This is a recipe Rosie Beaucoup introduced me to many years ago. I believe the original came from an ancient Canadian Living magazine, but I’ve altered the notes and method considerably. Growing up, I ate many a meringue made with this method, and even requested them as a part of my prom night dinner (which Rosie catered). I wore a shiny gold dress and had a fresh perm, so yes, I LOOKED SPECTACULAR.

I call these faux meringues, as unlike their true meringue cousins, this recipe only requires one egg white. In addition, when making traditional meringues, you would normally whip multiple egg whites for a bit and then slowly add the sugar. Not with these babies! You’re basically going to throw everything into a bowl and hope for the best. (Not unlike the chaperones at a prom.)

Some of you might not think these meringues are as pretty as their authentic cousin as they sometimes grow feet – at least on the small kisses. (I gathered some footed friends for the photo below). And like all meringues, they’ll sometimes crack. Still, I’m devoted to them. I’m more than happy to live with meringue pedestals and blemishes when the results are so darn tasty.

This is a small batch recipe, which makes these meringue kisses perfect for using as embellishments on a dessert. Because there is only egg white – you will not get the same quality of meringue that you would from a traditional recipe. You’ll find the meringue doesn’t get as silky as you might expect during whipping. This is due in part to the absence of all those egg whites, and as a result it’s next to impossible to get the meringue perfectly smooth and grit-free. If you run the sugar through a food processor or blender (after measuring), it helps in this department, but I’m extremely lazy, rarely do so, and still enjoy them immensely.

Now, some of my description above might sound negative, but don’t for a moment get me wrong. I love these meringues! Crunchy, sweet, and melt-in-your mouthy. They are more cost effective than a traditional recipe, and don’t leave you with copious quantities of egg yolks to use up. They take no time to throw together, and they’re perfect for snacking upon. Yes, pastry snobs will turn their noses up at you and your faux meringues, but WHO NEEDS ‘EM?! (You’ve got me.) (And meringues.)

Serving suggestions:

• on top of ice cream or berries  – whole kisses or crushed – with whipped cream (think Eton Mess)
• in a bowl with whipped cream and chocolate sauce – this is my most favourite dessert on the planet
• as is, and by the handful

If you plan to crush these meringues over a dessert, you might not want to pipe them. Simply use a couple of spoons to drop small mounds onto the parchment paper and bake that way. They’ll probably be larger than the kisses, so you’ll need to adjust your baking time accordingly. Like, bake them longer. You understood that, right?

So, if you need a perfect, blemish-free meringue, I’d recommend using a traditional recipe. But if you’ve got one stupid egg white leftover from a recipe? Give it purpose! If you’re looking for something to plop on top of an otherwise healthy dessert? These kisses will suit. Need a bite-sized pick-me-up? This one’s for you! Long for a cheap, easy-to-throw-together meringue? Go forth, Meringue Rebel! Wishing I’d stop this ridiculous series of questions and answers? Done.

. . .

Faux Meringues

print and bake

Yields about 40 meringue kisses, 1 to 1.5 inches in diameter.

• 1 large egg white, room temperature
• 3/4 cup super-fine sugar
• 2 teaspoons cornstarch
• 1 teaspoon white vinegar
• 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 tablespoons boiling water

Mise en place – get organized. Read through the entire recipe before beginning. Measure out all of your ingredients. Running the sugar (after measuring) through a food processor or blender will help to eliminate some of the potential grit in these meringues. Meringues whip best in metal or glass bowls, which are clean and grease-free. 

Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper. Preheat oven to 225°F.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, on low speed, mix the egg white, sugar, cornstarch, vinegar and vanilla extract for about 10 seconds. With the mixer still running (be sure it’s at low speed to avoid splash-back), add the 2 tablespoons boiling water and mix for about 20-30 seconds. Increase speed to medium, and beat for about 1 minute. Increase speed to medium-high and beat until stiff, shiny peaks form and the mixture feels less gritty, about 15 minutes. If using a hand-held mixer, this might take a little longer.

Pipe or spoon the meringue into small mounds on prepared baking sheet. I use a piping bag fitted with a Wilton 6B tip – a large French tip. Each piped kiss has about a tablespoon of meringue, and is about 1 inch in diameter.

Bake for about 1 hour if making small meringue kisses, and longer if meringues are larger. Check your meringues for doneness after about 45 minutes of baking time – it’s best if you don’t open the oven door before this. Test for doneness by breaking one open – meringues should be firm and crisp. Turn off oven and leave meringues inside until crisp, dry and completely cool – about 1 hour.

