Nutmeg Donuts with Cranberry Curd Filling

From the looks of my kitchen this past week, you'd think I'd given up normal eating and opted instead for some wacko doughnut diet. I've fried three batches in the last 7 days and no, I'm not done yet. The weather report says we're getting snow (!) on Tuesday, and I think we'll need some cinnamon-sugar doughnut holes to go with the season's first cocoa.

But before the snow and the cocoa and the doughnut holes, I had a wacky idea to make cranberries into pudding. It was back when tomatoes were still delicious and cranberries in the supermarket downright confused me. But there they were, announcing fall before I was quite ready. Still: summer couldn't last forever. Instinctively, I grabbed a bag. Okay, two.

Scheming about what to make with them on the way home, it occurred to me how similar cranberries are to rhubarb, which became curd back in 2010. Bright red and oh-so-sour, both beg for sweetness and richness to soften the tart bite of the fruit. In both cases, sugar + egg yolks work wonders.

Not to gild the lily, but pump the sweet-tart bright-red curd into a nutmeg-scented yeast doughnut, and you've got yourself a treat.

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Needless to say, I will be serving these at Thanksgivukkah - dessert #1, to be followed shortly thereafter by the feast of 1,000 pies. I think I mentioned this earlier, but half the doughnuts will be filled with this, the other half with pumpkin pudding likely inspired by Deb. And maybe, just maybe, if making 25 menu items for 14 amazing guests makes me as crazy-in-a-good-way as I think it might, I just might put both in each doughnut. I told you, things may get crazy around here.

Having initially tested the recipe without nutmeg, I can reassure you that they're still good. But, if you've got whole nutmeg, don't skip it. And if you don't this may be your reason to buy it. It's cheap, keeps well, and makes everything more delicious.

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Thanksgiving ideas, elsewhere: We're officially in the Tday countdown. In case you're hosting (or jonesing to make a friends' Thanksgiving meal as an excuse to make all this good food, I recommend dry-brined turkey, roasted or fried; brussels sprouts of insane deliciousness; bourbon-pecan bars that deserve a place on your table, Tday or not; and plenty of other recipe ideas here, here, and -- if you're thinking Thanksgivukkah -- here.  

More doughnuts! It's doughnut week here on NDP. I've got a guest-blogger for the next ones; you don't want to miss'em. Stay tuned.

Nutmeg Doughnuts with Cranberry Curd FillingDough adapted from Saveur, curd adapted from here

Makes 2 dozen

For the doughnuts: 2 packages active dry yeast (1/2 oz. total) 1 1/2 cups milk or unflavored soy milk, heated to 115° 1 1/2 cups sugar 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, plus more for greasing (for non-dairy doughnuts, substitute corn oil or Earth Balance) 1 tablespoon vanilla extract 2 teaspoons freshly grated nutmeg 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 egg plus 3 egg yolks 4 3/4 cups (1 lb. 5 oz.) all-purpose flour, sifted, plus more for dusting Canola oil, for frying 1 1/2 cups cranberry curd, for filling (see below) Powdered sugar, for dusting

For the cranberry curd: 3/4 pounds (12 oz.) fresh or frozen cranberries 4 tablespoons water 1/2 cup sugar, divided 4 egg yolks 3 tablespoons butter, cut into chunks (for non-dairy, use Earth Balance or coconut oil)

Make the doughnut dough: Combine yeast and milk in a bowl; let sit until foamy, about 10 minutes. Beat 1/2 cup sugar and butter in a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment until fluffy. Add yeast mixture, vanilla, nutmeg, salt, egg, and yolks; beat until combined. With the motor running, slowly add flour; beat until dough is smooth. Transfer to a lightly greased bowl and cover loosely with plastic wrap; set in a warm place until doubled in size, about 1 1/2 hours.

Make the cranberry curd: In a small saucepan, heat cranberries, 1/4 sugar, and water on medium. Cook until cranberries have turned completely soft and there are no whole pieces left, adding water by the tablespoon if cranberries stick to the bottom of the pan. Push the mixture through a strainer.

Add a couple inches of water to the pot of a double boiler and set over medium heat. Put egg yolks, butter/oil, and remaining 1/4 cup of sugar in the bowl of the double boiler and whisk to combine. When sugar has dissolved completely, remove bowl from heat and add the cranberry puree by the spoonful, to temper the eggs. When all rhubarb has been added, set bowl over pot; the water should be simmering. Continue stirring the cranberry mixture; after about 5 minutes, the mixture will be warm and slightly thickened. Remove from heat, and again press through a strainer — this will give your curd that smooth, pudding-like texture.

Finish the doughnuts: On a lightly floured surface, roll dough into a 14" round about 1/2-inch thick. Using a floured 3-inch ring cutter, cut dough into 20 rounds; gather and reuse scraps. Transfer rounds to lightly greased parchment paper—lined baking sheets, at least 3 inches apart. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and set in a warm place until doubled in size, about 30 minutes.

