Ah, Grasshopper...Cake (not pie)

Grasshopper Cake by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Spring is all about green - the pine trees get lost in the woods among the leafed-out hardwoods. The daffodils send their chlorophyll-plumped stems to the sky, the grass awakens and replaces its brown blanket with a verdant one. The markets start to show off green as well - forget the coarse, bitter greens of winter, welcome the tender spinach and lettuces of spring. Woody herbs fade and the tender ones appear, in the market and the garden.

I guess you could say I have a garden; it's really just a glorified flower bed, home to daffodils, crocus, lamb's ear, a few ornamental grasses and a selection of herbs. The rosemary, lavender and oregano are steady friends, surviving the winters and bouncing back every summer. I plant basil when the ground warms; it has no chance of surviving the winter here. The mint, however, like cockroaches and Keith Richards, could survive a nuclear holocaust and still thrive. I used to keep mint in pots, a sane proposition to contain its trailer trash ways. Last year, in a temporary lapse of judgment, I let my daughter transfer the mint to the flower bed. The plant promptly became viral, spreading faster than an ultra-conservative anti-presidential diatribe on Facebook. In the cool days of fall, I pulled up runners four feet long, snaking through the bulbs and shrubs in the bed. Even the roots smelled like Doublemint gum.

The freshness inherent in mint makes it a cool choice for a spring dessert. Enter the Grasshopper pie, a dessert based on a cocktail consisting of crème de cacao and crème de menthe. As tempting as that boozy concoction sounds, I remade it to serve children. In church cookbooks, (and maybe this is a Southern thing, but I suspect it’s more of a rural America thing) you’ll find recipes created without alcohol with the qualifier “Baptist.“ As in “Baptist Harvey Wallbanger Cake” and “Baptist Grasshopper Pie.“ Well, this is a Baptist Grasshopper Cake. Dark chocolate layers, a fluffy minty filling, covered with a glossy chocolate ganache glaze. It’s like an Andes Candies cake, cool and refreshing, with a brilliant  green ribbon through the middle.

Grasshopper Cake by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

I put this cake together using recipes from the "King Arthur Flour’s Baker’s Companion," a reliable cookbook for family baking. Like Shirley Corriher’s "Bakewise" and Rose Levy Beranbaum’s "Cake Bible," it's the kind of cookbook that helps aspiring bakers turn ideas into reasonably attractive culinary creations. This cake is similar to a devil’s food cake, with layers baked in an 8 ½-inch pan. The filling is enhanced with marshmallow crème and I added 1 tablespoon peppermint extract and a sizable dab of green food paste. I doubled the recommended recipe for the simple glossy dark chocolate glaze - using 1 cup cream simmered with four tablespoons corn syrup, a smidge of salt. Stir in 12 ounces bittersweet chocolate and whisk until smooth. Let cool before pouring on cake.

Chocolate Mint Leaves by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

My unique spin on this dessert is the chocolate mint leaves. It’s been a few years (ok, a decade, or maybe two), since I’ve turned these out, but they are fun to make with children and really dress up a cake. Take fresh, clean mint leaves and press them between two layers of paper towels and weight with a book. You want flat, unfurled leaves. You may have good results with a paint brush alone (make sure it’s impeccably clean), but my best results were with a combination of a baby feeding spoon and a stiff child’s paintbrush (the kind that comes with children's craft kits). Melt two ounces of white chocolate or semi-sweet chocolate in microwave and stir until smooth. Place parchment paper on baking sheet. Take a flattened leaf, and working on the underside of the leaf, place a teaspoon of chocolate on the leaf. Use the brush to spread the chocolate to the edges of the leaf. Do this fairly thickly and evenly. Place finished leaves on tray and place in refrigerator cool. When set, carefully peel off the leaf, beginning at stem end. Arrange finished leaves on cake or individual plates.

Baptist Grasshopper Cake (Chocolate Mint Cake )



1 ¾ cups sugar

2 ¼ cup unbleached all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons cornstarch

¾ cups Dutch-process cocoa

¾ cup buttermilk (preferably whole-fat buttermilk)

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 large eggs

½ cup canola oil

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 cup hot water

1. Preheat oven to 350. Lightly grease and flour two 9-inch round cake pans.

2. In a large bowl, stir together the sugar, flour, cornstarch, cocoa, buttermilk, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the eggs, buttermilk, oil and vanilla; beat on medium speed for 2 minutes. Stir in the hot water (the batter will be thin) and pour batter into pans.

3. Bake the cakes for 30 to 35 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes in the pans, then turn them out to cool on a wire rack.

