The Perfect Pantry

A Bookworm's additions

After she perused last week's Bookworm list, Susan at The Well-Seasoned Cook noticed a few gaps. Her blog features beautiful photography and interesting recipes from all around the globe, and her reading list is just as eclectic as her cooking.

UPDATE. Susan recommended:

• Road Food
• Cod: A Biography of the Fish That Changed the World
• Fast Food Nation
• Fat Lane: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World
• The Omnivore's Dilemma
  

Want to be a Bookworm in the Pantry and add to our collective "library" of good reads? Start here.

Wonton skins (Recipe: wonton skin soup)

In the annals of medicine, nobody writes about it.

There are no tests, no consultations, no second opinons, no clinical trials.

And yet, this condition, this very real affliction, can be cured.

For those who, like me, occasionally succumb to wonton lust (defined as the overwhelming urge to eat Chinese food), there is no remedy more effective, more immediate, more satisfying than a bowl of steaming hot soup, redolent with ginger, and filled with lovely, pillowy dumplings floating here and there.

Alas, I live five miles from the nearest Asian restaurant. Thank goodness for my pantry, and a ready supply of wonton skins in the fridge or freezer.

Wonton skins (also called wonton wrappers) are thin pieces of an egg-based dough, cut into 3-4 inch squares. In the 14-ounce package I keep in my pantry, there are approximately 50 skins. Each square holds one tablespoon of filling.

When I was growing up, I only knew wontons that were cooked in soup, and they were always filled with a mixture of pork, shrimp and scallions. As a non-pork eater, I'd always remove the little blob of filling by cutting around it with my soup spoon, and I'd scoop up the wonton skins with the soup. In the end, the balls of pork filling would be left sitting in the bowl. Now I make my own wontons, filled with chicken or veggies.

Wonton skins are easy to find in almost every supermarket these days; even in my small town, the produce section of the market stocks fresh wonton skins. I'd never bother to make them from scratch, but they are easy to make.

Why not think of wonton skins as big square noodles, an instant fresh pasta dough ready to be turned into ravioli with sweet or savory fillings, asparagus-wonton wraps, crab wontons with Asian slaw, or a beautiful fried wonton appetizer?

You can use wontons as the "icing" on a lovely cupcake, too, which gives wonton lust a whole new meaning.

WONTON SKIN SOUP
If, like me, you find yourself eating the wonton noodles and leaving the filling behind, you will love this soup. All wontons, no filling! Serves 4 as an appetizer, 2 as a main dish, or 1 person with a cold or a bad case of wonton lust.

1 quart chicken stock (homemade or low-sodium storebought)
1 nickel-sized slice of fresh gingerroot
1 scallion, white and green parts, sliced thin
4 cups baby spinach leaves
10 wonton skins, cut or torn into strips
Sea salt (if using unsalted homemade stock)
Fresh ground black pepper, to taste

In a stock pot, simmer chicken stock with gingerroot for 15 minutes. Remove ginger and discard. Add remaining ingredients and simmer 4-5 minutes, until wonton skins are cooked through. Season with salt, if needed, and lots of black pepper to taste, and serve hot.

Canola oil (Recipe: spicy green beans)

If olive oil comes from the pressing of olives, and sesame oil from the pressing of sesame seeds, does canola oil come from the pressing of canolas?

Ah... you're laughing, or groaning. After all, there's no such thing as a canola.

Or is there?

Canola -- an abbreviation of "Canadian Oil Low Acid" -- is a product of traditional plant breeding technology, genetic engineering, and clever marketing.

In the late 1960s, plant biologists created canola by crossing four varieties of rapeseed to reduce the levels of erucic acid (which makes oils go rancid quickly) and glucosinolate (which tastes bitter). The oil pressed from this new seed had a lower level of saturated fat, and a higher level of "good" fat, than other similar neutral-tasting oils like safflower and sunflower.

