food that would attract the likes of Andrew Zimmern, but okra is SCARY.

Long and pointy with slightly sappy fur, the pods themselves are a little on the intimidating side. When you throw in the--let's just say it--mucus-y slime from the interior, this domestic freak show is like a durian on your doorstep.

I understand the fear. I felt it myself as a child.

My mom would order okra at restaurants, and I'd curl away in my seat in terror.

But then I sampled a steaming bowl of gumbo and lived to ask for seconds. There was OKRA in that?

The next time I saw little golden puffs of fried okra on my mom's plate, I found my body uncurling in curiosity...I found my hand creeping toward her plate and reaching for a crispy okra nubbin...And I found the okra DELICIOUS.

These days it's pretty hard for me not to order fried okra when I see it on a menu. But it's easier to resist knowing that I make a pretty darn good version at home.

Fried Okra
Okra plants, actually a close relative to the Hibiscus, grow well in warm climates. Hoosband and I first made fried okra from our own homegrown okra, but now we rely on the freezer section of the nearest grocery store.

~for the buttermilk bath~
1 1/2 lbs frozen cut okra
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1 egg
2 T kosher salt
3 T hot sauce

~for the breading~
1 cup four
1 3/4 cup yellow cornmeal (not corn muffin mix)
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp black pepper

~for frying~
peanut oil

Place frozen okra in a double layer of gallon-sized zip-top bags, set aside.

In a small bowl, thoroughly whisk together the buttermilk bath ingredients. Pour buttermilk mixture over okra, seal bags, and gently shake to coat. Allow okra to thaw in the buttermilk mixture in the fridge overnight.

In a large bowl whisk together the breading ingredients. Set a sieve inside the bowl so that it is filled with the breading mixture.

Heat a depth of 1-2 inches peanut oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saute pan or cast-iron skillet over med-high heat. To check the oil, run your fingers under cold water and flick a few drops into the oil. If the oil is ready the water droplets will jump and spatter; if they jump too violently, your oil may be too hot.

Line a baking sheet with paper towels and place a cooling rack on top.

Working in batches, use a slotted spoon to transfer okra to breading mixture and shake to coat completely. Lift up the sieve and shake off excess breading before transferring the okra to the hot oil.

Fry the okra just until light golden on all sides.

Use a spider or heatproof slotted spoon to transfer the okra to the prepared cooling rack. Repeat with remaining okra and breading.

Once a batch of okra has drained and cooled, it can be transferred to a serving bowl or foil roasting pan to make room for remaining batches.

Serve immediately. Okra can be warmed through in a baking dish or foil roasting pan at 350 degrees F if desired.

Guest Feedback:
Average Score on a scale of 0-5, 0 being "Never again. Need to set my mouth on fire to extinguish the memory" and 5 being "Woohoo! When can I eat that again?" 4.6
Comments: "Very surprised. Very refreshing, even fried." "Good for kids! Definitely will be making it!" "My kids even loved it." "Very Good."

This recipe was featured in a post called Music City in the Midwest for Foodbuzz.com's 24x24 event, for which 24 food bloggers from around the world are selected to host dinner parties within the same 24 hours and blog about them.

Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.

Music City in the Midwest

 © 2012 Anderson Design Group, Inc. Used by permission. www.SpiritOfNashville.com

The Setting: Birds chirping, sun shining. It's a beautiful (but still chilly) day in South Bend.

The Soundtrack: Zac Brown Band (Okay, it's not actually on, but I've got Chicken Fried playing nonstop in my head right now).

Steaming up the Oven: The last of the Buttermilk Biscuits from last night.

The Scenario: Every month Foodbuzz.com sponsors an event called 24x24, for which 24 food bloggers from around the country and world are selected to host elaborate dinner parties on the same day and blog about them within 24 hours (well, by 11:59 p.m. the next day). This month I was selected to bring a little Music City foodlove to the Midwest!

~The Proposal~
Bring a taste of Nashville to the Notre Dame grad-student crowd using as many local (Midwestern) ingredients as possible.

~The Menu~
Should be as specifically "Nashville" as possible, with some quirky Southern staples thrown in for good measure. Bread and spread for the tables. Entree and side. Desserts. Drinks. Take-home treats.

I thought about what says home to me--my favorite dishes from my favorite spots.

Biscuits, Peach Preserves, and Country Ham are never-fails at Nashville's Legendary Loveless Cafe, so I reckoned they'd be a good way to start.