Heat 2 inches of oil in a 6-quart pot until a deep-fry thermometer reads 350°. I found the doughnuts slipped off the parchment paper quite easily using a delicate hand and some patience, but if you're nervous about messing up their shapes, you can do as Saveur recommends and cut the the parchment paper into squares around each doughnut, so each doughnut is on its own little piece of parchment, making the transfer easier. Working in batches, place donuts in oil, paper side up, using tongs to quickly peel off and discard paper. Cook until puffed and golden, about 75 seconds per side. Using a slotted spoon, transfer to a baking sheet with a wire rack; let cool completely.

Fit a pastry bag with a plain 1/4-inch tip and fill with curd. Working with one doughnut at a time, insert tip about 1/2-inch deep into the side of doughnut, pipe 2 tablespoons of curd in, and set aside.

Dust filled doughnuts with powdered sugar before serving.

Doughnuts will keep for the better part of a day, but not longer. No excuse: eat up!

Brûléed Apple-Butter Crêpes for Company

Let me tell you about the last two times I made crêpes. Most recently, D and I found ourselves home on a weekend morning with not much of anything to do. We slept in, stayed in our PJs, read the paper, and tried to let some of those tightly-wound DC coils relax a bit. She binge-watched Sopranos; I made crêpes with plums in cinnamon syrup.

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The time before that was a winter weekend in February, with very similar circumstances. Cold weather outside, low fire in the fireplace inside, pjs, slippers, quiet time. Weddings, On the Market in New York City, and plain, powdered sugar-dusted crêpes.

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Looking back on this sporadic and finicky history, I’ve come to two conclusions. One is that I need to make crêpes more often. The other is that I need a crêpe recipe I can whip up even when we have more than a Sopranos marathon on the agenda.

Consider the second one solved. (First one? We're getting there.) See, here’s what I never knew about crêpes: you can make them months in advance. As in, you can prepare them on one of those Sopranos weekends in November, stow them away (carefully – see my notes below), and grab them from the freezer just in time to assemble a super-fancy brunch for company in February. When you present a plate full of crêpes folded fancily, dusted with powdered sugar, and topped with whipped cream about 20 minutes after inspiration strikes, I guarantee, you’ll surprise even yourself.

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I’ve only tried the storage technique with three crêpe recipes, but I’m pretty confident it will work universally (or close to that). Parchment or wax paper is your best friend here; aluminum foil will not suffice.

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The topping options are endless, but I'm really keen on this one, which was one of the many ways we used up the 30 pounds of apples we had in the fridge. So you know, the apple butter part is optional. This is a great, great brunch dish even if you fill the crêpes with absolutely nothing. If you want to take it in a more savory direction, spread a bit of fresh chevre on each crêpe before folding. Otherwise, just sprinkle with powdered sugar and enjoy.

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Brûléed Apple-Butter Crêpes for CompanyBased on this crepe recipe and inspired by this vintage Gourmet recipe Makes approximately 48 crêpes (but some will tear, so count on 40 or so good ones) If you've got major guts, you definitely can make these to order, but it's much more relaxing to make them (well!) in advance. The night before is just fine, but you really can make them months before you want to serve, then stow in the freezer until company comes over for a last-minute brunch. The trick is to store the crêpes between big layers of parchment or wax paper. Double-wrap the final stack in two layers of tin foil, tuck into a zip-top bag, and store in the freezer for 3 months (let's be honest - more is fine, too).

Know from the outset that the first one or two crêpes are going to suck, and you will throw them away. (Hence the famous French expression, "le première c’est pour le chien" - "the first is for the dog." Don't sweat it.) You'll also tear quite a few crêpes as you get the hang of flipping them. It's okay.

For the crêpes:

2 3/4 cups whole milk 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy cream 4 large eggs 2 cups all-purpose flour 2 tablespoons sugar 1/8 teaspoon salt 1 tablespoon vanilla extract About 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, for cooking crêpes

To serve 4: About 20 crepes 1/2 cup apple butter 2 tablespoons melted butter 4 tablespoons sugar

Combine all ingredients in a blender and blend for 30 seconds, until fully combined. Alternatively, use an immersion blender in a large bowl. If you don't have a blender, you can mix together everything but 1 cup of the milk until the batter is smooth, then add the remaining 1 cup of milk and stir to incorporate. This prevents the flour from forming lumps.

Let the batter in the fridge for at least one hour and up to 2 days.