Marketed first to physicians as a heart-healthy alternative oil, canola raced to the top of the charts. However, scientists and growers in Canada (which produces the majority of canola worldwide, though the US, Australia and Europe also contribute) felt that a slight alteration would create a more viable crop. One protein gene was modified to make it tolerant to some herbicides, the use of which reduced the amount of chemical needed for weed control in the fields. As all proteins are removed from canola during processing, the oil made from genetically modified plants is the same as conventional canola oil; however, some countries have banned the sale of oil made from genetically modified seed.

For cooks watching their fat intake, canola oil offers many benefits. In addition to being the lowest in saturated fat, canola oil is high in monounsaturated ("good") fat, as well as omega-3 and linoleic acids.

With a smoke point of 435°F, canola oil is in the same range as olive oil, but not as good a choice for high-heat frying as safflower oil, which smokes at an impressive 510°F. Canola is a great all-purpose flavor-neutral oil for dishes that don't need the pronounced, fruity overtones of olive oil, like Asian-inspired chicken and pasta, roast turkey, breakfast hash, cod with quinoa, and cornbread. I use olive oil more often for everyday cooking, but with some flavor profiles (Asian and Southwestern in particular), you really want an oil that doesn't affect the flavor of the ingredients in the dish.

I'm not likely to add canola plants to my garden any time soon, but my pantry is seldom without canola oil.

DONA HILDA GUTARRA'S SPICY GREEN BEANS
My father used to make a Sunday breakfast dish he called “spit in the ocean"; he’d take a piece of bread, cut a hole in the center, and fry an egg inside. This main-course recipe, created by the Peruvian director of the old Boston City Hospital Food Pantry, reminds me of those breakfasts long ago. You'll see why. Serves 6.

1 lb ground beef or turkey
3 Tbsp canola oil
Pinch (1/8-1/4 tsp) each: cumin, paprika, mild chili powder
Hot sauce, to taste
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 large onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb fresh green beans, ends trimmed, cut into 2-inch pieces
6 eggs

In a large frying pan over medium heat, brown the meat. Remove meat from the pan and set aside. Reduce heat to low, and add to the pan the oil, cumin, paprika, chili powder, hot sauce, and salt and pepper. Stir in the onions, and cook until onions are nearly browned. Stir in the garlic, and cook 1-2 minutes, until onions are brown. Return the meat to the pan, and stir in the green beans. Let the mixture simmer for a few minutes, uncovered, until the beans are tender but not mushy. Make a hole in the middle of the mixture in the pan, and crack one whole egg in; then, make holes around the pan, and crack each of the remaining eggs into one of the holes. Cover and cook until the eggs are cooked, 3-4 minutes. 

Serve with boiled white rice.

Celery seed (Recipe: refrigerator zucchini pickles)

If it weren't for potato salad and pickles, my celery seed would be toast.

All winter, it sits on the spice rack, pushed farther and farther to the rear of the shelf.

In summer, when I'm ready to make pickles and potato salad (Why only in summer? I don't know.), I retrieve the celery seed, dust off the jar, use a few teaspoons here and there, and send it back to its place. Every other year or so, I throw out the mostly-full but decidedly less-zesty spice, buy a new jar, and start the cycle again.

Time to admit that maybe celery seed shouldn't be in The Perfect Pantry? Time to broaden my culinary repertoire?

Time to start drinking Bloody Marys?

Celery seed -- called apio in Spanish, ajmoda in Hindi, sedano in Italian and kan-tsai in Chinese -- is not actually the seed of the leafy celery stalks that garnish those Bloody Marys, though it has the same ancestry. The seed comes from Apium graveolens, a marsh plant called smallage or wild celery, grown primarily in India but also in China, France, and California.

Light- to medium-brown in color, celery seeds have a more spicy taste than the familiar stalks of cultivated celery; in Herbs & Spices, an essential reference for any cook's library, Jill Norman describes the aroma and taste as having hints of nutmeg, citrus and parsley. Use sparingly, as that spicy taste can overwhelm. Be sure to purchase whole seed rather than ground; when ground, this spice quickly loses its balance, and the flavor becomes quite bitter.

A common ingredient in pickling, celery seed also plays an important role in cole slaw, catfish, chicken salad, and couscous.

