How Not to Make Chocolate Cream Puffs

My dear friend Apryl is getting married in September. The bridal shower was this past Sunday, and of course I jumped at the chance to make some special food for my special friend. Being in charge of the dessert spread, I got the cake, made some fruit-topped sugar cookies and attempted chocolate cream puffs.

Seriously, leave it to me to try a new recipe when 50 people need to be fed. As is my wont, I went at the choux pastry and cream filling as though I had made them a thousand times before. I found three different cream puff recipes and took what I liked from each of them. I found two different pastry cream recipes and did the same.

And you know what? The little buggers puffed up just right, and the pastry cream was silky and divine. Sure, the choux shells were a little wonky and misshapen, but hey, it was my first attempt. I thought that the glossy icing I had planned - picture a chocolate-glazed Krispy Kreme - would give them a professionally-finished look.

The morning of the shower, with my hair still wet and just 45 minutes until I needed to hit the road, I went for the glaze. Bittman's recipe couldn't have been easier: a cup of milk and a cup of high-quality chocolate chips, melted and mixed, then drizzled. Unfortunately, even made with whole milk, this yielded a meager chocolate soup.

I tried again. I put the soup back in the sauce pan, added even more chocolate chips and tossed in few tablespoons of butter in an attempt to up the heftiness quotient. My machinations improved the consistency up to the level of Hershey's syrup.

I now had 30 minutes in which to dry the hair, put on the make-up, get dressed, and finish up the infernal cream puffs. I looked at their delicious-but-deformed little bodies and stirred the chocolate mess, and made my decision: we'll ice them anyway.

I drizzled the soup-sauce-syrup disaster over them, and it streamed down the sides into puddles - nay, lakes - of chocolate mud. I did my best to refrigerate, hoping the cold would harden the mess into something resembling ganache. No dice. I slapped on the plastic wrap, dashed through the downpour to my car, and put on my best bridesmaid face.

Good friend that she is, Apryl oohed and aahed over the little bastards, and I will admit that they tasted great. But they were sticky to touch and not pretty at all, and I hate that. Next time I will use a pastry bag to pipe the cream puffs, so that they might not need glaze to be cute. As a service to you, I have omitted the chocolate soup step from the recipe below - although it would make a mean ice cream topping.

Chocolate Cream Puffs
Adapted from Bittman, epicurious and beyond.

For the choux pastry:
1 cup water
8 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into chunks
Pinch salt
1 tablespoon high-quality cocoa powder
1 cup flour
4 eggs

For the chocolate pastry cream:
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons high-quality cocoa powder
Pinch salt
2 eggs and 1 egg yolk
2 cups whole milk
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into chunks
3 ounces high-quality bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, cut into small pieces

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Over medium-high heat, combine water, butter and salt until butter melts. Add the cocoa powder and flour all at once. Cook, stirring constantly, until the dough holds together in a ball, five minutes or less.

Remove the pan from the heat. Using an electric mixer, beat in the eggs one at a time. Stop beating when the egg is fully incorporated and the mixture is smooth and shiny.

Use a pastry bag to pipe 1-1/2 inch balls of dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet. (You can use two spoons to form your dough balls if you don't mind wonky-shaped puffs.) Bake for 40 minutes or until the puffs sound hollow when tapped. Prick each puff with a toothpick to allow steam to escape, then cool completely (which doesn't take long).

While the puffs are in the oven, make the pastry cream. Whisk together the dry ingredients in a medium sauce pan. In a bowl, mix the eggs, yolk and milk until well combined. Over medium heat, add the egg-milk mixture to the dry ingredients. Whisk for the first minute or two to break any lumps, then stir constantly until the mixture thickens considerably - you should be able to leave trails in it with your spoon. This takes about 10 minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat and add the butter and chocolate, stirring until everything has melted and combined. Cool the pastry cream in the fridge if necessary, putting plastic wrap right on its surface to prevent a skin from forming.

Once the choux puffs have cooled completely, use a knife to remove a little cap from each. Hollow out the insides if necessary, then fill with pastry cream and replace the cap. Serve as soon as possible or they will get mushy.

Eating Well on the Cheap n'At

My taste is filet mignon, but my budget is Steak'ums. I keep a secret list of Pittsburgh restaurants to try - near-mythical places like Eleven and Le Pommier. But since I like to eat out more often than once every six months - that's how often my parents visit - I'm always on the lookout for cheap and tasty eats. So when I saw a PG article on a new guidebook on low-budget eateries in Pittsburgh, I grabbed a copy. Once I read it, I had to meet the authors.