Remove from oven and carefully remove from parchment paper.

On Father’s Day, I told Bill Beaucoup that I love him very much and that I’m glad he’s my dad. He responded with an eye roll and “whatever.” It was pretty touching. Despite his lack of sentimentality, I gave him a jar of rhubarb curd made with love. Hear that, Bill Beaucoup? YOU ATE LOVE.

Here’s the thing about rhubarb curd: when you read reviews of online recipes, some people comment that it isn’t overly tart. I’d like to tell you why I believe this is the case. When making curds, you often utilize juice drawn from fruit – most commonly, citrus. For example, to make a lemon curd, you juice lemons. For a lime curd, you juice limes. Have you ever tried to squeeze the juice out of a stalk of rhubarb? It’s tough milking. For this recipe, you cook the rhubarb in water, allowing it to steep, and that water then becomes the juice you utilize for the curd. Thus, you get a light, rhubarby flavour without tang or tartness. It is subtle, be warned. Some recipes puree rhubarb stalks and use the the pulp to create strong flavour, but I wanted a classic, silky-smooth curd with zero pulp, so I didn’t go that route.

Some reviewers also complain about the colour of rhubarb curd made with this method. They are disappointed when it isn’t brilliant pink, and looks almost identical to its lemon cousin. At baking school we talked a lot about the appearance of food – that we eat first with our eyes,* and will need to trick them on occasion. The colour of this curd will depend on your rhubarb, and will always lean toward yellow with the addition of eggs and butter. If you want a slightly pinker curd, add a speck of food colouring to the mix during cooking – I did. Bill Beaucoup’s curd looked like baby poop before I added some curd appeal. Just the teeny-tinest speck of colour will do wonders, so go easy on the stuff.

I added some lemon juice to this curd. Not much – just enough to brighten the flavour. The result is soft, sweet and a little buttery on the tongue. Close your eyes and you will taste the essence of rhubarb – just a whisper. More than that, you’ll find it is custardy and perfect served over strawberries. You could also use it in tarts or turnovers, slather it over scones or pancakes, or serve atop crusty meringues.

Alternatively, you could pack it into a jar and give it to someone who will run away when you try to give him a hug.

*Please do not put curd in your eyes.

. . .

Rhubarb Curd

recipe: from The Kitchn, with only tiny adjustments

print and make

Yields about 2 cups.

• juice from 1/2 lemon (about 1/8 cup), freshly squeezed (not bottled)
• 8 ounces chopped, fresh rhubarb (1 inch pieces)
• 2/3 cup granulated sugar
• 4 large eggs
• 4 ounces butter, cut into small cubes

Mise en place – begin by getting organized. Read through the entire recipe before beginning. Measure out all of your ingredients. You will need a kitchen thermometer.

Place the lemon juice in a liquid measuring cup. Set aside.

Place rhubarb in a small saucepan with just enough water to cover. Bring to a boil, then simmer for about 20 minutes until the rhubarb is soft and breaks down – the juice will become pink. Pour the contents of the pot through a mesh strainer, collecting the rhubarb juice in a bowl/container. Add the strained rhubarb juice to the awaiting lemon juice, until the total liquid quantity is 2/3 cup. Allow the juice to cool.

Whisk together the sugar and eggs in a small saucepan. Slowly whisk in the 2/3 cup rhubarb-lemon juice – if your juice is still slightly warm, be sure to whisk constantly so the eggs don’t scramble. Cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly and scraping the sides and bottom of the pot, until temperature reaches 170°F.

Remove from heat and stir in the butter a few cubes at a time, allowing each addition to fully incorporate before adding the next. Strain through a fine mesh strainer and let cool completely.

Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator.

Last evening, we bid farewell to our dear, sweet friend, ebony. She has been 2.0’s constant and loyal companion for many years, and we will miss her far more than I can properly express in words. As I’ve said before: a million accumulated moments of happiness can be matched in sorrow the instant you have to say goodbye.

So, to ease our sorrow, I think we should talk about decadent treats and watch funny videos, as ebony would most certainly approve of such things. If you’ve got any suggestions, we’d be most appreciative. And in remembrance of happier times, here’s one of my most favourite ebony-and-2.0 stories. (This photo pretty much sums up ebony’s disposition.)

This is a time for comfort food. Something like these pots de crème. Rich and chocolatey, best served in small portions. It’s a decadent pudding treat on its own, but is also lovely served with a generous dollop of whipped cream. I broke out my great grandmother’s tea cups for serving, as they are purrfectly ladylike. Also, I’m assuming you made yourself a mountain of meringues this week, and might require a recipe to use up your extra egg yolks.

