Baking

The week of July 9, 1955, “Rock Around the Clock” bumped “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White” off the top of the charts. That was the week rock and roll became king. This combination of Granny Smiths and cherries rocks.

I don’t think people think of making their own crackers much, but homemade crackers can make store-bought dips and spreads set out for parties a little more personalized. A batch will last for a month stored in a tin and, when paired up with a hunk of good cheese, makes a very nice hostess gift.

Oyster patties are much more sophisticated than their name and are to me one of the most elegant dishes to serve for a seated dinner, not that we have those often. They also make a wonderful offering for a more casual soiree, served from a chafing dish surrounded by the little pastry cases ready to be filled with the warm creamed oysters.

Most crawfish bread recipes are made with a hollowed-out loaf of French bread. Here the crawfish filling is enrobed in a tender ricotta dough, making these more like turnovers. Whether you make them small for pick-up party food or a more substantial calzone-like size, these are perfect for tailgating or game-day parties.

If you’ve ever seen the fabulous movie Steel Magnolias, you’ll remember the running gag of a groom’s cake in the shape of a giant armadillo that “looks like it’s bleeding to death”! Until I saw that movie, I had no idea I could produce my favorite color in a cake. I left the theater determined to uncover the secret—which is, of course, red velvet cake. It’s a deep red cake with velvety texture and a subtle flavor of cocoa hidden under snow white, vanilla-laced, cream cheese frosting. The armadillo shape is optional.

This is everything you want a chocolate cake to be. A simply prepared batter bakes up into a delicious cake with layers that have a tender crumb and good chocolate flavor. The frosting is beaten into billowy clouds of shiny chocolate goodness that spreads like silk.

The carrots we grew were so sweet and delicious that we’d often go out to the garden, pull them one by one out of the ground, and bite right into them, with nothing more than a cursory wipe on our jeans on their journey from ground to mouth. An abundant crop would mean Mom would bake this divinely moist cake, which gave us the best reason ever to pray for a good harvest.

These individual molten chocolate cakes come from my ArtBites “Dining in the Aztec Empire” class, where I learned that chocolate is indigenous to Mexico, and for centuries nobles and priests used it to make an unsweetened drink.

I found this recipe in one of my aunt’s cookbooks that is old enough to have seemed old when my aunt herself was a child. It’s a great way to celebrate any event in autumn—or to celebrate autumn itself! Layers of spice-infused, walnut-studded apple cake hide an orange-flavored cream cheese filling and are covered with silky orange buttercream.

Buttery, not overly sweet, yellow cake is topped with rich, caramelized pineapple in this classic treat that never lets me down. All of the ingredients, including the pineapple, are staples in my pantry, so I can make it any time I want a cheerful and delicious dessert without having to shop especially for it. Using cake flour results in a more tender cake that is best eaten the day it is made. All-purpose flour gives a sturdier cake, almost like a coffee cake.

If ever a dessert earned the adage “more is more,” this is it. Each and every time I serve this chocolate pie, piled high with chocolate-drizzled strawberries that hide a cloud of sweetened, vanilla-laced whipped cream, it elicits enthusiastic oohs and ahhs from my guests. They have no idea how incredibly easy it is to prepare.

Until I left Texas, I had never even heard of rhubarb, which grows in more temperate parts of the country. The first time I saw someone mix strawberries with rhubarb was when Cindy Crawford shared her recipe on The Oprah Winfrey Show. This odd-looking, sour-tasting fruit did not seem to me a good candidate for a pie so good that one would go on national television to sing its praises. But I decided I had to try it myself. I discovered a fruit filling with a beautiful shade of pink (lighter or darker, depending on the color of your rhubarb) and an invigorating tart-sweet flavor. At last I understand what all the fuss is about! Now as soon as rhubarb appears in markets, I begin to look for in-season strawberries so I can make this pie.

With melted chocolate blended into the batter, chunks of chocolate throughout, and a shiny outer chocolate layer, these really should be called “triple” chocolate chunk cookies. My nieces and I love to make these together. They do the very important—and fun!—job of dipping the cookies in the melted chocolate and arranging them carefully on wax paper to dry.

