turn-key

Well, I made it. But just barely. The challenge for this month's Daring Bakers' was a gingerbread house, made completely from scratch. I used the template and recipes from Martha Stewart’s website for the snow swept gingerbread cottage. I would love to say that I enjoyed every moment of the process, but frankly I cannot. To be able to share that while I was mixing the spicy ginger dough, the lovely sound of classical Christmas music flowed through my ever peaceful home. To be able to share that while the perfectly formed gingerbread framework was cooling on their racks the scent of cinnamon filled the kitchen. And then the joys of seeing it all come together as each piece fit seamlessly, just as I had planned.

Yeah right.

It was more like make the dough one day. Roll out the dough or at least most of it over the next few days when it fit in my schedule. Bake off the pieces only to realize that the website never gave a template or dimensions for the roof. So pull out the ruler and calculator and roll out more dough (thankfully I made extra). More days go by as the finished pieces await their construction. Make the caramel syrup for gluing it together (twice) only to get one section glued before the whole mass turned to rock hard sugar crystals. Another day, make royal icing instead for gluing, which worked much better.

This type of thing for me ranks right up there with knitting (no offense to you knitter's out there) but I just don't have the patience for fine detail work. Plus the fact that I'm a control freak with a type A personality makes for a bad combination. Maybe this is something that needs to be put on my “things to work on in 2010” list.

Hopefully my ranting does not detour you from trying one of these next year. I’m pretty sure it is a “user error” type of situation.

On another note, I am looking forward to getting back to normal baking.

Happy New Years!

Shannon

remembering Grandma

Having been raised by my grandparents I definitely heard my share of stories from their childhood going through the great depression and how difficult it was for them. I believe it went something like this… “When I was your age I had to walk twenty-five miles to school every morning uphill both ways through year 'round blizzards carrying my younger siblings on my back to a one-room schoolhouse where I maintained a straight-A average despite having a full-time after-school job at the local textile mill where I worked for 35 cents an hour just to help keep the family from starving to death, all the while never complaining and being thankful for having a roof over my head and shoes on my feet.” It was tedious to say the least.

Having children of my own now I have been known to go on a similar fatiguing diatribe on being thankful, working hard, etc. watching as their eyes begin to glaze over as I droned on. No doubt when they have children of their own it will probably continue.

My Grandparents have since both passed away, but one thing in particular that comes to mind every Christmas time is my Grandmother sharing with me a wonderful Christmas morning memory of hers. It seems that when she was young, every Christmas she would receive in her stocking (an actual sock of her own that she wore) a doll, a piece of ‘stick candy’ as she called it and an orange. She said that besides the doll, the orange was her favorite. She would smile all the while sharing this with me, with a kind of far off look in her eyes. Remembering the weight of it, the smell of it, waiting for moment when she would sit down and begin to unwrap the soft and fleshy gift and savor each delicious segment.

It is hard to imagine in our day and age to cherish something as common as an orange. We have so many varieties at our fingertips, the abundant Navel orange, the Valencia, one of the sweetest for juicing, the Satsuma the popular Christmas time variety and even the unique blood orange that has streaks of red in the fruit, with juice that is often a dark burgundy color.

As I was remembering Grandma this year, I decided that in her memory I would bring the orange back as a Christmas time gift. But instead of giving the whole fruit, I would use the peel and elevate it to another level. Candied peel. The beautiful crystallized citrus peel is a wonderful addition to a cake recipe, sweet bread such as a Panettone, or even chopped and sprinkled over vanilla ice cream. To make it even more decadent, dip one end in dark chocolate and serve as a simple after dinner treat with coffee.

So maybe this year you can start your own tradition of giving a charmingly old-fashioned holiday delicacy…candied citrus peel.

Enjoy!

Shannon

Candied Citrus Peel

adpated from Martha Stewart Living 2007

8 oranges

6 cups sugar, plus more for rolling

Cut end off fruit, and halve fruit lengthwise. Insert the tip of a small paring knife carefully between fruit and pith about ½ inch deep and cut, following the shape of the fruit and keeping skin in one piece. Turn fruit on other end and repeat.

Using your fingers, gently pull the peel away. Reserve fruit for another use.

Place citrus peel in a 6-quart pot; fill with enough cold water to cover (about 3 quarts). Bring to a boil over medium heat. Reduce heat; simmer 20 minutes. Drain. Soak peel in cold water until cool enough to handle, about 5 minutes.

Using a melon baler, scrape the soft white pith from the peel, being careful not to tear or cut into the skin.

Slice each piece of peel lengthwise into thin strips ¼ to ½ wide.

Stir together sugar and 3 cups water in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved, about 8 minutes. Add strips and reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer until strips are translucent and syrup thickens, about 40 minutes. Let strips cool completely in syrup for 3 hours (or overnight). Strips can be refrigerated in syrup in an airtight container up to 3 weeks.

For sugaring peel, remove strips with a slotted spoon. Using your fingers, wipe off excess syrup, and roll strips in sugar. Let dry on wire racks.

Place strips in airtight container for extended storage, or stack in small boxes embellished with yellow and orange ribbons to provide a hint of what’s inside each carefully presented package.