This is a really good pie. Ask my niece. She had thirds. She also took home all the gingersnap cookies I made with the leftover dough.

Jocelyn and Mindy made this pie on their respective coasts. Hope they turned out well. Oh, and Randy called from LA. The pie Craig baked arrived in great shape.

I guess I like pumpkin pie after all.

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I didn’t think when I started that my little project would become a resource for kosher and other dairy-free bakers around the world. That surprise alone has been extremely gratifying. Most wonderful, though, is the number of times I’ve met someone who says, “Oh, I know you…” and then tells me about a recipe they’ve downloaded and how much enjoyment it’s brought them. I’ve reconnected with old friends, too, which pleases me no end.

If all this wasn’t enough, a few weeks ago I found myself at Shabbat dinner with a baker whom I’ve gotten to know right here. Not a huge surprise in the Jewish world, we have a friend in common. He wanted  us to meet in person, though probably didn’t expect that we would insist on baking for everyone. Patti made the challah. It was so good that I had to insist, twice, that it be moved to other end of the table so that I didn’t eat it all myself. I took on dessert having explained that it would a) be a pleasure and b) alleviate any doubt about whether I can really bake. The parve dark chocolate brownie with coffee liqueur accompanied by a homemade gianduja gelato (dairy, it was a fish meal) was very well received.

I was in the kitchen plating when Randy posed the question. It wasn’t one I was really thrilled to hear. Could I share a parve pumpkin pie recipe for Thanksgiving? I told him the truth which is that I don’t make pumpkin pie. We grew up on mom’s apple pies which is another whole story. Further, the parve pumpkin pies I’ve eaten haven’t been very good. I took the challenge anyway. I love my friends and want to make them happy.

I should mention that this recipe test came with pre-conditions. The pumpkin pie will be baked in San Francisco and brought to Los Angeles. It needs to travel well. Also, the recipe will not contain soy milk which, at least in my experience, doesn’t work well with pureed squash. I thought about and ruled out several possibilities – a frozen pumpkin ice cream-type pie, an unbaked pumpkin torte, and a pumpkin-tofu blend filling in a traditional pastry pie crust. I even bought the tofu, twice.

In the end, I came up with what is arguably the best parve Pumpkin Pecan Pie ever. Like Randy and Craig, you can make it more traditional without the toasted pecans and Gingersnaps crust. But, really, do it my way. You’ll probably need to cover the edges of the crust when you turn the oven temperature down to keep them from burning. Keep in mind that the edges will spread as the pie bakes and you may want to trim away any extra crunchy bits that overhang the pie plate when it comes out of the oven.

Why is there no photo of this outrageously delicious dessert? I can’t keep this pie around long enough to get one. But I’m going to make it for Thanksgiving and will make sure to set a slice aside before the pie monsters come over. Check back as you’re basting the turkey. I’m roasting a capon, but that, too, is another story.

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It’s not that I haven’t been baking. A lot. At one point, I had an entire case of parve margarine, now down to about five pounds, in my freezer. There have been cakes and brownies, challah and meringues served at home, in shul, and overlooking a gorgeous lake in the snow at 7000 feet.

Not to mention several dozen nonpareil-festooned, Frosted Vanilla Cupcakes created specially for a small friend and everyone else on hand for the communal celebration of her 4th birthday.

I’ve also learned a few things these past eight or so weeks that might have been helpful to others had I shared in a timely manner. Like don’t even try making the Italian custard sauce, zabaglione, for Pesach with blackberry Manischewitz. Oh, what was I thinking?! Macerating fresh mixed berries in a little superfine sugar and a fizzy muscato wine to serve with your sponge cakes is always a wiser, delicious choice.

Why haven’t I been writing? All excuses aside (and there are quite a few of them ranging from the upper respiratory virus that kept me low for a full month to what to do next after completing an entire year of posting a new Torah Morsel every week, more recipes and less kosher baking advice than I ever expected), I probably just needed a break. I feel a little guilty since my great friends in the old Upper Westside neighborhood, Naomi and Pearl, tried valiantly, but unsuccessfully to get me back on the path before Passover. Pearl even sent me her nonagenarian mom’s recipe for frozen strawberry fluff and her blessing to share it! Since I’ve spoken to them since, I know they love me anyway. This is why they’re my great friends.

So what got me moving? My sister’s friend, Matthue Roth wrote wonderful things about The Parve Baker on Mixed Multitudes, MyJewishLearning’s blog last week.  Jen let me know, but then I got an e-mail about it from another great friend, food writer and blogger Leah Koenig. Then Patti posted her note…That did it.

