Recipes From Momofuku Milk Bar by Christina Tosi - Free download as PDF File .pdf) or read online for free. My mother cannot give up ice cream for the life. published her second cookbook, Milk Bar Life (Clarkson. Potter), which complements the dessert recipes in her first book, Momofuku Milk Bar, with a mixture of. Milk Bar Life: Recipes & Stories by Christina Tosi, PDF eBook , caite.info
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Description Go off the clock with Christina Tosi of Momofuku Milk Bar as she bakes one-bowl treats, grills with skills, and embraces simple, nostalgic—and often savory—recipes made from supermarket ingredients. Join Christina and friends as they cook their way through. This books (Milk Bar Life: Recipes and Stories [PDF]) Made by Christina Tosi About Books none To Download Please Click. Milk Bar Life: Recipes & Stories and millions of other books are available for Amazon Kindle. Milk Bar Life: Recipes & Stories Hardcover – April 7, Go off the clock with Christina Tosi of Momofuku Milk Bar as she bakes one-bowl treats, grills with skills, and embraces.
I just had to get out. I gave a quick head nod and let myself out of the office. We are a family. Only a small handful of people knew that Momofuku even had a pastry department, but we were determined to build a bakery that belonged to us, and we were going to do it as best we could. Being a California girl, Mar loves avocados, and wed really wanted to use them in a dessert.
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An annual anal Embed Size px. Start on. Show related SlideShares at end. WordPress Shortcode. Published in: Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Be the first to like this. No Downloads. There was no real heat source for baking anything to order la minuteor warming things for service. I prepped Ssm Bars desserts, and the garde-manger cook the person doing oysters and appetizers would plate and serve them.
Garde-manger had eight to ten other menu items coming off their station on a given night; dessert was not a priority.
I had to come up with recipes that were bulletproof. And the desserts had to appear thoughtfully composed, even without any of the elements that you typically get with dessert served at a fancy Manhattan restaurant. So I came up with ways to make desserts seem larger than the sum of their parts: Everyone in the kitchen would get their spoons in something before it made it onto the menu. And I would make sure that the recipe was just right before we served it.
Once Ssm had two steady desserts, I moved on to Noodle Bar. Noodle Bar had already grown up and moved up the block from its original tiny spacewhich would later become Kointo a spacious by Momofuku standards new location. I pushed as hard as possible for a soft-serve machine. I had been hell-bent on having dessert at the original tiny Noodle Bar, but it was a turn-and-burn operation. Diners would sometimes be in and out in an hour.
So the idea of instituting a dessert program that would keep them in our tiny place for any longer than usual was not a popular one.
Once Noodle Bar was running smoothly in its new location, Ko opened. We quickly flipped the space into a tastingmenu-only, online-reservations-only establishment. We had a lot of bad ideas for tasting-menu desserts, and deep down, I think Dave, Serp Peter Serpico, the chef de cuisine, who runs the restaurant , and I knew I was just going to have to hide out in the Ssm Bar basement and, come hell or high water, figure something out.
The only productive thing that came from the original group meetings was a collaborative love affair with the idea of a deep-fried apple pie and the fact that I was going to need a little help in the form of an FCI extern.
Enter Marian Mar. Dave and a few other Momo guys went to the FCI career fair one day, mostly in search of savory cooks for their kitchens, and Dave promised hed find me someone. Most people didnt even know the Momofukus served dessert, let alone thought of dropping off a pastry rsum. Except Marian. Mar showed up at Ssm Bar one night at 8 p. We wore winter hats and turtlenecks because the basement was freezing.
Giggled and figured shit out. This continued once or twice a week for the next few months. Little did either of us know Marian would become the anchor, lifesaver, soulmate, sister, and sous-chef who made and saved our little pastry department.
Mar stood next to me watching me pull out my hair trying to make a deep-fried apple pie. She looked at me like I was a little insane when, days before Ko was set to open, I told her about this cereal milk idea I had instead. I mean, I had to start looking at other options if I couldnt get the fried apple pie I promised figured out.
We tasted my next few attempts at an apple pie with Serp, as well as the cereal milk panna cotta I was working on.
The panna cotta had a pretty boring banana cream with it, and he wanted something slightly different. He said, I may be crazy, but what about avocado? Both me and Mar perked up. Being a California girl, Mar loves avocados, and wed really wanted to use them in a dessert. In fact, we had an avocado puree all ready, waiting for inspiration to strike. And there it was. This is the essence of how we come up with things.
We make things that we are interested in. We make them taste good. Then we stand in front of our fridge, with the door open, just like you do at home when youre trying to figure out what to make for dinner or eat for a midnight snack.
We pick and pull out things weve been working on and see where we can merge ideas and flavors. We try to be intelligent about it. But most of the time, its a eureka moment that we didnt even know we were working toward. I finally came up with a deep-fried apple piea kind of take on the Hostess or McDonalds apple pies we all grew up onthrough some messed-up, backwards, forget-everything-youve-ever-learned-about-pie-dough stroke of stupidity and kept moving. We opened our two-man pastry department at Ko by packing up five large pails of staple ingredients and a toolbox of equipment and moving them from Ssm to Ko in the back of a lovely little 93 Subaru station wagon, the company car.
