Because nobody else is going to save you any, that's for sure. It's just too sweet and buttery. Tender on the inside and crispy around the edges like a croissant, it has a crackly caramel top that adds just the right je-ne-sais-quois (I wrote that in French because don't know how to say it in Breton).

I'll admit that this "simple butter cake" kicked my can this week. I went into it thinking I'd be able to do it blindfolded, since I consider lamination something of a specialty. Five days, two sacks of flour and $40 worth of butter later, my pride was in the ash can, along with sixteen awful kouigns. Say what you will about the recipe I finally settled on, it's been tested!

Earlier in the week I wrote that I'd be leaving the sugar out of the folding process. However rolled-in sugar is one of the defining features of this bread. In the end I couldn't leave it out. The kouign amann that resulted didn't rise as high as the version without the rolled-in sugar, but the result is probably a lot closer to the real thing. Here's how it goes. Combine your flour and yeast in a mixer fitted with a paddle and add the melted butter...

...and the water.

Stir until everything is moistened, then switch to the dough hook and knead for about a minute. The dough will be a bit shaggy, that's OK. If it's very shaggy and won't hold together at all, add a bit more water. It will smooth out and become more elastic as it rises.

Press it together into a ball, put it into a large bowl and apply some oil or nonstick spray. Since this dough has lots of yeast and no salt, it's going to take off like a rocket. Half an hour should be plenty of time for rising.

When the dough has about ten minutes to go, make your butter block according to the directions for laminating dough under the Techniques menu. Pastry Chef Laura suggested that working a couple tablespoons of flour would help absorb moisture and make the resulting pastry flakier. Why didn't I think of that? Add it.

When the dough has risen and is nice and puffy, you're ready to roll. Literally.

Lightly flour your board...

...and pat the dough into a square.

Apply your butter. My block isn't perfect, but by this time I'd made kouign amann nine times. I was frustrated. Anyway, this is a rustic pastry, right? Oh, and I should mention that you want the best quality salted butter you can lay your hands on for this. As with every laminated dough, butter is the star, so don't skimp if you can help it. Euro-style cultured butters will not only taste better for this, they'll be drier, and that will give you a better result.

Make your butter envelope...

...roll it out...

...and letter fold it.

Lay it out on a lightly floured sheet pan (I forgot the flour here), cover it with plastic wrap and refrigerate it for 20 minutes. This is the first of your three "turns."

After twenty minutes, do another "turn", which is to say, repeat the rolling and letter fold and return the dough to the refrigerator for another twenty minutes. The dough will hold at this point, if you wish, for 2-3 days in the refrigerator and 2-3 months in the freezer, cut into pieces of course. If you don't want this much dough you can cut the below recipe in half, even half again if you only want to make one pastry.

When you're ready to make your pastries, do your final turn. This time you're going to add sugar to the top of the dough before you fold it. Here I'm adding too much. What can I say, I got excited. I brushed about a third of it off.

But Joe, you said sugar is a no-no for laminated doughs! Yes, and it is if you allow the butter and sugar to come into direct contact. However if there's a layer of dough in between, you don't get the same reaction, provided you don't allow the sugared dough to sit for very long (as in several hours).

Fold the dough and put it back into the fridge.

Prepare your pan. Line a cake layer pan with parchment.

When you're all set to roll, take the dough back out of the refrigerator and cut it into pieces (there's enough dough here for four pastries, just under 16 ounces each). Turn one piece out onto your floured board and apply the pin.

Roll it to a rough circle and place it in the pan. Let it rise for about 1 1/2 hours until puffy. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 400.

At that point, apply your egg wash...

...and a generous amount of sugar. This is necessary to create crunchy caramel top.

Bake until the bread has risen nicely and the top is a deep brown. Say, that's not a particularly appealing picture.

Oh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' bout.

Eat it warm. With wine or spirits it's especially good, and trust me, I needed that after the week I had.

