Out & About #967 | Sinus Infection Again, Pai Bao, Profiteroles + Mugwort Pound Cake

I'd like to think that three weeks of operating at inferior levels of productivity was sufficient enough duration for recovery.

My appetite had returned for the most part, enabling ingestion of a Hot Cake Happy Meal with a side of Hash Brown and Apple Juice.

But life takes unpredictable turns: the morning after a near-normal cardio session, I was subject to a restless night of congestion and sinus pain. The following morning, the phlegm reverted to green once more. My entire face ached. My body swelled. My eyeballs were pulsating severely, to the point of nearly protruding from their sockets

An urgent call to the doctor was made, and an appointment shortly afterwards.
I was prescribed a third antibiotic in addition to the nasal spray of round 1, inahler of round 2, and allergy medication of round 3. Tylenol for Sinus and a nasal rinse had also been suggested for pain relief in the meantime.

Being equipped with the ability to swallow pills is revolutionary. While I had accepted my fate of plausibly taking kids' medication for eternity, my former carpooling partner had other thoughts.
​
The power of believing is an incredible one indeed. To have someone believe in me even when I didn't believe in myself was an act of grand motivation, one that somehow overruled at least a decade of reflex tablet and capsule rejection.

I hadn't known the convenience of pills until experiencing success. Most importantly, it was continued success, facilitating intake at regular intervals for pain relief.

The steady enhancements didn't stop at just pill-swallowing though. Drawers that had resided on the floor of my bedroom for at least five years were repaired and reinforced. A closet rack that also succumbed to excess weight would be restored with swift silence, allowing me to retreat to supine position in the face of throbbing pain. My splinter-filled cutting board was sanded with precision, and 排包 errands undertaken for my Tylenol-taking needs. Even motivation for cleaning procedures had been summoned.

Life was getting better, even if my health had taken a harsh hit.

Meals of the week comprised of: Congee takeout from Yin Ji Chang Fen mixed with Napa Cabbage, topped with a Sweet Cruller (牛脷酥), and/or mixed with Frozen Kale and Tomato Minced Pork with Choy Sum, Orecchiette, and Grated Parmesan.

​Creations of the week included:

1) 排包/Pai Bao

The T&T package disappeared sooner than I would have liked, which led to the need of replenishing my inventory firsthand. Venturing into the cold towards Akko Cake House was less desirable, for it equated to a forty-minute round trip and ten minutes of getting dressed/undressed. Experiencing less pain in the face and eyeballs, I braved myself for a homemade rendition.

It was with much disappointment that Bake for Happy Kids' website had vanished from the Internet. Thankfully, her most popular recipes also reside on YouTube in short-format clips. The ever-reliable Roti Sisir recipe combined the following ingredients in a bread machine:

• 210 g lukewarm water
• 35 g sweetened condensed milk
• 300 g AP flour
• 25 g granulated sugar
• 15 g milk powder
• 4 g salt
• 50 g butter
• 1 tsp yeast

Without a stand mixer handy, I'd be taking to manual kneading. Thus, I commenced by whisking together the dry ingredients, followed by water and sweetened condensed milk. Softened knobs of butter would be incorporated into the dough in the last stage of kneading. The dough was unsurprisingly wet, as brioche bases often are, yet also surprisingly easy to knead. Strands of gluten formed in under ten minutes - far less than the thirty minutes advised by Zoe's breadmaker edition.

​The proofing process spanned nearly two hours. Afterwards, eleven cylindrical rolls were formed and placed in a square pan for the second proof. In hindsight, I ought to have greased and floured my ancient baking pan, for the cleanup process was positively grueling. The second proof spanned roughly 90 minutes.

Following a thorough brushing of egg wash, the tray was set into the oven to bake for 20 minutes at 350 F. Five additional minutes were appended after rotating the pan 180 degrees for uniform goldenness. The outcome was a splendidly fluffy tray of Cantonese brioche - richer and moister than the likes of T&T even on day one.
The colour difference was also obvious when placed side by side. T&T's was whiter and featured a light, porous crumb; meanwhile, mine was a pale golden yellow with thready layers.

2) Profiteroles

Sunday Baking's Cookie Choux had kickstarted a yearning to master the fundamental pastry. It constituted a base of impressive versatility, but while seemingly simple, I'd declare the batter even more challenging to master than sponge cake.