One year when I was very young I wanted to give pan de polvo, also called Mexican wedding cookies, as Christmas presents to my teachers at school. My mom taught me “her” recipe. In fact, it was this one—Aunt Elsa’s! I went to the flea market and spent my allowance on a collection of cookie cutters. I returned home and set out to make about 15 dozen in different shapes. Unfortunately, many of them broke because, as I discovered to my great frustration, pan de polvo is a very delicate cookie that doesn’t hold shapes well—especially intricate ones like snowflakes. Those cookie cutters were probably my first purchase of kitchen equipment—but far from my last. They were so cheap that when I washed them for the first time, they rusted the next day! Polvo means “powder,” an apt description of a delicate cookie, generously rolled in sugar, that shatters on your tongue. I roll these very thin, just like Aunt Elsa used to, so they practically melt in your mouth. They are often rolled a little thicker, to about 3/8 inch—if you do so, just bake them a little longer.

In Texas it is a given that everybody needs a good recipe for corn bread, and here is mine. I like it warm from the oven slathered in butter. It’s also good served with Chili con Carne (page 110).

We always understood where our food came from. More often than not, the source was the land outside our back door! Pumpkin bread began with the pumpkin seed that we planted, tended, and eventually harvested. My mom never bought cans of cooked pumpkin, so the only time we could have pumpkin bread was when there was a surplus of pumpkins in our garden. This made me keenly aware of why pumpkins and pumpkin treats are a tradition for the autumn holidays—this is when pumpkins are actually in season! In fact, pumpkin bread is a Halloween tradition in my house. Those jack-o’-lanterns offer more than just spooky light—the pumpkins give us the makings for baking as well. I love cinnamon and this bread is definitely cinnamony, though you can use less if desired. As the bread bakes, the kitchen fills with a sweet, caramel aroma. The bread is very dark outside and very moist within.

Nothing ever went to waste in my house. If bananas got too brown, we knew banana bread was on its way. In fact, I couldn’t wait for the bananas to go brown! I happily made my family’s recipe for years, until the day I tasted my friend Teri Hatcher’s banana bread on the set of Desperate Housewives. She’s our unofficial on-set baker, and her philosophy on banana bread is “the more booze, the better the bread.” This version is like using bananas Foster to make banana bread. The flavor is fantastic and it’s the moistest I’ve ever made or tasted.

Aunt Elsa always had a huge container of biscuit mix in her freezer, so whenever she needed biscuits she would scoop some out, add water or buttermilk, and have a batch baking in just a few minutes. When I was a kid, it seemed like magic. I was an adult when she brought me my first container of mix and I realized that this magic powder was in fact her own version of instant biscuit mix! Sometimes I mix up 3 or 4 times the recipe and store it in the freezer so I, too, can make magic biscuits. Tender and flaky, they are best straight out of the oven. The baked biscuits don’t store well, but I’ve rarely had any leftovers!

Empanadas are a quintessential example of what traditional Latin food is made of: rock-solid and time-tested techniques that can be adapted to accommodate what’s available regionally, or in the case of my Aunt Elsa, what was in her pantry. She could pull together the most delicious combinations of ingredients out of what appeared to be thin air and then fill and fry a few dozen pastry wrappers in a flash. When Thanksgiving rolled around, these were our version of the classic American pumpkin pie. Tender, flaky, and lightly sweet, these little “Mexican pumpkin pies” make delicious appetizers, too.

Like magic, this lemon pudding cake separates into two layers during baking: an airy and soufflé-like cake on top, and a soft lemony curd below. In truth, the first time I ate it I was convinced it was a cake and pudding recipe combined. This foolproof recipe is the perfect summer sweet, served simply with fresh berries and whipped cream. For the creamiest texture, it is important to bake the cake in a water bath. The hot water protects the cake from cooking too quickly, keeping the pudding super supple.