UPDATE: Reader Evan D. adds:

I wanted to mention that Kouign Amman can be made from scrap croissant dough, and that this is how a lot of bakeries do it. An extra turn or two with superfine granulated sugar is all it takes. A little jam in the center really ties it all together.

For all those who've put off getting their hands dirty with laminated doughs, kouign amann is a great place to start. Somewhere between a bread and a Danish, it only requires a couple of "turns" of the dough, and they need not be perfect. This is a rustic pastry, so your standards need not be terribly high. As I've said before in regard to laminated dough, you shouldn't let fear of failure stop you, because with this much butter there is no failing, only degrees of winning.

This recipe is rather large, enough for four larger 9" pastries, or up to twenty individual, Danish-like versions. Why the extra quantity? I've always felt that if I'm going to go to the trouble of laminating, I might as well make enough to freeze for some other occasion. I've also always been of the opinion that a larger quantity is easier to work with. You'll need:

1 lb. 12 ounces all-purpose flour
1 ounce melted butter
14 ounces water
1 tablespoon, two teaspoons instant yeast
1 lb. lightly salted butter
egg wash (2 beaten eggs plus two teapoons water)
1 cup granulated sugar for topping

Combine the flour, melted butter, water and yeast in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle. Stir until all ingredients are moistened and switch to the dough hook. Knead for 1-2 minutes, until a dough forms. Transfer the dough to a large bowl, apply cooking spray or a small amount of oil, cover with plastic wrap, and allow it to sit for 1/2 an hour, until about doubled.

About ten minutes before the dough is ready, make your butter block according to the instructions on laminating dough under the Techniques menu. Make your dough packet, roll it out and give it two turns, resting the dough for 20 minutes in the refrigerator after each turn, covered with plastic wrap. The dough will rest happily in your refrigerator for 2-3 days days at this point, or it can be frozen for three months.

When ready to make your pastries do a final turn, this time sprinkling sugar over the dough before you fold it. Cut the dough into four pieces (just under 16 ounces each) and roll them out to 8" to 9" circles. (alternately, you can roll the dough out flat, cut it into small square and shape the squares as you would cheese Danishes). Place the circles into parchment-lined pans, cover with plastic wrap and let them rise for 1 to 1 1/2 hours, until puffy.

While the kouigns are proofing, preheat your oven to 400. When they're fully proofed, paint them with egg wash, sprinkle them liberally with sugar and bake for 20-25 minutes until browned. Serve warm.

Troll around the web and you'll find all sorts of overwrought beignet recipes, loaded down with eggs, butter, sugar, even evaporated milk. They're all rather misguided to my way of seeing things. Though New Orleans beignets resemble doughnuts in many resects, they shouldn't actually be doughnuts. Rather, they should be light and airy little frivolities that you can enjoy without feeling too full or guilty afterward...'cause you've got a big dinner coming up at Antoine's, remember?

Slow-rising yeast doughs offer the most flavor, but do you honestly think a busy café has time or space to retard dough in the refrigerator? With all those hungry customers out there? Are you kiddin' me? This dough is fast to mix, fast to rise and fast to fry. The buttermilk makes up for the quick rise by adding the flavor of fermentation.

4 ounces (1/2 cup) whole milk, room temperature
4 ounces (1/2 cup) buttermilk, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 teaspoons instant yeast
1 1/2 ounces (3 tablespoons) granulated sugar
9 ounces (2 cups minus two tablespoons) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
Powdered sugar for garnishing
Peanut oil for frying

Combine the liquid ingredients in a measure and stir. Put the yeast, granulated sugar, flour and salt in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a paddle and stir. Add in the dry ingredients and stir until all the ingredients are moistened. Switch to the dough hook and knead 3-4 minutes until the dough is relatively smooth. It will be rather wet and sticky. Transfer it to a lightly oiled bowl and let it rise until almost doubled, 45 minutes to an hour. The dough can be deflated and refrigerated at this point for up to 3 days.