And without celery salt -- 3 parts kosher salt mixed with 2 parts ground celery seed -- the Bloody Mary would be toast, too.

REFRIGERATOR ZUCCHINI PICKLES
Any minute now, the zucchini will begin pouring out of gardens, farm stands, and farmers' markets throughout the northern climate zones. Be prepared! If you've been thinking about buying a mandoline, this recipe, adapted slightly from Stocking Up by Carol Hupping, is a perfect excuse. Makes 4 pints or 2 quarts.

4 lbs small zucchini
1/2 lb small white onions
1 qt cider vinegar
1/2 cup honey
2 tsp celery seeds
2 tsp turmeric
2 tsp dry mustard
2 tsp mustard seeds

Cut unpeeled zucchini into thin slices, like cucumbers. Peel onions and slice thin. Place vegetables in a large stainless steel or glass bowl. In an enamel or stainless steel saucepan, combine remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil and pour over vegetables. Let stand 1 hour.

Pour vegetables and liquid into a stainless steel saucepan. Return to heat, bring to a boil, and cook 3 minutes. Pour into hot, scalded jars. Cover tightly and refrigerate.

Prepared mustards (Recipe: deviled eggs)

Truth, or fiction?

Isabella Martinque, on the way to her first day of work at the National Mustard Museum, came within a foot – more like six inches to be precise – of killing a handsome young man in the prime of his youth.

Luckily for both Isabella and the young man, the right front bumper of her 1993 Toyota Tercel caught only the tattered brown leather suitcase he was carrying in his left hand, propelling it onto the shoulder where it opened and spilled out its contents. Socks, underwear, jeans, a few shirts, and several books were strewn along the side of Highway 78 about a quarter mile outside the village of Mount Horeb.

Isabella had been preoccupied with her new job as chef-in-residence at the Mustard Museum. Her brain was racing, conjuring up new and unique recipes for the golden condiment. Mustard creme brulee. Eggplant a la Dijon. Fig and mustard coulis...

Truth: There really is a National Mustard Museum in Mount Horeb, Wisconsin. Open to the public since 1992, the collection has grown to more than 4,700 prepared mustards from all 50 states and 60 countries, plus oodles of mustard-abilia.

Fiction: Seeds of Passion, from which the paragraphs above are excerpted, is this year's Mustard Museum writing contest. Download Chapter One, craft a dynamite Chapter Two and synopsis for the rest of the novel, and you might win $5,000.

If you do win, you'll be able to stock your pantry with as much mustard as you could ever want (and maybe some bread and a cold beer to wash it down!). No pantry needs as much as Barry Levenson has collected for the museum, but every pantry should have should have a few prepared mustards at the ready.

The mustard plant is a member of the cruciferous vegetable family, related to cabbage and horseradish. The dark green leaves are cooked, like collards. To make prepared mustard, the seeds (brown, black, white, yellow) are soaked in water, which activates the enzyme myrosinase. When the desired heat level is achieved, the activation is stopped with an acidic liquid, usually wine (for stronger mustards) or vinegar (milder). The level of enzyme action combined with the particular acidic fixative used gives each mustard its characteristic flavor.

Mustard fixed with an acid can be stored at room temperature, which is how it tastes best, for 2-3 months. To prolong their lifespan, I always keep opened jars of mustard in the refrigerator.

Prepared mustards, though used primarily as a condiment, are quite versatile, and though many recipes call for Dijon, you can substitute any mustards in your pantry. From a basic salad dressing, to a marinade for salmon, to barbecue sauce and monkey bread, mustard has a place in almost everything except ice cream -- or am I wrong about that?!

DEVILED EGGS
When our granddaughter Sabina came to visit recently, she brought a cookbook to share with me. Gadgetology, by Pam Abrams, is perfect for kids 4-10 years old and their adult sous chefs. The recipe for deviled eggs is designed to teach children how to use a pastry bag; the lesson for the rest of us is that almost any prepared mustard can form the flavor basis for deviled eggs. If you don't have a pastry bag, fill a ziploc bag with the egg yolk mixture, then snip one corner to create a makeshift piping bag. I've updated the egg cooking method; feel free to create your own combination of flavorings (curry? pistachio? chipotle?). Makes 8 deviled eggs; can -- and should! -- be doubled or tripled or quadrupled.

