Nathan Miller Chocolate: A Tour, a Recipe, a Takeover

Life works in funny ways, it has a sense of humor. I thought I was too good for everything Pennsylvania offered; so I left. I found myself trying my damnedest to recreate it any chance I had. I found a Steelers jersey at a Goodwill once in San Diego. I bought it on the spot.

I thought the Laurel Highlands and the Cumberland Valley were relics, stale, stagnant. I thought I had created a mythology around them. I feared it on the plane, when the wheels hit the tarmac, when my dad picked me up in his Pathfinder. I worried I had missed something that never existed. That I had become a refugee to my wild imagination. That my mother never loved me. That the effervescent greenery would wear me down. That there would be nothing for me to come back to in Pennsylvania.

But there was. There was a community. Whether you spend your time hanging out in gas stations or ice cream stands, there was a community I came back to. And when I drove US-30 to get to Chambersburg last Sunday, I felt that community grow.

I visited a chocolate factory. My community grew while I was there. I began to understand more about the products I love. I passed farmland and barbecue to get there and everything felt satisfyingly familiar. I questioned why I had left Pennsylvania, wasting money and years and friendships trying to leave a place I’ve loved for so long.

I visited a chocolate factory last week. Nathan Miller Chocolate invited me to see the entire bean-to-bar process in Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. We toured the café, we toured the factory, too. We saw how the beans were sorted and smelled their earthy burlap sacks. Large slabs of chocolate and delicate bars being wrapped. Vats of chocolate with 55% buttermilk. Small tasting spoons weren’t enough and I bought 3 bars. I learned the difference between South American chocolates. I learned how professionals wrapped their bars. I learned everything I could and couldn’t wait to go back. For another day, another road trip. Any chance I had to see the beauty that’s in every pocket of Pennsylvania. Five years ago I left and never thought I’d see an artisan chocolate factory in rural Pennsylvania. But I’m so glad it’s there, waiting to be discovered. Waiting to share with you.

Check out the gallery above and the video of my tour during my FeedFeed takeover. You can also visit Nathan Miller Chocolate on their website, their instagram, Twitter, and their Facebook. These lovely bars are also available on Food52, because they’re just THAT gorgeous.

And speaking of FeedFeed, I am an editor over at the Nostalgic Desserts feed and it is one of my favorite things as a food blogger that I get to do. My community has grown and I have grown with it. I'm different than I was 5 years ago. I'm more me than ever before.

Happy Tuesday.

Black Forest Scones

With the Nathan Miller Cherry Pretzel bar, I was inspired to make these scones. You can view me making them in-action in the video below as well.

Ingredients:

• 1 cup whole milk
• 1 TB white vinegar
• 1 TB vanilla
• 1 chocolate bar, pulsed until crumbs
• 2 1/2 cup flour, plus more if it is a sticky dough for you
• 1/2 cup cocoa powder, highest quality you can get
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• Pinch of salt
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 3 TB shortening, cold
• 4 TB unsalted butter, cold
• 2 cup whipped cream (I made mine from scratch, adding Gran Marnier as I had some leftover)
• 2 cup cherries, halved and pitted

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 450*F and prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper
2. Combine milk, vinegar, and vanilla in a cup and refrigerate while you prepare the remainder of the dough
3. In a food processor, combine chocolate flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, sugar and salt. Pulse a few times to combine
4. Add fats and pulse 6-8 times until pea-sized and combined into flour mixture
5. Get your milk mixture from the fridge. With the motor of the food processor running, slowly pour in the milk mixture
6. Turn dough out onto a floured work surface and pat into a round
7. Cut into 8 triangles
8. Place onto prepared baking sheet and bake for 14-18 minutes, they will be done when firm and browned on the edges (but not burnt!)
9. Allow to cool from oven, top with whipped cream and cherries and enjoy!

