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Brett Braley-Palko 11/15/15 Brett Braley-Palko 11/15/15

A Breakfast in Bed: Pumpkin Scones with Maple Glaze

I write fiction novels in my head about my childhood, about who I am now. I forget that being twenty-four means I fit somewhere in between the liminal spaces of a God Complex and existential nausea. I have a week's worth of dishes still soaking in the sink and I fixated on a hangnail all morning instead of just cutting it off.

I was exhausted this week, I let myself be exhausted. I laid down on two chairs I pushed together and took a nap in my boss's office during a lunch break. One day I ate nothing but Greek yogurt and a Reese cup. I either drank too much coffee or not enough. I let a mug of green tea sit on my desk for four hours before dumping it all down the sink. I had good intentions, but I wasn't feeling very intentional that day.

I'm slowly realizing that Deucalion and Pyrrha were real, and the stone they threw behind their backs to create me was pyrite. Beautiful to some, but called a fool all the same. I've panned all of my luck out. I shine in crags, in riverbeds. I still consider myself a novelty.

I was exhausted this week, I let myself be exhausted. My mother would have said I probably just needed to get more sleep.

And she would have been right, but it's hard to stay asleep when the ritual of the morning is what keeps you excited. How the reliability of my ten dollar coffee pot calms me. How the blanket my mom crocheted me in college has kept me warm for six cold seasons now. How every branch that scratches the window in the morning sounds like a bird that's struggling to sing. How the dogs stay tired and I think how romantic it would be to run away. I found an old pack of cigarettes in a bag from Pittsburgh. I thought how romantic it would be to smoke them all on the steps of the back porch, too. In the grey light that blooms before dawn, it all seems so romantic, even the toxic or the mundane. And I love that about the morning, how balanced the limns seem. How it's full of promises it can't keep. It's all fiction, rewriting itself every morning.

I held onto those moments for as long as possible today. I let my coffee cool by my bedside while I avoided emails and read a book. I heard the same familiar branch hit the window and I recognized it for what it was. I refilled my coffee and ended up pouring out the rest. I ate two scones with my hands and stretched until my elbows cracked in agreement. Dogs scratched at my door and the predawn grey light desaturated my pink palms until all the lines disappeared. I had no future beyond that morning. I recognized no sound but my breathing. I had forgotten who I was this week, but I won't let it happen again.

Pumpkin Scones with Maple Icing

Ingredients:

2 cup AP flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
1/2 teaspoon salt, separated
4 tablespoons shortening, very cold
3 tablespoons butter, very cold
1 cup buttermilk, very cold
1/2 tablespoon white vinegar
1/3 cup pumpkin puree
1 cup confectioner's sugar
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1/2 tablespoon heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Directions:

Preheat oven to 450*F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper
In a food processor fitted with a steel blade, combine flour, brown sugar, baking powder, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Pulse a couple times to combine
Add fats and pulse 5-6 times to cut the fats into the dry ingredients. They should be the size of peas when combined properly
In a measuring cup, whisk together buttermilk, vinegar, and pumpkin until well incorporated
Create a well in the center of the dry ingredients with a wooden spoon and begin to pour buttermilk mixture into the middle of the well, stirring constantly.
When dough is ready, it will be shaggy but firm. Turn out onto a floured work surface and pat into a round shape, about one inch high.
Using an oiled and floured knife, cut into 8 equal slices and place on parchment, separating evenly on baking sheet
Bake for 18-21 minutes or until golden brown
While baking, mix together confectioner's sugar and maple syrup in a small bowl with a fork. It will be the texture of a thick glue.
Thin out with heavy cream (may need more cream, depending on your desired consistency)
Allow scones to cool and pour glaze over. Top with cinnamon. Eat immediately or within a day for freshness

And if you want to read something in bed on this lazy Sunday morning, then check out my latest (and last!) installment I did for the Baking Society here. I write about Thanksgiving and a recipe for a Persimmon Pumpkin Pie.

Brett Braley-Palko 10/30/15 Brett Braley-Palko 10/30/15

Handpies, Home, and Halloween!

