It's impossible to overstate the goodness of that union of briny and sweet. I find it works best with big flakes of crunchy salt and sultry chocolate (remember these?). So when I saw this in Food & Wine, I knew all I needed was the flimsiest of excuses to make it.
Unfortunately, I forgot one teensy detail: I CAN'T BAKE.
Honestly, have I completely lost my mind? Don't answer that.
I don't know why I attempt these things. I need suggestions for something to use my KitchenAid mixer for that is NOT mixing, because I haven't had a baking success since August '08. And as you can clearly see, I define success as "able to be spackled together with frosting and envisioned as straight with one eye closed."
NOTE: It would not make a good planter. I can't garden, either. I am domesticity's enemy.
This experiment, though, was a truly phenomenal failure. (Toldja so.)
It all began with such promise. 1 stick of butter plus 3/4 cup crushed pretzels into the mixer.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Bqo0MMLXSbDqgXEju5c_2cOsmQzokjnYnR1PyjhllwFxu0WWeS0ojuZxwTICDmyXVel8QTppky-k9QrzDaiyGQUGiwf_7UKAkiePKuU2UTRxOIiFyWdjUlsiZmImrWm7-zRUjQ/s320/grandmacrust1.jpg)
Then 3/4 cup confectioner's sugar, 1/2 cup flour, and 1 egg. Then another 1/2 cup pretzels.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEpemIGiYjO794MdlmP71_hEr4RvHpKzOnUZ7h9MA3arksCPQwq8J_V3Q0yDXMWSLsiZKtxux9cQ-McRudkcLI_tiTGr5DgXDSugGTj2GHySNH1kWOgTnuKqPo7DwNATLUBcelQ/s320/grandmacrust2.jpg)
At this point it seemed incredibly wet for a dough. Alarm bells sounded, but I ignored them because I CAN'T BAKE.
Onto two sheets of plastic wrap, flattened into a disk, and into the fridge to chill for 30 minutes.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRPdIIvDyhpZFgmMdPucDDNexVPUzfC0I5ZCAfJevYq3d_Nz2YRgtNL1NYwKzKaZ6nf_tR5igBUWhos4puCVL8uOqVuxxksVs7HNzJI4xEJAm9emyV_84qDSR0zEMy2gXts6_26w/s320/grandmacrust3.jpg)
When it comes out, you roll it out—between the plastic—to a 12-inch round.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4WaNtqXvstCAs4rTl_gfVzyVrAAsuGY1lLy3MJAcf9l4mNNRKEELCUBDJHUZwWcA2hrELukSpiBJ5HLBJzzvR7eMd_rmhMy9CerVErjWZeCy76Mq7SZW7h2n7PmwNHRbXKDjqMA/s320/grandmacrust4.jpg)
Next, you peel off the top sheet of plastic wrap and gently place the round into your removable-bottom tart pan. (I used a springform pan because I don't have a removable-bottom tart pan. Though I do find removable bottoms, as a concept, quite appealing.)
This is when hell met handbasket. Holy mess. The dough was way too wet, and it and the plastic wrap had developed a completely codependent relationship. They were all, "I need you, I love you, I can't live without you!"
So I did what anyone who CAN'T BAKE would do: I glopped the gluey mess into the bottom of the pan and pressed it in, all the while knowing it would stick.