For a main dish my mind went immediately to barbecue.

In Tennessee the Memphis BBQ scene may get all the attention, but as far as I'm concerned, the best 'cue comes from Martin's Bar-B-Que Joint in Nolensville (just outside Nashville). There you'll find the inspiration for my entree, Redneck Tacos, or pulled pork BBQ in a corn cake "taco" with slaw.

I figured my side would be the Southern staple so outstanding it was nominated for two Oscars, Fried Green Tomatoes. The tomato is Tennessee's state fruit after all.

But if you've ever tried sourcing green tomatoes in the middle of winter in South Bend, you know how that panned out. Fried okra made an excellent stand-in.

Dessert would be the Cracker Barrel classic Coca-Cola® Cake, a Cherry-Chocolate-Chip Jack Daniel's® Tipsy Cake, and, just to ensure the elusive tomato made an appearance, Loveless Cafe's "Guess Again" Tomato Cake .

Sweet Tea and Vanilla Bean Lemonade would quench our thirst, and guests would leave with goodie bags of Tennessee Tea-Cakes, Homemade MoonPies and Homemade GooGoo Clusters.

It was an ambitious spread.

~Planning~
The thing about putting something like this together when you have a seven-month-old with a strong preference for being held at all times is it takes a lot of planning, a lot of organization, and the time-management skills of a Fortune-500 CEO who is also a Vegas headliner and an undercover ninja.

I am not what most people would call organized.

I am at my best a semi-well-put-together mess.

But I'm very good at list-making.

....And re-making....

And every now and then I do something someone with French tips and an ironed apron would do.

Since most of my meal was last-minute-labor-intensive, I capitalized on any little bit of free time earlier in the week by measuring out all the dry ingredients I'd need day-of ahead of time.

This was huge!

~Buying Local~
I admit I imported (by way of visiting family) my country ham from Tennessee, but it was important to me to honor my current location by purchasing as many local ingredients as possible.

Turns out South Bend has a chocolate company. With a hefty load of chocolate goodness on the menu, that would have to be stop number one.

We found apples and dried cherries from neighboring Michigan at the grocery store and hit the South Bend Farmer's Market for eggs, smoked pork shank, and additional produce.

~The Execution~
We may have cut it down to the wire just a bit getting everything set up and ready--I had planned to set the mood with a soundtrack of my favorite country tunes and completely forgot when go-time approached--but I'd say the night was a success.

The food was everything I love about home.

Homemade Buttermilk Biscuits and Peach Preserves, recipes follow

Build-your-own Redneck Tacos (recipe here), country ham

For those who are unfamiliar with country ham, it is a very salty cured ham popular in the South. It's sort of like a very thickly sliced prosciutto that is fried up in a skillet and served with bisciuts. It typically comes in vacuum-packages of either two full slices or a bunch of little trimmings, which is what I used for the party. To prepare, add ham directly to a hot skillet over med-high heat and cook 6-10 minutes, flipping halfway through to brown on both sides.

Redneck Taco and Vanilla-Bean Lemonade (lemonade recipe follows)

Fried Okra, recipe here

Cola Cake, recipe here

Loveless Cafe "Guess Again" Tomato Cake, recipe here

The only recipe from the party that wasn't my own, "Guess Again" Tomato Cake comes from the Desserts from the Famous Loveless Cafe cookbook.

© 2012 Anderson Design Group, Inc. Used by permission. www.SpiritOfNashville.com
The Loveless Cafe has been a Nashville institution since 1951.

Jack Daniel's Cherry-Chocolate-Chip Tipsy Cake, recipe here

Sweet Tea and Vanilla-Bean Lemonade (recipes follow), served in mason jars

Tennessee Tea-Cakes, recipe here

Homemade GooGoo Clusters, recipe here

Homemade MoonPies, recipe here

Judging by the cleaned plates and positive feedback cards I collected, I'd say the guests had a good time!

And my greatest efforts would have been for nothing if it weren't for the enduring support and patience of Hoosband and help from my amazing in-laws, the real Secret Ingredients in this endeavor!

So many thanks to Foodbuzz.com for allowing Being the Secret Ingredient to be a part of this month's 24x24 and to everyone who came out to share in the fun! And even the slightly less fun...

It was amazing to get feedback on my Nashville favorites from such a geographically diverse crowd. With guests from all over the country and world, from the East Coast to the West, from England to Japan, the dinner presented new flavors to many. Check out the guest feedback on the upcoming recipes to see what people thought!