Turn the dough out onto a well-floured board and pat it down into a rough rectangle. Roll it out to a thickness of about 3/8", then with a pizza cutter slice it into squares about 2" side to side. Lay the beignets on a sheet pan covered with a clean dish towel or proofing cloth and let rise another 45 minutes or so until puffy. Meanwhile, pour 2-3 inches of peanut oil into a heavy pot and slowly heat it to 375. Do I have to repeat that you should have a fire extinguisher close by? You should whenever you deep fry.

Fry the beignets about 45 seconds per side, closely watching your oil temperature to make sure it gets neither too hot or cool. Drain on paper towels. Serve warm with powdered sugar sprinkled all over. This recipe makes about 30 small beignets but can be doubled or tripled if you really REALY like beignets.

Part of the reason, as I said yesterday, is merely caché. Yet there are some other good reasons why many chefs prefer to work with flake salt. For one, it's easy to pick up. And I mean that literally. Granules of table salt run from between your fingers like tiny ball bearings when you try to pick up a pinch. Flake salt by comparison clumps and allows for easy grasping. It also dissolves quickly, which is nice when you're trying to correct the seasoning of a food just prior to serving.

Flavor also has something to do with it. Mass-market table salts can have a vaguely "chemical" flavor because of the additives they contain. There's potassium iodide of course, and to keep that from breaking down, a few stabilizers (either sodium carbonate or a combination of thiosulfate and sugar). Then there are anti-caking agents to keep the individual salt granules from sticking together (silicon dioxide or magnesium carbonate). Then there are the anti-caking agents to keep the anti-caking agents from caking, and no, that's not a joke. They all add up to less than 3% of the total volume of the salt, but they can affect the taste of commercial salts relative to the unrefined varieties, at least when you sprinkle a little directly on your tongue. Mixed into a dish, well, that's another matter entirely.

Kosher iodized salt gets quite a bit of use in the Pastry family kitchen, though not for baking. In bakeries, regular granulated salt rules. Sure, a high-end chef might use a little fleur-de-sel to top a dark chocolate tart, but that's about the extent to which exotic salts are useful for bakers.

UPDATE: Reader Michael F. asks:

I was always told the main reason bakeries use regular granulated salt is because kosher salt has a different density, requiring bakeries to reformulat their recipes if they wanted to use it. Is that true or is it just another Food Networkism?

It's just their fancified way of saying the crystals are different shapes and sizes, so they don't measure out the same!

I wasn't expecting to be back in Rose Levy Beranbaum territory so soon, but when you're talking about the great American layer cake, it's clear who the go-to lady is. Here's her classic chocolate butter cake, adapted from the Cake Bible:

2.25 ounces unsweetened cocoa (Dutch process)
8.25 ounces boiling water
3 large eggs (at room temperature)
2.25 teaspoons vanilla extract
8.25 ounces sifted cake flour
10.5 ounces granulated sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon salt
8 ounces unsalted butter, softened

First, in a small bowl, combine the boiling water and cocoa and whisk to combine. Allow the mixture to cool to room temperature. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 350 and prepare two 9" layer pans according to the How to Prepare a Cake Pan for Baking post under the Techniques menu. Combine the dry ingredients in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a beater attachment and stir on low 30 seconds to combine. Crack the eggs into a small bowl.

When the cocoa mixture is cool, mix your batter. Add 1/4 of the cocoa mixture and the vanilla to the eggs and whisk lightly to combine. Set aside. Add the butter and remaining cocoa mixture to the dry ingredients and mix on low 30 seconds or so until all the ingredients are moistened. Scrape the bowl. Turn up the mixer to medium and beat 1 1/2 minutes until lighter in color and smooth. Add the egg mixture 1/3 at a time, beating 20 seconds between each addition and scraping the bowl down. Divide the batter into prepared pans and bake 25 to 35 minutes until the centers of the layers spring back lightly when touched. Let cool ten minutes then turn the layers out onto greased racks for 10 more minutes. Flip the layers right-side up to cool the rest of the way. Wrap airtight or freeze if you wish.

