Camelot and King Arthur (Flour): Part the First

or Field Trips and Special Guests #3:  
A Pilgrimage to King Arthur Flour!

It's that time of year again...thoughts turn to Camelot, Dallas and JFK in the weeks before Thanksgiving's official start to the holiday season.  In an effort to right the cultural wrong that is this country's morbid fascination with JFK, as well as to reclaim the meaning of Camelot (I have an MA in English and American Literature to justify), I am taking it upon myself to remind us all of the true meaning of Camelot this holiday season:  Flour.  King Arthur Flour.  And you know what that means?  ROAD TRIP!

King Arthur Flour in Norwich, VT

Adventure is best faced with an exceptionally good friend.  (Why yes, I do count a road trip in a Prius to bake cookies in Vermont as an adventure.)  It's recommended that you pick someone you can talk with for hours and hours and hours on the trip up, and then all weekend, and then for hours and hours and hours on the trip home.  (Also, it's good if that someone does not snore.)  And, if you are me, and you are driving from NY to VT, and you head through Springfield, MA, it's best if that person is totally and completely okay with driving by the Basketball Hall of Fame with me giving no more than a wave and an "OH, I didn't even know that existed!"  Happily, I knew just the friend:    

LORI!

You may remember that Lori was the star of the very first installation of Field Trips and Special Guests,  where she taught me everything there is to know about baking Black and White cookies.  It was during that first Field Trips and Special Guests post that I learned that Lori and I share a love of King Arthur Flour.  More importantly, we both had a secret dream to travel to Camelot, shop in the store, and take a class or two.  This, my friends, is our story:

Nah, it's not in MN, but they had this cool old sign, and I liked it.

King Arthur Flour was founded in 1790 in Boston, which means it is at least as American as apple pie and baseball.  Really. I mean it.  The earliest historical note about baseball comes from a bylaw in Pittsfield, MA, and is dated 1791, making King Arthur Flour as old as--and as much a part of our collective history as--baseball. (You can read more about the origins of baseball in Baseball in the Garden of Eden.)  King Arthur Flour is our American Camelot.  

We left mid-day on Friday in mid-fall.  If Lori and I had not been so busy talking, talking, talking and drinking Dr. Pepper and cherry seltzer and 'road testing' cookies, 

Road testing a few new creations for Thanksgiving...Pumpkin Tartlet, Chocolate-Pecan Tartlet, and the Apple Tartlet.  Caramel Dreams kept them company.

we would have taken pictures of the gorgeous New England foliage.  Instead, I have only the one I took in New York (but it is nice):

Technically, you are looking at the Hudson River and NJ.  But I was standing in NY when I took it.

Just as the sun was setting, we arrived. Contrary to what you may have believed, Camelot is in Norwich, Vermont, and 'tis not a silly place. 

With little time to spare, we headed inside.  We had a 5:00 class to make but absolutely had to visit the store before class.  Had to.  But we didn't get far, before I saw him:

 

"I realize you have a soft spot for Guinevere, but everybody but you knows about her and Lancelot.  And besides, I bake and I like horses and I'll teach you how to play baseball.  So what if you are short and empty...."

Something has come between Lori and me.

We would have been completely distracted during the entire class had we not stopped in the store first. Yet another thing to consider when choosing a road-trip companion:  make sure he or she shares your priorities. We said so-long to our king-knight, and headed to the main attraction:

Suddenly I wondered:  "Do I really need to go to class?"

My dilemma:  I no longer had any interest in going to class.  I have not taken a class--any class--in decades, and here I was, ready to skip my first class without batting an eye.  To shop.  BUT JUST LOOK at what they had:

Who wouldn't want The Big Bag of flour?  Sure, you think you don't now, but when you are there and you see it in person, it seems infinitely reasonable.

THEY NAME THE FLOUR AFTER KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE!!!  It's worth noting that Sir Galahad was the bastard son of Sir Lancelot and Lady Elaine, and he was known for purity.  There's meaning to the name, folks. If you want pure, unbleached, artisan flour, then Galahad is for you.  (I told you I have a graduate degree in English and American Literature, and I'm going to use it!)

Don't worry; I bought plenty.

