Luisa Weiss' Sour Cherry Quarkauflauf

The other day, I spent too many hours at the office. It was dark when I left work, and by the time I got home, all thoughts of roasted eggplant tartines went out the window. I wanted something I could dig into with a spoon, that would be warm and soft and comforting. Strangely, I wanted something with sour cherries.

It was dark in the kitchen. I couldn't find my individual gratins. I'd misplaced my whisk, too. Not one to let minor issues deter me from cooking, I tucked a strip of foil 2/3 of the way into my smallest baking dish. I flexed my muscles and whisked egg whites by hand. I squinted my way through the recipe. Lo and behold, what emerged from the oven 45 minutes later was as fluffy and light as I'd hoped it would be, never mind all of my adjustments. It's called  Quarkauflauf, and it lives up to its name.

Quarkauflauf is from a new cookbook by Luisa Weiss. As I made my first Quarkauflauf, I pictured Luisa standing by my side, laughing at my makeshift gratin and my sore forearms, cheering me on. We've never met, Luisa and I, but I read her blog. I cook her food. In the kitchen, she's a friend.

Luisa's been blogging forever at The Wednesday Chef, which by god you must read. She shares recipes from newspaper dining sections, but the good ones, the ones you read about and immediately dog-ear. She also writes wonderfully. And now that she's got her very own book, there's even more writing, even more of her captivating story, all in one place. When Luisa sent me her a copy of My Berlin Kitchen, I picked it up and promptly stopped everything else I was doing for 48 hours.  This is one good story.

What's the story? It's a love story. (Of course.) Am I going to tell you any more? No. (Of course not.) But people, there are recipes. So many recipes. And if, like me, you were under the misguided impression that German recipes just weren't your thing, dare I say this is the book for you? It is.

my berlin kitchen

You will make Quarkauflauf, for starters. You don't even know what it is yet, but the name alone...you want to make it. And then, after you've tucked a spoon into the tart, fluffy, fresh-from-the-oven auflauf (and again the next morning, when its cold and custardy), you will make cloud-like gooseberry cream cake (what, you want the true name? Hannchen Jansen.) You'll make braised endives. And poppyseed whirligig buns. See why you need this book? Now?

Reading Luisa's blog, I always knew we'd be friends in the kitchen. Now that I've read her book, I'm even more sure. We both like vinegary, pickled things; we both despise mayo. I beheld a friend's roasted goose, three days in the making, with the same awe Luisa experienced when she roasted one herself. And no matter how spicy I take my food, I get inexplicably paranoid when cooking hot stuff for others. (See: Luisa's meatballs in chipotle-tomato sauce.) Even if you don't read The Wednesday Chef (but you should...), you will befriend Luisa through My Berlin Kitchen. And you'll start to forgive yourself the little things, like the slumping, dribbling cake you woefully underbaked, or the cream you whipped by hand that lacks any semblance of a soft peak. This is cooking: trial, error, lesson. This is life, too. If risks and mistakes always taste as good as my sour cherry Quarkauflauf, count me in.

Sour Cherry QuarkauflaufAdapted ever so slightly fromMy Berlin Kitchen

I originally wanted to make this in individual gratins, but I couldn't find them. That said, I think this would be lovely in individual portions. Also, now that it's fall and sour cherries are a distant memory, I bet you could swap cranberries that have been tossed with a healthy portion of sugar. They'd go great with the cinnamon, too. That said, I haven't tested it that way, so if you do, let us know in the comments.

Also, a note about quark: it's fantastic, but not easy to find. One farmer at the Dupont market sells it, and I think Vermont Butter Co. does too. If you can't find it, super-fresh chevre would work well.

Last note: 8x11 baking dishes are hard to find in the US. The closest analogue would be a 10-inch round dish, whose area is slightly less. This means the Auflauf will be slightly taller, but since when is a towering souffle-custard a bad thing? That's what I've recommended here.

