Baking

Don’t be fooled: Even though a chocolate donut sounds almost unreasonably decadent, this one is actually the most mellow of the bunch. It isn’t overly sweet, and it doesn’t act like a slice of cake. I purposefully didn’t amp up the sugar—primarily because that way you can go completely crazy in the glazing department to add sweetness. That said, if you really want the cake part of your donut to be sweet, you can toss in an extra 1/4 cup of sugar without repercussion.

Although replacing the sugar in the donut recipe with agave nectar takes the crunch factor down a level, these are equally as important to your breakfast arsenal. If you still want that crispiness and are open to experimenting, try switching out the agave for coconut sugar (helpful substitution suggestions on page 24!). Either way, you can’t go wrong. The donut here is shown topped with the Agave-Sweetened Chocolate Glaze (page 124).

Even though this cake is visually a stunner, it’s probably the easiest cake you will ever make. Don’t worry about putting too much filling between the layers; the messier the preserves and chocolate glaze get, the better.

I’m hoping this cake doesn’t need much introduction. It’s one of those recipes for which a photograph speaks clearly and perfectly to its mega-rich glory. I will add, however, that even though a German chocolate cake is not as recognizable without its beloved pecans, you can easily omit them if you are allergic and still achieve the same delicious experience. If you want to add a little crunch and you have extra time on your hands, you can fold in graham cracker crumbs from the S’mores recipe (page 79) along with or instead of the pecans.

In New York there is no shortage of Italian bakeries, and as a rule I try to poke my head in as many as possible to peek at the offerings. Italians are creative masters, and of course it’s always the Italian rainbow cake that first catches my eye. Probably I’m just hypnotized by a cool color palette, like a puppy watching TV. When choosing your preserves for this one, spend a little extra on the good organic stuff. The success of your cake depends on it! If you are allergic to almonds, omitting the extract won’t compromise your cake.

To be fair, bread pudding is an extremely delicious dish that was simply tagged with a terrible name and a rather unfortunate look. As a youngster I could hardly stomach the sight of it, all soggy and sad in its bowl, like a sandwich that had fallen into the pool and then been tossed in the blender. Now that I’m older and smarter, I see the beauty of bread pudding. It’s a day-old visionary’s dream that delivers so much texture and spice it’s suddenly not so hard to understand what keeps it shuffling down through the generations. You can use any bread you choose, just make sure it’s something sturdy.

This is another Jewish recipe that became an instant favorite at the bakery. I don’t know about you, but I’m a complete sucker for any and all rolled pastry. Pulling apart the layers and investigating and indulging in the different textures inside are activities I would do all day if asked. Normally, rugalach recipes call for nuts but I made them optional in honor of the allergy-plagued among us.

My brothers and sisters cringed when I told them I was including Irish soda bread in this cookbook. I can’t really blame them. Grandma McKenna used to force it on us when we’d pop by her house after church, as if it were punishment for interrupting her Sunday afternoon cleaning spree. My brother Bill pointed out that Grandma would ask him if he wanted some candy and when he said yes she’d sit him down with a thick slice of Irish soda bread. My brother Frank noted that her solution to gripes was, “Put some butter on it!” Instead, I decided I’d simply update this old-world snack so that it stands a fighting chance against the evolution of tender tastebuds.

I admit that the first time a customer requested hamentaschen I had to go to the local kosher bakery to see what the person was talking about. But then I recognized them immediately and I quickly fell in love with every variety of light pastry stuffed with jam. Use any preserve or jam in the center that you like, but I’ve included a recipe for my favorite blackberry filling. You can sub in a different berry without trouble, with the exception of raspberries, which tend to be very watery and don’t, for the most part, thicken up all that well.

This one earned a higher place on the BabyCakes Piece of Cake scale simply because it requires pastry assemblage, which always complicates matters. It might take a little while for you sophomores to get your rhythm down, and your first few straws will probably look more like craggy witch fingers, but it’s all going to pay off if you stick with it. Once it does, you should host a dinner party and set these out early by the pintful.

Have you noticed all the gluten-free pizza parlors popping up in major cities lately? I have, and pizza makes me incredibly excited! The end result of my version is simple and traditional—tomatoes, garlic, and a little basil atop a thin crust—even if the crust’s instructions do take some careful minding. Above all else, be absolutely sure to get the finest tomatoes you can find. If you must (and often I must), throw some cheese on top and start piling on as many vegetables as you like—just make sure to roll your dough a little thicker to bear any extra weight. For you traditionalists out there, I have included a time-tested tomato sauce (page 90) as well.

