Hollandaise Sauce: I Can Whisk Up the Devil and So Can You!

A Lego display I saw in a mall here recently. I don't know about you, but I typically wouldn't be smiling in that situation.

Two notes:

1. There are no sauce-related pictures for this post because, well, I just didn't think about it during the process (or before it was all consumed). Your reward for visiting (in addition to all this lovely text): random photos from Singapore!
2. In celebration of my last post, I just left a semi-embarrassing "you're my hero" comment on David Lebovitz's post on how to make ice cream without a machine. He initially wrote the post over three years ago and is still dutifully replying to people that leave questions today.
3. Okay, maybe three notes. This sauce is wonderful with savory things, which I will go over in the Reflections section.

Why do I refer to Hollandaise sauce as the devil? It's simply because I find it hard to believe that something comprised of that much cholesterol and fat and deliciousness is not the handy work of Lucifer himself. I'm not a religious person, but something spooky is going on here, along the same twisty-whisky path as mayonnaise.

Hollandaise Sauce

Adapted from the FoodNetwork.com

Yields maybe 1/2 C or so, I'd guess (I didn't measure it, I ate it)

2  yolks

1/2 T  lemon juice

1/4 C (55 g or so) unsalted butter, melted

pinch of salt

the following to taste:

whipping cream

cayenne

black pepper

cumin

paprika

1. Combine the yolks and lemon juice in a heat-resistant bowl and whisk until the volume is doubled.
2. Simmer a few inches of water in a pot and place the bowl over it; whisk vigorously until the mixture is slightly thickened, removing and replacing the bowl over the pot to keep the mixture from scrambling.
3. Stream in the butter while continuing to whisk until the mixture is doubled in volume and thickened.*
4. Remove the mixture from heat and whisk in the "to taste" ingredients as you please.
5. Serve with savory things to add richness and sauciness and sinfulness and enjoy.

*Alternatively, since this impromptu double boiler can be steamy and precarious, you can remove the bowl from the heat, drizzle in some butter, whisk whisk whisk, return to heat, and repeat. There, that wasn't so scary, right?

Hollandaise Sauce Reflections

I tempered the lemon flavor and slightly overly thickened mixture with whipping cream, then added a generous amount of red chili powder (the cheap and therefore less potent substitute for cayenne from my nearby grocer), then a few dashes of the rest of the "to taste" ingredients to add body. I suppose these additions veer from the more traditional recipe I started with, but all the flavors made sense to me. Cooking shouldn't be about hard and fast rules, it should be about what feels and tastes right; that will bring you the most satisfaction in your meals.

The idea for making Hollandaise sauce sprung from excess egg yolks, memories of a brunch weeks past at House, and the prospect of brinner. We love brinner. Last Friday evening, The Resident Taste Tester and I feasted on eggs Benedict with grilled asparagus and pear cider (and sampled the latte ice cream that was still in the process of freezing). The following Saturday, we dined on T-bone steaks with grilled zucchini and microwave "baked" potatoes, with finally set latte ice cream for dessert. Eggs Benedict and steak are lovely ways of consuming Hollandaise sauce, but feel free to have it with salmon, steamed vegetables (it is mighty good with asparagus), and whatever else pleases your palette.

I've read and heard a couple times that Hollandaise sauce is difficult to make, but, um, I didn't have any issues in the grand one time I made it. This is not bragging, believe me, this is simply something that came out fine the first time. So don't be weary of the process, cooking is about eating and learning, but rather the potential cardiac arrest that's in store.

A picture of one of many, many comfy looking kitties that are no doubt being fed left overs around town. This specimen is specific to Arab quarter. I hope this makes up for the lack of goopy sauce photos.

[[UPDATED 31.07]] Brace Yourself: Thanks-a-Latte Ice Cream

Cafe latte ice cream, with wonderfully pronounceable and easily accessible ingredients.

Hey all! I'm still alive! When I initially wrote this, I was just about to dash off to yoga class (See? The baker does not just magically consume vast quantities of delicious home made goodies without doing something to counteract such tasty foolishness), so you were left with unlinked names and absolutely no monologue on ingredients and process. Well I have returned to fill in the blanks and equip you to make ice cream sans ice cream maker as best I can.

Z's birthday was last weekend, which left me with an outrageous excess of 18 egg yolks. What the... What am I supposed to do with 18 yolks? I've previously made pudding and my dad's leche flan comes to mind (the recipe of which you will never see because it's a secret, sort of), but 18 yolks???

I settled on making a bit of hollandaise sauce, which is the devil (and yes, I am suggesting the devil is made of egg yolks and butter because the combination is inherently evil and may cause your arteries to instantly clog), but then what?