4 large eggs
2 Tbsp mayonnaise
1/2 tsp prepared mustard of your choice
1/4 tsp kosher salt
2 tsp minced fresh flat-leaf parsley (optional)
Paprika or smoked paprika, for garnish (optional)

In a medium saucepan, place the eggs, and cover with water by one inch. Bring to a boil over high heat. As soon as the water boils, cover the pot and remove it from the heat. Let sit for 12 minutes. Then, drain the hot water, rinse the eggs under cold water, and shell the eggs. Set on a plate and place in the refrigerator for an hour or more.

Cut eggs in half lengthwise; gently remove the yolks and place them in a food processor or small bowl. (Tip: if the egg white halves are rolling around on your plate, slice a tiny bit off the outside of the bottoms, to make them sit up straight.) Add the mayonnaise, mustard, salt and parsley, if desired, to the yolks and process or mash together until smooth. Using a spatula, place the yolk mixture in a pastry bag fitted with a plain or fancy tip. Pipe the filling into the egg-white halves, swirling upward as you go.

Sprinkle eggs with paprika, if desired. Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Soba/buckwheat noodles (Recipe: asparagus-cashew stir fry)

So there we were -- Ted, his sister Jill, my cousin Martin and me -- huddled in the kitchen in my friend Rika's house, in the small village of Mihama on the west coast of Japan, in the middle of winter, drinking sake to stay warm, and learning how to make soba.

It was our second visit to Japan, February 1997, windy and snowing, cold beyond cold. We had come to Mihama after a couple of weeks of traveling in Vietnam, where it was hot beyond hot, and our bodies were having adjustment issues. Rika's house sits right on the beach; except for the kitchen, the rooms are heated only by space heaters, so even without the promise of a cooking lesson, we'd still have gravitated towards the only room that had both heat and food.

According to the traditions of the village, which is home to 50 families, property passes from oldest son to oldest son, and so Rika's husband, Ichiro, came to own the house, a fishing boat, and the fields that supply his family with rice and vegetables. Ichiro teaches at an agricultural high school, where students learn about all aspects of the growing cycle, including cooking, and he is quite a good cook, too.

Soba are thin, spaghetti-like noodles made of buckwheat flour which, because it doesn't bind well, is often combined with wheat flour. According to Japanese agricultural regulations, soba must contain at least 30 percent buckwheat; the higher the buckwheat content, the better the noodles, and the nuttier the flavor.

Starting with the buckwheat flour, water, and a small amount of white flour, Ichiro taught us to mix and knead and roll the dough, and then to cut the noodles by hand. While the noodles air-dried for a few minutes, Rika mixed a traditional dipping sauce, a combination of dashi, mirin, and soy. (She also showed us some storebought sauce she had in the fridge; though they revere the traditional, busy moms in rural Japan also embrace convenience foods.)

Soba is served hot or cold, and combines well with steak or salmon, in soup, and in salads of all persuasions.

Traditionally eaten to celebrate the new year, and delicious all year round, soba (which is almost always sold in dried form) comes in all price ranges, correlating directly to the amount of buckwheat in the noodles. The ones in my pantry at the moment are fairly inexpensive; buckwheat is the second ingredient listed, after enriched wheat flour. This brand also includes yam flour, which enhances the taste as well as the binding ability. If you're eating gluten-free, look for 100% buckwheat noodles; they do exist, but they are quite delicate, and expensive.

At Rika's house, we ate our soba at room temperature; we were too impatient to wait to taste the fruits of our labor. We wrangled the slippery noodles with chopsticks, dipped them in the sauce, and slurped -- which, fortunately, is considered polite, as it was our only option!

Ten years later, if I close my eyes, I can recall the taste of that soba, made in a dear friend's kitchen so far away.