Rye-Cornmeal Boule: An homage to my Indiana home

It doesn’t happen often, for me to get excited about seeing family. But I have baby showers to plan now. Christmases that aren’t spent with beer and my headphones in. Family is a term that gets lost on me. Somewhere between my sternum and my vocal chords, I’ve forgotten how to properly say the words right. I think they’re still there; in fact, I know they are. I couldn’t be pining for flat farmland and the broad shoulders and hairy knuckles of my family if I didn’t want it all back.

Somewhere between the sternum and the vocal chords, where I’ve forgotten how to breathe. To say I’m sorry. Where I sigh a little relief when my sister answers the phone and doesn’t ignore my call. Where it tightened a bit when my grandfather called me the wrong name after five years of not calling at all.

I see them all again soon, my Indiana family. The ones with the big laughs and pasts that still remain a mystery to me. Stories that are illuminated like zoetropes, anecdotes that don’t paint the full picture but flash in odd shapes, repeated until they’re true.  I’ll never know why my cousin with diabetes ran away to Florida, or my grandfather married six women. How many men my uncle killed in the war. Where the only grandmother I can remember is buried or why no one visits her grave. These are family matters and I’ve never mattered enough to get a straight answer.

But I’m not looking for one this time. This reunion is for moving forward. Bringing new life in. Baby showers, days at the beach. Relaxing. Card games. My mother wants to learn beer pong. They bought a second home in North Carolina and we might as well use it, damnit. I’ll see my family again soon, and I made this bread in anticipation. Rye for Germany, cornmeal for Indiana. It blends who we are and I’ll make it for them in a week or two. Offer it to them. I’m excited to—and that excitement sits just north of my sternum; just south of my vocal chords. 

Rye-Cornmeal Boule

An easy bread that will fill your house with a sweet earthiness from the rye and cornmeal. Makes one large boule or can be adapted to fit two loaf pans. Must be done in portions, as directed below, for the marbling.

For the Rye portion

Ingredients:

• 1 cup water, warm to the touch
• 1 cup whole milk, warm to the touch
• 5teaspoon active dry yeast (of course, I use my trusted Red Star Yeast)
• 1 ½ teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoon molasses
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 2 cup dark rye flour
• 3 cups AP flour + more for kneadin

Directions:

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a paddle attachment, combine water, milk, yeast, salt, molasses, and sugar. Mix with a fork and allow to set for 5 minutes or until the surface is covered with bubbles
2. While yeast is setting, sift together rye and AP flour in a medium bowl
3. Turn mixer on medium speed, begin adding flour mixture, one cup at a time, allowing for each cup to be incorporated before adding the next
4. When last of flour is mixed in, switch to the hook attachment and knead in the mixer on medium for 5 minutes
5. (During this time, start your cornmeal bread portion—see below)
6. When dough is elastic and not sticking to the bowl of the stand mixer, turn out onto a floured work surface and knead for a minute or two
7. Place in a well-oiled bowl, turning over once
8. Allow to rest, covered, for one hour or until double in size

For the Cornmeal portion

 Ingredients:

• 1 cup water, warm to the touch
• 1 cup whole milk, warm to the touch
• 5 teaspoon active dry yeast
• 3 tablespoon sugar
• 1 tablespoon maple syrup
• 1 ½ teaspoon salt
• 1 ½ cup cornmeal
• 3 ½ cup AP flour +more for kneadin

Directions:

1. While rye dough is resting, work on the cornmeal dough
2. You should have already started the yeast bloom for the cornmeal dough. This would include mixing together the water, milk, yeast, sugar, syrup, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer and allowing for bubbles to form (after approx. 5 minutes)
3. In a medium bowl, sift together the cornmeal and AP flour
4. With the mixer on and the paddle attachment fitted, begin adding the flour to the yeast mixture, one cup at a time allowing for each cup to be incorporated before adding the next
5. When last of flour is mixed in, switch to the hook attachment and knead in the mixer on medium for 5 minutes
6. When dough is elastic and not sticking to the bowl of the stand mixer, turn out onto a floured work surface and knead for a minute or two
7. Place in a well-oiled bowl, turning over once
8. Allow to rest, covered, for one hour or until double in siz