Grasshopper Mint Filling

¼ cup vegetable shortening

¼ cup (½ stick) unsalted butter

Pinch of salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 tablespoon peppermint extract

1 cup powdered sugar

¼ cup corn syrup

1 cup marshmallow creme

Green food paste

1. Beat together the shortening, butter, salt, vanilla extract, peppermint extract, and powdered sugar, until fluffy.

2. Gradually beat in the corn syrup, until well blended. Add the marshmallow creme and beat until fluffy. Add the green food paste a dab at a time until the frosting reaches the desired level of greenness.

Dark Chocolate Glaze


1 cup heavy cream

4 tablespoons light corn syrup

Pinch of salt

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped

1. Place the cream, corn syrup and salt in a small saucepan and warm over low heat. Add chocolate and stir. Continue heating until the chocolate has melted and the mixture is smooth.

2. Cool, stirring occasionally, for 10 to 15 minutes, so that the glaze thickens slightly, but is still pourable.

To assemble cake: spread mint filling between layers and cover cake with chocolate glaze. Decorate cake with mint chocolate leaves.

Text & images copyright 2011, Lucy Mercer.

An old-fashioned kind of girl

Friends are over for a meal on this summer afternoon, and we start with cocktails on the front porch. I guess you could say I'm an old-fashioned girl -  I like front porches and drinks served in Grandmother's cut glass tumblers.

It's a lucky thing I've planned ahead and have a jar of bourbon and fruit on its way to becoming Southern Succor. For six weeks, fresh peaches and lemon peel will soak in Kentucky bourbon, the infused mixture will then be strained and combined with simple syrup and aged for two more weeks. This ambrosia can be served in a myriad of ways - on its own, in cocktails, in grown-up ice cream desserts, or as a glaze for grilled meats.

 

 Southern Succor

adapted from "American Home Cooking" by Cheryl & Bill Jamison

6 peaches, peeled and chopped into chunks

Zest and juice of one lemon

750 ml bourbon whiskey

2/3 cup sugar

1/3 cup water

1. In a large glass jar with a tight-fitting lid, place peaches, lemon zest and juice. Cover with whiskey, seal jar and place in refrigerator to steep for up to six weeks.

2. After six weeks, open jar and strain out the fruit and zest. Press lightly to get all the good stuff out, but not so much as to push the fruit into the liquid. Discard the fruit. Pour the liquid back into the jar.

3. In a saucepan, combine sugar and water and bring to a boil. When sugar dissolves, cool syrup to room temperature. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then cool to room temperature. Add the sugar syrup to the bourbon, return to the refrigerator and let age for another two weeks before using.

The peachy bourbon may be between steps 1 and 2, but is still delicious in an old-fashioned, the legendary first drink to be called a "cocktail." It's sweet and fruity, and just perfect for viewing the sunset from the front porch.

Joey's Old-Fashioned

Joey is a mixologist and philosopher and this is his version of an old-fashioned, with the exception of the lemon - he uses orange. Because he lives in the South, he'll sometimes finish the drink with tea instead of water.

In an old-fashioned glass (a short tumbler), place maraschino cherries, a wedge of lemon and a teaspoon of sugar. Muddle. Pour 2 ounces of peach whiskey, then a splash of water. Stir and garnish with lemon and cherry.

 

Text & images © 2010, Lucy Mercer.

Just a note on the top picture, found in my grandfather's photo albums. There are no identifying notes, but I love the picture, the way they're dressed -  his long legs and 28-inch waist, the flip of her skirt and the way her head leans into him. The kicker, though, are the feet - I have a spectacular weakness for spectator shoes - and the way they're crossed in opposite directions. I think of the couple as Gatsby and Daisy, which is appropriate for this story, since Daisy Buchanan was from Kentucky, home of some fine bourbon whiskey.

Text and images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer.

Marcus Samuelsson's lesson on rum and mango mojitos



Marcus Samuelsson's mango mojito by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books


On my wrist, I wear a golden reminder of the brutal past of slavery in the Caribbean. It’s a charm of a sugar mill, a common sight in St. Croix, now in the U.S. Virgin Islands, where the charm was crafted by Brian Bishop, an artisan creating jewelry in Christiansted. Bishop makes the mills accurate as they exist today - mostly abandoned, metal parts rusted or gone entirely, with trees growing through the doorless entries.

Crucian Gold charm bracelet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

The sugar mills are from the time when the Virgin Islands were a stop on the slave trade, the Triangle Trade as it was known. The Dutch who settled the islands in the 17th century enslaved Africans who were brought to the islands to plant and process the sugar. The sugar, usually in the form of molasses or sugar cane juice, was then taken to the American colonies, usually Boston, to be distilled into rum. The rum, in turn was loaded onto ships and sent to Africa were it was traded for more slaves. The Triangle trade - molasses, rum, humans, molasses, rum, humans.

