5. For your last and final roll-out, dust your counter surface, your rolling pin, and your dough with flour, remembering to dust under the dough as well. Roll the dough out to a rectangle that’s 8 × 12 inches and even in thickness.
6. With a paring knife or a pizza cutter, cut the dough into 5 triangles, each 8 inches long from the pointiest tip to the center of the side across it and 4 inches wide at the bottom. You should have 5 triangles (2 upside down and 3 right side up) plus some scrap on the right and left. Divide the blue cheese among the croissants, putting it into the center of the wide bottom end of each triangle. Starting at the blue cheese end, use one hand to begin rolling the dough toward the tip of the triangle while your other hand holds the tip and gently stretches it away. Continue until the triangle is completely rolled up into a crescent shape. Make sure the tip of the triangle is tucked underneath the body of the crescent, or it will unravel in the oven. Roll the scraps up into kimchi croissant knots or make baby pigs in blankets!
7. Transfer the croissants to a parchment-lined sheet pan, arranging them 6 inches apart. Cover lightly with plastic and leave at room temperature to double in size, about 45 minutes.
8. Heat the oven to 375°F.
9. Whisk the egg and water together in a small bowl. Generously coat the top of your croissants with the egg wash, using a brush.
10. Bake the croissants for 20 to 25 minutes, or until they double in size, caramelize on the edges, and have a crusty outer layer that sounds hollow when you tap them. They’re killer out of the oven and delicious at room temperature. If for some strange reason they don’t get eaten immediately, wrap them individually in plastic and keep them refrigerated for up to 3 days. We like to toast our croissants before eating on the second and third days.
kimchi butter
MAKES ABOUT 205 G (1 CUP), OR ENOUGH FOR 1 BATCH KIMCHI & BLUE CHEESE CROISSANTS
Growing up, I hated this Korean fermented delicacy. My father would drag me miles away to the Korean supermarket down an alley to buy this stuff. He would bring it home and literally evacuate the house when he broke the seal on the jar. It wasn’t until I started working at Momofuku that I learned that I really love kimchi, and that there are many, many levels of potency throughout the kimchi-producing kitchens in this country. The Momofuku cookbook has a ridiculously tasty kimchi recipe (among others). Or use your favorite brand of cabbage-based kimchi in this recipe.
90 g kimchi
[½ cup]
115 g butter, at room temperature
[8 tablespoons (1 stick)]
2 g kosher salt
[½ teaspoon]
1 g freshly ground black pepper
[¼ teaspoon]
1. Put the kimchi in a hand blender–friendly container and puree it.
2. Put the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and paddle on medium speed for 2 to 3 minutes, until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the pureed kimchi, salt, and pepper and paddle for another 2 minutes; the liquid from the kimchi will try and separate the butter during this time, but the paddling will keep it in line. When the mixture is light, fluffy, and red, stop and scrape down the sides of the bowl.
3. Turn the butter out onto a piece of parchment. Lay a second piece of parchment on top of it and press down on the butter with your hands to flatten it into a 4 × 6-inch rectangle. Transfer the butter-filled parchment to the fridge to firm up. Wrapped in plastic, the kimchi butter pad will keep fresh in the fridge for up to 1 month.
turkey, swiss & mustard croissants
MAKES 5 CROISSANTS
Have you ever had a turkey croissandwich on an airplane, or in a country club, or at a catered corporate event? The ones made with mass-produced croissants and stuffed with turkey cut in half? We always want to like them, but they’re always so disappointing. So we came up with one we love.
The mustard croissant is very similar to the kimchi croissant in technique, but it is stuffed with meat, cheese, and condiments instead of blue cheese. You can substitute your favorite meat-and-cheese sandwich combo, if you prefer, for the turkey and Swiss.
