My book club met last night, so I spent most of Monday afternoon making something special for them. Usually I match the dessert to the book, but we had read UNBROKEN by Lauren Hillenbrand. It was an excellent book about an American POW, but I didn't want to serve the ladies rice balls and rat. So I thought I'd try something I learned about at my pastry class.
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Begin by creaming the butter and brown sugar. |
Lace doilies are made from a dough that's mostly brown sugar, butter, and a wee bit of bread flour. Using a small ice cream scoop, you put a small lump (size of a ping pong ball) on a baking sheet. The lump will "melt" and spread out, then turn golden brown. Now comes the hard part--before the doily cools and sets, but after a minute so it's not still goopy, you have to lift it off the baking sheet with cake lifters and mold it around a bowl or cup. As the mixture cools, the shape will set, resulting in lovely little bowls . . . they remind me of waffle cone bowls, but they're more fragile.
Note: as I worked with the hot doilies, my fingers were burning but I could hear my chef/teacher saying, "Get used to working with hot things!" I wanted to reply that I make my living with my fingertips, but I doubt that argument would have meant anything to him, as he uses his hands for a living, too. :-)
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Spread FAR apart on baking sheet--they spread! |
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Gather your molds. :-) |
My first couple of trays were disasters. First, I waited too long, and the doily had already stiffened into a flat shape. Then I didn't wait long enough to remove it from the pan, so the doily tore and became goopy when I tried to smush it together. And I think I took my early trays out of the oven too soon--I took them out when they were golden, not golden brown. Browner is better, I think.
Anyway, finally I began to get the hang of it. First tried to mold around small bowls, but those resulted in wide containers and I didn't want to fill them with too much stuff. So then I used a coffee mug with a slender base--that worked better. In pastry class we used ordinary Styrofoam cups, and those had a lovely shape.
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Right out of the oven. |
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My sorry early efforts molded around a bowl. |
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If a doily is too cool, it won't mold. It'll break. |
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What a busy countertop! |
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The rejects aren't wasted--they're broken up, frozen, and saved for
something like crunchy ice cream topping . . . |
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The doilies destined to be bowls. |
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A little chocolate in the bottom (I should have spread it better.) |
After working fast and furiously on the lace doilies (and about half of them ended up in the junk pile), I pulled a copper pot and copper bowl down from my pot rack (I still love it!) and melted a couple ounces of chocolate in the bowl held over boiling water. When the chocolate was melted, I spooned about a tablespoon full in to the bottom of each "bowl"--in order to "seal" it and provide an extra bit of yumminess. Chocolate always helps a dish.
Then I pulled a mousse mix from my pantry. (Yes, you read right--if I spend hours on part of a dessert, I have no qualms about using a mix for another part. :-) ) I mixed up two types of mousse, then piped them into my doily bowls. Finally, I made whipped cream from heavy cream and a little powdered sugar, then piped a final flourish on the top of the mousse.
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Strawberry mousse, whipped cream, and some crunchies! |
You can top these little treats with anything--fresh fruit would be nice--but I've been out of town and I didn't have any fruit. So I crushed up my "reject" doilies and sprinkled the whipped cream with little bits of crunchy doily. It looks pretty and tastes delicious!
I can't print the recipe, as I promised not to publish it, but you might try searching for it and see if you can find something similar. I think I may just get better at this as time goes on . . . Next time, maybe I'll fill them with chocolate mousse and toss a cherry on top. Or nuts. Or more chocolate. :-)
Happy Baking!
P.S. Tammy Alexander and I keep challenging each other to a bake-off, and she has a luscious recipe for a carmel cake on her blog. I just might have to make that, too . . .