Homemade Peach Preserves
You need a beastly blender to pulverize the apple seeds into oblivion (you're using them for the amazing gelling properties in their pectin!). If you do not have a beastly blender, you may wish to either peel and core the apples (or omit them) and use commercial pectin, or to strain your jam over cheesecloth. If you decide to strain the jam, you will be left with jelly rather than preserves, but it will still be tasty.

1/4 cup unsweetened orange juice
2 large apples (I used Galas this time), washed and quartered, with the skins and the seeds (do not remove the core)
1 lb frozen sliced peaches
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
scant pinch salt
scant pinch ground cardamom

Place the juice, apples (and any seeds that may have fallen out), and 1/2 of the peaches in the blender and process on high speed until smooth.

Transfer the mixture to a small-to-medium-sized saucepan, stir in remaining ingredients, and cook 30 minutes over med-high heat, stirring occasionally and using a splatter guard if desired.

Reduce heat to med-low and cook one more hour, stirring occasionally and using a spoon or spatula to slice up the larger pieces of peaches just a bit against the side of the saucepan.

Let cool completely before transferring to an airtight container to store in the fridge for up to one month.

Guest Feedback:
Average Score on a scale of 0-5, 0 being "Never again. Need to set my mouth on fire to extinguish the memory" and 5 being "Woohoo! When can I eat that again?" 4.6
Comments: "Very tasty." "The preserves were to die for."

Buttermilk Biscuits
When we got married I had to convince Hoosband (whose favorite breakfast is biscuits and gravy) we could get by without Bisquick.  I won him over with buttermilk pancakes and biscuits from scratch. If you do not have a food processor, you can use a pastry cutter or two forks to cut the butter into the dry ingredients.

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp table (fine grain) salt
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 cup (2 sticks) cold, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch chunks
1 cup buttermilk
2 T butter, melted

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F.

Place in the flour, salt, sugar, baking powder, and soda in a food processor fitted with a dough blade and pulse a few times to combine (or whisk together in a bowl). Add the butter, and pulse until the largest pieces are roughly pea-sized (or cut the butter in with a pastry cutter or two forks). With the processor on, slowly stream in the buttermilk* through the shoot on top, turning off the machine as soon as the dough comes together. The dough should be soft and slightly sticky, but not overly wet. *Temperature and humidity can affect how much liquid is actually needed. In warmer kitchens with high humidity, you may need a touch less buttermilk.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface (I like to work on a silpat or parchment paper), and gently pat into a rectangle. Don't overwork the dough, as this would be like a steroid shot to the gluten in the flour and would yield a tougher, angrier biscuit. Gentle dough-handling equals tender biscuits. Cover the dough with a piece of parchment paper, and gently roll the dough out to a thickness of about 3/4-inch. Use a pizza cutter to cut the dough into square biscuits of your desired size. I like for them to be a little irregular, so I don't get too finicky about jagged edges and such.

Gently transfer biscuits to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, brush with melted butter, and bake at 425 degrees F for 12-15 minutes or till slightly puffed up and light golden on top. Serve immediately. Leftover (completely cooled) biscuits should be stored well-wrapped at room temperature for 1-2 days or wrapped individually in plastic, then foil, and frozen for up to one month in a freezer-safe zip-top bag.

Guest Feedback:
Average Score on a scale of 0-5, 0 being "Never again. Need to set my mouth on fire to extinguish the memory" and 5 being "Woohoo! When can I eat that again?" 4.6
Comments: "So buttery." "Very good biscuits."

Sweet Tea
It doesn't get much more Southern than this.

2 cups water
4 black-tea bags
pinch (about 1/8 tsp) baking soda
1 cup sugar
ice
extra water, preferably filtered
lemons rings or wedges, if desired

Bring water to a boil, add tea bags, remove from heat, and let steep 5 minutes.

Remove tea bags. Add baking soda and sugar to hot tea, stirring to dissolve completely. If the sugar does not dissolve readily, you can put the pot back on the heat, stirring just until the sugar is dissolved.

Fill a large pitcher with ice. Pour the hot tea over the ice, add just enough extra water to fill the pitcher, and refrigerate until ready to drink.

Serve over ice with lemon rings or wedges if desired.