Reader Chana asks:

What is the difference between Turbinado sugar and "regular" brown sugar (either light or dark brown). Moisture content? Texture? Can brown sugar be used instead of the Turbinado sugar in the Golden Lemon Almond Cake? Can one replace the other in general?

Good question(s). Turbinado sugar differs from brown sugar in that it's a larger crystal. It also has less moisture and less molasses. If you recall some of my older posts on molasses manufacturing (right here if you don't), you know that sugar is crystallized out of cane syrup in a series of steps called "strikes." Turbinado sugar comes from the first "strike", before the cane syrup has been reduced down to a thick goo (as a result of removing the sucrose). That means that while the turbinado sugar does have molasses in/on it, that molasses is light and mild tasting.

Turbinado sugar is also processed to a lesser degree than regular white granulated sugar. It's the simple product of the first strike. That's in contrast to granulated sugar, which is essentially made by dissolving turbindo (or later strike) sugar, filtering it, then "seeding" the mixture with smaller, more consistent crystals. It's interesting to note here that "real" brown sugar isn't much made anymore. Once, it was the granulated sugar that came from a late stage in the manufacturing process, when there wasn't much sucrose left in the cane syrup mixture and the molasses was thick and chewy. Today most of our table sugar is made from beets, which don't yield molasses (or none that you'd want to eat at any rate). These days, brown sugar is made by simply adding a second or third-strike sugar cane molasses to regular white beet sugar.

And to (finally) answer your question, while turbinado sugar does have more moisture than white sugar, brown sugar has still more. It also contains more — and stronger tasting — molasses. All of which means that the two are not interchangeable.

RLB adds:

Turbinado sugar may also have a different granular shape. For example, Sugar in the Raw has a rectangular grain whereas C & H has a more square shape. But they are both far more granular than a typical brown sugar, and they have less moisture. Sugar in the Raw has far less molasses than light brown sugar but C & H has at least as much. That's the whole story!

Mexico Bob adds:

If you want really rich brown sugar you should go to a Mexican grocery and by mascobado sugar or piloncillo sugar. These are made from crystallizing sugar that doesn't go through a centrifuge. Sometimes mascabado is spelled mascavado.

Funny you should mention that. I’ve done a lot of experimenting with sugar in cakes, superfine versus baker’s sugar versus granulated, and I always found I got a finer texture with superfine.

However I had a funny experience during an experiment I did with Italian meringue. Against the conventional wisdom I discovered that I could make it with tubinado sugar instead of regular granulated sugar. I would have thought some residual something, maybe the large crystal size or more likely the molasses in it would have prevented the meringue from whipping stiffly, but the turbinado sugar dissolved beautifully and the meringue was wonderful. All you have to do is let the turbinado sugar sit in the egg whites for five minutes, then you beat the whole thing together at once instead of adding the sugar gradually.

Having made that discovery I started trying experiments with cake, and I discovered I could get get just as fine a texture with it. For this recipe I thought that combined with the lemons it would be a nice flavor.

Given that so many of the world's great epicures now regard the macaron with the kind of reverence that was once reserved for the communion wafer, it only seems fitting to open this tutorial with a prayer. As we prepare to undertake this mystery, let us acknowledge our failures and ask the Lord for pardon and strength. Amen.

Now then, to business. What I'm about to demonstrate is the classic French method for making macarons. There's another method, called the "Italian" method because it employs Italian meringue. The French method, I think, is more straightforward if not as adaptable for incorporating exotic flavors.

Begin by arraying your ingredients. Those of you who are familiar with macarons will note that whereas most macaron recipes call for almond flour, I'm using slivered, blanched almonds. There are two reasons for this. First, because almond flour and/or meal aren't commonly available in America, even in specialty shops. And second, even when you can find one or the other, you can never be sure how old they are. Nut oil is critical to the success of a macaron, but it can go rancid and/or solidify over time. The best way to ensure freshness is to grind your own in the food processor. As you can see above, the homemade stuff will give you a slightly knobbly texture, so if you're really serious about macarons, order almond powder or flour or meal fresh from a good online resource. Here I have:

3.8 ounces blanched almonds
7 ounces powdered sugar
3.5 ounces egg whites (aged overnight at room temperature)
1.75 ounces granulated sugar

Start by grinding your almonds and powdered sugar together in a food processor. This is a good idea even if you're using pre-ground almond meal or flour, since it'll aerate it, mix it well with the sugar and reduce the particles to the smallest possible size.