Caramel by the block.  My arms hurt just thinking about how to cut into it.

Vietnamese Cinnamon.  Lots of it.

More exciting than the perfume counter at Nordstrom.  Fiori di Sicilia.  That's my new thing.

Whole nutmeg, anyone? I am quite sure I need it for something.

This is a canister for your sourdough starter.  Or King Arthur Flour. Or cookies.  (Do you see where I am going with this? You. need. one.)

I was overwhelmed and completely distracted. Happily, Lori was there to snap me out of my reverie and get me back on task:  class!  However, here is where I will note that Lori and I signed up for these classes back in September, and neither of us had much of an idea of what we were doing.  We remembered that the Friday class would be about cakes, and the Sunday one would be about cookies.  Other than that, we were clueless.

We made our way down the hall to class...

Something is the matter! Few things delight me more than a perfectly placed literary reference, but the editor in me is dismayed to point out a chink in the armor:  Sendak is misspelled as Sendal.  How the hell did that happen?

We arrived late and last, but we made it just in time for class:  Autumn Cake Decoration.  Immediately I panicked and started repeating over and over in my head:  "Please don't make me bake a cake.  Please don't make me bake a cake."  Can I bake a cake?  Yes.  Do I enjoy it?  No.  Not at all.  Not one little bit.  Too much detail.  Too many ways to go wrong.  "Please don't make me bake a cake."  I looked over at Lori.  She was decidedly uneffected.  She knows her stuff.  She was undaunted.

I was feeling fussy, but then I noticed two things:  1.  COUPON for 15% off in the store, and 2.  The class was a demonstration only.  NO BAKING!  I began to relax.  This was going to be fun after all!

Our fearless leader for this demonstration was none other than the witty and charming Gesine Bullock-Prado,  author of Bake It Like You Mean It and other titles:

Gesine's personality is infectious, and yes, she bakes it like she means it!

So here's the deal: In two hours, Gesine took us through the intricacies of baking a Buche de Noel--the traditional French Christmas cake that looks like a log with mushrooms (made of meringue or marzipan) on top.  A cake I would never in a million years attempt--the mere name fills me with fear.  A cake that Lori actually made back when she had a baking business.  Lori was in heaven, and I was thanking my lucky stars that all I had to do was watch.

Prepared to sit back and pretend I was watching it all on TV, I suddenly realized:  I'm interested.  This is kind of cool.  She's showing us how to bake a cake imprinted on a cake.  That's how you get the look of wood on the chocolate cake.  You basically put a thin layer of white cake in a pattern over the chocolate cake.  It's fascinating.  (Especially when you don't have to do it yourself.)

Preparing the batter.

Learning to make the white batter look like wood grain for the "log" cake in the Buche de Noel.

Four different volunteers got to try their hand at making the wood grain. (No, I did not volunteer.)

The finished product--pretty cool!

Never mind that I want my sweets to look and taste like sweets.  (The idea of eating a cake that looks like a log and has mushrooms on it is particularly unappealing to me.)  The process is cool.  Then Gesine blew my mind.  You can do even cooler things with this technique:

Spider Webs?  Giraffe?  You decide.

Let it snow...not entirely out of the question in Vermont in November.

And just like that, the demonstration class was over.  Gesine invited us to tear off pieces of the cake for a tasty treat, and then we all said goodbye.  Lori and I headed out the door and straight to the store with our coupons, only to find...it was closed.  There was nothing left to do but head to The Norwich Inn to debrief after a whirlwind afternoon over a hamburger and glass of wine.

What have we learned?

•  Camelot is real, and it's in Norwich, Vermont.
• Sometimes our heroes (whether presidents or kings) are disappointing (e.g., short, empty, poor spellers) and we must question whether we are drawn to the myth more than the reality. 
• Sometimes things aren't what they're baked up to be--sometimes they are even better, like the Autumn Cake Decoration class with Gesine Bullock-Prado.

But surely you don't think this is the end of the Camelot road trip, do you?  I've still got the shopping and cookie baking class (One Cookie Three Ways) to tell you about.  But not now.  Right now, I need a cookie.  Come to think of it, so do you.   Here's a peek at what's to come in Camelot and King Arthur (Flour): Part the Second....