When you get a chance, check out Stephanie Rosenbaum’s The Astrology Cookbook: A Cosmic Guide to Feasts of Love which was recently published by Jen’s company, Manic D Press.  And if you’re in the Bay Area next week, come and enjoy as the Mission Minyan welcomes its first Torah with three days of parties and other events. Wanna guess who’s baking dessert for Shabbat dinner?

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Always be careful what you write in a blog post. It will not be the end of the story. Especially if it’s about hamantaschen.

Last year around this time, I admitted that I hadn’t made any in long time. A lot of people didn’t believe me. A few were outraged. As a result of the general outcry, I decided to make some to go into mishloach manot, gifts of at least two kinds of food given to family and friends on Purim. They were really good, not least because I dressed them up in chocolate coats, a perfect complement to the honey-sweetened dough and apricot filling. (If Chocolate-Dipped Hamantaschen sound good to you and you’re still baking for the holiday, give them try.)

Fast forward to this Adar and what happens? Hamantaschen everywhere. It started with a friend asking if I’d make the dough and fillings for the community Purim celebration. Being cooperative, I said okay. Only later did I find out that the goal was 400 triangular cookies. And could they be vegan and pre-rolled and cut. I agreed to round up some friends who brought a sister and another friend. Eggs went in. We had a great time. Early this afternoon, twelve rounds of dough and four containers of fillings went off to be rolled, filled, shaped, and baked in a different kitchen for tomorrow night’s fest.

Meanwhile, I’ve been fielding all kinds of questions and opinions about hamantaschen. Biscuit-like, flaky, or cookie dough? There seem to be as many preferences as there will be people eating them this week. Maybe more. I shouldn’t kvetch, though. After passing on what was in my kitchen, I drove down to South San Francisco to pick up 21 dozen hamantaschen which will go into mishloach manot to be delivered by the Shushan Brigade to about 120 people in a certain downtown office building. Maralyn Tabatsky, owner of Have Your Cake, has made thousands. Each perfectly shaped with a thin – read: hard to handle – crust. I’m in awe.

The best part about skipping the rolling, cutting, shaping, and baking this year is that it’s given me time to work on hamantaschen fillings: apricot, prune, poppy seed (mohn), and chocolate. The first three are traditional. The last one is because as a French king prawn (not kosher) famously said in Muppets in Space, “It might be filled with chocolate, okay?”

Homemade fillings are easy to make and really bring hamantaschen to entirely different level. The basic procedure for making fillings from dried fruits (lekvar) is to combine them with sugar and water, bring the mixture to boil and then simmer it until the fruit is very soft. If you’re starting with fruit that’s on the hard side, soak it overnight or in boiling water first. An old-fashioned food mill is great for turning the cooked fruit and juices into a smooth-ish paste. I add a little cinnamon to the prunes. My friend, Rachel, uses dried cherries and substitutes cherry juice for the water. Just thinking about that makes me want to nosh a cherry hamantasch.

The poppy seed and chocolate are a little more involved. Requiring cake crumbs, eggs, and additional flavorings, they have to be prepared just before you use them. I make my own crumbs from a simple cake. Did I mention that adding mini-chocolate chips to the cocoa-based spread sends the chocolate over the top? Believe me, it does.

Strangely, there are no hamantaschen in my house tonight. I won’t be surprised if that changes soon.

Chag Purim Sameach! And remember that along with our rejoicing, it’s a Purim mitzvah to make gifts to the poor (mattanot l’evyonim).

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Besides living at the far edge of our neighborhood about four blocks away, my would-be friend had other problems. It was unusual in that time and place to have older parents, but she did. Being an adopted child set her apart from everyone else we knew. She was quiet and serious. So, I remember, was her home the one time I went there to play. Looking back, I wonder if her parents were among the Holocaust survivors quietly rebuilding shattered lives in and among the American-born Jews moving up and out of urban neighborhoods to the good life in the suburbs.

Being named Martha in an era of Donnas, Judys, and Lauras didn’t help her much either. I know about this first hand since my parents bestowed on me my mother’s beloved grandfather’s first name as my middle without feminizing it. Just a month or two ago, a friend started singing a certain famous cat food jingle that I was taunted with for years by friends and enemies alike. (It’s okay, I forgive you.) Martha developed a hard edge. This included a sharp tongue which she couldn’t seem to overcome, even with another girl from the neighborhood who wanted to be friends.

