I went clothes shopping the other day and remembered why I dislike it so much. Nothing ever seems to fit me properly. It will be just right in one spot, but too big in another and too small somewhere else. Jeans, for example, are always too long. Whenever I go shopping, I have to base my decisions on the true cost of any item of clothing, which is usually the inflated price tag plus the hidden cost of getting it altered.

So I was standing in the change room, weighing up the benefits of a Little Joe top I had fallen in love with which was too big in the shoulder area, and it occured to me that I also experience similar hidden costs at work and in life. Unfortunately, there is no price tag you can place on the value of working a specific job or making a significant decision in life. How then will you know if you can afford these costs? At what point will you be able to recognise that the costs are starting to outweigh the benefits? When is it time to put the job back on the rack and try something else?

Maybe for me, clothes shopping is like life. I’m not particularly adept at it. I stumble along, managing to be vaguely presentable and every now and then, meet people along the way who I ‘fit’ with.

This dessert is inspired by Jordan Khan and the classic flavours of lemon meringue pie. The frozen liquid sable recipe is from Under Pressure by Thomas Keller. It is sandy, like normal baked sable, and melts luxuriously on the tongue. Because it is liquidised, it is capable of being frozen and twisted or cut into unusual shapes. My original twists of sable looked slightly more impressive than the picture, but it started to wilt a little as I spent too much time trying to get a decent shot. I might take more pictures next weekend when I have the time, and will include them in this post. This dessert is for Dan, who I believe as a friend, doesn’t have any hidden costs.

And for the record, I didn’t get the Little Joe top.

The May Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Linda of make life sweeter! and Courtney of Coco Cooks. They chose Apple Strudel from the recipe book Kaffeehaus: Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague by Rick Rodgers.

I have strange obsessions with certain words, and strudel is one of them. It’s an almost comical word that sounds like it was conceived by a stroppy noodle. Strudel = stroppy noodle = a thin man with a sharp chin, angry skin and raisin eyes. But the word also conjures up romantic images in my mind of sepia-toned cafes in Vienna that I will one day visit. To visit, and have a wedge of sachertorte or apfelstrudel, washed down with delicate porcelain cups of tea. Afterwards, a quick word to the waistcoated waiter for Die Rechnung, bitte, followed by a stroll down snow-covered cobbled streets.

In the lesser rose-tinted corner, strudel also reminds me of the word patience, of which I have none. I recall making strudel pastry several years ago, and watching in dismay as little holes in my pastry bloomed into massive ones. The rips ran just like stockings do, and there was no equivalent little dab of nail polish that was going to solve this problem. The holes were even big enough for a camel to walk through. In fact, not only did a camel walk through one of them, but he even turned back and looked at me disdainfully.

So, I approached this month’s challenge with some apprehensiveness. Fortunately it also occured to me that I could reinterpret the strudel-eating experience to make life easier for myself. The result is an apple compote with a warm caramelised vanilla custard, hidden beneath shards of strudel pastry, and a few rum soaked raisins on the side. I stretched the pastry in small batches, so there was less tearing. The pastry was brushed with butter and dusted with icing sugar, cinnamon, and chopped walnuts, before being baked in the oven until crisp.

The warm vanilla custard recipe comes from Crème Brûlée by Dominique and Cindy Duby. In this unusual recipe, the custard is set with the help of gelatine and agar and is capable of being cut, then heated in the oven until warm, before being bruleed. The overall effect, as the fork comes crashing down on the strudel layer to reveal warm, nutty, spicy, apple and vanilla flavours, mimics the strudel experience. It also tastes just like a normal strudel.

In case my version of strudel above didn’t count, I also made some mini banana strudels, following Claudia Fleming’s recipe in The Last Course. After stretching the pastry, I divided it into small squares, and proceeded with the recipe given below, forming little banana parcels. Still warm from the oven, these parcels were delicious with caramel and chocolate sauce and a sprinkling of chopped peanuts.

Strudel dough :
(from “Kaffeehaus – Exquisite Desserts from the Classic Cafés of Vienna, Budapest and Prague” by Rick Rodgers)

200 g unbleached flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
105 ml water, plus more if needed
30 ml vegetable oil, plus additional for coating the dough
1/2 teaspoon cider vinegar

1. Combine the flour and salt in a stand-mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Mix the water, oil and vinegar in a measuring cup. Add the water/oil mixture to the flour with the mixer on low speed. You will get a soft dough. Make sure it is not too dry, add a little more water if necessary.
Take the dough out of the mixer. Change to the dough hook. Put the dough ball back in the mixer. Let the dough knead on medium until you get a soft dough ball with a somewhat rough surface.

2. Take the dough out of the mixer and continue kneading by hand on an unfloured work surface. Knead for about 2 minutes. Pick up the dough and throw it down hard onto your working surface occasionally. Shape the dough into a ball and transfer it to a plate. Oil the top of the dough ball lightly. Cover the ball tightly with plastic wrap. Allow to stand for 30-90 minutes (longer is better).