My parents made the drive to North Carolina this week. They bought a house an hour outside of Raleigh. It’s in a town my brother lives in with his wife. It’s a three-bedroom house and the back yard is littered with dead leaves and gravel. It’s their second home with a cheap mortgage. They bought it for a reason to get together for holidays, a reason to celebrate more. An excuse to throw a party and where they plan on living in ten years. They bought it for tax reasons. They bought it so I would visit home more, as they think I’m embarrassed of my childhood home in Pennsylvania. They bought it to make a life for themselves outside of the house that’s too big for two people, full of cats and memories and finger-paint portraits still hung up on the fridge.

You can feel the pulse of the whole world when you visit Pennsylvania in the fall. The roadside beauty is unapologetic in its drama. The trees strangle the mountains in a crime of passion. The ouroboros sheds its skin this time of year and I find the cycle calming. So do my parents. They watched the world die on their five hour drive in a U-Haul down to their North Carolina house and didn’t say a word the whole time. My mom said she looked out her window until she fell asleep. My dad said he kept driving the whole five hours, afraid to break the silence with the radio. They saw the leaves fall in the Laurel Valley and never took the toll roads once. My dad likes to save the $8.60, even if it means two extra hours of driving. I think he likes the excuse to see the world change in the undeniable beauty of autumn, the window down and a super-sized Diet Coke in the cup holder.

I would sacrifice my whole world I have created without them in California to spend drive with them to North Carolina. To hear my mom tell stories about the cats, who has died from our hometown in Indiana, what my brother’s wife is doing wrong. I would love to hear my dad singing to the Top 40 under his breath, to see his hand move over to my mom’s and hold it while she naps. I would love to go home as I did when I was younger, where I could throw my bookbag on the staircase and run upstairs to read.

But it’s been six year since I could do that, since I could call myself a child. Since I could walk to the end of the hall and see my mother. Since I didn’t have to add three hours for the time zone. I mourn that loss; but I hardly recognize that person at the same time. I mourn the sense memories more, how they don’t remind me of anything but the unattainable youth that I can’t seem to recreate out here. How any candle I light never smells as soothing as the ones my mother had burning when I ‘d come home from school. How the pumpkin rolls dry at the ends, while my mothers kept hers wrapped up in paper towels for days, keeping them out in the mud room where it was cold at night and drafty during the day. How any feeling of home or comfort I have in California is just believable but temporary copy of my home in Pennsylvania, with its luxury of love and warmth and windows I kept open when I slept at night.

I try to recreate that home wherever I have lived since. In a sorority house in Pittsburgh where I lived with seven girls. When I lived in the dorms and when I lived in a guesthouse in California. When I lived in a studio apartment in Texas. When I lived in an old mid-century in San Diego. I’ve tried to recreate the ease of home and I have always missed the mark, made it forced, made it awkward. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that feeling is when I made these handpies this past week. It felt like home, like something my mom would make. It felt like something we’d share over breakfast. It smelled like an old candle whose flame went out before I got home from school—filled with spice and a warm undertone of fire and flour. It felt like home to eat these while I tasted saltwater on the air, reminding me I’m too far from home anymore. It felt like home to eat one of these, when I spread my mom’s apple butter recipe on the dough. It felt like home to eat these, even though home has just been a figment of my imagination for years now.

Apple Butter Sweet Potato Handpies

If you read my piece over at Baking Society, you will know that apple butter has been a big part of my childhood, both in Indiana and Pennsylvania. Here, I did a kind of play on PB&J with the nutty, buttery flavor of the sweet potatoes and brown sugar mixed with the cinnamon-sweetness of the apple butter. Autumnal Uncrustables, if you will.

Before beginning this recipe, double the apple butter recipe from here. This can take about two hours, or can be made ahead of time before beginning on the pies

Ingredients for Pie Crust:

2 cups AP flour
1 cup almond flour (prefer Bob's Red Mill because it is not salty, gritty, and has a remarkable lightness to it; or sub with another cup of AP flour)
1 tablespoon white sugar
1 tablespoon brown sugar, dark
1/2 teaspoon smokes salt (or 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt)
12 tablespoons butter, cold
1/2 cup vegetable shortening, cold
5-8 tablespoons of ice water

Directions for Pie Crust:

Put all dry ingredients in a food processor, fitted with a steel blade and pulse 3 times to blend together
Add fats and pulse 6 times or until fats have incorporated and are pea-sized
With motor running, spoon out water one tablespoon at a time. When dough begins to form and pull away from sides, turn motor off and turn out onto a floured work surface
Gently roll into a ball with floured hands, cut in half, and wrap halves in plastic wrap
Refrigerate for 30 minutes and move onto the sweet potato portion of the recipe

ngredients for the sweet potato filling:

2 medium-sized sweet potatoes, washed and pierced five or six times
1/4 cup brown sugar, dark
2 tablespoons butter

irections for the sweet potato filling:

Place prepared sweet potatoes on a plate and microwave on high for 8 minutes. They will be EXTREMELY hot, but turn them over and repeat for another 8 minutes
Check for doneness by inserting a knife into middle of sweet potatoes. If still hard in center, continue microwaving and turning over at three minute intervals
Allow to cool (again, will be very hot)
Peel skins off and put flesh of sweet potato in a clean bowl with brown sugar and butter
Mix all together and set aside

Assembly and baking directions:

Preheat oven to 400*F and prepare two baking sheets with parchment paper
Take one half of the dough from refrigerator and unwrap, while keeping the other one cold while you work. Roll out onto a heavily floured work surface to a 1/6-1/4 inch thickness. For this recipe, I used a bowl that had a 5-inch diameter (which yielded 12 pies), but you can use any cutter you'd like. After rolling out dough, cut rounds out and place on one baking sheet
In a small bowl, mix one egg with a little water and brush the rim of each round with the egg wash as you work. Spoon about 1 tablespoon of both the sweet potato mash and the apple butter into the middle of the round, a little off-center and then fold over one side, pressing at the edges to seal . Press gently with a fork to reenforce the seal (and for looks, who are we kidding) and give a final brushing on top with the egg wash for some browning.
Repeat this process for remaining rounds you get from the half disc of dough
Repeat steps 2 and 3 for remaining dough in fridge
Brush all with a little more egg wash, sprinkle with about 1/2 tablespoon of cinnamon, 1/2 tablespoon of white sugar, and a pinch of finishing salt
Bake all pies in oven for 25-30 minutes, or until golden brown. Be sure to turn pans halfway to ensure even baking
Enjoy warm or cool with some confectioner's sugar
And have a Happy Halloween!!!

Special thanks to Bob's Red Mill for their box of goodies I received a few weeks ago and which has really inspired my baking game since. The almond meal I mentioned above inspired this dough for this recipe and it was a no-brainer for the autumnal flavors to mix so well with the nuttiness from the flour. Definitely check out their other products on their site, or check their instagram or Facebook for more inspiring recipes!

Brett Braley-Palko 10/22/15 Brett Braley-Palko 10/22/15

Kentucky, 1996

I grew up eating generic cereal and milk past the expiration date. I grew up with toys from the same dollar store we hid in during a tornado warning. We had a Jeep that blew fumes into the ozone that ran down the line--it was my mom's car, then my brother's, my sister's. It stopped running the month I got my license. I took my sister's old Pontiac she bought for $500 from a Mennonite family down the road.

I swam in old flannel shirts and used to wear a belt with my sweatpants in kindergarten. One birthday I got a compass, another a letter from my mother telling me how much she loved me. She decorated the margins with small daisies she used to doodle for me. I wore glasses from Wal-Mart, thirteen dollars a pair, when I couldn't make out the words on the chalkboard. It stressed me out so much I developed an ulcer.

We lived economically when I was younger, my dad worked the night shift most years. He'd sleep during the day and we would play by ourselves in the summer. There were piles of bricks in our backyard in Kentucky. Nails, too. My brother stepped on one when he was thirteen and it bled through his sock. He never told my dad at the time, he didn't want to wake him up. My brother still has the scar and I think of his eldest-son stoicism as he wiped the blood off the linoleum kitchen floor and held the heel until the bleeding stopped.

My dad only woke up for water in the summer. He had to be back to work by eight, right after dinner. When my mother watched us on the weekends, we'd sit in our pajamas and she'd tell us about her day. Emotional, lovable, and laughing, that's how my mom would tell stories. She never made us feel poor, she would only ever make us feel important, engaged, part of her small world of three children and a nine to five at a grocery warehouse outside of Lexington, Kentucky.

