Baking

I named this dense chocolate cake with a mountain of coffee-flavored icing for the 1956 movie Giant. which put the small West Texas town of Marfa on the map. The stars were Elizabeth Taylor, Rock Hudson, and James Dean in his last movie role before he died in a car accident at age twenty-four. Hotel Paisano, where the cast stayed during the filming, still pays homage to the production with a Giant memorabilia room and Jett’s Grill, named after Dean’s character, oilman Jett Rink.

Bob and Nancy Green live on the land Bob’s pioneer father settled in 1881 and Bob has been a rancher for most of his life. Now in her eighties, Nancy continues to indulge her lifelong passion for entertaining. She favors groups up to sixteen, because she can seat them all “gracefully” at her table without having to round up chairs from other parts of the house. Nancy keeps her guests happy with a good supply of cornbread, baked in a Texas-shaped skillet.

Cooked sweet potato adds body and flavor to these biscuits, but they are more savory than sweet—just right for buttering and sopping up gravy of any kind. Try them with Not Really Son-of-a-Bitch Stew (page 221), Tom Perini’s Chicken-fried Steak (page 227), or Beer-braised Short Ribs (page 222).

A sensational ending for a dinner party, cocktail party, or just about any event, these rich cheesecake-like bars always draw sighs of pure delight. The recipe comes from my early days as a caterer in Houston. I think they taste best cold, but no matter how they’re served, they disappear quickly.

I love a dramatic dessert at a cocktail party, but I also want a pick-up dessert that doesn’t need plates and utensils. A deep, dark-chocolate mousse that’s piped onto a choice of two very different kinds of cookies fits the bill. Although I like to make both cookie bases and serve them together, you may want to save a little time by choosing to make only one. (Pictured page 204, center and top.)

Here’s an old favorite turned just a little edgy, thanks to the addition of ancho chile powder. Ancho chiles (dried poblanos) have a sweet undertone that combines well with chocolate. For the freshest flavor, grind your own chile powder as directed in the Tip following this recipe. Be advised, though, that some anchos are spicier than others. Taste your ground chiles to check their heat levels and add or subtract the amount added accordingly. (Pictured page 204, bottom left.)

Cookies at Rather Sweet Bakery are very large, and that’s how our customers like them. For a dinner or cocktail party, I prefer small cookies. That way guests can indulge in more than one sweet finale. I’ve found that a dessert tray stocked with a variety of one- or two-bite treats is extremely popular. This recipe is adapted from a sugar cookie recipe given to me years ago by The Austin Chronicle’s food editor, Virginia Wood. Now that I’ve added fresh lemon juice and chocolate, she probably won’t recognize it. (Pictured opposite, bottom right.)

I fancy myself to be part Cajun, not surprising since I grew up on the Texas-Louisiana border. When entertaining, I often include a little something with Cajun flair. My Shreveport-born friend Mary Cunningham feels the same way. She served these at a recent dinner party in her home and happily shared her recipe (once she figured out what she did and wrote it down, that is). Like many accomplished home cooks I know, Mary rarely measures, cooking by taste and feel. I’ve adapted her recipe and created a cornbread crust to go with it. Depending on where you live, it may be tough to find crayfish. It can be ordered online, but if necessary, substitute an equal amount of chopped, fresh shrimp.

I keep a batch of these buttery, cheese-laden cookies on hand for drop-in guests year round as they’re better than a bowl of mixed nuts and just about as easy to make. Versatile, attractive, and positively addictive, they’re great for a before-dinner nibble, a cocktail party hors d’oeuvre, or a pre-theater or movie snack with a glass of wine.

When I brought this cake to a last-minute dinner, my hosts, Mary and Marshall Cunningham, loved it so much they begged me to take the remainder home. “Don’t leave it here,” they pleaded. “We’ll eat it. We’ll probably eat it for breakfast.” A simple vanilla cake with a layer of tart Key lime curd and a blanket of lightly sweetened whipped cream, Mary dubbed it “the perfect cake for spring or summer.”

I make batches of these in mini muffin pans, wrap them well, freeze them, and keep them on hand for last-minute parties. What a relief it is to have a dessert ready and waiting for an impromptu dinner. The only problem: I know where they are, and sometimes, especially late at night, I can’t resist unwrapping a few and eating them. (Yup, they’re pretty good frozen.) Before long, my party stash has dissipated, and I have to make some more. (Pictured on page 164, center tray.)

Discovering something new to bake is half the fun of attending potlucks. I’m always on the lookout for new recipes that others might enjoy. One of my servers gave me this recipe, which her grandmother has been making for as long as she can remember. I took these bars to a recent potluck supper, where they drew raves and more than a few requests for copies of the recipe.