3. It would be best if you have a work area that you can walk around on all sides like a 36 inch (90 cm) round table or a work surface of 23 x 38 inches (60 x 100 cm). Cover your working area with table cloth, dust it with flour and rub it into the fabric. Put your dough ball in the middle and roll it out as much as you can. Pick the dough up by holding it by an edge. This way the weight of the dough and gravity can help stretching it as it hangs. Using the back of your hands to gently stretch and pull the dough. You can use your forearms to support it.

4. The dough will become too large to hold. Put it on your work surface. Leave the thicker edge of the dough to hang over the edge of the table. Place your hands underneath the dough and stretch and pull the dough thinner using the backs of your hands. Stretch and pull the dough until it’s about 2 feet (60 cm) wide and 3 feet (90 cm) long, it will be tissue-thin by this time. Cut away the thick dough around the edges with scissors. The dough is now ready to be used.

Banana-Pecan Strudels :
(yields 4 servings, from The Last Course by Claudia Fleming)

2 sheets phyllo dough, thawed [I used strudel pastry as made above]
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
4 tablespoons icing sugar [I added some cinnamon to this as well]
4 tablespoons chopped toasted pecans [I used peanuts]
1 medium-ripe banana, sliced lengthwise in quarters
1 tablespoon honey

Preheat the oven to 200’C. Brush 1 phyllo sheet with some of the melted butter. Sift 2 tablespoons of the icing sugar evenly on top. Sprinkle evenly with 2 tablespoons of the nuts. Cut the phyllo sheet in half lengthwise. Place one quarter of the banana along a short edge of each phyllo half. Starting with the short end, tightly roll up the banana in the phyllo. When you get almost to the end, dab a little bit of honey along the edge to help seal the package [Note : This is not necessary when using the freshly made strudel pastry]. Repeat with the remaining ingredients.

Just before baking, brush the tops of the strudels with more of the melted butter and place them seam-side down on a baking sheet (preferably lined with parchment paper or a nonstick liner). Bake until strudels are golden brown, 13 to 15 minutes. Serve immediately.

I love Mr. Sweet Potato. He is especially dirt cheap at the moment, which enables me to pretend that I am living a budget lifestyle despite all the butter and chocolate that I buy.

This dessert, sanctioned by Mr. Sweet Potato, started out as a budget piece of sweet potato cake. It got me thinking about sweet potato pie, which alas, I have never made or tasted. However I feel I know this particular pie’s purpose or meaning, without having tasted it. Sweet potato is comfort food. As kids, we snacked on steamed slices of sweet potato and tapioca dipped in granulated sugar.

These days, some people happily pay a lot of money in restaurants to eat luxury examples of such comfort food. At best, it is playful and you smile when you feel that thrill of recognising something from your past. At it’s most successful, it should also be so delicious that it is capable of standing as a dish on it’s own right. I hope to achieve something close to that calibre one day, but in the meantime, I taste, smile and remember.

There are flavours of maple, cinnamon, caramel, vanilla, walnut and black sesame in this dessert, along with textures of rich custard, crunchy tuile, buttery crumble, moist cake and silky ice-cream. Black sesame isn’t exactly traditional in this pie, but I thought it would go well with the sweet potato. A recipe listing each individual component would be too lengthy, so I’m only including the star component that instigated the entire dish. It is certainly worth the money in your pocket to bake and partake in :

Sweet Potato Cake :
(from Dessert by David Everitt-Matthias)

for the syrup :
110ml water
75g caster sugar
juice of 1/4 lemon

for the sweet potato cake :
50g unsalted butter
2 eggs
200g soft brown sugar
100ml sunflower oil
200g self-raising flour
5g baking powder
300g sweet potatoes, peeled and grated
1/2 banana, mashed
grated zest of 1/2 orange
75g walnuts, chopped
75g green raisins

To make the syrup, put the water, sugar and lemon juice into a saucepan and bring to the boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Simmer for a few minutes then remove from the heat and leave to cool.

For the cake, heat the butter in a small frying pan until it starts to turn brown and smells nutty. Leave to cool. Place the eggs in a mixing bowl with the sugar and whisk until pale and thick. Slowly drizzle in the oil and then the butter as if making mayonnaise, whisking all the time. Sift the flour and baking powder together and fold them into the egg mixture. Add all the remaining ingredients except the icing sugar and mix lightly. Transfer the mixture to a greased, lined 30 x 20 x 3cm baking tray and place in an oven preheated to 180’C. Bake for 40 minutes – 1 hour, until a knife inserted in the centre comes out clean.

Allow the cake to cool a little, then remove it from the tin, lightly prick it all over and douse with syrup. Leave to cool completely.