But I was determined, especially once encouraged by Sunday herself! The journey led me to investigate other choux-maxing videos for tips and indicators. Claire Saffitz's two-part series on choux introduced a wooden spoon in the mixing process, as well as a "wok technique" that would knock the water-milk-butter-flour dough against the insides of the saucepan to aid in coagulation. Further studies confirmed the "V-shape" batter indicator and revealed that sheen would be attained once enough eggs had been incorporated.

Although I wasn't entirely sure about the dough-cooking duration on the stovetop, my best guess was to stir vigorously and remove from heat once a mass had formed. The same steps of transferring to a wide bowl and incorporating beaten eggs would then ensue.​

Ingredient quantities had been scaled accordingly from Sunday's formula for the amount of beaten egg that would emerge from three whole units:

• 83 g water
• 83 g milk
• 70 g unsalted butter
• 1/3 tsp salt
• 2/3 tsp sugar
• 153 g eggs *1.38x ratio
• 97 g AP flour

My wrist and shoulder had tired tremendously in the first trial, where beaten egg was dribbled in slowly and folded with a silicon spatula. Sunday had mentioned a hand mixer for ease, prompting the equipment swap this time around. Initially, the beaters split the batter and caused it to crumble. With successive additions of egg, the dough grew tacky, ultimately clinging to the beaters and inhibiting mixing. The wooden spoon was summoned once more, and ultimately utilized to finish the process.

The formula appeared looser than before. I lifted the wooden spoon and observed anxiously. To my astonishment, the batter drooped, then plopped back into the bowl, leaving behind the coveted "V-shape" trail. I was now ready to pipe.

​Another factor I had wished to affirm was the correlation between size and expansion. Dotting my Silpain with a 4 cm diameter cookie cutter produced a preliminary yield of 24 mini choux. Remnants of the batter enabled nine more, which were piped onto a parchment-lined tray and set in the toaster oven concurrently.

It was quickly learned that the toaster oven was not ideal. Heat flow was limited within the main compartment, consistently subjecting to the rounds to high heat. As a consequence, the choux expanded quickly, earning a robust golden surface, then collapsed quickly. Its edges were cracked, tops slightly dark, and inside noticeably soft and eggy. Their distinctly swirled appearance and overall thinness gave the illusion of ammonites, except edible and far less gritty.

​The tray of twenty-four baked comparatively uniformly, despite taking to the same formula of 375 F for 15 minutes and 350 F for 5-10 minutes. Those residing along the perimeter of the sheet acquired height and preserved it even after removal from the oven. The centremost pieces collapsed instantaneously, an exhibit of uneven oven temperature (a known issue) and possibly inadequate spacing between the rounds for even heat circulation. The smaller choux were evidently more receptive to large bursts of heat in the initial stages of baking, though expanded into unpredictable shapes. Some possessed a thicker surface, while others thicker sides. This quality made piping more challenging, for internal pressure induced by filling would cause the shells to break at their weakest (thinnest) point.

​Eliminating the craqueline layer allowed me to focus on the choux batter. Instead of Cookie Choux, these bite-sized pieces - the successful ones anyway - would be filled with cream and topped with a chocolate glaze to form profiteroles. (Those flattened by bursts of extravagant heat would merely be glazed.)

​Actually, profiteroles are one of my most detested buffet desserts. I've found them to often taste empty, bland, hollow, and lack gustatory complexity. My own variation had intended to revoke this impression by contributing attributes of delectability.

For simplicity's sake, the filling would assume the Chocolate Whipped Cream featured in Sunday Baking's Flourless Chocolate Banana Cake. Her recipe had delivered success time and time again. For this application, the quantities were halved:

• 200 g heavy cream
• 10 g cocoa powder
• 25 g granulated sugar

Furthermore, it'd be combined with a tablespoon of Nescafe Gold Decaf mixed with a small amount of heavy cream, which was then warmed for fluidity.

The heavy cream was whipped with sugar and cocoa powder until soft peaks, then whipped again following addition of the concentrated instant espresso mixture. Its inclusion wasn't discernible, unfortunately, inferring a greater quantity of espresso powder needed for next time.

Halving the cream proved insufficient in filling all the choux, even the uncollapsed ones. It was also a bit too viscous, since the cream hardened significantly after chilling, losing its airy mouthfeeel in the process.

The chocolate ganache/glaze formula originated from Claire Saffitz. Without a written recipe, the US to metric conversions were a tad tedious. Her recipe also called for a significant of butter in addition to corn syrup. Used as is without reduction, more glaze than needed materialized.