Once we had a little prep table to call our own and more regularish hours, we began menu developing, putting better systems into place in the restaurants for our dessert programs, and, of course, making family-meal dessert daily. I developed a firm belief while working in restaurants in this city that family meal, the one prepared daily for your peers, is one of the most important meals youll cook.
The respect and integrity you put into it speaks very highly of you as a cookand of how much you care about your fellow cooks. Often pastry is exempt from being required to contribute to family meal.
I would joke with anyone I worked next to that making family meal was my zen moment. I went back to my self-proclaimed roots; I baked without measuring sacrilege. Family meal is meant to be delicious and nurturing. I made what I knew from years of baking for myselfsomething I affectionately called crack pie because you cant stop eating it, cookies galore, brownies, etc. If there was a birthday within our three growing restaurants, I would make a layer cake with the same notion, using fillings we had on hand for our desserts.
Little did we know that making family-meal desserts with our in-house mise-en-place for the other restaurants would be recipe testing for our next project.
One day, tumbling down the stairs from the sidewalk into Kos basement, Dave said, Hey, if we could get you a bakery space, would you do it? The Laundromat next to Ssm is closing, and we need to scoop up that space before someone else does.
OK, I said. Id come to realize that having a bakery was what I wanted as an end goal. I just didnt think it would come so soon. No, but seriouslyif we could get that space for you to have as a bakery or something, would you really do it?
I said yes. Ill do it, I shot back, puffing up my shoulders. Its funny to think thats how most of our big conversations go. Theyre quick and to the point. Dave and I get each. Its usually just a few sentences of dialogue; we figure out the hard stuff later.
We are both people of our words, fearless of a challenge, and self-confident to a fault. We will do anything to make something work. Its one-half rock-hard work ethic, one-quarter pride, and one-quarter spite, I think. With a skeleton crew of me, Mar, and Emily, an amazing Culinary Institute of America extern we picked up along the way, we began menu developing for a bakery that had no rules and no bounds.
We would finish our daily prep for the restaurants as quickly as possible and make ourselves sick from testing and tasting thousands of versions of cookie dough, cake batter, and soft-serve ice cream bases. A separate skeleton crew of Joshua Corey, our handsome handyman if you asked him his title, Dave, Drew Salmon, Momofukus COO, and I began designing, contracting, and building out the space. We bought pendant lamps at walmart.
None of us had ever opened a bakery, and the bakery I ran on Star Island was nothing like this, except I sure did know how to use an old eighty-quart mixer and wasnt afraid of scooping cookie dough out of it. Long days turned into long nights, into yelling at contractors and slamming down phones. Our lives became mudding ceilings, sourcing the right nondescript display case, and painting the walls and ceilings in hint of mint when we should have been sleeping.
Only a small handful of people knew that Momofuku even had a pastry department, but we were determined to build a bakery that belonged to us, and we were going to do it as best we could.
And by small handful, I mean really small. Milk Bar started with very few employees, working seven days a week, seventeen hours a day or more. Helen Jo joined our team for no good reason that I could see except that Marian, Emily, and my zombie-like state somehow enchanted her. James Mark, formerly the low man on the totem pole at Ko, who had baked a different loaf of bread for practically every family meal, became our overnight bread baker.
It wasnt long before the doors officially opened and the place was packed. Lines out into the cold all times of day. Customers were often confused by the crazy ice cream flavors we served morning till midnight, by the series of flavors that were always expanding and contracting, and we didnt begrudge them the confusion.
We were making it up as we went along, butand I cant express this more sincerelywe were truly surprised at how much people were into it. At a certain point, Anderson Cooper was plugging our crack pie on television. Things had turned surreal. Dave swears he knew it was going to work all along.
A year and a half passed. We opened our second Milk Bar location in midtown. Business was booming, but we were on top of each other, mixing and baking from 7 a. Wed hoist sheet pans of cookie dough over the heads of our patrons several times a day to get them to a refrigerator to chill for an hour or two before we hoisted the pans back to our oven to bake off for the evening and late-night crowds.
We needed a bigger boat. There are only so many chest freezers from Craigslist you can squeeze into an already cramped basement, so many cookie fridges you can surreptitiously put out on the floor of Milk Bar, and so many tables you can take over for shipping and special orders while telling guests they have to stand somewhere else to eat their slice of pistachio layer pie. We found and signed a lease on a huge warehouse space that would be our castle, our kingdom, our home.