Directions for rye-cornmeal bread:

1. When both doughs have risen to double their size, lay them both out onto a floured work surface
2. Gently pat and roll out each out into a rectangle that is approximately 16 inches long by four inches wide (don’t be afraid of the flour here)
3. Place one dough directly on top of the other dough, making sure the edges approximately line up
4. Now, take one end of the stacked doughs and roll into itself, making a tight curl
5. When you have exhausted all dough for this curl, tuck the end under the round and pat into a circular loaf
6. Dust a little with flour and place a tea towel over the loaf to continue to rise for 20 minutes
7. While dough is rising, preheat oven to 450*F and prepare either a cast iron skillet or dutch oven for baking
8. When dough is ready, it will be puffed and stretchy
9. Again, tuck edges of the dough towards the center dough to shape into a round
10. Place into your prepared baking vessel
11. Bake for 35-45 minutes, checking at the 35-minute mark for the edges to be golden
12. Allow to cool slightly on a rack before serving with butter and sea salt

Thank you so much to Lodge Cast Iron for sponsoring this post with your amazing products. We have used cast iron in our family for generations and I am proud to work alongside Lodge in creating this post. All opinions, recipes, and photos are my own.  For this post, I used their 11” rust resistant cast iron skillet. For more information about Lodge, please visit their website, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. 

Springtime...and a Tart

My mother has given up trying to plant anything beautiful in the yard of hers. Too much bad dirt, she says. Stunted apple trees and peaches that never seem to ripen in any hurry. Grapevines that choke the chickenwire fencing. The ground is shale, the rocks are jagged. The dirt is bad. The earth is worn down by the creekbed.

My mother gave up on making a garden, so she buys her produce from the dollar store. She buys flowers to hang from the porch rafters. She waters them with a soda cup she got at the gas station in town.  A bird’s nest pops up one afternoon and then baby birds pop up the next. One fell out of the nest and my dad threw it out behind the fence so the dogs wouldn’t get it. He didn’t tell my mom, kept it a secret from her I guess you could say.

There isn’t anything beautiful in that yard of hers.

Not that it’s promised, it never has been. The shale is rough and cuts up the hands. Grass grows in patches until late June, when it springs all at once. Then the dandelions, then the peach trees, then the snow. It’s a cycle I forgot. One I witness from my bedroom window. I’m staying here for a while, until my sister has her baby and I know what the hell it is I want out of life.

But it rained for three weeks straight and I drove the turnpike with my sunglasses on until eight at night. The mountaintops in the distance have steam on their fingertips and the bees that built their hive by the mailbox are plump and greedy. Lazy, tired. They don’t move when I draw the red mailbox arm up. They don’t move when my father comes home with a pizza for dinner. They dance along the mulch and draw cuneiforms in response to rainclouds. They know tomorrow it might rain. They know tomorrow their queen may be washed away. They know that the bird behind the fence might still be there and there’s nothing to do about it but wait for the grass to grow and the peach trees to twist their thirsty branches up, up, upwards.

It’s springtime in Pennsylvania. And I forgot how its reality comes in waves of dreams and pigment. In flashes of thunderstorms and screen doors slamming shut. It’s springtime and I wear a sweater on the porchswing. I avoid the baby birds, the beestings, and mailman. I sit and squint my eyes, wondering if it’s just as beautiful down the road as it is right here in this moment.

Pear and Strawberry Tart

Ingredients for Fruit Filling

• 2 pears (preferably Bosc), cored and sliced thinly
• 8-10 medium-sized strawberries, hulled and sliced thinly
• 2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon fresh ginger
• 1 tablespoon orange zest
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1 tablespoon Gran Marnier (option, but I had some leftover from this post, so I said why not)
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice

Directions for Fruit Filling

1. In a large bowl, gently mix all ingredients together to macerate strawberries and infuse the pears
2. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for one hour
3. While waiting, work on crust