ASPARAGUS-CASHEW STIR FRY
I love recipes with a pedigree. This one came to our Wednesday Lunch cooking group from Marcia, who got it from her friend Roseanne, who adapted it from a cookbook. Serves 4 as a main dish; can be doubled.

For the sauce:
3 Tbsp reduced-sodium soy sauce
2 Tbsp cornstarch or arrowroot
1-1/2 cups water or vegetable stock
1 Tbsp minced ginger root
1 tsp sesame oil
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes, or more to taste
Dash of white pepper

2 Tbsp canola or safflower oil
1 lb fresh asparagus, woody parts of stems removed, tender part cut into 3-inch lengths (about 3 cups)
4 scallions, chopped
1 small sweet red pepper, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 cup cashews, dry-roasted and unsalted

1 lb soba noodles, prepared according to package directions

In a small bowl, combine soy sauce and cornstarch. Stir in remaining sauce ingredients; set aside.

In a wok or large skillet, heat oil. Stir-fry asparagus, scallions, pepper, and garlic until vegetables are crisp-tender. Stir sauce mixture; pour it over the vegetables and stir until it is thickened and bubbly. Fold in cashews. Reduce heat, cover, and cook for 1 minute, until cashews are heated through.

Serve over soba noodles.

Unsalted butter (Recipe: scotch shortbread)

What do Santa Claus, Richard Nixon, Elvis, and the unofficial mascot of a midwestern state fair have in common?

Each has been sculpted in unsalted butter.

It's true.

The 2006 Iowa State Fair's famous Butter Cow weighed in at 600 pounds, Santa at 700 pounds, and Elvis at a whopping 800 pounds. Nixon weighed just three pounds (insert obvious jokes here).

I'm not sure why unsalted butter is the choice of sculptors. Perhaps unsalted butter is more predictable. That's certainly why it is the choice of bakers. With unsalted butter, you know just what you're getting.

The amount of salt in regular butter varies with each brand, but can be up to three percent, or 3/4 teaspoon per 1/2-cup stick. According to Joy of Baking, you can replace unsalted butter with salted butter, but you should reduce the salt in the  recipe by about 1/2 teaspoon per cup of butter used, calculated as follows:

The USDA National Nutrient Database for Standard Reference shows one cup of "Butter, salted" as containing 1308 mg of sodium and 1 cup of "Butter, without salt" as containing 25 mg, for a difference of 1283 mg. They also show table salt as containing 2325 mg of sodium. Dividing 1283 mg of sodium by 2325 mg sodium per teaspoon of salt gives 0.55 or just over 1/2 teaspoon.

Originally, salt was added to butter as a preservative. Even today, with modern refrigeration, salt can mask the freshness of butter, as guests at one of my summer picnics found out a few years ago, when I unknowingly slathered some beautiful ears of sweet corn with butter that was no longer, well, sweet.

Now I use unsalted butter as a matter of taste, whether I'm baking cupcakes or pies, or preparing savory dishes. And nothing beats unsalted butter on fresh crusty bread with slices of tomato or smoked salmon.

Except, maybe, a butter bust of Richard Nixon.

GWENDOLEN'S SCOTCH SHORTBREAD
In the same little black notebook where I found Chocolate Outrageous Pie, I came across an old, slightly stained piece of paper folded up in one of the pockets. This recipe, typed many years ago on a manual typewriter, was my mother-in-law's holiday specialty. Here's the recipe, exactly as she wrote it. (Notations in parentheses are mine.) Be sure to read the notes at the end before you start baking.

Shortbread is a buttery cookie usually associated with Christmas and New Year celebrations. There are many variations in the way the ingredients are measured, prepared and cooked, but the same three ingredients are always used -- butter, sugar and flour.

A basic recipe consists of

1/2 lb butter (I use unsalted butter and a pinch of salt, to taste)
1/2 cup sugar
2 cups flour

Butter: make sure the butter has been left at room temperature until it is soft.

Sugar: This can be superfine granulated sugar, or a mixture of sugar, light brown sugar and/or icing sugar. I find 2/3 white and 1/2 light brown sifted well together is satisfactory.