½ recipe Mother Dough, proofed
105 g flour, for dusting
[¼ cup]
1 recipe Mustard Butter
130 g sliced turkey
[5 ounces]
70 g shredded Swiss cheese
[2½ ounces (¾ cup)]
20 g mayonnaise
[2 tablespoons]
1 egg
4 g water
[½ teaspoon]
1. Follow the recipe for the Kimchi Croissants through step 5, substituting the mustard butter for the kimchi butter.
2. With a paring knife or a pizza cutter, cut the dough into 5 triangles, each 8 inches long from the pointiest tip to the center of the side across it and 4 inches wide at the bottom. Divide the sliced turkey among the 5 croissants, stacking the slices onto the center of the wide bottom end of the triangle. Arrange the Swiss cheese on top of the turkey, using your fingers to form it into nests. Dollop the mayonnaise into the Swiss cheese nests.
3. Starting at the wide bottom end, use one hand to begin rolling the dough toward the tip of the triangle while your other hand holds the tip and gently stretches it away. Continue until the triangle is completely rolled up into a crescent shape. Make sure the tip of the triangle is tucked underneath the body of the crescent, or it will unravel in the oven. Roll the scraps into mustard knots or make baby pigs in blankets!
4. Transfer the croissants to a parchment-lined sheet pan, arranging them 6 inches apart. Cover lightly with plastic and leave at room temperature to double in size, about 45 minutes.
5. Heat the oven to 375°F.
6. Whisk the egg and water together in a small bowl. Generously coat the top of your croissants with the egg wash, using a brush.
7. Bake the croissants for 20 to 25 minutes, or until they double in size, caramelize on the edges, and have a crusty outer layer that sounds hollow when you tap them. They’re killer out of the oven and delicious at room temperature. If for some strange reason they don’t get eaten immediately, wrap them individually in plastic and keep them refrigerated for up to 3 days. We like to toast our croissants before eating on the second and third days.
mustard butter
MAKES 180 G (¾ CUP), OR ENOUGH FOR 1 BATCH OF TURKEY, SWISS & MUSTARD CROISSANTS
This butter is great on a soft pretzel, a warm sandwich, or a hot dog bun!
115 g butter, at room temperature
[8 tablespoons (1 stick)]
25 g yellow mustard, such as French’s
[1 teaspoon]
8 g sherry vinegar
[2 teaspoons]
2 g Worcestershire sauce
[½ teaspoon]
25 g sugar
[2 tablespoons]
8 g kosher salt
[2 teaspoons]
1. Put the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and paddle, on medium speed for 2 to 3 minutes, until fluffy and light yellow. Add the mustard, vinegar, Worcestershire, sugar, and salt and mix for another 2 to 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and mix for an additional minute. Make the butter pad as described below for the croissants, or store the butter in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 1 month.
2. To make the butter pad, turn the butter out onto a piece of parchment. Lay a second piece of parchment on top of it and press down on the butter with your hands to flatten it into a 4 × 6-inch rectangle. Transfer the butter-filled parchment to the fridge to firm up. Wrapped in plastic, the mustard butter pad will keep fresh in the fridge for up to 1 month.
black pepper brioche
MAKES 1 (8 × 4-INCH) LOAF
Black pepper brioche makes killer club sandwich bread or savory bread pudding. It also makes a mean sandwich with Thanksgiving or Christmas leftovers.
There are plenty of elaborate ways to form a loaf of bread, and even more intricate ways to form a loaf of brioche, but it all t
astes the same, and you’ve already cheated death by using the mother dough, so we’re going to take it easy on the loaf-forming lecture. Take the ice cream scoop you use for cookies and use it to scoop rounds of the dough into a loaf pan.
1 recipe Mother Dough, proofed
1 recipe Black Pepper Butter, at room temperature
1 egg
4 g water
[½ teaspoon]
This is probably the most sacrilegious “brioche” recipe you will ever find. But stop taking yourself so seriously. Paddle the butter into the dough and bake the damn thing and enjoy.
If you’re not a black pepper fan, shame on you. Replace the black pepper butter with any other butter you love. Use caraway seeds in place of black pepper. Or ground cinnamon, etc. Or use the Kimchi Butter or Mustard Butter.