Butter for the baking dish 3 eggs, separated 1/2 cup sugar, plus a few tablespoons for the cranberries, if using 1 pound Quark zest of 1 lemon 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/4 cup farina (semolina will work in a pinch, but it has more gluten than farina and will thus be less creamy; don't use instant Cream of Wheat) 2 cups pitted sour cherries (fresh or preserved/drained) or cranberries, pinch salt

Heat the oven to 375 degrees and butter an 8x11 baking dish or a 10-inch round pan. The pan should be at least 2 1/2 inches deep.

In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar until pale and frothy. Beat in the quark, zest, baking powder, cinnamon, and farina until smooth and creamy. Fold in the sour cherries.

Beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt in a clean bowl until the whites form medium-stiff peaks. Use a spatula to fold half the whites into the quark mixture to lighten it; then fold in the remaining whites just until no white streaks remain; do not overmix.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for 30 minutes, until the Auflauf has just set (Luisa says it should be starting to brown, but mine was still quite pale.) Don't fret the cracks, for there will be some. Just remove it from the oven, and serve to hungry people.

As Luisa says, the Auflauf will be a whole different kind of delicious right out of the fridge tomorrow morning. Do save a bite for that.

Sour Cherry Rosemary Focaccia

Yes, I could write a book on sour cherries. Perhaps I will one day. I love them, I love them so much. When buying my 15th and 16th quarts of the season at the Foggy Bottom market last week, it dawned on me: Internet, sour cherries are my favorite fruit.

sour cherries

Back at the homestead, I searched the interwebs for other people’s odes to sour cherries. Sadly, most people seem to enjoy them just fine, but no one has gone on the record as the crazy obsessive I seem to be. It’s fine, though: if you’re not in the sour cherry camp yet, I’d bet a Hamilton this focaccia has the power to convert.

My friend Jana introduced me to this recipe a couple years ago. Here’s what’s great about it: first, it’s not too sweet. The sour cherries are allowed, for once, to be…sour. And there’s plenty of salt on this focaccia. Sour cherries and salt don’t meet often enough (and if you’re looking for another way to use them in a savory dish, I’d highly recommend this one.) It’s funny—and probably no accident—how much the cherries look like cherry tomatoes, nestled into the dough and sprinkled with fresh rosemary. The aesthetics play with your senses.  The rosemary definitely would be great on a traditional tomato focaccia, but it might surprise you how well it pairs with cherries.

pitted sour cherries

Another thing sets this recipe apart. As much as I love sour cherry pie and crisp, the corn starch and the flour from the crust can make the cherries a bit sludgy. Here, each cherry has its own little bed of dough. No clumping, no sludge. Just perfectly plump, roasty cherries, waiting to burst when you bite into them. The focaccia itself also has this fantastic contrast thing going on: juicy, moist spots under the cherries, crisp outer edges and bottom. It's a perfect recipe, and now that sour cherries have hit the market, you shouldn't miss it.

sour cherry focaccia unbaked

For some of you, sour cherries still aren't out. Fret not: there's a recipe here for you, too. You see, thanks to my wonderful Michigander in-laws, I've got a never-ending supply of perfectly plump, wine-colored dried cherries. My mother-in-law reads my mind, replenishing them just as I run low. Back in May, before sour cherry season, Jana invited us to dinner. When she asked us to bring focaccia, I turned to that same recipe she'd given me -- and then began to play.

dried cherry focaccia 2

I was a bit wary of making Martha's dough recipe again, since it was so wet when I first made it and I wanted something slightly more manageable. So I turned instead to beloved Gourmet for my go-to focaccia recipe, which is easier make and easier to handle. The crust isn't as crackly-crisp as Martha's, but it's a fair amount less greasy. I preferred it overall; Jana prefers Martha's. I've provided the Gourmet one below, but if you'd like to try the original, you can find it here.

I knew I didn't want to lose that juicy-crunchy interplay that makes the original so fantastic, so I soaked the dried cherries to plump them up. Another thing that makes the original recipe unforgettable? Instead of flaky salt, it gets topped with sanding sugar. I did the same, but I made sure not to skimp on the salt in the bread itself - makes for a nice contrast.

dried cherry focaccia

The result was definitely more muted than the original, but lovely in its own rite. Those plumped up cherries got richer and more concentrated in the oven, and the rosemary still got nice and crisp. All told, it's a bread I'd happily make again, even now that sour cherries are back in season.