The answer lay quietly with my friend M: ice cream. But but but - I don't have an ice cream maker! Well, not to fear - David Lebovitz assured me that I can, indeed, make ice cream without a machine.

A little help from DL and Ina Garten ... Lo and behold, ice cream!

Cafe Latte Ice Cream
Adapted from DavidLebovitz.com and FoodNetwork.com


Yields about 4 cups or 1 quart or 1 liter/litre, depending on your favorite measurement system and ideas on spelling

6  yolks
2 C (470 mL)  whipping cream
1 C  milk
pinch of salt
2 1/2 T espresso powder (nicely ground coffee beans)
2/3 C (125 g)  caster sugar
1 tsp  vanilla
2 T  Kahlua

1. Grab two heat-resistant bowls: place the yolks in one and the cream in the other.
2. Mildly whisk the yolks, just enough to break them.
3. Combine the following in a pot: milk, salt, espresso powder, and sugar. Heat until it bubbles and froths at the edges (it's okay if it bubbles over the whole surface, no worries).
4. Resume whisking the yolks (but this time with vigor) while streaming in the warmed milk mixture. You only want to add maybe 1/4 to 1/2 C of warmed liquid; you'll see the yolk mixture become more pale.*
5. Return the pot to medium-low heat and begin whisking the contents while streaming the yolk mixture back into the pot. Continue whisking until you can coat the back of a spoon with the mixture, run your finger through it to make a line, and no mix dribbles down (see GoodHousekeeping.com for a nice-ish photo of this). You pretty much just made custard at this point.
6. Sieve the pot mixture into the bowl containing the cream and stir (I bought a drum sieve and dough scraper just for this, but you needn't get all fancy).
7. Add the vanilla and Kahlua, give it a quick stir, and chill the mixture in the fridge.
8. Once the mixture has cooled to refrigerator temperature, throw it in the freezer.
9. Check it after about 45 minutes; a layer of frozen mixture should be building up around the edges of the bowl. Scrape it down and stir/whisk the mixture until homogenous. Repeat until the ice cream is set (David said this takes about 3 hours, but mine took forever and I abandoned it after about 5 hours of care in trade of sleep and dreams of ice cream for breakfast).
10. Eeeeeeeeenjoy thoroughly.

*The idea with streaming (a.k.a. gradually and gently pouring) the warmed milk mixture into the yolks is to cook them without scrambling them. If you're finding it difficult to wield a hot pot in one hand and whisk at the same time, feel free to quickly pour in a little of the warmed milk mixture, set down the pot, whisk, and repeat. There's no need to freak yourself out by the prospect of severely scalding your hand and not even getting any ice cream out of it to sooth your pain.

Cafe latte ice cream made without a machine, showing off its scooping capabilities.

Cafe Latte Ice Cream Reflections

I feel pretty darn good about making my own ice cream, especially without a fancy machine or exotically-named powders that improve the texture and consistency of the finished product. That being said, the vanilla I used was of low quality, and I think it imparted a slightly artificial taste to the whole batch, especially pre-freeze time. I've broken myself of the habit of buying artificial vanilla "essence" but this was leftover from the baking frenzy last weekend and I haven't had the chance to replenish my kitchen with much of anything since.

I've found that the ice cream does have a bit of an icy texture, but can you blame a sister without a churning machine? No. No, you can't. And if you feel like you can, well then I just won't share my home made ice cream with you until you decide to come off your pedestal. Besides, this is just a tiny tiny detail that can definitely be forgiven when you think of all the love that went into making this (I might just kick your pedestal, FYI).

The Resident Taste Tester and I are very much without such pedestals and have since forgiven the barely noticeable icy texture as well as the shoddy "vanilla" traces, so all that was left to do was enjoy the hell out of this stuff (and yes, I did eat some before yoga today, thanks for asking).

Crepe Cake: How to Become a Pro at Crepes

The crepe cake, halved, since three people post brinner could hardly handle more.

I remember seeing the words crepe cake on a menu at a Vietnamese restaurant in Bangkok. I adore crepes, but I didn't have time to savor the dessert, so we never ordered it (and hence made it reasonably on time to our movie).

I'm not religious, but I'm pretty sure browned butter is what heaven smells like.

I decided that brinner was the perfect occasion for such a dessert and settled on the crepe cake recipe at Cream Puffs In Venice. I mean, the site claims to have tested out "The Real Crepe Cake Recipe" posted in the NY Times, so who am I to question it?

Twelve crepes, stacked and cooling.