And in those days when things were tight, just like all the Midwestern women before her, she'd get creative with food. Nothing could go to waste, we couldn't afford that luxury of a full trash can and an empty fridge. Leftover chicken was soup the next day, same with the pot roast from last week. We'd have breakfast for dinner when the eggs were going bad and I remember once eating rice with sugar and milk as a dessert. If she bought fruit for our paper bag lunches, they'd find their way into other manifestations. Cherries on vanilla yogurt. Small-batch grape jam. And the banana that browned on the kitchen counter all week from the hot Kentucky sun would soon be smashed down into banana bread. It became so common in our house, my sister would ask for it instead of a birthday cake.

The homespun aroma of the quick bread would fill our home and I can still feel the heat coming off the cast iron loaf pan when I'd pinch crumbs from the cracked top to taste it. I still remember how much love was in that little ranch house where my sister's room had the washer and dryer in it. I still remember what my mom wrote in her note to me when she couldn't afford a present for my birthday. "Brett, you're the one good thing I've ever done. I miss you every day. In my heart and on my mind, I love you."

Banana Bread Cinnamon Rolls

Because it's never good to let things go to waste and if you're like me, you probably have a few bananas you promise you'll eat before they brown. These cinnamon rolls are light, chewy and delicate with an amazingly yeasty taste. It's a taste of home you can have anytime. Makes 16-18.

Ingredients for Dough:

1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup brown sugar, dark
1 1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup water, heated to 105*F
2 packets of active dry yeast (highly prefer Red Star Platinum Superior Baking Yeast for this recipe)
1 teaspoon white sugar
2 eggs
5-6 cup all-purpose flour, sifted into a large bowl
1/2 stick butter, melted

Directions for Dough:

In a small saucepan, heat milk, brown sugar, and salt together on medium-high heat. Stir occasionally until brown sugar and salt are dissolved (brown sugar may still have some flecks, this is okay). Continue cooking until small bubbles form around the edge. Remove from heat and allow to cool.
While this is cooking, pour hot water, white sugar, and 2 packets of yeast in the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with the paddle attachment. Allow to sit for 8-10 minutes until it begins to foam from proofing (more noticeable with a higher-quality yeast, such as Red Star's).
Beat eggs one at a time into the yeast mixture on medium speed, allowing the first egg to be fully incorporated before the second.
Next, with the mixture still running, slowly pour cooled milk mixture into the stand mixture.
Switch from a paddle attachment to a dough hook (keep in mind that this can all be done by hand with a wooden spoon, but may take longer and may not produce a lighter end product)
Begin pouring flour into mixer slowly, one cup at a time. Between each cup, wet dough with melted butter. You may not need the full six cups, but dough will be ready when it no longer sticks to the side of the bowl and forms around hook.
Turn out onto a floured work surface and fold in on itself 4 times. Turn into a lightly greased bowl and cover with a towel. Allow to rise for one hour. While waiting, move onto the filling

Ingredients for Filling:

7 browned bananas, mashed into a paste
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons honey
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar
2 teaspoons cinnamon

Directions for Filling:

Place all ingredients in a bowl and stir together until fully incorporated
Cover with plastic wrap and allow to sit in fridge while rolling out cinnamon rolls

Ingredients for Icing and Topping:

1/4 cup cream cheese, softened
2 tablespoons butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
4 cups confectioner's sugar
1 tablespoon milk
1/2 cup walnuts, chopped or crushed

Assembly and Directions for Icing:

When dough is finished resting, punch down and turn back out onto floured work surface
Cut in half and place one half to the side
Roll out other half into a 12"x9" rectangle
Using a rubber spatula, spoon half of the banana filling onto the dough
Roll the dough onto itself, lengthwise and tuck edge underneath the log
Using floss, twine, or a careful and sharp knife, cup one-inch rounds from dough
Place onto a cookie sheet to rest
Repeat with other half of dough with remaining banana filling
Cover rolls with a towel and rest for 45 minutes
In the meantime, preheat oven to 350*F
When finished resting, place in oven (either use cookie sheet, or transfer rolls to pans like I did in the photos) and bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden (begin checking at the 35 minute mark)
While baking, make icing by beating cream cheese, butter, and vanilla together. Add one cup of confectioner's sugar at a time. If icing is too crumbly, add a little bit of milk to wet it. Continue alternating between cups of confectioner's sugar and milk until you have the consistency of the icing you like (pourable, but not dripping)
Take rolls out of oven, allow to cool slightly, and top with icing and walnuts. Enjoy!