Fast forward a few decades to another hard-edged, reputedly sharp-tongued Martha, this one famous as an affluent lifestyle guru to the recently de-ethnicized and those aspiring to move up. Am I being unfair? It could be that her name brings up unresolved childhood trauma (minor!) involving the other Martha. In any case, I’ve chosen to have nothing to do with her or her empire for a very long time. So when I found someone’s discarded Favorite Comfort Food in the hallway of my building in New York while I was cleaning out my apartment in anticipation of moving only my hundreds of essential belongings (lots of books and dishes) to San Francisco, I adopted it despite the author’s name. Admittedly, sometimes reading about food is as satisfying, if not more, than preparing and eating it.

I’ve now read this cookbook several times from beginning to end. The recipes, for the most part, live up to the fussy complexity that I associate with this brand. The one standout is a cake made with pure maple syrup. Martha’s is a dairy layer cake frosted with maple buttercream and garnished with toasted walnuts. I took the recipe, reduced the sweetness and made it a simple parve sheet cake with the nuts on top. The result is what the best pancake breakfast you’ve ever eaten would be if it were a cake. Just ask the forty or so people who devoured it at Shabbat kiddush this past week. This Maple Walnut Cake would also be great for brunch, though I’ll save it for special occasions when I can splurge on real maple syrup. (Eli, let me know when you’re making it. I’m coming to the East Bay.)

Thanks, Martha!

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The Parve Baker will celebrate its first anniversary on February 24th!

I’ll be sharing my all-time favorite cookie recipe, thanking all my great blogging and reading friends, and revealing a befitting change or two. Your ideas are welcome! Tell me when and how you use The Parve Baker and what would make it more interesting, informative, fun or friendly.

Join the celebration by sending your best parve baking recipe or a dairy recipe you wish could be parve to theparvebaker@gmail.com. If I write about it, you’ll get the kavod (honor)and an unpublished recipe of mine.

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Sure, it’s possible that one or more of these kids will grow up to become distinguished scientists. I hope that they’ll each continue to explore the world around them wherever their future endeavors lead them. What’s on their minds right now? If their science fair entries are any indication, they’re thinking about sports (just how effective is a jump shot?), gender differences, icky things like mold, and, well, food. Pretty age appropriate stuff.

Among my favorite entries were three of direct interest to bakers. One asked, “Can baking powder substitute for baking soda?” The young scientist conducted an experiment in which differing amounts of these ingredients were used in four batches of pancakes. No other changes were made to the recipe. The results were evaluated for appearance, texture and taste. Where was I, by the way, for that part of the project?

I love this student’s question because anyone who has ever worked with these leavening agents has experience with what happens when they’re used incorrectly. Cookies rise weirdly and crumble. Cakes shoot up and then fall down. Anytime someone tells me that they made one of my recipes with baking soda, baking powder or both and it didn’t rise properly, my first question is, “What did you change?” Depending on the answer, the next one is either, “Did you measure each ingredient accurately?” or “Did you adjust the amount(s) of the leavener(s), too?”

Both baking soda and baking powder cause batters to rise by producing gases as they react chemically with other ingredients. Baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) releases carbon dioxide in the presence of moisture and an acid, such as molasses, honey or fruit juice. Baking powder is a mixture of baking soda and an acid. Starch (such as cream of tartar or cornstarch), added to absorb moisture, keeps it from it from clumping. In the United States, most baking powder is either single-acting or double-acting. Though heat accelerates the process, like baking soda, single-acting baking powder begins releasing carbon dioxide as soon as it comes into contact with moisture. Always mix both with other dry ingredients before adding liquids. Batters containing them should be baked right away. Double-acting baking powder is the most versatile and the kind typically used by home bakers. It contains an acid combination that reacts when it first comes into contact with moisture; a second reaction is heat-activated.

In general, baking soda works best in cookies (and pancakes). Add a little baking powder to increase leavening, if needed, in baking soda recipes. Too much baking powder imparts a bitter taste, along with other problems (see above). Use baking powder for cakes, quick breads, and batter that won’t be going into the oven right away. Measurements in my recipes are for double-acting baking powder. To use single-acting baking powder instead, try increasing the amount by 25 percent. Leave the box of baking soda absorbing odors in the refrigerator alone. Store baking soda and powder for baking in a cool, dry place.

I’ve gone on for quite a bit about leavening in anticipation of a lot of cookie and cake baking in the next few weeks. The other two investigations entered by the young kitchen scientists merit their own posts. Inquiring middle schoolers want to know: “Why do some cookie sheets burn the bottoms of cookies and which burn the bottoms the least?” and “What common kitchen items keep apples from browning?” Don’t you?