This is about the best I can do with my machine:

Next, prepare a pastry bag, fitting it with just the coupler, no tip.

Stand it up in a tall glass for easy loading.

Now to make the batter. Put the egg whites in the bowl of a mixer fitted with a whip. This is a good point to add a few drops of coloring if you want to.

Whip to about the soft peak stage.

With the machine running, add the granulated sugar and whip to stiff peaks: the "bird's beak" stage, like this:

Next add your almond/sugar mixture...just dump it in.

Now, without regard to consequences, stir the mixture together. Don't fold at this point — stir. Because remember, this isn't spongecake. Part of the point is to break some of these bubbles. If the batter's too light it'll dry out in the oven and crack. That'll let the steam out and bye bye feet. So don't be delicate, stir for maybe 30 seconds. (Be sure to scrape the sides as you go).

When the batter is about to this point, you want to start folding (find instructions on how to fold under the Techniques menu). Fold four or five times, then start testing the batter for readiness.

How to do that? Why, with a spoon of course. You just scoop up a small portion of the batter and plop it onto a plate or sheet pan. What you're after is a small mass that settles down into a nice disk after a few seconds, but with a subtle peak in the center. About like this:

If your batter mounds up too high, go back and fold a few more times. If you over-fold a little and the batter runs a bit, that won't be the end of the world. Contrary to what you may have heard, a few extra strokes is unlikely to ruin your macarons. The biggest mistake most people make with macaron batter is that they baby it too much. I've said it before and I'll say it again: pastries can smell fear. Confidence is key.

Once you've arrived at the right texture, spoon the batter into your pastry bag, and start piping onto a parchment-lined sheet.

You want small disks — smaller than you may imagine — only about an inch and a half in diameter. Now then, here's perhaps the most important tip I have to pass on: let your macarons rest. For how long? About half an hour will suffice, though you can leave them up to about 50 minutes if you want. What will this do? It will allow the skins of the macarons to dry out. That will make them inflexible, constraining the rise as the macaron heats. With nowhere else to go, the expanding interior of the macaron will be forced downward, which will push the cap up, and the result will be feet. See?

You'll want to bake your macarons on a lower-middle rack of a 300 oven (you can get it preheating while the piped macarons sit) for about twelve minutes. Let them cool for a minimum of half an hour, then gently peel the parchment off the backs.

Grasping one meringue, apply the filling of your choice. Nothing exotic here, just raspberry jam. But oh, I do love it so.

Apply the top and your task is complete. Repeat until all your sandwiches are assembled.

And with that, this tutorial is ended. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord, make macarons, and brag about it.

Chef Mike C. offers this:

My Banquets & Catering chef at the CIA would always sprinkle an initial layer of sugar onto his brulees as soon as they came out of the oven. This way, that sugar would melt and fill in the little pits or uneven bits on the surface. That way, he said, when you put another layer of sugar on top when they were all cooled, you would have a perfectly smooth, glass-like layer of caramelized sugar.

Another chef I worked with in California used brown sugar instead of granulated sugar. I don't remember them having an exceptional crunch (maybe because of the molasses?), but the flavor on them was great.

Great tips, Mike! I'll add them to the permanent crème brûlée tutorial.

My favorite crème brûlée is a very pain one, with just half a teaspoon of vanilla extract added. After that, it's crème brûlée scented with orange, like this one right here. Like an English pudding, crème brûlée somehow manages to pull off a sense of grandeur while still being an incredibly simple thing to prepare. Among its many virtues, it'll keep for several days in the fridge, making it an ideal dessert to serve at a dinner party. You simply pop them out of the fridge, caramelize the tops and you're good to go.