If there is, indeed, a cat heaven, I’d like to make the following requests: that ebony once again hear the birds and watch the clouds floating by from a soft, sunny patch. That a bathtub full of water bowls be available for playing and splashing, with a kitty-approved water fountain nearby for proper drinking. That she be able to rest upon a memory foam bath mat adjacent to a powerful heat dish whenever she might like.

And if an all-you-can-eat pork chop bar could be at the ready, I’d be most appreciative.

. . .

Pot de Crème au Chocolat

print and make

Yields 4-6 small servings.

• 6 egg yolks, room temperature
• pinch of salt
• 1 1/4 cups light cream (5-10% milk fat)
• 4 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar

Mise en place – begin by getting organized. Read through the entire recipe before beginning. Measure out all of your ingredients. Have your serving vessels at the ready – small is best for this very decadent treat. 

In a small bowl, lightly beat the egg yolks and salt. Set aside.

In a saucepan set over medium-low heat, heat the cream, chocolate and sugar, whisking frequently, until the chocolate is melted, the mixture is smooth and the liquid is hot to the touch.

Temper the eggs by using a ladle to drizzle about 1/2 cup of the hot liquid into the eggs while whisking constantly. (Constant whisking is very important to ensure the eggs don’t cook/scramble.)

Slowly pour the egg mixture into the remaining hot mixture in the pot, again whisking constantly. Cook and whisk continuously over medium heat until slightly thickened – 5-10 minutes. (It won’t be as thick as a traditional pudding at this point – it will be a loose pudding.)

Pour into small serving vessels and chill until set – about 3 hours.

Garnish as desired or serve with a dollop of whipped cream.

This is the dessert I most frequently requested as a teenager. My mother, Rosie Beaucoup, got the inspiration from Canadian Living magazine, and after its first appearance in the Beaucoup household, I was hooked. Have I ever told you how much I love meringues? I’d maim for them.

The concept is straightforward: a big pile of meringues, gobs of whipped cream, and loads of chocolate sauce. It’s one of those desserts that will make you look like a superstar when you bust it out. No decorating skills required. Simple idea, brilliant results.

Envision yourself hosting an epic dinner party. A dozen of your so-called friends have been invited, and Gérard Depardieu and Rob Ford just showed up. (I said the party was epic, not classy.) Let’s assume you’ve wowed your guests with pheasant under glass and your legendary repartee, and they are now waiting expectantly for dessert. You excuse yourself from the table, and have your servants clear the dishes. As your guests discuss neoclassical art and Justin Bieber’s “situation,” you whip some cream, and quickly construct a mountain. A mountain made of delightfully crisp meringue mounds. It takes mere moments – you simply stack meringues atop one other using the whipped cream as grout. As you construct the mountain, you gently warm some chocolate sauce.

Once mountain construction has finished and the warm sauce has been placed in an elegant pouring vessel (gravy boat), you sashay to the dining table with your mountain of meringues. There is applause. You graciously nod as you set the mountain down upon the table. AND THEN YOU POUR RIVERS OF CHOCOLATE SAUCE OVER THE MOUNTAIN. Minds are blown, and you spend next summer at Gérard’s vineyard.

To pull this scenario off, please consider the following:

1. Gérard Depardieu may or may not accept your dinner invitation. Rob Ford, of course, will.
2. The recipe I’ve provided is for a life-sized mountain. You could easily serve a dozen people with it, assuming each person eats three meringue mounds, and Rob Ford eats any extras. You could use your own small-batch recipe for the meringue cookies and whipped cream, should you be unable to find a dozen people willing to spend time with you.
3. You can’t really assemble this dessert ahead of time. You can prepare the meringues and sauce in advance, but the whipped cream and assembly should be left until the last minute, otherwise your mountain will be soggy.

If you’re a Meringue Newbie, there are some great tutorials online – check out this one from The Kitchn or this one from The Joy of Baking. And listen up: if your meringues turn out a little chewy in the centre – if they have failed to meet your crunchy expectations – don’t sweat it. Construct that mountain like a boss. The whipped cream and chocolate sauce have got your back. Trust me – no one will notice if your meringues aren’t perfect. That said, ideally you want a dry, crunchy meringue for this creation. Bits will crumble and fly across the table as you break into them with your spoon. The soft, floofy whipped cream will get pulled into the cascading chocolate sauce as you break the mountain up into serving bowls. Extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce can be used to dress individual servings, should you so desire.