Cherry and Rosemary FocacciaAdapted from Gourmet and Martha Stewart

1 2/3 cups lukewarm water 1 (1/4-ounce) package active dry yeast 5 cups unbleached all-purpose flour plus additional for kneading 1/4 cup plus 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, divided 1 tablespoon coarse sea salt 12 ounces fresh sour (tart) cherries (or drained thawed frozen), pitted (2 cups); OR 10 oz. dried cherries (see instructions below) 2 tablespoons coarse sanding sugar 2 tablespoons fresh rosemary

Combine water and yeast in a large bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer for 5 minutes, until creamy. Add flour, 1/4 cup of the olive oil, and the sea salt to the bowl, and mix with paddle attachment or a wooden spoon until a dough forms. At this point, either switch to the dough hook and mix at high speed, or turn out onto the counter and knead by hand, until dough is soft, smooth, and still sticky. This will take 3-4 minutes with a dough hook, but when I've done it by hand, it's taken more like 6-8 minutes. If kneading by hand, you'll need to sprinkle flour on the workspace and probably add as you go. Only add as much flour as you absolutely need to knead the dough; you don't want dry focaccia.

At this stage, if you've been using the dough hook, turn the dough onto a floured workbench and knead in 1-2 tablespoons more flour. Knead for 1 more minute. Then lightly oil a large bowl, transfer dough to bowl, and let rise, covered with plastic wrap, at warm room temperature, until dough has doubled, 1 to 1 1/2 hours.

Generously oil a large (13"x17") rimmed baking sheet (or, if you don't want to worry at all about dough sticking, lightly oil a silpat-lined sheet. Less oil, less sticking. Your choice.) Turn dough onto baking sheet, and use your fingertips to spread dough to fill the sheet. You may need to take a break halfway through to let dough relax; you'll find it spreads more easily after a 5-minute rest. Once dough fills nearly the whole baking sheet, let dough rise, covered completely with a couple kitchen towels, until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

At this point, if using dried cherries, reconstitute them in 1 cup of boiling water for about 30 minutes. They will soften and plump up. Drain after 30 minutes, and set aside.

Preheat oven to 425°F.

Drizzle dough with remaining 3 tablespooons olive oil. Scatter cherries overtop, and sprinkle with sugar and rosemary.

Bake in the middle of the oven for 25-30 minutes, until golden and cherries are bubbling. Immediately slide focaccia from baking sheet onto a cooling rack. Cool slightly; serve warm or at room temperature.

Raisin Walnut Rolls

We've been in our new place for over 2 months; it really is time I share at least one picture, eh?

our apt

There. That feels much better.

As you can see, our new home is....well, it's magical for us. We wake up every morning totally tickled at how fortunate we've been to find, acquire, and inhabit such a warm, open, beautiful space. The kitchen is totally open, allowing me to prepare food while hanging out with our company. The couch is big and brown and leather and cozy - just what D wanted. The lounging chair is structured and linen-colored and funky and whimsical - just what I wanted. Our ketubah is up, our bar is stocked, and the fridge is embarrassingly full. We're lucky ladies, the two of us.

As beautiful as our new kitchen is, cooking for the first time in a new home is challenging. At the very least, the appliances are unfamiliar, your cutting board is in a new spot, and everything feels somewhat off-kilter. At most, you're simply overcome by the spotlessness of it all, and you can't imagine spilling on the new counter anymore than you're looking forward to the first dent in your new car. It's all a little touch-and-go.