Chocolate Pinwheel Cookies

Chocolate-Nutella Sandwich Cookies!

Lemon Custard Cookies

Who You Calling a Tartlet?

So, remember that spiced thumbprint cookie for Patty Chang Anker and the launch of her new book, Some Nerve?   

The one filled with dark chocolate and crystallized ginger?  It was a hit! 

I realized pretty quickly that the cookie part itself would probably make a good crust for a tart, and my thoughts turned to apples…soon I had these little apple tartlets dancing in my mind.  Why bake a whole tart when you can make dozens of cute, delicious little ones? Like this:

Just in time for Thanksgiving and all things fall, I put together this cookie and entered it in the Hasting's Farmer's Market annual pie contest.  Ever outside the box, I had to improvise…couldn’t call it a cookie if it was going to be in a pie contest, right?  So, it’s a tartlet.* 

*  My friend, Marty, pointed out that maybe I should spell it “tartlette” instead of “tartlet,” to avoid confusion with a certain disreputable kind of woman.   And I considered his advice for .50 seconds before deciding that such confusion is even better!  Let’s get tarted up, my friends!

Tartlet Crust:

1.5 sticks unsalted butter at room temperature

½ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 tablespoon ground ginger

¼ teaspoon ground cloves

¼ teaspoon salt

1 ¼ cups quick-cooking oats

First things first:  preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and line your baking sheets with parchment paper. 

Cream:

Butter sugar, and vanilla

Let the mix with a high-speed mixer on medium-to-high for about 2 minutes, until the ingredients are fluffy.

Add:

Slow the mixer and add the flour, spices, and salt.  After these are folded together, turn the mixer to a high speed and beat until well mixed.  Turn the mixer off and scrape down the sides of the bowl.  Next, turn the mixer to a low speed and add the oats until completely folded into the dough.

Now you’re ready to form the tartlets.  Using a teaspoon, scoop out the dough and form it into a ball by rolling it between the palms of your hands.  Place the balls of dough 1.5 to 2 inches apart on the baking sheet.  Once the baking sheet is full, use the backside of a ¼ teaspoon measure and make an indentation into the middle of each cookie.  You are making a bowl in the dough.  While baking, it will flatten out significantly, but still leave enough of a rim to hold in the apple filling.

Bake the tartlets for 13 minutes—they should be just turning golden on the edges.   

While the tartlets are baking, start the apple filling.  Once the tartlets are done baking, let them cook for about 5 minutes before filling with the apple mixture.

Apple filling

(This filling is based on the Apple Gallette recipe in Cook’s Illustrated.  I’ve modified it to work with my tartlet crust instead of the traditional French gallette crust.)

≅ 3 apples (about 1 pound).  (I used Cortland, Empire, and McIntosh from a local orchard,
The Orchards of Concklin.)

1-2 tablespoons unsalted butter cut into small pieces

1/8 cup sugar

3 tablespoons apple jelly from Wright’s Farm (www.eatapples.com)

crème fraîche or whipped cream

Core and peel the apples, and then slice them into quarters.  

Simmer the apples for about 20 min. in a sauce pan with the butter, sugar, and apple jelly, until the mixture has thickened and the apples are softened but not gooey or translucent.   

MMMMmmmm....apple jelly from Wright's Farm

Spoon the apple filling into the tartlets by the teaspoonful.  Let the tartlets cool for about 10 minutes, and if you’re feeling fancy (and who isn’t?), top each tartlet with a little fresh whipped cream or crème fraîche. 

Enjoy. Share. Repeat.

P.S.

Thanksgiving trifecta coming soon…pumpkin pie cookie and chocolate pecan pie cookie to complete the set…
P.P.S
My "tartlets" (ok, ok, they were cookies) didn't win the pie contest, BUT, Pascale Le Draoulec, who runs the Hastings Farmer's Market, said this:  "The judges LOVED your cookies, Adrian, and said they would have def. won a cookie competition, but not a pie competition."  Good enough for me!  Can't blame the judges for picking a pie to win the pie contest.  At least I didn't enter a cat in a dog show. Yet.