Ingredients for Crust

• ½ cup butter, softened
• ½ cup shortening
• ½ cup confectioner’s sugar
• ¼ cup white sugar
• 1¾ cup AP flour
• ¼ cup almond meal
• ½ tablespoon of vanilla extract
• 3-4 tablespoon ice water (fill a small glass of ice water and scoop out from it as you go instead of measuring beforehand)

Directions for Crust

1. In a food processor, pulse together all ingredients except the ice water 5-8 times or until the fat is processed to the size of a pea
2. With the motor running, slowly drizzle in ice water, one tablespoon at a time. When dough begins to come together, stop motor
3. Turn dough out onto a floured work surface and pat into a disc
4. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for half an hour

Ingredients for Ricotta Topping

• ½ cup ricotta, full-fat
• 2 tablespoon confectioner’s sugar
• Pinch of salt
• ½ tablespoon vanilla extract

Directions for Ricotta Topping

1. Mix all ingredients together in a small bowl until combined

Assembly and baking instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350*F and prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper or aluminum foil
2. Take rested dough out of the oven and roll into a round that is roughly ¼ inch thick (will be about 14” in diameter)
3. Transfer dough to prepared baking sheet
4. Spoon fruit filling into center of round and allow for a one or two inch edge around the circumference
5. Fold edges inwards to keep the filling in
6. Dot the fruit filling with ricotta mixture
7. Mix one egg with a little water and brush the dough with your egg wash
8. Sprinkle with a little more white sugar
9. Bake for 30-35 minutes or until crust is golden and brown
10. Serve immediately, but can keep for about 4 days

Grand Marnier Poundcake: In Partnership with Vermont Creamery

Take shelter, old horses, a storm is coming. I thought these words when the wind picked up. I passed a farm on my way home from getting eggs and milk. The world's been dark. A grey May to greet me. The window only stays half-open, my eyes half-closed.

I spent yesterday in ill-fitted jeans and a cardigan I bought at a thrift store when we first moved to California. Oversized, it still smells of smoke and tobacco around the collar. I watched Milo from the kitchen window, eating a blade of grass and stepping in mud. I thought of all the right things I've said to all the wrong boys. I thought about how my shoulders ache, carrying the half-lives of two people for so long.

It stayed dark all damn day. A cold darkness. Desaturated around the edges. Even when the sun didn't set until 8:41, the light stopped just short of the driveway. I baked a cake to break the boredom, a cake that was tangy and soft. A cake that provided me with a way to let the soft hues of summer scatter between the rainclouds. I made a poundcake spiked with Grand Marnier, held together by cultured butter. It kept the house warm, having the oven on. It gave me something to do. It filled the house with a smell of orange and iron and I took shelter in its warmth. The storms came, then they passed on by. It's been a slow week here in Pennsylvania.

Grand Marnier Poundcake

The simplicity of this recipe means I chose to use the best butter I could get my hands on. Vermont Creamery's Cultured Butter is, by far, a favorite of mine in this recipe. Luxurious, tangy, and full-flavored, every bite was a testament to its necessity in this recipe. Makes one poundcake, in a 5" x 10" loaf pan (mine is from Lodge)

Ingredients:

• 3 cup AP flour
• ½ teaspoon baking soda
• ½ teaspoon baking powder
• ½ teaspoon salt
• ¾ cup buttermilk or whole milk
• 3 tablespoon Grand Marnier
• 1 tablespoon orange zest
• 2 tablespoon vanilla extract
• ½ pound butter (preferably cultured), room temperature
• 2 tablespoon shortening
• 2 cup sugar
• 3 large eggs, room temperature

Directions:

1. Prepare a loaf pan and preheat oven to 350*F
2. Sift together flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a medium-sized mixing bowl and set aside
3. Whisk together milk, Grand Marnier, orange zest, and vanilla and set aside
4. In the bowl of a stand mixer, fitted with a paddle attachment, mix together butter, shortening, and sugar until light (approx. 3 minutes on medium-high)
5. Add egg, one at a time, until all are incorporated
6. Alternate between adding dry and wet ingredients to the mixer, with speed on low. Mix until all is incorporated. You may find a rubber spatula is best at the end
7. Pour into loaf pan and bake for 1 hour. Begin checking at the 50 minute-mark. Depending on the oven, as this is a heavy batter, it may require up to an hour and fifteen minutes
8. Allow to cool slightly before serving
9. Can be stored in an airtight container for up to three days

This post was inspired by Vermont Creamery, who excel at making quality dairy products. Check out their website, Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter for more information. Thank you!