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I work with people who celebrate birthdays. Despite their highly ritualized, overtly saccharine trappings, these periodic office events are a custom worth preserving and not just for the inevitable food. Every once in a while we stop what we’re doing for few minutes and acknowledge together that there is more to us than the work we that we’ve been hired to do. Each of us has a history, an identity, and a future that includes, but is so much more than what others see on the job. Not only that, but workplaces have hierarchies. Some are explicit in titles and reporting structures. Others operate through social networks and not infrequently in the Jewish world through kinship ties, as well. Our birthday celebrations are egalitarian. Everyone gets one with a personal card signed individually by all.

We had a triple birthday bash, such as it is, planned for the end of a staff meeting this week. My offer to provide cupcakes was graciously accepted. Unfortunately, when it came down to it the night before, I was still working on a project that needed to get finished and wasn’t in the frame of mind to bake, frost, and pack a couple of dozen cupcakes for the trip downtown in the morning. Not wanting to disappoint entirely, I made an Apple Cake from ingredients that I had in the kitchen. By baking it in an easily transportable five-pound loaf pan, I solved my carrying dilemma, too.

Admittedly, I felt a little sheepish presenting a giant apple cake loaf instead of the promised cupcakes. The party planner seemed unconcerned when he took it from on top of the file cabinet in my office. It reappeared several hours later still in the pan, but sporting a dozen or so little birthday candles. The kind usually reserved for children’s parties and cupcakes. The overall effect was sufficiently loopy to make the discussion of the war in Gaza that we’d been having for the last hour retreat just enough to allow a brief, but genuine celebration.

The strangest thing happened. The cake disappeared. In less than two minutes, it was entirely gone save for two small bites at one end. I was standing a few feet away, but had no idea where it went. Then a few people started talking about how good it was. One is a former caterer, another never eats desserts. The next day, someone else ended a business an e-mail, “That cake was amazing!” Word of the apple cake quickly spread across the bay to the Marin office. So I made two more (a smaller loaf and an 8-inch square), one of which was enjoyed at seudah shelishit (the third Shabbat meal) in Berkeley earlier today.

I can’t take full credit for all of this fast disappearing, very delicious cake. Recently, I met Carol Koenig at Hazon’s third annual Jewish food conference. Carol is food writer Leah Koenig’s mom, though she rightfully wants the world to know that she is a person in her right. I’m very proud to publicize right here that Carol is a fine baker. She graciously shared the parve apple cake recipe with me that’s led to all the rave reviews. Her cousin brought this cake to her house one year for Rosh Hashanah. Ever since, it’s been Carol’s recipe, too.

Being myself, I couldn’t help but change it a bit by substituting whole wheat pastry flour for half of the all purpose flour and adding small amounts of nutmeg, mace, and cloves to the cinnamon. This is still an easy cake to prepare. Don’t be put off by the stiffness of the batter which is almost as thick as soft cookie dough. During baking the juice from the apples suffuses the batter producing a moist tender crumb. Carol’s cousin uses Golden Delicious apples with good results, but I agree with her that tart Granny Smiths are a better choice.

Warning: This cake is sweeter than usual for my baking, but dessert mavens all over the Bay Area like it that way. Who am I to disagree?

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Recently, I wrote about the large amount of leftover bread that’s been circulating around the neighborhood since the Simchat Torah barbeque. It’s moved from Dolores Park to Jen’s and then my freezer. I was going to make it all into apple walnut bread pudding for a Shabbat morning kiddush which I did. The three large pans served some forty happy people who didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t warm. No one noticed that the sesame seeds peeking out here and there had once topped a couple of dozen hamburger rolls either.

Mission accomplished! Well, sort of. Twelve pounds of bread pudding later, there were still two full shelves of twice-frozen hot dogs buns in my refrigerator. Someone I mentioned this to suggested that I donate them to a food pantry or soup kitchen. Even if one would take them off my hands, I couldn’t do it. Giving food to others in a condition that I wouldn’t eat runs counter to the most fundamental teaching of Jewish ethics: “That which is despicable to you, do not do to your fellow” (Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 31a).

I also didn’t want to be wasteful. So this evening I made parve croutons, hundreds of them. Tomorrow night, Jen is going to come by and take two large and nine small bags. She’ll redistribute them to people who do the critical volunteer work that keeps the Minyan running. I’ll keep one bag to incorporate into the meal I’ll be preparing later this week for Shabbat lunch.