1. Punch down and flatten the dough on a smooth, dry countertop. Put the dough and butter in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and knead on low speed for 2 to 3 minutes, or until the butter has been incorporated into the dough.
2. Using a 2¾-ounce cookie scoop, scoop the dough into a greased 8 × 4-inch loaf pan, 2 rounds wide and 3 rounds long, with 2 extra rounds centered on top. Cover with a piece of plastic and allow the dough to rise until doubled in size, about 1½ hours.
3. Heat the oven to 350°F.
4. Whisk the egg and water together in a small bowl. Using a brush, generously coat the top of your brioche with the egg wash.
5. Bake the bread for 35 to 45 minutes. Choose an inconspicuous angle to insert your instant-read thermometer into the center of the loaf—you don’t want to leave a hole in the top of the loaf. The brioche is baked when it reaches 220°F. If you do not have a thermometer, use a skewer—if it comes out clean, with no signs or spots of doughiness, the brioche is done.
6. Cool the brioche loaf completely in the pan before eating it. (It will finish baking as it cools.) If you can’t eat it all in one sitting, it will keep fresh, wrapped well in plastic, for up to 3 days at room temperature.
black pepper butter
MAKES ABOUT 275 G (1½ CUPS)
225 g butter, at room temperature
[16 tablespoons (2 sticks)]
25 g sugar
[2 tablespoons]
12 g kosher salt
[1 tablespoon]
8 g finely ground black pepper
[2 teaspoons]
Combine the butter, sugar, salt, and pepper in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and mix on medium speed for 2 minutes, or until the butter is fluffy, the sugar is dissolved, and the mixture is homogenous. Scrape down the sides of the bowl and mix for an additional minute. Use immediately, or store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 1 month.
chinese sausage focaccia
MAKES 1 QUARTER SHEET PAN; SERVES 6
This focaccia is a favorite of many early Milk Bar regulars. It is the brainchild of our beloved James Mark and will go down in our history as the most delicious focaccia man has ever made.
340 g Chinese sausages
[12 ounces]
8 garlic cloves
150 g grapeseed oil
[1 cup]
90 g toban djan
[⅓ cup]
1 recipe Mother Dough, proofed
Feel free to substitute a mixture of shiro miso and a squirt or two of your favorite hot sauce for the toban djan (a Sichuan chile bean sauce). If both Chinese sausage and toban djan freak you out, you can substitute your favorite pepperoni and fresh or dried Italian seasonings in their place.
1. With a sharp knife, cut each Chinese sausage link lengthwise in half. Then slice each half into 12 half-moons. Cut the garlic cloves into thin slices on a bias—the thinner you can get them, the better.
2. Combine the oil, toban djan, sausage, and garlic in a saucepan and cook over medium-low heat for 15 minutes; the oil will turn a deep red color, the Chinese sausage will darken, and the garlic will become translucent. Strain the oil through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, saving it for later. Set the sausage aside.
3. Punch down and flatten the dough on a smooth, dry countertop. Stretch the dough out gently by hand until it is slightly longer and wider than a quarter sheet pan.
4. Visualize dividing your dough lengthwise in thirds. Spread half of the sausage and garlic down the center third of the dough. Fold the right third of dough over it. Cover that layer with the remaining sausage-garlic filling, then fold the left third of dough over.
5. Gently lift the dough at both ends and transfer to the baking pan. Cover loosely with plastic and allow it to rise at room temperature until doubled in size, about 45 minutes.
6. Heat the oven to 375°F.
7. Once the dough has doubled in size and has filled every bit of the baking pan, use your fingers to gently dimple the top of the dough to make small indentations. Pour the spicy garlic oil around, not on top of, the dough.
8. Bake for 15 minutes, or until the focaccia is golden brown.
9. Let the focaccia cool to room temperature in the pan before serving. If you attempt to cut into it while it is still hot or warm, it will seem gummy and underbaked.