Start by preheating your oven to 325 and setting a pan of water on the stove to simmer. Next, infuse your cream. Put half a pint of cream in a small saucepan along with the rind of half an orange and half a teaspoon of vanilla extract (this recipe can be doubled if you like). Bring the mixture to a simmer and set it aside.

Add your sugar to your egg yolks...

...and whisk until light in color.

Strain the warm — now orange-scented — cream into the egg and sugar mixture...

...and whisk until the sugar is melted.

Now all there is to do is ladle the mixture into your ramekins. I've got mine sitting in a roasting pan here, but you can use a baking dish too.

Put the roasting pan on a low rack in the oven, then add enough simmering water to come half way up the sides of the ramekins.

Bake about half an hour, until the custard is set (when you move the ramekin it should jiggle, not slosh). Let the custards cool, then put them in the refrigerator for a minimum of four hours, ideally overnight. When you're ready to serve them, spinkle about a tablespoon of granulated sugar onto the top of each custard. Oops...I sort of overdid it here. Oh well, no biggie.

Now, apply the heat. As luck would have it, I ran out of propane about half a second after this picture was snapped. Not having a salamander handy, I went with the other, other option: the broiler. It works just fine, though you want to take care to get the sugared custard as close to the heat source as you reasonably can. You want a lot of heat delivered quickly, so as to caramelize the sugar without cooking — and breaking — the custard. More time in the broiler means a greater chance of curdling — so blast the suckers and get'em out of there.

Once you've got a nice brown top, let them sit for five minutes so the molten sugar hardens. Plate, garnish and serve.

Oh yeah, that's the stuff.

UPDATE: Chef Mike C. adds:

My Banquets & Catering chef at the CIA would always sprinkle an initial layer of sugar onto his brulees as soon as they came out of the oven. This way, that sugar would melt and fill in the little pits or uneven bits on the surface. That way, he said, when you put another layer of sugar on top when they were all cooled, you would have a perfectly smooth, glass-like layer of caramelized sugar.

Another chef I worked with in California used brown sugar instead of granulated sugar. I don't remember them having an exceptional crunch (maybe because of the molasses?), but the flavor on them was great.

Thanks Mike!

This highly useful almond sponge cake is said to be named for the Mona Lisa (more on that later). The main difference between it and other sponge cakes is that it has whole eggs beaten into it, and not just whites.

6 room-temperature egg whites
1 ounce granulated sugar
8 ounces sliced blanched almonds, ground to powder in a food processor
8 ounces powdered sugar, sifted
6 large eggs
2.5 ounces all-purpose (AP) flour
1 1/2 ounces clarified butter, melted

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Line two half-sized sheet pans (jelly roll pans) with parchment and brush with melted butter.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk, whip the egg whites to soft peaks, add the sugar, and continue to whip to stiff peaks. Scrape the meringue into a bowl.

Wash the bowl of the mixer and dry it, and switch to the paddle attachment. Beat the almonds, powdered sugar and eggs on medium until they're light and increased in volume, about 3 minutes. Turn the mixer down to low and add the flour, stirring just until it disappears.

Remove the bowl from the mixer and gently fold in the meringue. Lastly, fold in the clarified butter.

Divide the batter evenly between the two pans, spreading it as evenly as possible over the two pans. Bake for 5-7 minutes, until the layers are lightly browned. Remove from the oven and place the pans on the stove top. Cover each with a sheet of parchment, then flip the pans over on the countertop, thus turning the layers out. Carefully peel off the top layer of parchment, turn it over, and put it back on top of the layers until they're cool.

The layers can be refrigerated for one day or frozen up to a month.

Not that you'd have any trouble finding it, of course, but for reference sake: here is the Rosetta Stone, the Dresden Codex if you will, of chocolate chip cookie recipes:

2 1/4 cups (11.25 ounces) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (8 ounces or two sticks) butter, softened
3/4 cup (5.25 ounces) granulated sugar
3/4 cup (5.25 ounces) packed brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
2 cups (one 12 ounce. pkg.) NESTLÉ® TOLL HOUSE® Semi-Sweet Chocolate Morsels
1 cup (3.5 ounces) chopped nuts

Directions:

PREHEAT oven to 375° F.