This is decadence. This is a sugar high. This is what I had for dessert on Prom Night 1990. Right before killin’ it on the dance floor…

. . .

Mountain of Meringues

print and make

Yields enough to serve 12-14+ people.

Mise en place – begin by getting organized. Read through all of the recipes before beginning. Measure out all of your ingredients. This is a three part recipe – meringues, chocolate sauce, whipped cream. All are included below. This recipe should be assembled just before serving, though the meringues and chocolate sauce can be made ahead of time. 

meringues

Yields about 1 lb. of meringue – 40+ meringues depending on scoop size.

• 8 egg whites
• 1 lb. granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1 teaspoon cornstarch (optional)

Pre-heat oven to 225° F – this can be done as you are beating your meringues. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.

Place the egg whites in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whip attachment and whip on medium speed until the whites are foamy and hold soft peaks. Raise the speed to medium-high and continue to whip the egg whites while gradually adding the granulated sugar – just a little at a time – beating until glossy, and stiff peaks have been achieved. If you rub a little meringue between your fingers, it should not feel gritty. Beat in the vanilla. Stop the mixer and sift the cornstarch into the bowl – if using – and gently fold it in. (I live by the ocean, and find the cornstarch helps me achieve a dry, crusty meringue with less chance of a chewy centre.)

Pipe or scoop the meringue into desired shapes on parchment lined baking sheets. I use a small ice cream scoop (about 2 tablespoons) to scoop the meringue, and a small spoon to assist with shaping.

Bake for 1-2 hours. To test for doneness, break a meringue in two and check the interior. If interior is sticky and moist, return meringues to oven and continue baking until firm, crisp and dry inside. When finished baking, allow to cool completely and then gently remove/peel from parchment.

I like to let my meringues cool in the oven – I turn off the heat and leave the door closed – and let them cool for an hour or so. Do not do this if your meringues appear browned in the least as they may over cook. Keep an eye on them and remove if you feel this is happening, and let them cool completely on wire racks.

Meringues should be stored in an air-tight container. Note: meringues hate humidity.

chocolate sauce

Yields about 3 cups.

• 13 ounces evaporated milk*
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 4 ounces unsweetened chocolate, roughly chopped
• 1/4 cup butter
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

* I use a 370 ml can, as that is what is commonly sold here in Canada. That’s just under 13 ounces, but still works out perfectly.

In a medium sized saucepan, bring evaporated milk and sugar to a rolling boil over medium-low heat, stirring almost constantly. Once boiling, continue to boil for one minute and then reduce heat to low. Add the chocolate and whisk until completely melted. Whisk in the butter, vanilla and salt. When smooth, remove from heat. Allow to cool, whisking well every so often. The sauce will thicken as it cools.

Serve immediately (while still warm) or cool and store in a mason jar in the refrigerator. Sauce stored in refrigerator can be re-heated in a saucepan over low heat (or slowly and gently in the microwave) before serving. This will make the sauce easier to pour/ladle.

This recipe makes more sauce than required for your meringue mountain rivers – spoon the extra sauce over individual servings of the mountain if desired, or store and serve leftovers over treats such as ice cream.

whipped cream

• 2 cups whipping/heavy cream
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1-2 tablespoons granulated sugar

Place the cream, vanilla and sugar in a large bowl and beat on medium high speed until you achieve medium peaks or your desired consistency. Over-beating will make the cream lumpy. Whipped cream can be made in a stand mixer with a whip attachment, with a handheld mixer fitted with a whip attachment or by hand with a whisk.

assembly of meringue mountain

Assemble just before serving. If your chocolate sauce has been refrigerated, gently reheat it – it should be warm and pourable, but not overly hot. Build your meringue mountain on a cake stand or serving platter with a rim so the chocolate rivers won’t overflow. Stack the meringues using whipped cream to fill in holes and hold the pieces together. Pour the chocolate sauce over the mountain, creating cascading chocolate rivers. Use just enough chocolate sauce for drama, and spoon leftover sauce/whipping cream over individual servings.

notes

• assemble your mountain just before serving – if assembled too early, the whipping cream will make your meringues soggy and less stable
• make the meringues and chocolate sauce ahead of time – store the meringues in an airtight container, the sauce in the refrigerator
• meringues hate humidity so this is not a great rainy day or humid summertime recipe
• make the whipping cream just before assembling {so it’s floofy and fresh}
• pour the chocolate sauce over the mountain in front of your guests. {trust me}
• you can use any meringue, whipping cream and sauce recipe you like
• you can easily adjust the size of this mountain by using recipes with a smaller yield – this applies to the meringues and whipped cream in particular, as the chocolate sauce stores very well in the fridge for other uses
• use a cake stand or serving platter with a lip to prevent chocolate river overflow

I have writer’s block. (It’s probably just extreme laziness, but saying I have writer’s block makes it sound more artsy.) I blame my writer’s block on four straight days of Haddy Birthday posts last week. So, here’s another edition of crap I’ve been meaning to tell you about. You know you kinda sorta like it.

