Is this a Joe-style afternoon snack or what? Home made pretzels are another one of those things that will amaze you for their simplicity and make you wonder if you can ever be happy with the store-bought variety again. As you already know from the recipe below, my version calls for a stater. You want it well fed and rarin' to go, which is to say, it needs to be able to reach this bubbly active stage within four hours of a feeding (at room temperature):

Starter in hand, you're good to go. Combine your stater, flour, malt syrup, water and salt in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a dough hook...

...and knead for 6-8 minutes until the dough comes together. It should be firm but largely smooth.

Cut it into 3-ounces pieces (for soft pretzels), 1-to-1 1/2 ounce pieces for hard ones. Spritz your board with a little water and roll each piece into a ball. Cover the dough balls with a moist towel and let rise for one hour.

Now you're ready to shape. Pat each ball into a log, like so.

Now prepare to roll each piece into a long snake. Here the proper technique helps. Start with all four fingertips on the top of the dough log.

As you push forward, spread your fingers apart. This will help stretch this very elastic dough.

When the piece is long enough, put both hands to the task. You'll want to roll it out to eighteen or more inches in length.

To shape the pretzel, form the dough into a "u."

Cross the ends.

Cross them again.

Then fold the forked end downward. Done!

Put the shaped pretzels on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper, cover loosely with plastic wrap and refrigerate them overnight or up to two days. The next day, when you're ready to make your pretzels, prepare your lye bath or baking soda poaching solution. If you're using lye, be sure to take the appropriate safety precautions: put on protective eyewear, gloves and a long-sleeve shirt and make sure no children or pets enter the kitchen. Here I'm just using a boiling baking soda solution, so I don't need the gear. Dip or poach your pretzels for about 30 seconds.

Poached pretzels will be slightly plumped.

Put them on a rack and let drip-dry for a minute or so.

Transfer to a greased or oiled sheet pan. If you're not using a lye solution, you'll need to apply your egg wash at this point.

Sprinkle on your kosher salt...

...and you're ready to bake. Do it immediately or the salt will begin to melt. Here actual "pretzel salt" is nice, but kosher works just fine too. Bake on a middle rack in a 400 oven for 10 minutes, rotate the pan, and bake another 7-10 minutes until well browned.

For hard pretzels, bake them at 350 for 45 minutes or more until dark brown and crunchy.

Break out the mustard and beer!

You may have heard a rumor that you can only make truly authentic pretzels by using dangerous chemicals. That's pretty much true. Lye has been an important part of the pretzel-making process for hundreds of years. However it's not essential. You can make very serviceable pretzels without it. This recipe includes instructions for both. It's also based on "sourdough" starter, which I think gives the pretzels a much better flavor. It goes like this:

8 ounces active starter
8 ounces water
1 lb. 4 ounces bread flour
1 tablespoon malt syrup
2 teaspoons salt
2 ounces food-grade lye added to 2 quarts warm water OR 5 ounces baking soda mixed with 10 cups water brought to a boil, plus egg wash made from 2 yolks plus 2 teaspoons water.
Additional coarse salt for sprinkling

Combine starter, water, flour, malt syrup and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook. Mix on medium for 6-8 minutes until the dough is smooth and elastic. Turn it out onto a lightly floured board and cut into roughly 3-5 ounce pieces depending on the size pretzel you like. Roll them into balls, cover with a cloth spritzed lightly with water and let them rest for 1 hour.

Shape them (photo tutorial to follow) and place on parchment-lined baking sheets. Re-cover the sheet with a cloth and let rest for one more hour. Cover the sheet pans lightly with plastic wrap or a trash bag and put them in the refrigerator to develop overnight or up to two days.

When ready to bake preheat your oven to 400 degrees. For those of you who wish to use lye solution, stir together the lye and hot water in a non-reactive (glass or ceramic) bowl. Line two more sheet pans with parchment paper, spray them with non-stick spray. Set them on the far end of your kitchen counter. Next, prepare a drying rack by spraying it liberally with non-stick spray, setting it on another sheet pan and placing it next to your prepared baking pans. Next to the prepared rack place your bowl of lye solution.

It's important to note here that lye is a caustic that should NEVER come into contact with your skin, eyes or any other part of your body. Handle it like you'd handle drain cleaner (and in fact lye is used as a drain cleaner). Even when it's diluted it can still irritate, so use rubber gloves and wear eye protection (like googles) when you're working with it — and keep your kids out of the kitchen.

So then, gear on, remove the pretzels from the fridge. At this point they'll be firm enough to dip without losing their shape. Using a large spoon or spider, dip each one — one at a time — into the lye solution for about 20 seconds. Remove the pretzel from the solution and place it on the rack to dry. The pretzels will take a minute or so to drip and get tacky. Sprinkle each one with pretzel salt. The leftover dipping solution can be poured down the drain.

Alternately you can skip the lye and poach then in boiling water and baking soda. Paoch pretzels a few at a time for about a minute. Dry on a rack and then paint the pretzels with egg wash and sprinkle with salt. They won't have the same classic pretzel taste, but they'll be simpler and safer to prepare.

Transfer the pretzels to the baking pans, placed about two inches apart. Bake for 10 minutes, rotate the pans, and bake for another 10-15 minutes until they're a deep brown. Makes a dozen 3-ounce pretzels.

UPDATE: Several readers have suggested looking for food-grade lye at soap-making supply stores.

UPDATE: Reader Ryan says

It is recommended to always add the lye to the water, never water to lye. Lye releases a lot of heat as it dissolves and if you add water to the crystals the first few drops could boil causing splattering and other nastyness.

UPDATE: Reader Tom is very worried that I'm not properly impressing upon everyone how dangerous pure sodium hydroxide is. Being a chemist, he requests that I supply this very scary language from a sodium hydroxide materials safety data sheet:

Appearance: white. Danger! Corrosive. Causes eye and skin burns. Hygroscopic. May cause severe respiratory tract irritation with possible burns. May cause severe digestive tract irritation with possible burns.

Target Organs: Eyes, skin, mucous membranes.