Having lived in 4 different apartments in two countries over the past 6 years, I've developed a bit of a routine for breaking in a new kitchen. You won't find me butchering whole ducks during week 1 in a new place; instead, I start with the basics. A simple pasta dinner, with good tomato sauce. Pure, undoctored, totally unrivaled chocolate chip cookies. And last but not least, a good loaf of bread. Why bread? Think about it: get out that bread recipe, and you'll find yourself measuring, mixing, kneading, preheating, baking, cutting, and eating - all essential firsts for a new kitchen. Back in November, I made a whole lot of no-knead bread as a sort of personal housewarming for our new apartment. Then, when the workbench was sufficiently familiar with my somewhat erratic movements and my fridge had more than a few shmears on the door handle, I got around to making these no-knead dinner rolls.

raisin walnut dough

They sell rolls like these at Whole Foods, and I've been planning to duplicate them literally for years. We don't eat enough bread to make it worth baking two loaves in one week, but we had a couple slices of last week's plain loaf leftover, so I figured now was my chance to branch out. I'm glad I did - not least because I froze the extras, and now we have snacks tucked away in the freezer for another time.

shaped rolls

For these rolls, I used some fresh rye flour, and I just love its distinctive flavor. If you don't have (or don't like) rye flour, feel free to swap in whole wheat or white whole wheat. The rest of the recipe is pretty straightforward. You can swap out walnuts for pecans, and use currants or cherries in place of raisins. Whichever way you make them, it doesn't get much better than crusty, raisin-studded bread on the last morning of a holiday weekend.

finished rolls

break bread

Raisin Walnut Rollsadapted from Jim Lahey's No-Knead Bread recipe

2 1/4 cups (300 grams) bread flour 3/4 cup (100 grams) rye flour 1 1/2 teaspoons table salt 1/2 teaspoon instant yeast 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon pinch freshly ground black pepper 1/2 cup raisins 1/2 cup chopped walnuts 1 1/2 cups (350 grams) cool water

Stir together flours, yeast, salt, cinnamon, black pepper, walnuts, and raisins. Add water and use a fork to stir the dough together just until all dry ingredients are moistened; dough should look shaggy. Cover bowl with a dish towel or plastic wrap, and set aside to rise in the area of the kitchen that's closest to 70 degrees (but don't go crazy with a thermometer, people) for 12-18 hours, until bubbles dot the top of the dough.

Dust a workspace generously with flour, and use a spoon or spatula to turn dough out onto the workspace in one piece. Use your (flour-dusted) hands or a bench scraper to nudge the edges of the dough into the center, and do this on all four sides, then flip dough tuck the stray edges under until dough is round. Dust a tea towel with flour or bran, and set dough seam-side down onto towel. Loosely cover dough with towel sides, and set aside to rise for 1-2 hours, until dough has nearly doubled in size. Test dough's readiness by poking a finger in the side of the dough; it should hold the shape of your finger. This indicates that gluten has fully developed.

Preheat the oven to 450. For a baking surface, either stick a pizza stone in the oven to preheat, or simply oil a baking pan.

Use a bench scraper or large knife to slice dough into 4 equal strips, and cut each strip into 3 pieces. (Lahey says dough should make 20 80-gram rolls, but mine made 12 70-gram rolls, and that's the basis for my instructions - go figure. Aim for between 70-80 grams per roll, and you should be just fine.) If using a pizza stone, you'll want to load the rolls onto a heavily-floured peel, the better to slide the rolls right onto the pizza stone without having to remove it from the oven. If using a baking pan, even easier! Just plop the rolls onto the pan in neat rows. Don't worry about leaving lots of space between rolls; if they kiss in the oven, you can easily separate them once they're out.

Bake for 40 minutes on a baking pan, 35 on a stone, until browned on top. Eat slathered with good butter and jam.

Grape Rosemary Focaccia

This past week, we had the first day of what actually felt like fall in DC. Went for a run through Rock Creek Park with a friend, and barely broke a sweat, the air was so crisp. Walked out of the house in a sweater, and boots, and a scarf. All three! At once! We'll pretend this week wasn't 80 degrees and humid: Fall has fallen.