Gail Nesbitt Jones and Marsha Dugan Kolbe met me last month to discuss their tiny masterpiece, Where We Like to Eat n'At. This spiral-bound volume contains profiles on 57 distinctive area restaurants that will spark conversation but won't break the bank.

Where We Like to Eat n'At features Pittsburgh classics like DeLuca's, Tessaro's, Pamela's and Ritter's, but it also goes off the beaten path. Take Marsha's favorite pick, the Monterey Pub in the Mexican War Streets. You won't find this Irish pub in any guide books, and you'd probably never drive up Monterey Street looking for a restaurant. It's the kind of place you only learn about on an inside tip, and it's exactly what the authors were trying to find: neighborhood joints where locals go to enjoy conversation and a friendly atmosphere.

As Gail put it, "The places we included all have decent and affordable food, but more importantly, they are all uniquely Pittsburgh." That means that you won't find any chain restaurants in the book, but it also means that you're in for a whirlwind tour of some of Pittsburgh's lesser-known neighborhoods and suburbs. For instance, according to Gail, Bob's Garage in Blawnox pulls off astronomical levels of tackiness that you've just got to see. Marsha doesn't think anyone should miss the pristine Boston Waterfront, hidden on the banks of the Youghiogheny in McKeesport. And I wholeheartedly agree that you must try My Brick Oven, an unassuming woodfire pizza shop on Banksville Road with an astonishing patio and herb-crusted wings that knock my socks off every three days.

So if you're ready to find new favorite restaurant that you will actually be able to patronize, you can pick up a copy of Where We Like to Eat n'At online or at many local bookstores. Rumor has it that some adventurous types are even getting their copies autographed by staff at each of the 57 eateries profiled. Best of all, it's only $10, which even I can afford.

And if you're not convinced, heed to the wise words of Gail and Marsha: There's no excuse for eating at the same places all the time, and there's no excuse for not exploring the city you call home.

Now get out there!

5 Ways to Stop Being a Picky Eater

I am a recovering picky eater, and I owe my life to PEA... that's Picky Eaters Anonymous.

Voluntarily depriving ourselves of foods we don't like, we PEAs like to say that we "know what we want." But that's crap, because - let's admit it, PEAs - we have never even tried many of the foods we say we don't like. If we tried them, it was once, it was eight years ago, and it was in a horrible situation involving an ex's mother.

PEAs, ask yourself these questions: How can I say I love Mediterranean food if don't like olives? Can I describe the flavor of the bleu cheese I hated 15 years ago? If my clairvoyance is so developed that I can know I don't like anchovies without ever trying them, why can I not pick the right six numbers?

Being a PEA means more than avoiding certain foods. It means cutting entire families, even ethnicities, from our menus. And worse than that, it means that we don't like to try new things, and that we hold grudges.

Are those traits we're willing to own?

I didn't think so. PEAs of the world, break free! Here are five ways to trick yourself into liking the foods you think you hate.

1. Expect to enjoy every single morsel of food that goes in your mouth.
Terror of terrors, you don't know what something tastes like? Expect that it's going to be your new favorite food. Say out loud to your dining companion, "I am so excited to try this new thing!" Then you have to like it to save face. How many people have discovered they like sushi because of peer pressure?

2. Try new foods in combination with foods you know you like.
You know that little dish of guacamole that comes with your taco? You usually leave it, because guacamole looks like baby poop so it can't possibly taste good (been there, done that, was so wrong). This time, eat it. You can't be the high inquisitor of the Clean Plate Club if that stuff is on your plate, and today, that is your ultimate ambition.

3. Describe what it tastes like.
When you are pretty sure you hate something, try actually chewing it for once. While you are suffering, spend a few seconds tasting the food and describing the flavor to yourself. If you had to explain the flavor to someone with no sense of smell or taste, what would you say to communicate the total experience? No, Suzanne, "gross" is not an option.

4. Raise your decision limit.
No more deciding you don't like something after one try. Not every food preparation is suitable for a beginner (or even good). If you don't like tang, you probably will gag on your first stilton... but you might really like bleu cheese on a blackened burger. So raise the number of times you have to try something before you can say you don't like it. Mine is 10. I have tried olives now six times, and I still don't like them by themselves... but at least I know exactly what it will taste like if they are on some pizza.

5. Make a recipe in a cookbook that looks yummy but features something scary.
Do not go out and buy something you think you don't like without a plan. Trust me: if you buy a hunk of cactus without a recipe in mind, it will go hazmat on you. Find a recipe in a cookbook with pictures - the visual stimulation is a must here - and try your hand at preparing the offending food item yourself. Then, see tip #1.

And remember, PEAs, you're not alone. You can beat this! Just surrender yourself to a higher authority... which, as it turns out, is peas. Go figure.