Engineering Controls: Facilities storing or utilizing this material should be equipped with an eyewash facility and a safety shower.
Eyes: Wear chemical goggles.
Skin: Wear appropriate protective gloves to prevent skin exposure.
Clothing: Wear appropriate protective clothing to prevent skin exposure.

Potential Health Effects
Eye: Causes eye burns. May cause chemical conjunctivitis and corneal damage.
Skin: Causes skin burns. May cause deep, penetrating ulcers of the skin. May cause skin rash (in milder cases), and cold and clammy skin with cyanosis or pale color.
Ingestion: May cause severe and permanent damage to the digestive tract. Causes gastrointestinal tract burns. May cause perforation of the digestive tract. Causes severe pain, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, and shock. May cause corrosion and permanent tissue destruction of the esophagus and digestive tract. May cause systemic effects.
Inhalation: Irritation may lead to chemical pneumonitis and pulmonary edema. Causes severe irritation of upper respiratory tract with coughing, burns, breathing difficulty, and possible coma. Causes chemical burns to the respiratory tract.
Chronic: Prolonged or repeated skin contact may cause dermatitis. Effects may be delayed.

I tend not to make a lot of bundt-style cakes, but I might need to change my habits because this was excellent. It didn't take long for the girls, the missus and I to polish it off. Little 2-year-old Joan, who likes cake but has never been passionate about it, loved it so much she ate it for dessert two nights running. On the third night, when I was forced to tell her there wasn't any left, she put her chubby face in her hands and cried. That's good cake.

I don't have one of the very groovy 10-cup textured bundt pans of the kind Rose uses for this cake, but I plan to get one. The classic 15-cupper will have to do, even though the batter won't fill it. First thing to do is preheat the oven to 350 while you get it prepared for baking. Baker's Joy is the best product to use in this case, but failing that, just melt about two tablespoons of shortening in the microwave. Pour it in...

Spread it around with a brush, though a paper towel will work just as well.

Pour in half a cup or so of Wondra instant flour...

...and start tapping it around. Don't forget the tube.

Empty out the excess flour and you're ready to rock and roll.

Now toast your almonds in your preheated oven until they're just golden. About like so:

Cool them and pour into the bowl of your food processor. Process about 10 seconds, then add 1/4 of the turbinado sugar, and process another 15-20 seconds until very fine.

Next, combine your wet ingredients in a medium bowl with 1/4 of the sour cream...

...and whisk just to combine.

Now bring the batter together. Combine the almond mixture plus the remaining dry ingredients including the sugar in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle (beater).

Stir them on low until they're combined, then add the butter and sour cream.

Stir on low to combine, then scrape down the sides. Turn the mixer up to medium-high and beat for 1 1/2 minutes. Until about like so:

Scrape down the sides. Turn the mixer down to medium low and add the wet ingredient mixture in two installments, beating for 30 seconds after each addition and scraping down the bowl.

Now pour the batter into your prepared form and smooth it with a spatula. See that slightly grainy texture? It's because I beat the batter a little too long and broke the emulsion slightly (Rose won't be pleased). The cake probably didn't rise quite as high as it could have as a result, but it was still excellent. So where was I? Oh, bake it for 45-55 minutes.

Rose adds:

I don't believe it matters if the batter looks/becomes slightly broken down--that happens in several of my cakes and your texture and cake looked excellent.

When the cake is almost finished, prepare the syrup. Combine the lemon juice and turbinado sugar in a small sauce pan and heat it until the sugar is about 80% dissolved. Don't boil it. You want a few crystals still floating around on the bottom, about like so:

When the cake comes out of the oven, use a skewer to test it. If the skewer comes out clean, just keep poking the bottom of the cake all over to create channels for the syrup.

Paint about a third of it on and let the cake rest for 10 minutes.

Apply a cardboard cake circle (or platter)...

...flip the whole works over...

...and paint on the rest of the syrup.

You can see those residual turbindo sugar crystals on top there. They create a sparkly effect (or would if the sun was shining) and give the crust a crispy/crunchy texture, even after it's been stored for a day. Which, by the way, Rose recommends.

Just wrap it airtight in plastic wrap and try to keep your mits off of it for 12-24 hours. Could I? Well, no. But I'll thank you to do as I say, not as I do.

Since this week will be largely based on my interview with Rose Levy Beranbaum, it seems only appropriate that I make something out of the new book, Rose's Heavenly Cakes. I put it to Rose to give me the assignment. I was secretly hoping that she'd have me do one of the more opulent recipes, since I thought it would be funnier under the circumstances. Instead she asked me to make what she said was her current favorite, the Golden Lemon Almond Cake. I certainly won't put up a fight. You'll need a 10-cup tube pan (bundt pan) to make it. Here are the ingredients and procedures in my own words:

2 ounces blanched, sliced almonds
8.7 ounces (1 ¼ cups) turbinado sugar
3 large eggs, room temperature
8.5 ounces (1 cup) sour cream
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla
3/8 teaspoons lemon oil (preferably Boyajian)
8.7 ounces bleached all-purpose flour
1 ¼ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
¾ teaspoon salt
½ ounce (2 tablespoons) lemon zest
8 ounces (2 sticks) butter, room temperature

Preheat your oven to 350. Then prepare your pan by coating it with Baker’s Joy baking spray or brushing it with melted shortening, then dusting with Wondra instant flour.

Once the oven is up to temperature, toast the almonds for 7-9 minutes until they’re pale gold in color. Cool them.

Next, grind the almonds in a food processor for 15 seconds. Add ¼ of the turbinado sugar and process until very fine.

Next, combine the liquid ingredients. Whisk the eggs, ¼ of the sour cream, the vanilla and lemon oil until lightly combined.

Now make the batter. In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle (beater), combine the rest of the sugar with the almond mixture, flour, baking powder, soda, salt and lemon zest and stir on low for 30 seconds. Add the butter and remaining sour cream and continue to stir until the ingredients are moistened. Scrape down the sides. Next, turn the mixer up to medium high and beat the batter for 1 ½ minutes.