I first ate syrup cake in the deep, piney woods of East Texas with a boy I once dated. We were visiting his grandma. She served squirrel stew with biscuits and syrup cake. I don’t eat squirrel now and I didn’t then, but I got that recipe for syrup cake. I later found out the simple cake is a Cajun country favorite, typically made with cane syrup. It seems that almost everyone in Louisiana swears by Steen’s brand. If you can’t find cane syrup, substitute molasses, maple syrup, or Lyle’s Golden Syrup.

My cousin Vera sent me this recipe from Ann (Mrs. Dan) K. Lucy, a regular at the Elderville Cemetery Association’s annual homecoming picnic held on the grounds of the modest East Texas church where my great-great-grandparents met. It did not look promising. How could a layer of common graham crackers with butter, sugar, nuts, and toffee tossed on top amount to much? Then I made them—and repented. (My sincerest apologies to Mrs. Lucy.) I have taken this confection to several potlucks and have yet to escape without someone (or two or even three fellow guests) begging me for the recipe. I have made them a day in advance and been unable to resist snacking on them—just a few at a time, mind you—so that by the time they arrived at their intended destination their numbers were severely diminished. These crisp little squares are divine, seriously addictive, and making them is almost as easy as dropping dollar bills into the church-offering basket.

In my family, it wouldn’t be homecoming without at least one old-fashioned layer cake, so I developed one inspired by a recipe from my Grandma Nez, the cake champion of her generation. As a child I wasn’t sure which I loved better, her cakes or her ample lap. I’d nestle into her smooshy interior and feel so comfy and protected there underneath her big bosoms. I admit this cake is a lot of work, but bring it to any event and no one will forget it. It makes a great cake for birthdays, wedding or baby showers, and anniversaries.

This cake is a riff on my great-aunt Lorena’s 1-2-3-4 cake, a classic confection dating back to at least the mid-1800s, made with one cup butter, two cups sugar, three cups flour, and four eggs. It’s a simple cake, perfect for the likes of Aunt Lorena, who was better known for her prowess as a drama teacher than for her ability in the kitchen. (The auditorium in the Grapeland, Texas, high school where she taught for many years is named after her.) My favorite story about Aunt Lorena comes from Uncle Jack, Lorena’s middle son, who says he was in high school history class before he discovered the South did not win the Civil War. As he tells it, his mom was so proud of her grandfather, William Burroughs Wright, who fought in the war alongside his brother and his brother-in-law, that she managed to brush over the fact that the North won.

Here’s an all-around bar that goes anywhere with ease. I’ve taken it to school dinners, church suppers, and outdoor picnics. The almond paste adds a distinctive dimension that gives the bars a touch of exotic appeal. Canned almond paste can be purchased at most grocery stores. Make sure you buy almond paste, not its similar cousin, marzipan. Food authorities do not always agree on the exact difference between the two, but generally speaking almond paste contains a higher ratio of ground almonds to sugar than marzipan.

I felt like a modern-day Pied Piper as I carried a tray of these cupcakes to the dessert table at a picnic last fall. A throng of kids sprang up behind me, each one clamoring for a cupcake decorated with the familiar white curlicue and enriched with a hidden cream filling. Soon, all that was left was an empty tray and the hilarious chocolate smears that decorated the faces and fingers of the youngest children. These are simpler to make than you’d imagine and, given the excitement they always inspire, they certainly are worth the effort. You’ll need a pastry bag with a number 10 tip to inject the cream filling into the center of the cupcakes.

My friend Stirling Greenlee’s sense of humor is as well developed as her cooking skills. She admits to being a fervent potluck lover, and I suspect it may be because she says that for years her idea of formal dining was eating from a tablecloth without cat hair. One of her most amusing potluck stories involves a less than successful event where guests were asked to bring something that “reminds you of your childhood.” Much to her horror, everyone brought white food—bland grits, milk toast, angel food cake. “As soon as everyone got out of there I imagine they bolted and went straight to Burger King,” she recalls. Too bad no one thought of butterscotch brownies, a childhood favorite of mine. This version features a sugary, lightly caramelized butter icing that ensures the brownies stay moist and travel well. On top of that, the king-size recipe makes it a top-tier candidate for large potlucks, as well as picnics and family gatherings.

Everyone makes zucchini bread, but somehow it feels so blah to bring another loaf of this admittedly delicious stuff to a potluck. Here’s a new take on the old theme, using butternut squash, which lends a golden hue and a delicate flavor to the bread. Large loaves, which can be sliced on-site, work beautifully as potluck fare. Wrapped mini loaves tied with ribbons and adorned with handwritten tags make memorable party favors. For family reunions, spell out the family name, the date, and the reunion site, such as “Wright Family Reunion, May 2009, Elderville Churchyard.” Just about any event, from wedding showers and baptisms to graduations and birthday parties, can be commemorated this way, leaving guests with a nonperishable memento that can be saved in scrapbooks long after the last scrap of bread disappears.