Heirlooms, Memories, and Cornmeal Ricotta Strawberry Waffles for Sunday

My parents tore down trees in their front yard in North Carolina. They kept the biggest one for a tire swing. They’re creating heirlooms now, they have grandbabies coming, two by Christmas. My mother’s already buying Halloween costumes that will last them to kindergarten. Heirlooms, beds that have been in the family for years. Made of brass. Toy boxes made by my grandfather’s hands. Held together by duct tape now. He refuses to go to a nursing home now. He won’t admit he drinks too much, either.

Our heritage comes in food and temper tantrums. In past regrets and lies and the marriages and mortgages and apartment complexes we’ve used to cover it all up. But now we have hand-me-downs we can call vintage and attach any threadbare sentimentality to it all. It’s comforting to know the toys I once held together with Band-Aids can be given to my niece or nephew and not be put in the Goodwill pile in the basement.  I can make up stories like I still do today. Stories of success. How I was a martyr for quitting law school. How I loved a boy once and it didn’t turn out how I thought it all would.

I keep myself busy most days, unless there’s an occasional email or text or phonecall to pass the time. I vacuumed my room twice to stay busy. I keep the space heater on in my room until I feel sick. I stopped by the side of the road twice last week to pick wildflowers that wilted in the sunlight while I was filling up my tank and getting a slice of pizza at the gas station down the road.

I saw my sister for the first time in a month yesterday, at her shared house that sits in a field. I parked by a lonesome tree and was greeted by her 11-year-old retriever. We watched a movie, played the old Mario games. I smelled the cigarette smoke from my brother-in-law’s Pall Mall seep through a crack in the windowsill. We brought pizza, ate it on napkins in the kitchen. We’re making it a tradition to keep trying at this.

I woke up this morning and had coffee, sat on the countertop and told my mom about the visit. I made these waffles for us before she went to work. Sunday breakfast, a little late in the day. I’m making my own traditions, heirlooms. Brass and duct tape and Band-Aids and all.

Cornmeal Ricotta Strawberry Waffles

Ingredients:

• 1 cup flour
• ¾ cup cornmeal, finely ground
• 1 TB baking powder
• 3 TB cornstarch
• 1 teaspoon salt
• ¾ cup white sugar
• 1 ½ tablespoon vanilla
• 2 eggs, separated
• 1 cup whole milk or buttermilk
• ½ cup ricotta
• 1 tablespoon chopped rosemary
• 3 strawberries, roughly chopped
• Confectioner’s suga

Directions:

1. In a bowl, sift together flour, cornmeal, cornstarch, baking powder, and salt. Set aside
2. In a measuring cup, whisk together milk, ricotta, and vanilla. Set aside
3. In a stand mixer, fitted with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites on high until stiff peaks form, about 5 minutes
4. Using a rubber spatula, transfer all egg whites to a separate bowl, making sure not to deflate
5. Switch to paddle attachment and add yolks and sugar to the bowl
6. Beat until ribbons form
7. Now, with the mixer on alternate between the milk-ricotta mixture and the dry ingredient mixture, a half cup at a time, allowing for the mixture to become fully homogenized before moving on
8. With the rubber spatula, mix a little bit of the egg whites into the batter to lighten
9. Fold in remaining egg whites, turning the spatula and the bowl to fully incorporate egg whites with minimal to no lumps
10. Finally, gently fold in rosemary and strawberries until just mixed in
11. Grease your waffle iron and use to manufacturer specifications
12. When slightly cooled, sift confectioner’s sugar atop waffles and enjoy immediatel