Flour: All-purpose white flour. Part of this can be rice flour.

Method: Add sifted sugar a little at a time to the softened butter until both are thoroughly combined -- no gritty feel under the spoon. A wooden spoon is best. Add flour a bit at a time until all is absorbed. This should give a soft but workable dough. Gather into two lumps and knead each on a lightly floured board until smooth and no cracks appear. Roll or pat into shape and cut with small cutter, keeping dough about 1/4 or 1/3 inch thick. Gather up cuttings and reroll into shapes. If dough gets too soft, refrigerate for a while. Place on lightly greased cookie sheet.

Bake: 300 to 325 degree oven for 12 to 15 minutes. Some ovens take longer, but don't let the shortbreads brown. They should be quite light and they deepen in color after cooking.

Put on rack until cool. Store in tightly covered container. May be kept for several weeks.

NOTES:

A small piece of cherry can be pressed into center of cookie before baking, and it is customary to prick shortbread with a fork -- not deep enough to break the cookie, but deep enough to leave an impression.

I also find it worthwhile to refrigerate the shaped cookies on the cookie sheet, before baking. I put them in the frig before I set the oven. Also -- the cookie dough can be rolled and wrapped in wax paper and kept in the refrigerator until ready to bake, then sliced into circles etc.

After you have read this, just remember: Mix butter, sugar and flour, knead, shape and cook for a short while in a slow oven.

Bookworm in the country

One of the original Ninecooks nine cooks, and the best salad dressing maker I know, Jessica lives in the town next to mine in northwest Rhode Island, and she's this week's Bookworm in the Pantry. An avid reader, Jessica, who works for a nonprofit organization, and her husband, a university librarian, bought their old farmhouse in part because it's directly across the road from the town library! Her improvisational cooking style spans all cuisines, including a recent interest in Korean cooking, and her vegetable and herb garden provides ample inspiration.

UPDATE. Jessica recommended:

• A History of the World in Six Glasses
• Coming Home to Eat: The Pleasues and Politics of Local Foods
• Spice: The History of a Temptation
• Sweets: A History of Candy
• The Mammoth Cheese
  

Browse through the eclectic library of some previous Bookworm recommendations here.

NOTE: Since February, we've had a Bookworm in the Pantry every Saturday. As there are no more Bookworms waiting for a first turn at stardom, I'm going to publish a master list of all of the Bookworm recommendations next Saturday.

If your favorite reads are not on the list (and there are some surprising omissions), and if you've enjoyed this feature on The Perfect Pantry, why not be a Bookworm? If you've already had a turn as a Bookworm and would like to recommend five more of your favorite food-related non-cookbooks, I'd love to share your list.

Want to be a Bookworm in the Pantry? Start here.

Happy blogsday (Recipe: chocolate outrageous pie)

Today is my blog's birthday. One year old. If I'd planned better, I'd have started the blog two days later, on June 16, so Leopold Bloom and I could celebrate together. Happy Blogsday has a nice ring to it.

So, you get it now, don't you?

There is no such thing as a perfect pantry.

A pantry can be well-stocked, well-stacked, and well-rounded.

But it's always a work in progress, with new items coming in, and old ones discarded.

I've had so much fun opening the doors of my pantry. Thank you for peeking in! Your ideas inspire, amuse, encourage and teach me. I love the recipes you share, your wonderful comments to me and to each other, and your suggestions of new pantry items and sources.

A reader's comment led to the discovery that, yes, there are bookworms in my pantry; another reader has suggested an informal pantry exchange, so folks outside the US (or from one region of the country to another) could experience the joys of local favorites like Old Bay Seasoning, Miracle Whip, real maple syrup and New Mexico chiles. I'm working on that.