When contemplating rum, as with many foods, the modern interpretation is vastly different from the historical truth. Rum today is the essence of the tourist-dependent Caribbean - a fruity, umbrella’d cocktail on a sun-bleached beach beside the deep blue sea. A good book, a comfy chair, a cooling drink, and hours spent trying to find the horizon, the place where cerulean sky and azure sea meet. Rum, with its sharp acetone fragrance, is made for fruit, especially the tropical bounty of the Caribbean - pineapple, mango and coconut distract you from the kick.

I suppose I could open up a copy of Mr. Boston's to come up with a recipe to spotlight rum, but in this case, I decided to consult a master, Top Chef Masters Season Two winner, celebrity chef and all-around nice guy Marcus Samuelsson.



Marcus Samuelsson by Pedro Soto/Foodie Atlanta


That’s right, cutie pie competitor Marcus Samuelsson, he of the engaging grin and fierce competitive streak, not to mention spiffy candy-apple red Chuck Taylors, showcased on the most recent season of the reality show that pits seasoned chefs mano a mano in food challenges. Samuelsson bested a field of 16 big-name chefs, coming out on top with a three course meal that described his culinary journey across three continents.

When I asked Marcus about rum drinks, he said immediately, “Well, do you know about rum and Barbados and the slave trade?” Samuelsson has a duality that’s apparent once you know his intriguing biography - born Kassaham Tsegie in Ethiopia 39 years ago, he lost his mother at age 3 in a tuberculosis outbreak, was then adopted by parents in Sweden, his identity changed with one airplane flight - he became Marcus Samuelsson. He found his art at his Swedish grandmother’s apron strings while learning to cook meatballs with lingonberry sauce and other comfort foods, then went on to apprentice at fine European restaurants and eventually emigrated to this country 20 years ago.

What a curious gift to see in a bottle of rum the duality of your ancestry, biological and adopted - the enslaved and the enslaver. To identify with the Africans who were forcefully taken from their homes and families to work in harsh conditions half a world away, and at the same time the Europeans who traded humans for molasses and rum. I want someday to ask Marcus more about this, but today he just had time for a recipe - dark rum (he insisted it must be dark rum), infused with mango, muddled with mint, strained and poured over ice. I'm not one to argue with the chef, especially the one who beat Susur Lee for the Top Chef Master title. (And the drink is delicious.)

Marcus Samuelsson's Mango Mojito by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Marcus’ Mango Mojito

In a large measuring bowl, place three cups of cubed mango from about 3 or 4 fruits. Fill to 4 cup mark with dark rum (I used Cruzan Rum). Chill overnight or for several days - (due to deadlines, I haven’t tested this recipe beyond the two-day mark). When ready to serve, pull out your favorite highball glass, muddle some mint leaves in the bottom, fill with ice, strain infused mango rum over all, and garnish with mint.

In Marcus‘ trademark “why do, when you can overdo” spirit (after all, his fried chicken recipe takes three days, my friends, three days to reproduce to his exacting standards), I created a Caribbean mango sorbet using the flavors of his prescribed drink. I kept it kid-friendly, using rum extract, but there’s no reason that if you’re feeding grown-ups, you couldn’t use rum-infused mango chunks from the above drink, folding them into the sorbet while it is still soft.

Mango and lime sorbet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Sugar Mill Mango Mint Mojito Sorbet

We call the pit the “mango bone” in our house, it’s a favorite treat of my youngest daughter. When you cut up the fruit, save the mango bones and simmer them in the syrup to intensify the mango flavor. You will need an ice cream mixer for this recipe - I use a Krups with a freezable container.

1 cup sugar

1 cup water

3 to 4 mangoes to yield 2 cups cut fruit, saving the mango bones

2 teaspoons lime juice from ½ lime

3 or 4 mint leaves, chopped

1 teaspoon rum extract

1. In a saucepan over moderate heat, place sugar, water and mango bones. Let come to a boil and cook, stirring occasionally until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat, add lime juice, mint leaves and rum extract and let cool. After at least 15 minutes, strain through a sieve and pour in container of ice cream machine. Follow manufacturer's instructions from here. Store leftovers, those precious leftovers, in the freezer. Trust me, they won't last long.

Text and Images © 2010, Lucy Mercer, with the exception of the picture of Marcus Samuelsson, which is provided by Pedro Soto of Foodie Atlanta.

Check out Brian Bishop’s spectacular jewelry at Crucian Gold.

If you visit St. Croix today, be sure to spend a morning at the restored working sugar plantation, the Whim Great House, complete with a working windmill/sugar mill.

Marcus Samuelsson and Lucy Mercer by Susan Loper.

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