Your mise en place is important and will make your life much easier:

• Bowl of batter
• A 1/4-cup measure and something to put the measure on while it's not in use
• Butter: I like mine cold and in stick form, so that before making each crêpe, I just pick up the stick, swipe it in a couple of spirals around the pan, and then I'm ready to go. If you prefer to brush your butter on the pan before making the crepes, make sure your butter is melted and right next to you at the stove.
• Pot holder 
• If you have a round chopstick, set that out. It's my favorite tool for flipping crêpes. 
• Otherwise, a large, flexible spatula will also work. I tend to use both: the spatula helps me lift up an edge of the crêpe, but I use the chopstick to flip them.
• a large plate for stacking finished crêpes

Heat a cast iron pan or crêpe pan over medium heat. You'll need to watch the heat and adjust it slightly from time to time, so keep an eye on what everything in the pan is doing: the butter, the crêpe, the smoke. If the butter browns soon after hitting the pan, turn down the heat. If it doesn't actively sizzle, too cold. You're looking for it to sizzle and melt, but not smoke.

For large crepes, use a 1/4-cup of batter. These crêpes will fill a 10-inch cast-iron pan and will be perfectly round every time, but they're much harder to flip without tearing. I've used my fingers, but this, too, takes skill.

The alternative is to make smaller crêpes, using 2 tablespoons of batter. They're much easier to flip, but mine always have those little legs and never come out quite round. Your choice.

When your butter is hot but not smoking, put the pot holder on your dominant hand and take the handle of your pan. With your non-dominant hand, pour the right amount (see above) of batter into the pan, and immediately start swirling the pan around to distribute the batter.

Let the crepes set for about 20 seconds, until just set. Then you're ready to flip: Use the spatula to lift 1/4 of the crêpe out of the pan by its edge, then slip the chopstick underneath that edge and drape the crepe over the chopstick. Then use the chopstick to un-drape the crêpe back into the pan on its underside, rolling the chopstick to unfurl the crêpe without ripping it. This takes some practice.

Cook on the underside for another 10-15 seconds, then transfer to a large plate. Butter the pan, and repeat the whole process until all crêpes are made.

To store crêpes:

Cut parchment or wax paper into squares slightly larger than the crêpes. Layer crêpes between the sheets of paper, then wrap the stack of crêpes in two pieces of aluminum foil and store in an airtight plastic bag in the freezer for several months.

To brûlée and serve:

Preheat the broiler.

If using frozen crêpes, place them into the refrigerator a few days before using to thaw them. The day of brunch, remove the stack from its aluminum foil and wrap loosely in a kitchen towel. Transfer to the microwave for 30 seconds, or a warm oven for 5 minutes, to soften. If using freshly-made crepes, continue onto the next step.

Lay a crêpe flat on a work surface and spread half with a thin layer of apple butter. Fold in half, then fold again into quarters. Repeat with remaining crepes.

Layer filled, quartered crepes into a buttered high-heat-proof baking dish in a slightly overlapping pattern. Drizzle with melted butter and sprinkle with sugar. Transfer to the broiler for 1-1 1/2 minutes, until the sugar and butter are bubbling and crêpes are golden brown. They may burn a bit on the thin edges; that's okay.

Serve immediately.

Grape-Cornmeal Snacking Cake

Snacking cakes and I go way, way back. Our long history revolves mostly around languid summer Saturday afternoons, when lunch has long passed but dinner seems far away. Company is still over, we're all sitting around a table, there are crumbs everywhere and half-empty cups of ice coffee with mostly-melted ice dribbling down the sides. But trust, there is snacking cake.

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Summer has faded into fall, but that hasn't stopped snacking cake from sticking around. I happened upon this specimen, plump with concord grapes, when looking for my usual focaccia recipe. Fortunately, with so many different kinds of grapes at the market, my eyes were bigger than my stomach, and I bought them all. That left me with enough for two focaccias plus this cake.

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Right upfront, let me tell you that this cake bears a striking resemblance to cornbread. (If that's not your jam, perhaps you'll love this other snacking cake, my personal favorite.) It isn't cornbread, per se: it's a bit lighter and, well, cakier than your typical cornbread. But the genius touch here is the honey, which gets drizzled in but not fully mixed. The result is a thin thread of sweetness throughout the cake. The grapes on top also are key: they add some very important moisture, and when you bake the thing, they get plump and just shy of jammy.

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Another honest moment: this cake is best when it's just out of the oven. If you're planning to bake it in advance, you'll be far more enamored if you tuck it into the oven for one last spin before serving. You want those grapes warm, that crust crisp and steaming. Now that it's fall, languid Saturday afternoons have plenty of room for a warm, toasty snacking cake.

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Concord Grape Snacking CakeAdapted from Bon Appetit

I made only minor adjustments to this recipe, mostly to indulge my preference for butter in pretty much anything. The recipe originally called for 4 T oil and 2 T butter, but I made it with all butter. If you're more of an oil cake girl, go right ahead. Either way, it's a no-mixer recipe. Aren't those the best?