COMBINE flour, baking soda and salt in small bowl. Beat butter, granulated sugar, brown sugar and vanilla extract in large mixer bowl until creamy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Gradually beat in flour mixture. Stir in morsels and nuts. Drop by rounded tablespoon onto ungreased baking sheets.

BAKE for 9 to 11 minutes or until golden brown. Cool on baking sheets for 2 minutes; remove to wire racks to cool completely.

Not from horse hooves if that was your answer. No, hooves don't have any collagen in them to speak of. That myth originally arose from the days when gelatin was made from cow's feet — waste items from rendering plants (glue factories). The stuff looked awful and smelled worse, or so I understand, which is why pre-packaged gelatin had to undergo copious clarification in the kitchens of yore, and needed no small amount of coloring and flavoring.

Once upon a time, cow feet (and/or bones) were boiled down, the gelatin was extracted and poured into molds. Once cooled the gelatin was cut into slices and dried to form sheets, not unlike the gelatin sheets used in professional kitchens today. As a further next step the dried sheets of gelatin were crushed into powder to make a granulated product.

Similar processes are in use today, though nowadays gelatin making (unlike in the 19th century) doesn't start with bones from the glue factory. Today companies like Knox employ animal skins, which they boil in either acid or alkaline solutions. Much of the time pig skin is used, though cow hides and bones are also common. Boiling cow hides in alkaline produces a stronger, more viscous gelatin (known as Type B gelatin). Pig skins treated with acid yield a weaker gelatin (Type A). The most delicate gelatins of all come from fish skin and bones, which are also rich in collagen.

If you've ever wondered why vegetarians don't eat JELL-O, this is the reason. Which is not to say that there aren't many other kinds of vegetable-based thickeners available today, they just don't have quite the same setting properties as the animal-derived stuff. Fish gelatin is popular in kosher circles, the reason for which should be obvious. Some food historians claim the original panna cottas were thickened with fish gelatin, which to my way of seeing things is absurd. Piedmont is not only land-locked, it's mountainous. Add to this the fact that the region is known for dairying, and veal bones are an incredibly rich source of collagen, and I think you start to see how unlikely it is that these people would have ever had fish gelatin shipped in.

Classic biscotti are loaded with almonds, which is why they cost two bucks apiece at Starbuck's. This recipe has plenty, about twelve dollars worth, so it may be a budget-buster for some of you (it was for me this week). Feel free to scale back on the nuts. You can swap out some dried fruits like cranberries if you want to (they'd go great with orange zest...if you decided to go that route).

Almond-Citrus Biscotti

1 3/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs, beaten
1 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1 tablespoon lemon or orange zest
3 cups chopped (not sliced) almonds

Preheat your oven to 325°F. Line a sheet pan or cookie sheet with parchment. Whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. In another, combine the eggs and sugar and beat by hand until light in color. Add the extracts, zest, nuts and dry ingredients.

On a lightly floured board, divide the dough into two pieces. Shape each piece into a long, flat slab the length of the sheet pan, set about two inches apart.

Bake 15 to 20 minutes, until the loaves are golden and slightly cracked. Cool completely on a rack. Meanwhile, reduce your oven heat to 200. Slice the biscotti into ½-inch pieces with a serrated knife, lay them out on sheet pans, and bake another 20 minutes, until crisp.

Not from horse hooves if that was your answer. No, hooves don't have any collagen in them to speak of. That myth originally arose from the days when gelatin was made from cow's feet — waste items from rendering plants (glue factories). The stuff looked awful and smelled worse, or so I understand, which is why pre-packaged gelatin had to undergo copious clarification in the kitchens of yore, and needed no small amount of coloring and flavoring.