My former carpooling partner, who had remained on site to witness the hasty decorative procedures, suggested reserving the glaze for a cake. While I was initially quick to dismiss the idea, I amended my response after a moment's contemplation: Indeed, the glaze could be chilled for the time being, then warmed again for use as a cake topping.

​A box of eight roughly glazed specimens were sent back to prevent my trusty helper (instigator?) from travelling on treacherous, snowy roads. However, these bite-sized choux are best enjoyed after setting completely. A matte chocolate glaze enveloped the flavourful pastry shell and silky chocolate cream the next morning. My sole regret is the generous topping of smoked flaky salt on the surface, which overwhelmed the otherwise perfectly chocolatey creation. As for the unsuccessful choux bites, they prevailed as dismal, salty discs.

3) Mugwort Rice Flour Pound Cake w/ Chocolate Glaze

With residual chocolate glaze residing in the fridge, I began to contemplate ideas for its utilization - or rather, exhaustion. The portion was viewed as being sufficient in glazing one loaf cake, but less than a full batch of cupcakes or muffins. Pound cakes would assume my safest - not to mention, easiest - bet, for most batters come together within minutes.

​Naturally, I took to Sunday Baking's roster of tried-and-true pound cakes. For once, a gluten-free alternative was selected over our household favourite Condensed Milk Pound Cake, on the basis that condensed milk inventory was running low and heavy cream was not. An incredulous amount of chocolate had been ingested lately, prompting the unconventional choice of mugwort.

​A constituent in traditional Korean confectioneries (816, 891), the powder was incorporated into the batter by folding gently, until there were no streaks between the sage-tinted dust bunny strands. The loaf cake edition baked for about 10-15 minutes longer than Sunday's individual square pound cakes, yet emerged just as golden and gorgeous as any of her other formulas.

​As predicted, the glaze adequately covered the entire cake with minimal discard. The earthy essence of mugwort was initially pronounced, especially as it cooled at room temperature. However, the aromas receded after glazing, and to an even greater degree after refrigeration. While I wouldn't have minded a thicker chocolate glaze, this edition boasted impeccable shine and rich, chocolate-y robustness.

4) Ginger Molasses Cookies

In preparation for supper, I began peeling and chopping ginger, only to later realize that I had finely diced more than the dish required. It dawned upon me that pork would need to marinade for at least thirty minutes anyway, thus paving the way for an impromptu batch of SK's luxurious Ginger Molasses Cookies.

My rendition was less like hers, in that thick mounds of spiced gooeyness were swapped for crispy-edged, palm-sized rounds coated liberally in turbinado sugar.

​I had opted to bake the entirety of this batch at once, instead of freezing and reserving for a later date. Cookies containing baking soda are proving themselves at risk of rigidity if chilled for too long. 
​The dough went from cookie scoop to baking tray without chilling, inciting tremendous spread. These were flatter than SK's and devoid of black pepper (in consideration of sore throats in the household), yet equally scrumptious and unbelievably crunchy all over.​

On the next day, however, the crunch had mostly dissipated. At its core was soft chewiness owed to molasses and slightly sticky edges. It was, of course, nonetheless delicious.

5) Chive Omelette + Braised Pork and Daikon

​With the usual chef out of commission, I readily took over cooking duties over the weekend.​

First up was a revamped Braised Pork and Daikon. Minced ginger, scallions, and 1-inch cubes of daikon and pork were prepared. The pork was then allowed to marinate in a mixture of Shaoxing wine, Rose cooking wine, light soy sauce, lemongrass powder, and a few drops of Worcestershire sauce for about thirty minutes. All elements would then be stir-fried before additions of oyster sauce (too much), a splash of dark soy sauce, and a heaping spoonful of honey. The pot's contents would then be simmered, lid on, until all moisture had evaporated.

​​The Chive Omelette came together easily with seven eggs and one white, left over from making Ginger Molasses Cookies. Heavy cream contributed richness, while sweet onion slivers and previously chopped chives from the freezer contributed textural variance.

Against my better judgement, I salted the onions liberally as they cooked in the pan. The eggs would be subject to a mere tablespoon of sugar, inadequate in compensating for the excess sodium. Cooking the eggs in a medium-sized pan prevented extravagant scrambling motions, prompting the formation of a frittata instead.