I will also confess to using a mix of Thomcord and Champagne grapes, those lovely hybrids with good flavor but no seeds. Concords have superior flavor, but as I sit there with a paring knife picking out each of the FOUR seeds from each grape, I get rather stabby and swear never to use them again. This time, I put my money where my mouth was, and I was much happier to eat the cake as a result.

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons flour 1/2 cup cornmeal 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt 2 large eggs 1/2 cup sugar 1 teaspoon lemon zest 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 6 tablespoons melted butter (or use 1/4 vegetable oil and 2 tablespoons butter) 6 tablespoons buttermilk (or substitute milk plus juice from half a lemon) 2 tablespoons honey 1/2 a pound of grapes - Thomcord, Concord, Champagne, whatever you've got. But definitely red or black. De-seeded, if necessary.

Preheat oven to 350°. Butter an 8-inch square baking dish.

Whisk flour, cornmeal, baking powder, and salt in a medium bowl; set aside. In a separate large bowl, whisk together eggs and sugar until smooth and satiny. Add lemon zest and vanilla and whisk to combine. Add butter and/or oil; whisk to blend. Whisk in flour mixture, then buttermilk. The drizzle in honey, and use a knife to swirl it into the cake without fully incorporating it.

Pour batter into prepared dish, and scatter half the grapes over cake batter.

Bake until cake turns light golden brown around the edges and starts to set, 15 minutes. Remove from oven and scatter remaining grapes over cake. Continue to bake until top is golden brown and cake springs back when pressed, 20-25 minutes longer. Transfer to a wire rack. Let cool slightly in pan. Serve warm.

Brown Butter Banana Bread

Let's imagine that you were to brown six sticks of butter in one week. Hypothetically speaking, you'd watch six creamy blocks of pale yellow fat turn into a hot, bubbly liquid smelling of toasted hazelnuts and caramel. Going out on a limb here, I'm guessing you might start to wonder why we ever use unbrowned butter. Not that I would know.

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I have so much to tell you about brown butter (and desserts involving said item) that I'm a tad embarrassed. Does she make anything else? (Yes, I promise, she eats greens from time to time.) I'll spare you an onslaught of indulgence by plopping a salad in between, a bit of dietary comic relief so that you can enjoy brown butter and I can enjoy not getting made fun of.

So here's brown butter project #2 of the past 7 days: a brown butter banana bread, jacked up with bourbon (Deb made me do it) and plenty of fresh nutmeg. It's basically the recipe for my easiest cake ever, but it has mashed bananas, you bake it in a loaf pan, and it's got enough potassium in it that I proclaim it a very legitimate option for breakfast. Brown butter for breakfast? I'm like the best babysitter ever.

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Though I do not love bananas, I do love this banana bread. It tastes like whatever you ate as a child, but way better. Forget the canola oil, the mushy top crust, the strangely dry center. This is perfect. And if you have strong feelings about no banana bread being complete without chocolate chips, well jeez -- whoever said you can't improve on a good thing hasn't tried brown butter chocolate chip banana bread, am I right?

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Brown Butter Banana Bread adapted from Deb, who adapted it from Elise As much as I love cinnamon, I wanted the nutmeg and brown butter to be heard in this here choir, so I left noisy cinnamon out. Otherwise, it's basically banana bread with brown butter and bourbon. Stuffed my face on it, no big deal.

Oh, and hey: dark rum also goes really well, if you're out of bourbon or are feeling tropical. Give it a whirl.

3 to 4 ripe bananas 1/3 cup (5 1/3 tablespoons, but I won't judge if you up it to a round 5 1/2) salted butter 3/4 cup light brown sugar 1 egg, lightly beaten 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 tablespoon bourbon or dark rum 1 1/2 cup of flour 1 teaspoon baking soda Pinch of salt 1 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9x5 loaf pan or line with parchment paper.

Heat butter in a small saucepan over medium heat until butter melts completely. Then reduce heat to medium-low and continue cooking until foam mostly subsides and/or butter has turned golden brown and smells nutty, about 5-7 minutes. Watch carefully to ensure that milk solids don't burn. Remove from the heat and set aside to cool.

In a medium mixing bowl, mash bananas with the back of a fork until mostly smooth (a few lumps are okay). Add brown butter and brown sugar, and beat with a fork or whisk until completely combined. Whisk in egg, then vanilla and bourbon/rum, and give the mixture about 60 seconds of whisking to incorporate some air into the mixture.

In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, and nutmeg. Then add dry ingredients to the wet ones and stir until all the dry ingredients disappear. (If you're feeling lazy, just add them directly to the wet ingredients. I won't tell if you won't.)

Scrape batter into prepared pan and bake for 50-60 minutes, until a tester inserted into the cake's center comes out clean. Let cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then lift or invert on a rack to cool completely. Serve warm or at room temperature.