Once upon a time, cow feet (and/or bones) were boiled down, the gelatin was extracted and poured into molds. Once cooled the gelatin was cut into slices and dried to form sheets, not unlike the gelatin sheets used in professional kitchens today. As a further next step the dried sheets of gelatin were crushed into powder to make a granulated product.

Similar processes are in use today, though nowadays gelatin making (unlike in the 19th century) doesn't start with bones from the glue factory. Today companies like Knox employ animal skins, which they boil in either acid or alkaline solutions. Much of the time pig skin is used, though cow hides and bones are also common. Boiling cow hides in alkaline produces a stronger, more viscous gelatin (known as Type B gelatin). Pig skins treated with acid yield a weaker gelatin (Type A). The most delicate gelatins of all come from fish skin and bones, which are also rich in collagen.

If you've ever wondered why vegetarians don't eat JELL-O, this is the reason. Which is not to say that there aren't many other kinds of vegetable-based thickeners available today, they just don't have quite the same properties as the animal-derived stuff.

Well yes, in fact you probably can. Though it'd take a lot more experimentation (getting the right amount of gelatin in your juice and such). The great thing about JELL-O as I said is that it's pre-formulated to a firmness that's perfect for these sorts of shenanigans. Gelatin you see, comes in many different consistencies. It's degree of firmness is measured in what's called Bloom value, a low bloom value being very firm (for things like gummy worms) and a high Bloom value being rather squishy (aspics, jam and things of that nature). JELL-O is relatively weak as confectionary gelatins go, but not so weak that it won't hold it's shape in block or cylinder form. I find that granulated gelatin is a bit too soft for those sort of applications. Yes, you could just add more, but lots and lots of gelatin makes for a gummy, rather than rigid, consistency. Better to use stonger gelatin in smaller amounts.

Oh, and to make one of these just mix up two or more of your favorite flavors (I like lemon and lime) and pour them alternately into a glass, letting the lower layers chill for about half an hour in the freezer between applications. Be gentle. For this I used a turkey baster to dribble the top layers in. As they layers chill, simply hold the different mixes at room temperature. JELL-O doesn't gel until it hits the fridge.

Preserving is like government surveillance. Once you start looking for it, you start seeing it everywhere: at the mall, at the corner bar, in your house, at work, at the ball game, your daughter's locker at school, on a hike, a car trip, a picnic, a trip to the moon. It's everywhere man.

Just about everything we eat is a product of preservation in one form or another. Just think about it: how many foods do we actually eat 100% fresh off the tree? Out of the ground? Out of the cow? On the hunting trail? For eveything else, we rely on preservation.

Jam is preservation. A sack of flour is preservation. Cheese is preservation. Wine is preservation. Beef jerky is preservation. Energy bars are preservation, pickles are preservation, Cheetos are preservation, that five year-old can of baked beans in your cupboard is preservation. Granulated sugar, dried peas, boxes of cereal, dried sausages, beer, whiskey, peppermint schnapps, everything in your refrigerator, everything in your freezer, that crumpled packet of oyster crackers in your desk at work...a fella could go nuts (which are also preservation). Yahh!!!

Preservation is, simply, defeating the process of spoilage in all its myriad forms. And what is spoilage other than lower forms of life trying to horn in on a hard-earned meal? (Insert easy in-laws joke here).

And so we must defeat them. We could kill them, but the only sure-fire ways to do that are by poisoning or boiling them, and boiled Ho-Ho's taste like crap. No, the most efficient way to keep the microbes at bay is to let them exist, but deprive them of the various things they need to grow and proliferate. Sure, oxygen. Yes, food. OK, temperature. But best of all that one special thing than all life on this Earth depends on to survive: water.

And thus we have the common denominator that the most historically successful methods of preservation share: they deprive microbial life of water. Drying does it of course. You can also achieve the same effect with smoke and salt. But I bet you didn't know that sugar works just as well. Oh yes, my friends, in high enough concentrations sugar is every bit as deadly to a microbe as salt. And thus we have the primary bug-killing mechanism behind jam. More on how all this fun stuff works as the day goes on.