Croutons are easy to make and offer a great way to use stale bread. Often, they’re sautéed in oil with garlic. I prefer to bake them. The preparation is quite simple. Cut the bread into cubes of the desired size. Place the cubes in a single layer on a baking sheet. At this point, they can be drizzled with oil and fresh or dried herbs. Then they go in a 375º F oven for 15 minutes or until they’re fully dry and slightly golden. Cool and store in airtight containers.

Unless I have a specific use in mind, I make plain croutons which are the most versatile. Here are a few ways to use them:

1. Tossed in a salad.
2. As a featured ingredient in a rustic soup.
3. As a main ingredient in a bread stuffing.
4. Ground into crumbs for breading vegetables, fish or meat.

From time to time, we all have leftover bread. Give crouton making at home a try. They’re much better than store-bought and can add a bit to the value of our grocery purchases. You don’t have to bake ten trays of them at once like I did. Unless, of course, you’ve got more than three dozen twice-frozen hot dog buns in your fridge.

Speaking of value, in the next few days, I’m going to be adding a new recipe section on the Baking page. It will be called Recession Remedies. This is where you’ll find budget-stretching desserts, such as Cheap Sponge Cake, and baking instructions for other inexpensive goodies like these croutons indexed for easy linking. I’ll be adding new ones from time to time. Hopefully, this economic downturn will be short-lived. I’m an optimist, remember.

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I was on the phone earlier today with Lori Huler Glick, an extraordinary real estate professional. Lori’s been working heroically since late summer, against the plunging economy, to help me sell or rent my Upper West Side co-op so that I can get settled on the West Coast. Showing the apartment, following up with brokers and clients, and working with me first to formulate “Plan A” - then Plans B, C, D, and E - she is conscientious and gracious to a fault. If only the market hadn’t evaporated!

As our conversation was ending, we exchanged Hanukkah greetings. Lori added that her children are so excited they can hardly wait for the day to end.

I remember those joyful times as a child, too. One of the things that still makes Hanukkah exciting is the expectation of eating fried foods, something I rarely do during the rest of the year. I haven’t yet decided whether I love the smell of potato latkes frying, the taste and texture of a well-fried latke, or the latke as a platform for homemade applesauce best. I’ve added grated celery root for a fancier latke and made them from sweet potatoes, zucchini, and a few other vegetables. After traditional potato pancakes, vegetarian perkedel jagung rule in my house.  I learned to make these corn fritters during my years in Java.

I’ll also be making sufganiyot with friends from the Mission Minyan this week. I’m a little concerned about getting the jelly into the doughnuts since the tool I usually use for this is in my kitchen in New York – in the top drawer to right of the stove, to be exact – and everyone laughs when I ask if they have one we can borrow. It’s looking like I’ll have to decide which is more important, an almost perfectly symmetrical shape or a jelly-filled center. I know better than to open this up for discussion in advance lest it become a source of conflict among friends, most of whom will show up for the eating and not risk getting burned by hot, splattering oil.

Despite all the anticipation, there comes a time during Hanukkah when a break from frying and fried is most welcome. This is typically Shabbat. One of the problems with preparing fried foods for Shabbat is that they don’t keep and reheat well at low temperatures. By the time they reach the table, they’re too often soggy, greasy or both. A much preferable alternative is to bake with oil. For Hanukkah, I use an extra light olive oil of Mediterranean provenance. It’s lighter in color and has a milder flavor than other olive oils due to a very fine filtration process. (Note: the fats and calories in this product are the same as regular olive oil).

My favorite baked dessert with olive oil is Hanukkah Pear Cake. It’s a perfect cake for Shabbat because it’s best the day after baking. I use Royal Riviera, also known as Comice pears from the box my dad sends me every year at this time. Talk about anticipation. These Oregon pears are exquisitely tender and juicy.  Other varieties can be used in this cake with very good results, as well. For a totally over the top dessert, try serving it with Caramel Sauce.

Jews are hopeful people. This characteristic will help us as times become more difficult. Finding ways to encourage and strengthen this in ourselves and others is something we all can do. A good way to begin is by celebrating Hanukkah. We light the first Hanukkah candle on the longest night of the year. Adding another candle for the next seven nights, we repeatedly reaffirm our belief that the darkness will continue to recede until we reach the longest day half a year from now and then slowly return until we light the first Hanukkah candle again.

Chag Urim Sameach!

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