Turn the mixer down to medium low and add the egg mixture in two installments, beating for 30 seconds after each addition and scraping down the sids. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with a spatula.

Bake for 45-55 minutes, until the cake is deep golden and springs backs when touched. Mine took about 60 minutes.

When the cake is nearly done, prepare the lemon syrup. Combine:

3.5 ounces (half cup) turbinado sugar
2.2 ounces (1/4 cup) lemon juice

...in a small sauce pan over high heat. Continue to stir until the sugar is nearly, but not quite, dissolved (these larger crystals will give the crust a faint crunch and will give the cake a sparkly finish.

When the cake comes out of the oven, place it pan and all on a wire rack. Poke the cake all over with a skewer and brush on about a third of the syrup. Let it cool for ten minutes. Unmold the cake onto a cardboard cake round or serving plate. Brush the cake with the remaining syrup, cool it completely and wrap it airtight.

This cake is best enjoyed the day after it is made.

Here's all that's left after the gougère bender I went on this afternoon. Let's just hope can whip out another 40 before company comes. Ah yes, I seem to have a cup of flour left here, I'll sift that...

...then grate up that last 2-3 ounces morsel of Gruyère that's in the fridge.

Then I'll get going on the batter. I'll combine my salt, sugar, water and butter in a small sauce pan and bring it to the boiling point over medium-high heat.

Then I'll add the flour...

...and stir to make a batter. Then I'll turn the heat down to medium and set my timer for three minutes.

I'll stir the batter around for the full time, not caring about the film on the pan, which is just a part of it (difficult as it is to get off).

After that I'll transfer the batter to a large bowl and let it cool about five minutes. Then I'll start adding my eggs one at a time...

...and stirring...

...until I have something that looks like this:

Then I'll add my cheese, mustard and chile powder and stir it in.

I could pipe this batter, but then I do hate all the mess, especially when a spoon will work just as well. I could top these with extra cheese, chile powder or tabasco sauce if I wanted to — and most people do.

Then I shall bake them at 450 for 7-8 minutes, turn down the oven and bake at 375 for perhaps 20 minutes more, until lovely:

Oh, I'm getting hungry again...

This is a mostly simple procedure, the sole trick of which is making sure you cook the batter long enough (three minutes should suffice). Though it seems like overkill to me, you can fill a gougère by inserting a small amount of cooked meat, sausage or cooked mushrooms into the center. In that case, it's a good idea to bake the gougères in small molds or cups. The formula is:

8 ounces water
4 ounces unsalted butter
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon mustard powder
Pinch of cayenne pepper, chili powder or black pepper
Pinch of sugar
5 ounces all-purpose flour
4 large eggs
2.5 ounces grated Gruyère cheese

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees and line two sheet pans with parchment paper.

Combine the water, butter, sugar and salt in a small saucepan and bring just to the boil over medium-high heat. Add the flour all at once and stir until the batter comes together into a paste. Reduce the heat to medium and continue to stir for three minutes, until the mixture comes together into a shiny ball. A film will be left on the surfaces of the pan. It's a bit of a pain to clean, but it's part of the process. Remove the pan from the heat and allow the mixture to cool for about five minutes.

Transfer the mixture to a large bowl or the bowl of a mixer. Beat the eggs in one at a time until the batter is smooth and silky. Add in the cheese and spices and stir to incorporate it completely. At this point you can put the batter into a pastry bag and pipe it, or simply spoon it onto the baking sheets, a tablespoon or so of batter per gougere. Space them about two inches apart. If you wish you can add a little extra cheese, a sprinkling of chile powder or a drop or two of tabasco sauce to the tops.

Bake for 8 minutes at 450, until the gougères puff up and seem somewhat rigid, then drop the heat to 350 and continue to bake for 20-25 minutes, until they're golden brown. Serve them hot or cold. This recipe makes about 40 gougères, though I usually make extras in case other people want some.

This is one of those tasks most people assume they already know how to perform. However after receiving some emails about slipping and/or sliding glazes during Sacher torte week, I think a tutorial on this subject is warranted. For indeed as with most things, there's a right way to cut a cake and a wrong way. Here's the wrong way...

...which is to say stabbing it in the center from above. (Here the cake is represented by a stack of two upturned cake layer pans). Why is that the wrong way? Because it puts pressure on the center of the cake. I know, you think you have a good sharp knife there, but if the surface of the cake or pastry is at all rigid, the result will be compression which means cracking, slipping or stretching of the top coating. Even in the case of a soft buttercream top, the drag of all that surface area will pull the center of the cake downward, to no good effect. Proper cutting of a cake starts from the outside edge and continues in an arcing motion down to the plate. Allow me to demonstrate.

Start by angling the knife at about 45 degrees relative to the tabletop, and cut inward toward the cake's center. The very tip of the knife should be the last thing that slips under the surface coating of the cake.

As you reach the middle of the cut, roughly the level of the bottom layer, the knife should be about parallel with the table.

Finishing the cut, you want to land the knife tip at the very center of the cake plate.

Then all you need to do is withdraw the knife, tip still down on the plate:

Done! Dip the knife in a nearby bowl of warm water...

...wipe it...

...and you're ready for the next cut. Easy.

Yes, yes Gerhard, I know: Sacher-style torte. No one outside the Sacher and/or Demel enterprises knows the actual recipe. However I believe this formula to be quite close. It's certainly close to what I remember. In fact in some ways I think this is closer to what I ate in Vienna twenty five years ago than the most current photographs I've seen of "original" Sacher torte, for indeed lately it appears to me that the layer of chocolate on the exterior of the official tortes has gotten quite, quite thick. Is it my imagination? It could well be. I like a thinner glaze, however below I'll tell you how to make a thick one if you wish.

Start by preparing your springform pan (directions under How to Prepare a Pan for Baking in the Techniques menu), then melting the chocolate for your batter. Allow the chocolate to cool while you get everything else ready.

As I mentioned previously, a Sacher torte batter is a combination of three components: sifted flour, meringue and a chocolate "mayonnaise" which we shall now prepare. Put your butter and 1/4 cup of the sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle:

Beat until creamy and light in color...