By the way, while you've been busy learning about ingredients, I've been poking around in the deeper recesses of the pantry. There are more shelves and cupboards, filled with what the Two Fat Ladies called, in a way that made it sound almost obscene, kitchenalia. My collection of more than 200 wooden spoons. Assorted cooking utensils (why does someone who doesn't measure have four sets of measuring spoons?!). Pots, pans, tagines, cazuelas. Blenders and processors. Mixing bowls made of glass, ceramic, stainless, and my newest passion — melamine bowls from the 1950s. A growing collection of Bundt pans and bento boxes. Skewers! Steamers! Strainers! Springforms!

We just might have to go there, one of these days.

Today, though, I want to thank each one of you for reading, sharing, commenting and laughing. You are my absolutely favorite ingredient in The Perfect Pantry.

(Here's where we met, a year ago.)

CHOCOLATE OUTRAGEOUS PIE
What better way to celebrate a blogsday than with something that's both chocolate and outrageous? I found this in a little black notebook of recipes cut out of newspapers and magazines, some as long as 25 years ago. I didn't note the source, so if you recognize this recipe, please let me know. All of the ingredients are straight from the pantry, as you can see in the photo. Note: this pie can be frozen.

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
8 oz cream cheese, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
4 squares unsweetened chocolate, melted and cooled slightly
1 tsp pure vanilla extract or 1/2 tsp mint extract
4 eggs (I use large eggs)
1 baked 9-inch pie crust (I use Pillsbury, baked blind)
Whipped cream and shaved dark chocolate, for garnish (optional)

In the bowl of a Kitchenaid-type stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and cream cheese together until fluffy. Slowly add the sugar and beat until mixture is creamy and sugar is dissolved. Add the melted chocolate and vanilla, and blend. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating for 4 minutes after each egg. Pour into baked pie crust and refrigerate 2-3 hours before serving. Garnish with whipped cream and grated chocolate, if desired.

White whole wheat flour (Recipe: raisin-banana scones)

Meet the new love of my life.

As with any infatuation, I can't get enough of it.

I want to wake up to it in the morning and savor it all day long.

Alas, I am a bake-o-phobe, and my affair with white whole wheat flour might be doomed.

So I'd like to fix you up with my new love. Please, take my inamorata out on a date, get to know each other, commit to a long-term relationship. You won't be sorry.

King Arthur Flour, the Vermont uber-resource for all things baking, wasn't sorry when, in the 1990s, they received a sample of a new strain of whole wheat flour from a consortium of farmers who had been working with Kansas State University's breeding program. This new flour was made not from hard red spring wheat, which is typically ground into whole wheat flour in the US, but from a hard white winter wheat that lacked the tannins that makes most red, or traditional, whole wheat flour taste a bit bitter or astringent.

White whole wheat flour does have everything else that you expect from whole wheat flour; all of the bran and germ are present, resulting in an almost identical nutritional profile but with a lighter color and sweeter taste. In baking pizza, cookies, muffins, brownies, quick breads, and yeast breads, you can substitute white whole wheat flour for some or all of the all-purpose flour, and nobody will ever know that your baked goods are full of whole grains.

RAISIN-BANANA SCONES
Don't like raisins and bananas? Substitute any dried fruit, apples, oranges, lemon zest or nuts instead. Adapted from a recipe given to me years ago by Gloria Belknap, a French-trained chef who used to own a bed-and-breakfast in Boston's South End. Makes 10 large fluffy scones.

1 cup raisins, soaked in hot water to cover for 5 minutes, drained
2 cups white whole wheat flour (or all-purpose unbleached flour)
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp cinnamon
2 Tbsp sugar
1 stick butter (1/2 cup), cut into chunks
1/2 banana, cut into chunks
1 egg yolk
3/4 cup lowfat plain yogurt
1/4 tsp red wine vinegar

Preheat the oven to 400°F. In a food processor, blender or large bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon and sugar; add the butter and pulse the processor on and off a few times until the mixture resembles a coarse meal. In a separate bowl blend the egg yolk, yogurt, and wine vinegar, and add to the processor along with the banana and raisins. Mix until all ingredients are just incorporated -- do not overmix. Drop in large spoonfuls onto an ungreased baking sheet, and bake for 15-20 minutes, or until lightly browned. Serve with butter and jam; or cool the scones to room temperature, wrap and freeze.