Like bubble-gum ice cream, Sno Balls were one of those grocery-store items I coveted as a very young girl. All I knew was that they looked like Barbie food and that was precisely what I wanted and needed. And then I tried one. Absolutely awful. Like, terrible. I wondered how something so pretty could taste so wretched. And then, when it came time to write this book, I decided, No, something so adorable need not be so incredibly foul-tasting. So I reworked them. In the process, I stumbled on a new bakery favorite. What’s more, you get two recipes in the process of making a batch of these; head over to the recipe for Bread Pudding (page 102) and see just one idea for what you can do with the unused part of a cupcake.

I take my graham crackers extremely buttery and very crunchy, so that’s what you’re getting with this recipe. In fact, this graham cracker is so decadent, you may want to double the recipe so you can deliberately have leftovers. There’s tons of mileage to be gained out of these. Like piecrust, for one! Or donut toppings, for two!

When I lived in San Francisco, my friend Mark introduced me to the city’s greatest contribution to the dessert course: It’s-It frozen cookie sandwiches. These little numbers are practically perfect—two oatmeal cookies with a thick scoop of ice cream in between, all thinly coated with semisweet chocolate. Mark preferred the kind with mint-flavored ice cream and so do I, but you can nix the mint in this recipe if you must. To sweeten this with agave, replace the natural cane sugar with 2/3 cup agave nectar, add an extra 1/4 cup all-purpose gluten-free flour, remove the chocolate chips, and use Agave-Sweetened Chocolate Glaze (page 124).

I often turn to unrefined sugar to sweeten my cookies because I love the crunchy texture it provides. But when it comes to whoopie pies, agave nectar works much better. The reason is simple: Traditionally, whoopie pies are built with cookies that are fairly squishy and cake-like by comparison—way more so than a typical cookie sandwich. For the filling I prefer Ricemellow Crème, the marshmallow concoction made by Suzanne’s Specialties (see page 17), but you can fill it with the Vanilla Icing (page 127) for equally wonderful results.

I don’t think I’m alone in my ever-so-slight embarrassment about being a fan of the Nilla Wafer. They are like the frozen burritos of cookies: You don’t particularly crave them, yet every time you’re checking out at the grocery store, there they are. They get eaten. And not because they’re the only things available; it’s because they are sneakily delicious. This is a tried-and-true cookie icon, no matter what anyone says.

I grew up as that weird kid who disliked frosting and cake in general. But if it meant I could get one of those massive Valentine’s Day cookies in the window at Mrs. Fields, I was willing to endure any amount of frosting, icing, or similar childhood misery. You can use any cookie recipe in this book to make this fantastical creation, obviously, but I went ahead and developed a third chocolate chip version (in addition to the bakery standard in the first book and the Chips Ahoy! in this one) to mimic what is found in Mrs. Fields’s venerable kitchens. It’s big and it’s bold and it’s buttery. It’s practically a Toll House cookie, if that helps you imagine.

Until Bob’s Red Mill came up with a totally affordable gluten-free oat, you would never have seen these in the bakery. Thank all that is holy—once again—for Bob’s! Today these cookies are a best seller in both New York and Los Angeles. If you hate raisins (I do . . . sorry, raisins!), try subbing in chocolate chips or dried cherries instead. If you’re some sort of oat maniac, you can dump in as much as another 1/3 cup of oats and be just fine.

Ah, the Stevie Nicks of cookies—all spun around, precious, and ethereal! A couple tips for making this recipe all your own: Try cutting back on the flour sometimes and ramping up the sugar at other times. In doing so you’ll learn what proportions make a soft cookie and what proportions give you a chewy version. You’ll also perfect the fine art of the crispy edge. If you’re a brave soul—and surely by now you are—try to assemble a few cookie sandwiches with your favorite glaze or icing in the middle.

Who can resist a madeleine? They are so charming, so fair—so impossibly French. These Proustian delights have always appealed to the buttery fringes of my soul, and they’ve always acted as the perfect foil to the rebellious and messy attitude of my first love, the American chocolate chip cookie. Plus I get to whip out my handy madeleine tray, which I cherish wholly and completely. Get yourself one and be the envy of your baby girl’s bake sale.