...then switch to the whip. Add the room-temperature egg yolks one by one, then finally the whole egg. The mixture may look a little rough — not totally smooth — that's OK. Scrape the sides down.

Start drizzling in the melted chocolate. Ooops...that's more than a drizzle. No matter.

It'll still whip up just fine. Scrape the sides of the bowl and whip a bit more to make sure everything is incorporated. Set this mixture aside in a large bowl and wash and dry the mixer bowl and whip.

Wash and dry the implements thoroughly, because the next step will be whipping up your egg whites and you don't want any residual fat left in there. Place your room-temperature egg whites in the bowl and begin whipping.

You'll want them voluminous — around about the soft peak stage — before you start adding in the rest of your sugar.

Slowly pour the sugar in with the machine running. Whip about 30 seconds or so until you have a nice, glossy meringue.

With the three base components prepared, it's time to start folding. The idea is to alternate the meringue and sifted flour until everything is incorporated. Start by adding about a third of the meringue and fold until just a few streaks remain.

Sprinkle on a few spoonfuls of the flour and keep going.

As you get closer to using up all your ingredients, you'll notice the mixture becoming thicker and more batter-like. Fold until just a few small streaks remain.

Pour into your prepared pan and insert on the bottom shelf of a 300 oven. Prop the door open slightly by inserting the handle of a wooden spoon in the door. This will help ensure that the top doesn't "dome" too much in the oven. Bake for 15 minutes, then remove the spoon and bake about 45 minutes more, until the middle feels springy to the touch. Cool on a wire rack. At this point the cake cake sit in the pan — uncovered — overnight if you wish.

Of course it will dome somewhat. That dome will collapse a bit as the finished cake cools. It'll look about like this.

That's an unsightly top for a refined torte. The good news is it can be easily trimmed off. Remove the ring of the springform pan and break out your best serrated knife. (Save those scraps for your upcoming coffee break).

While you're cutting, carefully slice the cake in two horizontally (this is where you'll put the apricot filling shortly).

Now to get the cake ready for assembly. Place a sheet of parchment on top of the cake and flip the whole works over, pan bottom and all.

Remove the pan bottom and the parchment liner.

Place a 9" cardboard cake round (waxed side down) on the layers.

Flip the stack over again onto a sheet pan fitted with a wire rack. Take off the top layer and slather on some of your warmed, puréed apricot preserves.

Replace the top layer and enrobe the whole thing in preserves. And then it's coffee break time. Linger over your cake scraps and a nice hot cup for at least half an hour. If you wish, you can let the torte sit in the fridge, uncovered, for a day or more before applying the chocolate glaze.

To make the glaze put the sugar and water in a small saucepan, preferably taller than it is wide. You don't want too much evaporation while you "cook" your chocolate glaze, lest the chocolate solids start to burn.

When the sugar syrup starts to boil, pour in your chopped chocolate and stir until melted. Heat the whole mixture to 234 degrees Fahrenheit. What's being made here is a sort of chocolate candy.

When the target temperature is reached, remove the pan from the heat and let it cool down. This will take some time. Mine took half an hour just to get to 170. You'll want to stir it a touch every now and again to keep a skin from forming, but not too much.

Because of all the sugar, the syrup will start to thicken quit a bit at around the 150 point. You can pour it sooner or later according to your taste — a thicker texture will translate to a thicker coating. What you don't want it is a texture that's so thick you have to spread it with a spatula. That will ruin the even coating. So if you find it getting too thick, it's not against the rules to apply a little more heat to loosen it up.

When ready, just pour the glaze on, directing it a little bit this way and that with your spatula. I know what you're thinking: won't that warm glaze just melt the apricot jam right off? The answer is no, it'll go on like molten lava, and while the jam will soften, it won't have time to run.

When you're done pouring, there will be some glaze left in the pan, but don't scrape it off. It'll be partly solidified and will make your coating lumpy-looking. Let the torte sit on the wire rack for about 15-20 minutes to firm up, then gently pry it up with a spatula. Supporting the torte on the palm of your hand, trim off the excess glaze and place it on the platter of your choice. Let sit for a minimum of four hours before slicing and serving, preferably overnight.

Serve with a generous spoonful of — of course — lightly sweetened whipped cream.

A good Sacher torte, I admit, can be a bit of a beast to mix. I can't do much to simplify that. However you'll be relieved to know that I've simplified the assembly somewhat with a streamlined cook-and-pour glaze, which should help. Is it completely authentic? Maybe not, but the end result is excellent.

For the sponge cake:

5 ½ ounces bittersweet chocolate
5 ½ ounces butter
7 ounces (1 cup) sugar
2 ½ teaspoons vanilla extract
5 ounces (9) egg yolks
1 ¾ ounces (1) whole egg
7 ounces (7) egg whites
5 ½ ounces cake flour, sifted
apricot jam, processed until smooth in a food processor

For the glaze:

7 ounces sugar
3 ounces water
6.5 ounces bittersweet chocolate

For the sponge cake:

Prepare a 10-inch springform pan by lining it with parchment paper and spraying with cooking spray (see How to Prepare a Cake Pan for Baking under the Techniques menu). Preheat the oven to 325 and position a rack on the lowest shelf. Next, melt the chocolate in the microwave by zapping it with 5-6 10-second bursts (stirring in between). Let cool until just warm but still flowing.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle, beat the butter with ¼ cup of the sugar on medium-high until light in color. Switch to the whip and add the egg yolks one at a time, scraping the bowl every now and again. Add the whole egg and whip until incorporated. With the machine on low, add the chocolate in a stream. Beat on medium-high until the mixture resembles chocolate buttercream.

Transfer the chocolate mixture to a large bowl, then wash and dry the mixer bowl. Affix the whip and whip the egg whites until foamy, not quite to soft peaks. Then, with the machine running, add in the sugar. Beat to soft peaks, the meringue will be sleek and glossy.