Guest Feedback:
Average Score on a scale of 0-5, 0 being "Never again. Need to set my mouth on fire to extinguish the memory" and 5 being "Woohoo! When can I eat that again?" 4.5
Comments: "Wow, just wow."

Vanilla Bean Lemonade
Okay, this is more a me-thing than a Nashville thing, but I'm from Nashville, so there you go. You will certainly find fresh-squeezed lemonade at many of the down-home Nashville establishments, but the addition of vanilla is something I picked up in college in Auburn, AL, at  the iconic corner drugstore and soda shop, Toomer's Drugs, where they'll add any soda-shop flavor shot of your choosing to their legendary lemonade. Vanilla was always my favorite.

1 cup water
1 vanilla bean
1 cup sugar
10 large lemons, rinsed and dried
ice
extra water

Split the vanilla bean, scrape out the seeds, and add the seeds and pod to the saucepan with the water and sugar. Bring just to a boil, stirring until sugar is completely dissolved.

Remove from heat and let cool.

Meanwhile, fill a large pitcher with ice. Juice the lemons into the pitcher over the ice.  Pour the vanilla syrup, pods and all, over the lemons and juice, and add just enough extra water to fill the pitcher. Stir to combine.

Refrigerate till ready to drink. Serve over ice.

Guest Feedback:
Average Score on a scale of 0-5, 0 being "Never again. Need to set my mouth on fire to extinguish the memory" and 5 being "Woohoo! When can I eat that again?" 4.4
Comments: "I want it now!" "Too strong! The flavors were tasty, but it was a little hard to drink." "I will be making this quite often." "Too sweet." "Very unique." "Best lemonade ever!"

For more recipes and information on the food you saw here, stay tuned to Being the Secret Ingredient's upcoming posts!

Thanks for reading! Here's to Being the Secret Ingredient in your life.

Checkmate

The Setting: A super-grey morning in South Bend.

The Soundtrack: Full House. That's right, I'll own it.

On the Stove-top: Chicken stock.

The Scenario: Searching for a slice of my childhood.


The funniest stories about me as a kid all seem to revolve around food.

My grandfather bribed me with ice-cream to take my first steps.

My mother had to dangle a Snickers® bar behind her back for me to toddle down the aisle in my first appearance as a flower girl.

And one time at my grandparents' house, no one could figure out what had me running 'round the rooms like a Tasmanian devil till an empty pie plate was discovered where a chess pie should have been.

At future holidays and gatherings, the chess pies had to be hidden from yours truly till it was time for dessert.

Now that I am old enough to put my nutritive needs in my own hands, I have determined it's always time for dessert--and about time I mastered my childhood favorite, chess pie.

A Southern staple, chess pie tastes to me like family reunions at the Cedars of Lebanon State Park; like every holiday, any time of the year; like sneaking an extra piece and getting a knowing wink from my grandmother 'cause she was sneaking one, too.

Unfortunately...the older I got...the more I began contributing to the holiday spread...the more health-conscious and then technique-driven and exotic my cooking endeavors became...the fewer appearances the simple, sugary chess pie made at the buffet line.

Every so often I am panged with an intense and lusty craving for its uniquely gooey texture and almost-over-the-top sweetness, but I resign myself to the sad truth that I never really learned to make it.

Though you may never have heard of chess pie if you're not from the South, recipes for this sweet treat are pretty easy to come by.

The thing about chess pies, like with so many Southern delights, is that you could fill a church with all the different takes, opinions, and recipes for the "real thing."

In attempting to track down my grandmother's recipe, I found a cookbook compiled by episcopal ladies of yesteryear with six different versions.

Some recipes contain buttermilk, but others maintain that "buttermilk pie" is its own thing, and the same goes for the recipes that contain vinegar.

Some contain a touch of cornmeal, some a touch of flour, some both, some neither.

Some contain milk, some a mixture of sugars; some are pre-cooked on the stovetop, and some are simply whisked together and poured into the buttery crust.

All chess pies contain sugar, butter, and eggs. Maybe a pinch of salt. Maybe a splash of vanilla.

The first recipe I tried, from a venerable Southern publication, was a tad gritty from the cornmeal and tasted a little too eggy.

The follow-up, from the episcopal gals, was cornmeal-free and a lot closer to the pie of my memories.

Still, the perfect pie evades me.

Soon, my daughter will be starring in her own funny food stories.

Who knows? Maybe I'll have the recipe perfected in time to elicit her first steps.