Smitten Kitchen posted a savory crepe cake around the same time I made this, and I laughed in agreement with their similar experiences with the first crepe (like pancakes, it never seems to work out). I'm glad I only made half a cake, otherwise the three of us would have died a little after brinner.

Thick and smooth vanilla pastry cream.

I would say I am not a master of pastry cream, especially since this was my first attempt, and I was sort of alarmed when it clumped together in a disturbing manner while I whisked it on the stove. Thankfully, an electric mixer fixed the lumpy goop and made it a lovely, spreadable consistency. Phew.

Pastry cream spread thin, nearing the lacy edges of the crepe.

The Real Crepe Cake 
(halved and broken into "crepe batter,""pastry cream," and "assembly")
Adapted from Cream Puffs In Venice, originally from the NY Times


Yields one half crepe cake

crepe batter
yields 13 whole crepes (but you're probably tossing the first one)


3 T (45g)  unsalted butter
1 1/2 C  milk
3  eggs
3/4 C (75g)  all-purpose flour
3 T  caster sugar
pinch of salt
1/4 tsp  vanilla
1/4 tsp  almond extract
extra butter for cooking

1. Brown the butter in a small pot, then pour into a small bowl and set aside.
2. Add the milk to the same pot and heat until it begins to steam; remove the pot and cool 10 minutes.
3. In a medium bowl, beat together the remaining ingredients.
4. While continuing to stir, slowly add the milk and butter.
5. Pour batter into a container, cover, and refrigerate overnight.

pastry cream

yields double what you need, even though it's halved from the original

1 C  milk

1/2 T  vanilla

3  egg yolks

1/4 C  sugar

2 1/2 T  cornstarch (corn flour)

1 3/4 T  unsalted butter, softened

1. Heat the milk until bubbles form around the edge; remove from heat.
2. Mix in the vanilla and let sit 3 minutes.
3. Make an ice bath and set a bowl inside that can hold about 2 cups of liquid or chill a pyrex bowl in the freezer until cold.
4. In a pot, whisk the yolks, sugar, and cornstarch, then whisk in the vanilla milk.
5. Heat until it begins to simmer, continuing to whisk the entire time, until it begins to thicken.
6. Once it has reached a thin pudding-like consistency (it will thicken slightly when cooled), remove from heat and use a rubber spatula to scrape the mixture into the ice bath or chilled bowl.
7. Beat using an electric mixer until smooth and slightly cooled (3 minutes or so).
8. Beat in the butter, cover, and refrigerate overnight.

assembly

3/4 C  heavy cream

1 T  sugar

strawberries, sliced (optional)

powdered sugar (optional)

1. Whip together the heavy cream and sugar until it's fluffy; it won't hold peaks, but get some air in there.
2. Fold the whipped cream into the pastry cream and return to fridge until ready to use.
3. Warm a pan and melt a little butter in it and spread it around.
4. Pour in a small amount of crepe batter (scant 1/4 C) and swirl it around until the bottom of the pan is coated.
5. Cook about a minute or so, until the edges begin to brown.
6. Flip and cook a few seconds, then remove to a plate. Cover with a piece of parchment paper.
7. Repeat steps 3-6 until all the batter is used, then allow the crepes to cool completely.
8. Spread a small amount of pastry cream on the top of a crepe, cut in half (because we're making a half a cake), and stack together on the serving plate (cream side facing up).
9. Repeat step 8 until all crepes have been used, leaving the very top crepe bare (no cream - you can flip the cream side down if you already did the deed).
10. Refrigerate at least two hours.
11. Garnish with strawberries and powdered sugar to serve.
12. Enjoy!

Crepe Cake Reflections

Imagine how delighted the chocolate lover in your life would be if you replaced that vanilla pastry cream with Nutella.

This cake takes some time. And by some time, I mean a lot of time. The batter and pastry cream are prepared the night before, then you make a bunch of crepes, let them cool, finish the pastry cream, stack it all together, let it sit in the fridge another two hours, garnish it, and are finally allowed to eat it.

The crepes themselves are more fragile than I would have liked, but the texture of the assembled cake was nice. Refrigeration before serving is key; without it, the crepe layers would slide around in an undesirable manner when you're trying to cut in.

Nutella monster, using Nutella instead of pastry cream and garnishing with hazelnuts, an idea the Resident Taste Tester is keen on. Lemon pastry cream and a garnish of coarse sugar and lemon juice sounds like a dream. You could also try peanut butter and thin banana slices, though that might get a bit thick on the tongue. I think I would die if I made a white Russian crepe cake, but I'd be smiling in my grave.

Give it a try and let me know if you've made any creative changes!