Gently fold 1/3 of the meringue into the chocolate mixture until almost incorporated. Sprinkle on several spoonfuls of the flour and fold some more, alternating with more meringue until both are completely incorporated. Pour the batter into your prepared pan.

Put the pan into the oven and prop the door open with a wooden spoon for 15 minutes (this will help the top rise evenly). Remove the spoon and close the oven door. Bake for 35-45 minutes more, until the top springs back when patted gently. Remove from the oven and cool on a wire rack in the pan. The cake will keep at room temperature overnight, uncovered, if you’d like.

When ready to assemble the torte, slice the cake horizontally into two layers. Spread the bottom layer with jam and replace the top layer (if it’s too thick to spread, heat it on the stove or in a microwave until to flows easily). Cover the entire torte with a thin layer of jam. Let sit until the jam has firmed, about half an hour.

Meanwhile, prepare the glaze.

In a heavy-bottomed 1-to-2-quart saucepan (any larger and there’ll be too much evaporation) bring the sugar and water to the boil. Add the chocolate and boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the glaze reaches 234°F. Remove the glaze from the heat and allow it to cool, again, stirring occasionally. Let the glaze cool to below 150 before using it. The temperature isn’t terribly important so long as the glaze is warm and flowing when you use it. This will take up to half an hour.

Place the torte on a wire rack and pour the glaze over, evening out bald patches with an icing spatula. Allow to cool for about 15 minutes, then transfer to a serving platter. Allow to set up for at least 4 hours, preferably overnight. Torte will keep up to five days.

Slice the torte with a sharp knife dipped in hot water. Serve with a generous dollop of lightly sweetened whipped cream.

Toasted coconut is one of pastrydom's most beautiful sights, I think. These shaggy cookies resemble French macarons only in name, however they are a true pedestrian delight, at least if you like coconut. I think they deserve the royal treatment. Start by tossing your sweetened and unsweetened coconut together with the salt.

Next — and this is an important step — stir your can of cream of coconut. Some of the coconut oil always congeals on top.

Combine all your liquid ingredients together in a medium bowl...

...and give them a good whisk.

Add to the coconut mixture...

...and toss to combine.

Lay heaping tablespoons down on parchment-lined sheet pans (you'll have about 45).

Then with moistened fingertips, go back and form the heaps into rounded mounds.

Bake on high racks at 375 for seven minutes, rotate the pans back to front and top to bottom, and bake seven minutes more, or until the coconut is nicely browned.

If you want to gild the lily a bit, you can dip the flat bottoms of the macarons in a little melted semisweet chocolate, and cool them on parchment. Yow, that's good.

A combination of sweetened and unsweetened coconut creates the ideal texture for these macaroons, neither too dense nor too dry. The cream of coconut (drastically reduced coconut milk) provides the deep coconut flavor. Find cream of coconut either in the baking section of your supermarket, the international food section or the cocktail mixes section (it's most often used to make piña coladas).

7.5 ounces cream of coconut
2 tablespoons honey
4 eggs whites
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
4.5 ounces unsweetened shredded coconut
11 ounces sweetened shredded coconut

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Stir the cream of coconut in the can, then pour 7.5 ounces (a cup) into a bowl. Add the honey, egg whites and vanilla and whisk to combine. Toss together the two kinds of coconut with the salt. Pour the liquid mix over coconut mix and toss to combine. Spoon tablespoons of the batter onto parchment-line sheet pans, then with wet hands, form them into rounded heaps. Bake on upper rackes of the oven for seven minutes. Switch the pans top-to-bottom and rotate, then bake for seven minutes more, until they're golden brown. Cool and eat.

Macarons wouldn't be macarons if they weren't fussy things. Though they are at their core very simple little cookies, a variety of things can go wrong during their preparation, preventing them from achieving the Platonic ideal. Me, I don't see why that's the end of the world. However I confess that if mine didn't come out as I expected, I'd want to know why. So here are a few common macaron problems and their solutions.

1. No feet. This is very often the result of not allowing macarons to rest long enough before baking. Note here that macarons made via the Italian method don't need to be rested. If your Italian macarons don't have feet, it could be that your oven temperature is too low. Another possibility, of course, is over-mixing. Too many bubbles popped and the macarons didn't have the lift they needed.

2. Cracks. Very often the result of under-mixing. In other words, too many bubbles — too much air — in the macaron. The meringue gets dried out in the oven and cracks appear. Steam escapes and little if any rise occurs.

3. Runny batter. A result of over-mixing. This isn't necessarily a catastrophe. It might simply mean a thin cap with feet underneath. That's well within the bounds of a successful macaron. Bake, cool, fill and declare victory.

4. Feet that protrude sideways. This occurs when your oven is too hot. The batter at the edges of the macaron heats and expands too quickly, then explodes outward. Put the net batch on a lower rack. Some folks like to prop the oven door open slightly with a wooden spoon. The result is more even heat than the typical hot-cold cycling that goes in inside a closed oven.

Those are the biggies. Should you experience any other problems not covered here, send me an email and I'll do my best to help.

Given that so many of the world's great epicures now regard the macaron with the kind of reverence that was once reserved for the communion wafer, it only seems fitting to open this tutorial with a prayer. As we prepare to undertake this mystery, let us acknowledge our failures and ask the Lord for pardon and strength. Amen.

Now then, to business. What I'm about to demonstrate is the classic French method for making macarons. There's another method, called the "Italian" method because it employs Italian meringue. The French method, I think, is more straightforward if not as adaptable for incorporating exotic flavors.

Begin by arraying your ingredients. Those of you who are familiar with macarons will note that whereas most macaron recipes call for almond flour, I'm using slivered, blanched almonds. There are two reasons for this. First, because almond flour and/or meal aren't commonly available in America, even in specialty shops. And second, even when you can find one or the other, you can never be sure how old they are. Nut oil is critical to the success of a macaron, but it can go rancid and/or solidify over time. The best way to ensure freshness is to grind your own in the food processor. As you can see above, the homemade stuff will give you a slightly knobbly texture, so if you're really serious about macarons, order almond powder or flour or meal fresh from a good online resource. Here I have:

3.8 ounces blanched almonds
7 ounces powdered sugar
3.5 ounces egg whites (aged overnight at room temperature)
1.75 ounces granulated sugar

Start by grinding your almonds and powdered sugar together in a food processor. This is a good idea even if you're using pre-ground almond meal or flour, since it'll aerate it, mix it well with the sugar and reduce the particles to the smallest possible size.

