Pastries

Banana leaves gracefully cover cocoa beans in their fermenting bins where the beans develop their extraordinary flavor. Roadside farm stands in chocolate’s growing regions offer a jumble of bananas, cinnamon sticks, plantains, cacao pods, walnuts, vanilla beans, and coconuts, all from trees of the tropics. For that extra earth-friendly touch, use muffin or cupcake liners made with unbleached, eco-friendly paper.

Baked with pumpkin for added flavor, moisture, and body, these gingerbread muffins are perfect for brown-bagging or after-school snacks.

Gina: A muffin for the chocolate lover in all of us. They’re great for festive brunches and holiday breakfasts, or with a cup for tea for an afternoon pick-me-up. Pat’s been known to sneak them in the middle of the night, too, to eat with his ice cream (he thinks I’m not watchin’, but, girlfriend, you know we are always watchin’ . . .).

Gina: I don’t know if any of you have an appetizer before breakfast, but that’s what we sometimes do in our house, and it sure is fun. ’Course, when we do, the only appetizer we make is Nana’s Caramel Pecan Rolls. Nana was my godmother, who lived across the street from us while we were growing up. Nana is one of the best cooks in our family, and one of our most cherished matriarchs. She took care of me from the time I was six months old until I started school. Later, Nana took care of Shelbi when she was a baby. Nana always made the best caramel pecan rolls, and when we didn’t want to make them ourselves, we’d call her and request a batch for a special Sunday breakfast. After making these, you’ll know why.

Gina: Everybody loves fresh blueberry muffins, and this recipe is the best one we’ve tried. The sugar topping adds a sweet crunch.

Pat: Momma Daisy served these biscuits every Sunday with homemade preserves, scrambled eggs, and bacon. There would also be sorghum molasses, for drizzling over the warm buttered biscuits, whenever she could get some from her uncles in the country. Momma Daisy made everything from scratch back in those days, because it was the most economical way, there weren’t a lot of prepared mixes, and that’s simply how things were done. These biscuits were always mixed by hand, and my mother, Lorine, remembers seeing Momma Daisy work and work and work that dough with her very capable fingers. Some biscuit recipes scare you away from overmixing the dough, but in this recipe that’s how the flaky layers are created. Momma Daisy always used lard for these biscuits, but these days my momma uses a combination of butter and vegetable shortening—feel free to use either. The latter is better for you, but the former creates the fluffiest biscuits around.

If you haven’t bought a deep-frying thermometer yet, this is a good time to do it. A few of the pizzette may “spring a leak” while they fry—you can minimize the risk by not overfilling the pizzette, and by wetting and sealing the edges well as you form them.

Buttermilk biscuits are a classic recipe that combines steam leavening and chemical leaveners to optimum effect. They are easily stirred together and rise dramatically in the oven. Slathered with cold butter and drizzled with cane syrup or honey, fresh biscuits are an easy and indulgent way to get your day started. Actually, they are pretty wonderful at any time of day. Buttermilk biscuits on the dinner table bring smiles to people’s faces, and split open and covered with fresh fruit and sweet cream, they are a treat to remember.

These sticky buns can be prepped in the skillet the day before, stored in the refrigerator, and baked in the morning for a decadent weekend breakfast indulgence—although they are so good that sometimes we just make them for lunch and ride the sugar high into the afternoon. Soft raisins make a big difference. If yours are dry you may want to soak them in water at least overnight. Instead of rolling out individual buns, we score the top of the bread for easy cutting and bake it as a whole. That way you can control the portion size and the bread itself cooks more evenly—no more doughy centers. We love that.

Baba is the yeast pastry that became familiar in Lorraine in the early nineteenth century and is eaten, as described above, by the Jews of Alsace for Purim breakfast; it was sometimes confused with Kugelhopf. The French gilded the lily, dousing the dry baba with rum—a novelty from America. Today babas are baked and served two ways, in either a large or a tiny bulbous mold. I adore baba soaked in rum and order it whenever I can. After tasting an especially light baba in a tiny sixteen-seat restaurant called Les Arômes in Aubagne, I asked the chef, Yanick Besset, if he would give me his recipe, and here it is. As you can see, a good baba dough itself contains very little sugar, the sweetness coming from the sugar-rum bath spooned on after baking.

Once, while visiting Le Monde des Épices (see page 26), I asked the owner which Jewish cookbook in his large selection he especially liked. His favorite one at the time was 150 Recettes et Mille et Un Souvenirs d’une Juive d’Algérie (150 Recipes and 1,001 Memories of an Algerian Jewish Woman) by Léone Jaffin, one of the steady stream of North African Jewish cookbooks since the 1970s. This book includes such unusual recipes as these Swiss-chard bestels, traditionally eaten on Rosh Hashanah. North African Jews frequently use the bright-green leaves of beets or Swiss chard, called blette. A prayer is recited over the vegetable, called salek in Hebrew, meaning to remove or throw out, with the hope that in the coming year enemies will be removed from the community’s midst. I have added curry powder, pine nuts, and currants to this tasty turnover, which I sometimes serve with salad as a first course.

Brik are crisp, flaky appetizers found in Tunisian, Algerian, and Moroccan kitchens in France. The word refers to the dough, similar to the Moroccan warka, which one makes by tossing fistfuls of a wet, pastelike batter onto a hot grill. The batter miraculously spreads into a thin, pliable sheet, which may be used as an appetizer or dessert wrapper. You can find unbaked feuilles de brik (brik leaves) in Middle Eastern food stores or online (see A Source Guide, page 370). If you can’t, use wonton wrappers instead, or even phyllo dough, although your finished product will not have the same grainy texture as real brik. I often make these filled pastries as an appetizer at Hanukkah, instead of potato pancakes.

The rich gamoussa (buffalo’s) milk of the Middle East yields, when it is boiled, a cream which rises to the top and is so thick it can be cut with a knife. It is eishta in Arabic and kaymak in Turkish. Every family collects layers of this cream whenever the milk is boiled, to eat with bread and honey or jam for breakfast, or with a variety of pastries. A substitute, though not as splendid, can be made with a mix of heavy cream and milk.

When I was a girl I could die for this. I hardly ever make it now, but I was very happy to find it again in Istanbul. This is a sweet of Turkish origin which was very popular in Egypt. Some bakeries and cafés always had a large tray full of the rich, translucent, golden-ocher bread soaked in honey and syrup. Numerous recipes exist, and of course the texture and taste depend on the bread and the honey used. Use a fragrant honey like Hymettus or acacia.