I went back to baking school last week. I was asked to talk to the new baking and pastry students about my experiences with portfolio learning whilst at the college. I utilized a confusing stream-of-consciousness type delivery style, and paced across the front of the room like a crazed hyena. I loathe speaking in public.

I have a brother. Yes, I HAVE mentioned him before, despite the fact that some of you claim to have never heard of him before Haddy Week. I wrote this letter to him (that was in June, by the way – not that long ago). Oh, and in July I mentioned him again. That’s July of 2013, dorks. And he made appearances here, here, here and here. So, now I am seriously considering adding quizzes to my posts to make sure y’all are payin’ attention. That said, it’s pretty obvious that I need to tell some embarrassing stories about him. It’s a gaping hole in need of filling, and it will probably make the concept of Adopamop stick a little better.

I’ve taken to responding to annoying comments on my blog with equally annoying replies. I’m just keepin’ it real, people. For example, on one of my tutorials someone commented: sounds ok, but havnt got time for all that stuff. So I replied with: thank goodness you had time to make that comment. But I didn’t correct her spelling of haven’t, so I believe I exercised restraint.

Twice in recent weeks I have opened my eyes in the morning to find myself looking directly into the face of a small beetle. (I feel like grammar could have helped that sentence.) I’m not sure if it was the same beetle, or two different beetles. If it was the same beetle, I’m incredibly impressed with his/her determination to get to know me better.

I hate leaf blowers. Actually, hate doesn’t even begin to describe it. I don’t wanna get into a longversation about ’em, but I will tell you that they send me into a complete rage. So, 2.0 brought one home from work recently, climbed atop his truck, held it over his head and revved it up while I watched from the living room window. That’s why he’s dead now.

I’m not sure if I should host a Pumpkin Carve-Off this year. October is gunna be pretty busy around here (you’ll see – squeeeeeal!), so I’m wondering if we should just focus on Ginger 2013. What do you think? Were you planning to enter Pumpkin Carve-Off? Or should I just roll that prize pot into Ginger 2013 and make it even more epic? (Maybe we could have prizes for the top THREE Gingerers!) Please advise.

My freezer is full of blueberries – that’s how you get summer to visit you in the winter. This blueberry crumble is based on a family recipe for apple crisp that Rosie Beaucoup makes, and it loves frozen blueberries. The sweet, crumbly topping makes for a tasty treat after dinner, and balances out the tart blueberry filling. I adore tangy fillings, but if you aren’t in agreement, you could always reduce the quantity of lemon juice I have listed. There is nothing quite so lovely as hot, stewy blueberries on a cold autumn evening. Also, the topping has pecans in it. ‘Nuff said.

. . .

Blueberry Crumble

recipe: adapted from a family recipe treasure

print and bake

Yields one 9×13 inch pan, serves about 6 people.

For the crumble topping:

• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 2/3 cup rolled oats (not the quick cooking kind)
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/3 cup unsalted butter, cold
• 1/2 cup chopped pecans

For the filling:

• 1/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 6 cups frozen blueberries
• 1-2 teaspoons lemon juice (according to taste – more lemon juice will give the filling extra tartness)

Mise en place – begin by getting organized. Measure out all of your ingredients. Grease a 9 x 13 inch baking dish.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Grease a 9 x 13 inch baking dish.

Begin by assembling the topping. In a bowl, combine the flour, oats, brown sugar and cinnamon. Cut in the butter until it resembles coarse crumbs. Add the pecans and mix well. Set aside.

Next, make the filling. In a large bowl, combine the sugar, flour and salt. Add the blueberries and lemon juice, tossing to combine and coat the blueberries with flour. Transfer to your prepared baking dish, sprinkling any dry ingredients that have accumulated at the bottom of the bowl over the blueberries in the dish. The flour will be absorbed during baking and help to thicken the filling slightly, though it will still be somewhat loose.

Sprinkle the topping evenly over the filling.

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the filling is bubbling and the topping is golden and lightly browned.