This is about the best I can do with my machine:

Next, prepare a pastry bag, fitting it with just the coupler, no tip.

Stand it up in a tall glass for easy loading.

Now to make the batter. Put the egg whites in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a whip. This is a good point to add a few drops of coloring if you want to.

Whip to about the soft peak stage.

With the machine running, add the granulated sugar and whip to stiff peaks: the "bird's beak" stage, like this:

Next add your almond/sugar mixture...just dump it in.

Now, without regard to consequences, stir the mixture together. Don't fold at this point — stir. Because remember, this isn't spongecake. Part of the point is to break some of these bubbles. If the batter's too light it'll dry out in the oven and crack. That'll let the steam out and bye bye feet. So don't be delicate, stir for maybe 30 seconds. (Be sure to scrape the sides as you go).

When the batter is about to this point, you want to start folding (find instructions on how to fold under the Techniques menu). Fold four or five times, then start testing the batter for readiness.

How to do that? Why, with a spoon of course. You just scoop up a small portion of the batter and plop it onto a plate or sheet pan. What you're after is a small mass that settles down into a nice disk after a few seconds, but with a subtle peak in the center. About like this:

If your batter mounds up too high, go back and fold a few more times. If you over-fold a little and the batter runs a bit, that won't be the end of the world. Contrary to what you may have heard, a few extra strokes is unlikely to ruin your macarons. The biggest mistake most people make with macaron batter is that they baby it too much. I've said it before and I'll say it again: pastries can smell fear. Confidence is key.

Once you've arrived at the right texture, spoon the batter into your pastry bag, and start piping onto a parchment-lined sheet.

You want small disks — smaller than you may imagine — only about an inch and a half in diameter. Now then, here's perhaps the most important tip I have to pass on: let your macarons rest. For how long? About half an hour will suffice, though you can leave them up to about 50 minutes if you want. What will this do? It will allow the skins of the macarons to dry out. That will make them inflexible, constraining the rise as the macaron heats. With nowhere else to go, the expanding interior of the macaron will be forced downward, which will push the cap up, and the result will be feet. See?

You'll want to bake your macarons on a lower-middle rack of a 300 oven (you can get it preheating while the piped macarons sit) for about twelve minutes. Let them cool for a minimum of half an hour, then gently peel the parchment off the backs.

Grasping one meringue, apply the filling of your choice. Nothing exotic here, just raspberry jam. But oh, I do love it so.

Apply the top and your task is complete. Repeat until all your sandwiches are assembled.

And with that, this tutorial is ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord, make macarons, and brag about it.

This is something else you hear an awful lot about in regard to macarons. What we call "aged eggs" French pastry chefs simply call "eggs", since they tend not to refrigerate theirs. They just get them very fresh, use them relatively quickly, and order more. Here we're a little more uptight about maintaining egg freshness, which I don't think is all bad. However it does put us at something of a disadvantage when it comes to whipping up egg foams.

Why? Because as eggs age, their whites get runnier. This doesn't effect they way they taste or cook up, but it does affect the way they whip. Thin liquids can simply be agitated more briskly than thick ones. A whip will cut through a bowl full of water with much more force than it will through a bowl full of honey, if you follow me. That extra force, when applied to egg proteins, means a higher froth.

Being a skeptic by nature, I'm not totally convinced that aged eggs make that big a difference in a macaron batter. After all, part of making a macaron batter is popping a good deal of those bubbles. However aged egg advocates may have a point in that foams made from old eggs probably have a higher proportion of small bubbles in them, and those may make a contribution to the macaron's subtle rise.

Age your egg whites by putting them in a bowl, covering the bowl with plastic wrap, and leaving the bowl out on the counter for about 24 hours. At room temperature, eggs age one day per hour compared to how they'd age in a refrigerator. By morning those whites will be good and runny, but will not have spoiled. Oh, and don't fall for the myth that you can achieve the same effect by microwaving your whites for ten seconds or so. That may warm the whites, but won't have any effect at all on their viscosity.

My favorite crème brûlée is a very pain one, with just half a teaspoon of vanilla extract added. After that, it's crème brûlée scented with orange, like this one right here. Like an English pudding, crème brûlée somehow manages to pull off a sense of grandeur while still being an incredibly simple thing to prepare. Among its many virtues, it'll keep for several days in the fridge, making it an ideal dessert to serve at a dinner party. You simply pop them out of the fridge, caramelize the tops and you're good to go.

Start by preheating your oven to 325 and setting a pan of water on the stove to simmer. Next, infuse your cream. Put half a pint of cream in a small saucepan along with the rind of half an orange and half a teaspoon of vanilla extract (this recipe can be doubled if you like). Bring the mixture to a simmer and set it aside.

Add your sugar to your egg yolks...

...and whisk until light in color.

Strain the warm — now orange-scented — cream into the egg and sugar mixture...

...and whisk until the sugar is melted.

Now all there is to do is ladle the mixture into your ramekins. I've got mine sitting in a roasting pan here, but you can use a baking dish too.

Put the roasting pan on a low rack in the oven, then add enough simmering water to come half way up the sides of the ramekins.

Bake about half an hour, until the custard is set (when you move the ramekin it should jiggle, not slosh). Let the custards cool, then put them in the refrigerator for a minimum of four hours, ideally overnight. When you're ready to serve them, spinkle about a tablespoon of granulated sugar onto the top of each custard. Oops...I sort of overdid it here. Oh well, no biggie.

Now, apply the heat. As luck would have it, I ran out of propane about half a second after this picture was snapped. Not having a salamander handy, I went with the other, other option: the broiler. It works just fine, though you want to take care to get the sugared custard as close to the heat source as you reasonably can. You want a lot of heat delivered quickly, so as to caramelize the sugar without cooking — and breaking — the custard. More time in the broiler means a greater chance of curdling — so blast the suckers and get'em out of there.