This post was sponsored by my friends over at Red Star Yeast, which is a company I have grown up with and loved ever since I began baking. All opinions are my own, as I consider the Platinum line of yeast to be a superior choice for the recipe provided. See more wonderful baked goods on their Twitter, their Instagram, or just their website!

Brett Braley-Palko 10/18/15 Brett Braley-Palko 10/18/15

Lazy Sunday Reading

I wish I could have captured this morning on my camera. I wish you all could have seen the steam from my cup, how the light danced from grey to blue over the dishes left from last night. How a tree scratched the window and it sounds like a moth tapping to be let in, soft and gentle, a whispering Catherine in this Wuthering mid-century. How the first bite of toast left crumbs on my shirt and how the cream swirled and danced in my cup just long enough for me to notice.

Mornings like this happen all the time, I just am too busy to notice during the week. Sundays come and I woke up at seven to start baking today. I'm heading to the park later. I'm taking a break from everything today. But if you're still enjoying your coffee, if you're still finishing your toast, then here are some pieces I've written this week you might enjoy. Keep your glasses on, stretch and yawn all day long. These are the best moments of Sunday.

Fig+Bleu Elsewhere

"My Father, the Donut Lover" + Recipe for Powdered Donuts on Snacks Quarterly

It has never been that I never wanted to know my father; I just always found better things to do with my time. He’s quiet, worrisome. He’s well-meaning, but there’s a negativity to his comments that come from never realizing how deep emotions can go. He cried when I graduated high school and when I moved to California, every conversation in between was over the phone. In the back of my mind, he hasn’t aged a day. In the back of my mind, I see my dad in a sweatshirt and sleeping shorts, watching a sitcom on TBS, the couch cushions forming to his body. In the back of my mind, I know that image is a pillar of my childhood. An obelisk, etched with laugh lines and cherry moles. A corn-fed Atlas who holds up the world in his faded flannel shirt.

"An Ode to Gathering" + Recipe for Cheddar-Apple Butter Galettes on The Baking Society

It wasn’t until later that I realized how vital this gathering around food was, how it existed in my genes as well as my sense memory. How it situated itself on my palette and into the corners of my nerve-endings, always on the outliers of my synapses. I gravitate to those hearty meals; my mom adds a can of Coca-Cola to her ham. I like donuts made from pinched-off biscuit dough and my lemonade so sweet it hurts your teeth. A piece of bread dipped in apple butter is the only thing you need with coffee. These were the years I remember most before bed, seasons of harvest and celebrations of life. How they shaped my worldview, my love of food, and the bonds that tie us together are enriched most in egg, sugar, and flour.

Brett Braley-Palko 10/15/15 Brett Braley-Palko 10/15/15

Whit It Up, Snickerdoodle Style

I like who I am. I genuinely do. I like the talents I naturally possess and the ones I look to refine. I didn't grow up baking, but I grew up eating. It wasn't until I was unemployed after my stint at law school did I begin working in the kitchen, too embarrassed to continually spend money when money was tight. I began this blog in January and I hone a craft every day.

I try to think about the first thing I baked, when I knew it was love and not just another hobby. I think it was a carrot cake. I think I grated the carrots in a food processor I bought on sale at Macy's. I think I whipped some egg whites and called it a meringue. I think it deflated when it set, but I was proud of it all the same. It tasted like shit, but it was all mine. Now, looking back, I see how far I have come, what progress can look like, and I'm thankful to attribute my growth to all of the amazing people in food that I have met in the last year.

If there was one cookbook I would have liked to have had starting out, it would have been one like my pal Billy's Whip it Up!. Simple, creative, and fun. Nothing too complicated, nothing too expensive. But delicious, playful. Food I'd make for my family. Food I'd make for people I love. Food I'd make for movie nights and picnics. Food I'd make because I know the results will always come out great. Billy's book is as much pop art as it is a culinary expression of his humor and talent. Doesn't help that he's got a special place in my heart for his chocolate espresso snickerdoodle recipe (below and in his new cookbook!!), which apparently Hungry Girl Por Vida and Fix Feast Flair also loved :)