10. Slice the focaccia into 6 pieces and serve at room temperature, or toast by flashing in a warm oven. The focaccia will remain delicious, wrapped well in plastic, for up to 3 days.
I love the Joy of Cooking. I’ve probably read it a million times, and I go back to it every time I’m searching for inspiration or a great story on how different food classics came to be. I’m the kind of person who will sit and listen to my grandma tell stories anytime, especially when they revolve around kitchen creations and kitchen disasters—which is probably the reason I became obsessed with the history of chess pie.
I’ve told this silly story so many times I feel like a broken record, describing something that really wasn’t supposed to be the phenomenon that it became.
While working at wd~50, I decided to make it my goal to prepare family meal dessert once or more every day. Savory cooks have to do it daily, so why not pastry cooks too? It became a great exercise in making something out of nothing, or whatever mise-en-place was left over from the previous night’s service. Everything at wd~50 was so precise, I used the twenty minutes at the beginning of my day to bake the way I baked at home—with reckless abandon, no measuring. It was my “me time.” I took advantage of Wylie’s wealth of cookbooks and taught myself to make classic baked goods that I’d never learned at home or in school. I eyeballed the ingredients and tasted and touched them raw and finished to better understand and practice the hows and whys of what too much flour, too little water, too many eggs, or too little baking soda tasted like and did to my latest family meal offering.
One Sunday morning as I was tying on my apron, I grabbed the Joy of Cooking and flipped through the pies to find something to base family meal dessert on. Thing is, it was a Sunday, and as I rifled through the fridge and the pages of the cookbook, I realized I didn’t have much to work with. I actually had nothing interesting at all. That’s when I came across the recipe for chess pie. Chess pie is the pie the old gals of yesteryear made when there was nothing to really make pie out of. When nothing was in season, the pantry void of all jars and cans from the harvest season before. Many down South called it “just pie,” as opposed to cherry pie or apple pie, and down South the drawl is so severe, it was heard as “jesssss [silent t] pie,” or “chess pie,” or so the story goes.… How perfect, I thought.
I grabbed what I thought my chess pie ingredients should be. Since I loved gooey butter cake so much, that meant sugar, brown sugar (one of my favorite flavors), salt, butter, vanilla, egg yolks, and cream. The chess pie recipe in Joy of Cooking seemed to have some acidity by way of the buttermilk it called for, but I knew I wanted my pie to be rich and gooey, so I used heavy cream instead. The recipe also called for a little flour as a binder, but I wanted my pie to be a bit more interesting than that, so I used corn powder and milk powder, in the hopes they’d have the same setting
effect on the body of the filling.
The pie went in the oven. I’d approached it like a baked custard, knowing that I didn’t want the eggs to bake my pie into a firmer sweet quiche. But the pie’s top colored quickly, and I was in a hurry that day to do my real job as a pastry cook, preparing for dinner service, so I pulled the pie a little earlier than I should have. The center was still plenty jiggly. I threw the warm pie in the fridge and starting banging out my prep list for the day.
When family meal came, I tucked my failed creation at the end of the smorgasbord, apologizing for what it was or was not. I had pretty much written off the underbaked pie until someone cut into it, took a bite, and started freaking out. Before I knew it, we were all huddled around it, taking bites and making noises. We instantly realized we needed to get that pie out of sight and out of mind, or we would eat the whole thing and that wouldn’t bode well for the grueling seven-hour dinner service ahead.
I wrapped the gooey pie up, stuffed it in a lowboy, and jittered away. Minutes later, a cook, equally jittery, came up to me, looking for more pie. I gave it to him. Then another cook brought the pie back to me, begging me to take it away from him. Then another came for just one more bite. We shamelessly fought over the last bites of the pie. We soared high on sugar that evening. And then we crashed. It was awful. But that’s the story of how crack pie got its name.
Momofuku Milk Bar Page 21