Once you've got a nice brown top, let them sit for five minutes so the molten sugar hardens. Plate, garnish and serve.

Oh yeah, that's the stuff.

UPDATE: Chef Mike C. adds:

My Banquets & Catering chef at the CIA would always sprinkle an initial layer of sugar onto his brulees as soon as they came out of the oven. This way, that sugar would melt and fill in the little pits or uneven bits on the surface. That way, he said, when you put another layer of sugar on top when they were all cooled, you would have a perfectly smooth, glass-like layer of caramelized sugar.

Another chef I worked with in California used brown sugar instead of granulated sugar. I don't remember them having an exceptional crunch (maybe because of the molasses?), but the flavor on them was great.

Thanks Mike!

There's a lot of tittering going on in elite pastry circles about crème brûlée these days. Just like molten chocolate cake, it's an item most restaurants put on their menus solely out of obligation — something for country rubes and tourists who want to feel sophisticated dining in the big city. Even now, snotty waiters all over Manhattan are traipsing back to the kitchen with their dessert orders, muttering to themselves. I'll be right back with that, Mr. Clampett.

But me, I never get sick of crème brûlée, NEVER. It's just too simple, too perfect. Add a little vanilla, a pinch of cinnamon, maybe a couple gratings of nutmeg and I'm a stone-cold goner. So snicker away, Helmut, I'll remember you in silky burnt cream paradise.

What follows is a basic formula for a very light crème brûlée. It has just enough egg yolk to hold the sugar and cream together, and not much more. It can be enjoyed plain, but makes an elegant medium for just about any flavor you'd care to infuse into it. It will accommodate a little extra sugar or a small amount of fruit pulp, liqueur, ground nuts, ground coffee or citrus peels. If you like really heavy stuff like pumpkin, whole fruits, whole nuts, chocolate or peanut butter, add a white to the mix.

2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup sugar
4 large egg yolks

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. Also, set a small saucepan of water (or a teapot) over low heat.

Pour the cream into a small saucepan, along with any flavoring you'd care to infuse (vanilla, cinnamon stick, citrus peel) and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Immediately remove the cream from the heat and allow it to steep for 10-20 minutes, then strain through a fine sieve.

Meanwhile, whisk the sugar and yolks together in a medium bowl until they're light in color. Add the cream in a steady stream, whisking all the while. Pour the mixture into four 6-ounce ramekins. Place the ramekins into a roasting pan or baking dish.

When ready to bake, put on an oven mitt and open the oven door. Slide a middle rack half way out and gently place the baking dish containing the ramekins on it. Carefully pour in enough hot water to come half way up the sides of the ramekins. Slide the rack back into the oven and close the door.

Bake for 25-35 minutes, until the custard is just set (firm but slightly jiggly in the middle). Cool on a wire rack, cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for several hours or up to three days.

Half an hour before you want to serve, remove the ramekins from the refrigerator. Take off the plastic wrap and spread a healthy tablespoon of sugar evenly over the top of each custard. Using a salamander or a blow torch, melt and lightly brown the sugar. Let the crème brûlée sit for 5 minutes, and serve.

Oh, there's nothing like a warm slice of persimmon pudding on a crisp fall evening. Looking at this photo, you can see why a lot of folks confuse some puddings with cake. Indeed it has a crumb that's similar to, say, a dense Devil's Food cake. An English-style pudding is more sophisticated than that, though, at least to me. Easy as they are to make, they lend an air of elegance that you don't get from your average mix-and-bake dessert.

Here's how it goes. First combine your baking soda and water in a small bowl.

Add that to a larger bowl along with your persimmon pulp, eggs, vanilla and bourbon (or brandy or rum)...

...and blend.

Combine your flour and spices in a bowl and whisk to combine.

Next put the sugar and butter in the bowl of a mixer...

...and beat until combined and light in color. You can also do this by hand, of course. I'm just addicted to modern machinery.

With the machine on low, add half the persimmon mixture, then half the flour mixture and stir to combine. Scrape the sides of the bowl down. The batter might look a little lumpy and strange at this point. Carry on.

Add the rest of the persimmon mixture followed by the rest of the flour mixture. Continue to stir until the batter becomes smoother and more homogenous. Scrape the bowl and stir about 30 seconds more.

Now add your fruit and walnuts. Yes, I ran out of walnuts and mixed a few pecans in there too. It's been that kind of day.

Gently scoop or pour the batter into your VERY well-buttered pudding mold.

Prepare a pot for the mold. Notice how little water it takes to come halfway up the sides of a pudding mold. This is an 6-quart Dutch oven, and I've filled it to about 1/4 of its capacity.

Affix the lid on the pudding mold and insert it into the pot. Put the lid on the pot and set in on the stove top over medium-high heat. Bring the water to a boil, then reduce to medium-low and simmer for two hours. You'll want to check in every 20 minutes or so to make sure the water isn't boiling off entirely. If the level is getting low, pour a cup or two of hot water back in.

When a sharp knife inserted into the pudding comes out clean, cool the mold on a wire rack for about an hour and a half. It's cool enough when you can comfortably pick the mold up with your bare hands (don't try that for at least an hour). Make your hard sauce while you wait.

When you're ready, pick out a serving platter or plate and place it upside-down over the mold. Then holding both firmly, flip the mold and platter over. If all goes well, you'll shortly hear a light thwump, indicated your pudding has de-panned itself.

Gently remove the mold. Hopefully, you'll be looking at something not unlike this:

If the pudding doesn't turn out when you up-end the mold, first try knocking lightly on the sides of the mold with your knuckles. No luck? Try turning it back over and jiggling and jostling the pudding from side to side to loose it. If it still won't come out, a bamboo skewer inserted down the side can sometimes help loosen a stuck spot. If that still doesn't do it, picking up the upturned mold and dropping it from a hight of about an inch unsticks the stickiest pudding (so long as it's warm). If pieces stay stuck to the mold's interior, gently pry them off and stick them back onto the pudding. Odds are, no one will notice at the table. Those bits will fall off when you cut the pudding, but you can claim you just forgot to get the darn knife sharpened.