I blind-baked for 30 minutes, then baked another 10 to 15—in my case, 20—"until firm" (which it never became). Here's the finished product.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK2Kak7k87NAugMWzB78Dg2OlgaK2vAANDyBLX_9xVWx8LNcwGPCUkR0HUZbjXJ_kTU0egcIaarHpz7sABhaDtfky7l_chPdzamBH8LYTFBE-A6WYYttjgt4Aiko9KrCSnvi9Fvw/s320/grandmacrust5.jpg)
See, there's something not quite right about that. Let's take a closer look.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEOQ-5BuHj-pNQiU25J0lCuqJ7FZhF7O0GnmOeaP8Dk-oYevdPDF-Cpqn2XasJKt76EHoVxY-_-toobMyNqZ_ig8MQZqJ4hgsEw268dydelg5aiXjfgiEroBRsRuMW-3GmKkYt_g/s320/grandmacrust6.jpg)
Yeah, those holes? That's not a good sign. But I blithely followed the recipe anyway, chopping 2 ounces of bittersweet chocolate and melting it over low heat.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfKy1yVi6RvDKeBm3k3Nqhw8p0_f7XY-j1VYFrdWaKyjVPTKtgcFJ_XPbYltr8xQDBZZmBivGhQxEMyghDPUvqJ3FAQB50aYE-DlnFkeCqU0LD9zGgMLv6ng_TnaWuoBmq0vBb3A/s320/grandmachocolate.jpg)
Then I brushed it all over the surface of the "tart," hoping it would seal any holiness. Holeyness? This was not a blessed endeavor, at any rate.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBe6Wu35mMxCtObFxFJ9wSHl7hESLcZJZkVFLN5d_vUgBN2zZs_99HzLujH_7-XeNh50bVjRKLeuuph9hkJqa8wxg_UMZdlQY77E0FgSMQ5AcGbyG-tMsb5zpX1HYJS_a5RvZOw/s320/grandmacrust7.jpg)
Still, I assumed it would pass the Joey test—sugar, eggs, flour, chocolate, pretzels ... all good.
So I made the ganache. A cup and a half of heavy cream plus 3/4 pound milk chocolate, chopped. I brought the cream to a simmer, pulled the pan off the heat, dumped in the chocolate, and let it sit for five minutes.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdOiyR2MN-tWyoVO4r1JC-5KaHZkqRh8PwwO4WBbx4_2cjeOwfCWIdL6cRn5D998o4AxAFvRTdO0OQgkMxEkkRP1mzGA4TI2D21LBaEc4wgJheGoEIKpT6CKFLzTuw8RF5uj_R2A/s320/grandmaganache.jpg)
A quick whisk, and you have creamy, silky, I-think-I-could-drown-happy ganache.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViZaBVvfSLalQyzr39yG20YMQ-pb-l3pht9vwrUpMRLCiLfrHue5I85XPbixBmNMrYTBuTdDz19IQB6gZLJtVUVyC-_Us9BpIHCurZW0IDa9_DqaO9wFeFhS4SUuR6e5-vtDXnA/s320/grandmaganache2.jpg)
I poured the ganache into the "crust," shoved the whole disaster into the refrigerator, poured myself a stiff drink, and did the dishes. YES, I DID.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDi-i8DnO7h0prIoHyaTulGCWcA0CBGYbXO-QE2scsqMX7mnEwSHuSp7orFOR4dLqt-GI_4jgK1pl_d9HmRqBiXVCisSSV-7IhOJeExADj21G3lUmR0H-XqRLkeKvGOwHqyg4KfQ/s320/grandmadishes.jpg)
I figured you'd need photographic evidence.
Speaking photographically, I wasn't able to take a picture of the finished product until we arrived at the beach, whereupon I absconded with the sister-in-law's miracle maker. Tell me I don't absolutely have to have this camera.
![Detail 7](http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3399/3315209110_dacf8a3838.jpg)
Ooooh .... Aaaaahhhhh ...
This shot was taken mere moments before the mother's husband had to hack away at the thing with a butcher knife in order to serve it. The sentence, "Move from there, I don't want to stab you," was uttered.
I CAN'T BAKE. Would someone please remind me of this the next time I get one of these cockamamie notions? I suppose it did, in a sense, pass the Joey test. People ate it. But it was painful to hear the CRACK! of the fork hitting the plate once it managed to conquer the tooth-breaking "crust."
So I'm afraid salty + sweet is out for now, at least as a product of the Woodside galley. I'll just have to indulge in my other favorite combo: K + cocktail.
1 comments:
at: 1:01 PM said...
It may not have turned out the way YOU wanted... but WE loved it. And we can't all be Joey. (What's with you guys and the beer-n-cookies love?)
Post a Comment