Apples have exploded at the farmers' markets, and everyone's talking about pie. But I still haven't finished the last of my peach and nectarine store, and admittedly, I'm savoring them. I'm not quite ready to say goodbye. But I'll split the difference: I'm ready, very very ready, for concord grapes.

grape focaccia 2

grape focaccia 2-a

In years past, puzzlingly enough, I've watched the two fleeting weeks of grape season pass me by. The fruit seemed prohibitively expensive, and I've worried that if I forked over the cash and bought them, I wouldn't be able to figure out a way to use them that'd rationalize the expense in my mind. It's all very psychological (and kind of ridiculous), but this year, I've come to my senses. Grapes were $5/quart at my local market, so I bought them, ate a bunch on the way home from the market, and baked the rest into this fantastic focaccia.

grape focaccia 4

grape focaccia 3

Before you roll your eyes and tell me there's no way you're making this, I'll tell you that I got home from work at 4pm, had a game night at 7:45, and managed to make this in between - with enough time to watch a full episode of Project Runway (which, to my dismay, now clocks in at 1 hour and 34 minutes. Seriously?) The point is, this is a 3 hour recipe with about 30 minutes of active time, max. The results would have you believe I spent much longer making it, which, of course, is the idea.

Unlike some other doughs, this one is soft and supple, and entirely unfussy. Layered with flavors of red wine and olive oil, it's a dough that keeps on giving, and a perfect bed for sweet grapes, earthy rosemary, and crunch of sugar. But that's not all: awesomely, this recipe has you layer dough with grapes, so that the delightful product of your (minimal) labor is a readymade focaccia sandwich. The grapes in between the layers of dough are soft and juicy, oozing out of the focaccia. The grapes on top are slightly charred and very concentrated - and that crunchy rosemary, it's divine.

grape focaccia 6

If you've ever passed on concord grapes, or rolled your eyes at the prospect of making focaccia, I'm here to tell you all too enthusiastically that you can do both (at once!) right now. I guess that's why they pay me the big bucks I keep blogging, just for fun.

News: Work is nutso this time every year, so I inevitably fail to do anything special to mark a certain occasion: NDP's birthday! We're four years old now, not a toddler anymore, and boy does it feel good. Thanks to all you kind folks for sticking around, reading, and sharing your thoughts. It's been loads of fun.

Grape Rosemary Focacciaadapted from an old Gourmet recipe (sigh)

1 package active dry yeast (2 1/2 teaspoons) 3 tablespoons dry red wine 1 tablespoon honey 3/4 cup warm water (110–115°F) 2 1/2 to 3 cups Italian "00" flour or half all-purpose flour and half cake flour (not self-rising) 1/4 cup fine-quality extra-virgin olive oil (preferably Tuscan) 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt 3 1/2 cups Concord or wine grapes (1 1/2 pounds) 1/2 cup sugar 2 sprigs rosemary, leaves removed from stems

Make dough: Stir together yeast, wine, honey, and warm water in a large bowl until yeast is dissolved. Let stand until bubbly, about 10 minutes. Add oil, flour, and sea salt and stir until a sticky dough forms. Knead dough on a floured work surface, gradually adding up to 1/2 cup more flour if necessary to keep dough from sticking, until dough is smooth and elastic but still soft, 8 to 10 minutes.

Transfer dough to an oiled large bowl and turn to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel and let rise in a warm place about 1 hour. After 1 hour, deflate the dough (gently; I don't believe in punching the stuff down) and return to its warm place, under the towel, for another hour, until doubled in size.

Prepare focaccia: Turn out dough onto work surface and knead several times to release air. Cut dough in half. Keeping one piece covered, roll out the other piece with a lightly floured rolling pin into a rough 12- by 10-inch rectangle. Transfer dough to a lightly oiled 15- by 10-inch baking pan and gently stretch to cover as much of the pan as possible. It won't be perfect, and that's perfectly fine.

Scatter half of grapes over dough, then sprinkle grapes with 1/4 cup sugar. Roll out remaining piece of dough in same manner and put on top of grapes, gently stretching dough to cover grapes. Scatter remaining grapes, rosemary leaves, and 1/4 cup sugar on top and gently press into dough. Cover pan with plastic wrap and a kitchen towel and let rise in a warm place until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.

Bake focaccia:Preheat oven to 400°F. Bake focaccia in middle of oven until well browned and firm in middle, 35 to 45 minutes, until golden on top. Start checking early, as it will brown quickly. When done, Loosen sides and bottom of focaccia with a spatula and slide onto a rack to cool. Serve at room temperature.