Serve each warm piece with a dollop of hard sauce on the side.

Puddings are as much a method as they are a food. Making a pudding requires a vessel specially made for the purpose: a pudding mold (the standard is a 2-quart, which is what this recipe calls for). You'll also need a pot that will contain the mold with the lid on. A deep dutch oven should suffice.

4 ounces unsalted butter
7 ounces (1 cup) sugar
5 ounces (1 cup) all-purpose flour
1 cup persimmon pulp
1 tablespoon bourbon whiskey
2 eggs
2 teaspoons baking soda mixed with 2 teaspoons warm water
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
1 cup golden raisins

Combine the eggs, persimmon pulp, bourbon, vanilla and soda mixture a bowl and set aside. In another bowl, whisk together the flour and spices. In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle beat the butter and sugar until light in color. With the mixer on low, add half the flour, then half the persimmon mixture. Turn off the mixer and scrape the bowl down. Turn the mixer back on and add the remaining flour, then the remaining persimmon mixture. Scrape once again, and with the machine on low, stir in the walnuts and raisins.

Pour the mixture into a well-buttered 2-quart pudding mold and affix the lid. Put the mold in the pot and pour in enough water to come halfway up the sides of the mold. Turn the heat up to medium and bring the water to a simmer. Turn the heat down to medium-low and simmer for 2 hours, until a sharp knife inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the pudding cool (about an hour).

Prepare the hard sauce while the pudding is cooling. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle, beat 4 ounces of soft butter with 6 ounces of powdered sugar until fluffy. Beat in 1 tablespoon of brandy.

When the pudding is cool, unmold it, cut it into slices and serve with dollops of hard sauce on the side.

Having been blogging almost daily for some four years now, I've really gotten to know my readership. When I put up my Kentucky Knish post last Friday, I had every expectation that I'd be getting a lot of grief for it. Sure enough, within minutes the first complaints came trickling in. "Too flat", "too French","too fluffy", "too fancy", "on the line between knish and calzone", "not Jewish enough", and perhaps my favorite so far: "borderline racist." I was prepared for all that, so those shots just bounced off me like so many howitzer rounds off of Megalon, the giant subterranean insect terror. One email, however, managed to penetrate my meters-thick exoskeleton and strike tender flesh. It was this from reader Paula:

These travesties show very clearly that you have never made a real knish, nor have slightest concept about what a real knish is about.

Madam, I'll have you know that I did my baking training on Chicago's North Shore. So out of the way, please, baker coming through. I need to use the hand sink.

Using the standard knish dough recipe below, whisk together your dry ingredients.

Then make a well in the center and add your beaten egg...

...followed by the wet ingredients.

Bring the dough together with a spatula...

...then knead it lightly into a ball. It will be somewhat oily feeling. That's what you want. Let the dough rest and hydrate for an hour. It may weep a little bit of oil as it sits. That's perfectly OK.

Meanwhile make your filling. Here I've got three medium red potatoes (cooked), about half a cup of deeply caramelized yellow onions (one onion diced finely, cooked gently in two tablespoons of vegetable oil over low heat for a little over an hour), about a two-ounce blob of goat cheese (OK, not traditional), and a teaspoon of salt.

Mashed. This isn't nearly enough filling for this amount of dough, but it's a good "for-instance." Knishes are great stuffed with just about any leftovers you have in the fridge.

When you're ready to shape your knishes, generously flour a dough board. Pull off a piece of dough from the ball and start rolling. You'll find that as long as you use enough flour, it's a very flexible and forgiving dough that rolls out easily. Roll it out as thin as you can without the dough tearing. The precise shape of your sheet isn't important. A rough rectangle is just fine.

When the dough is nice and thin, apply a long mound of filling to the bottom edge. I'm making rather small knishes, so my filling mound is small. For bigger knishes, well, you know what to do.

Then — and you can probably see where this is going — enclose the filling to form a long roll.

Roll the dough up in the sheet, but not terribly tightly. Knishes tend to want to break open in the oven. A little slack will help prevent this. Since this dough sheet is very thin, I keep rolling until the tube has about two layers on it. Some people really go nuts in this step and roll their dough out even thinner so as to give the tube four or five flaky layers. Me, I'm happy with two. Some like a thicker crust in just one layer. It's really up to you.

When you've got as much crust on your knishes as you like, use a pizza cutter to trim off the excess. Add the scraps back to the dough ball for re-rolling.

Trim the excess, if there is much, from the ends.

Now to shape the actual knishes. This is very like making sausage. You want to pinch off about a three or four-inch length.

Give it a twist.

Then using your pizza cutter, cut it off.

The result is indeed like a small sausage. Pinch the ends shut to enclose the filling.

Turn the knish end-up on the pastry board...

...and with your palm push it down to form a squat cylinder.

Poke the top down with your finger to keep the center from crowning in the oven.

Lay the knishes out on sheet pans — these don't need any proofing — and either bake, refrigerate (up to three days) or freeze (up to three months).

When ready to bake, paint with egg wash...

...and bake 30-40 minutes at 350 Fahrenheit until the crusts are golden brown.

No concept of a knish. Indeed.

One of the nice things about this dough is how easy it is to prepare and store. You just mix it up, let it sit for an hour, and it's ready to use. Or, you can refrigerate it until you're ready to use it, up to several days.

11 ounces all-purpose (AP) flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1/2 cup vegetable oil (very soft rendered chicken fat [schmalz], if you can find it, is even better)
1 tsp vinegar
1/2 cup lukewarm water

Whisk together your dry ingredients, beat the egg in a small bowl, and combine the vegetable oil, vinegar and water in a separate bowl or measure. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the beaten egg and the wet ingredients. Bring the dough together with a spatula, then knead lightly into a ball. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and let the dough sit for an hour at room temperature to relax and hydrate.