Cue noise: Only thing is, it wouldnt be rezoned and kitchen-ready for another four months. So we chose the next best and only other option: And there we perched, in a barely-air-conditioned to degree kitchen for a long summer. We baked, and we developed a delivery system, a packaging system, an oh, shit list to keep us on top of every single disaster we could and surely did encounter at th Street and Third Avenue. We were in boot camp all over again. We climbed those stairs with fifty-pound bags of flour on our shoulders or wobbled down them with twenty-four-quart tubs of soft-serve ice cream to take to Noodle Bar.
We screamed, we sweated. We tried to hide it when we were down at the restaurants. We scrubbed sheet pans at 3 a. We carpooled up and down the FDR Drive at all hours of the morning and night.
Then, just when the summer of cooled off, our new kitchen in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, was ready. And by ready, I mean empty, clean, and ready for us to do it all over again, one more time. We painted the creepy rooms with leftover paint from everyones past home painting experiments mostly mine , hung pictures of dogs and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the empty walls, and assembled enough prep tables and metro shelves to fill thousands of square feet.
My mother, aunt, and sister stuffed my poor brother-in-laws truck full of yard-sale furniture to cart across state lines for our. Louis Fabbrini, the tall, dark, and handsome Doogie Howser of Milk Bar, has somehow managed to know and love the cause among a jungle of crazy women and balance a delivery staff, an etc.
Alison Roman, our West Coast transplant, is so ridiculous in spirit, chatter, and skill that we just give her some jars to fill with jokes or dramaor her next amazing batch of flavored butter, jelly, or jam. Alex Wilson, God bless her, flies strong and solo most of the time, ricocheting off each Milk Bar, and generally managing our laughter levels, homemade apron distribution, cookie pars, and locations all the while.
We made friends with big guys with big dollies and trucks with lifts. And we rented U-Haul trucks and moved our ever-expanding kitchen from Spanish Harlem to our home. After just two years, we caught up on sleep kind of. We wooed an amazingly talented staff to join us in our plight. Each one of us has a different background, a different attitude, and a different view on life and food. Helen Jo stuck by my side, whether we were spray-painting a rusty dough sheeter gold and naming her Beyonc, running outside to pet a puppy, or commanding an entire kitchen to work faster!
Leslie Behrens entered full force with blonde like you have never seen before, and a love for key lime pie turned cake that let us know she was a lifer.
Yewande Komolafe, our wanderlust Nigerian princess, reminded us daily to be fierce with attitude and never to miss an episode of This American Life. Helen Hollyman, with her patience and hilarity, taught us how to wrangle quirky customers with grace and poise while laughing inside all the way.
Sarah Buck danced into our basement and schooled us in the art of bouncing to Reggaeton while corralling a sassy staff into banging out a prep list in record time. Courtney McBroom, cool as a cucumber, hilarious, and vulgar to a fault at times, is my mighty kitchen standin, silently reminding me it will all be OK, even if I take a day off shes also half of the hilariousness of this text. Maggie Cantwell, equally nosy and hungry at all times, now runs.
We are a family.
We call each other out on bullshit, push each other to be better everythings, and catch each other when it all blows up in our faces. We have lost sanity and sleep over new desserts. We argue about and challenge the ways we make each recipe, the way we serve each item, the way we get each dessert to you with the shortest line and in the friendliest way possible.
The heart of our daily lives at Milk Bar is the core of this bookwarm, hardworking, strong, humble, and straightforward. Im excited and scared to share it with you.
We are no geniuses. Putting it down on paper for someone else to read leaves us vulnerable to the ease that is the essence of our desserts success. There are no tricky secrets to what we doits about getting in there, working smart, and making something delicious out of everyday ingredients. The only things you need that are not already in your cupboards are a few funny ingredients that will make you shake your head in disbelief.
Our recipes exist to appeal and to relate to everyone. We all started off as home cooks, and we never stray far from our roots. This cookbook is a collection of the recipes from our lives and love affairs with food that we have adapted, adjusted, tasted once and tasted twice, and made in the Momofuku spirit. They are simple and tasty.
They are salty and sweet. If you ever wanted to start a pastry department, then open a bakery, then grow an empire out of a few employees, young by birth or at heartor just turn on your oven and make something super-tastyyou really only need the ten mother recipes youll find here. Honestly, thats how we did it.
For years, this was a recipe I didnt let out of my kitchenI dont know why, but everybody has one or two recipes like that.
I finally relented and gave a copy to Rick Bishop, Milk Bars favorite strawberry farmer, and he told me he hid it under his kitchen sink, where he knew it would be safe. If you cant find corn flour, you can substitute 40 g cup flour.
Combine the butter and sugar in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment and cream together on medium-high for 2 to 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add the egg, and beat for 7 to 8 minutes. See page 27 for notes on this process. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the flour, corn flour, corn powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.
Mix just until the dough comes together, no longer than 1 minute. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Using a 2-ounce ice cream scoop or a -cup measure , portion out the dough onto a parchment-lined sheet pan.
Pat the tops of the cookie dough domes flat. Wrap the sheet pan tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or up to 1 week. Do not bake your cookies from room temperaturethey will not bake properly.
Heat the oven to F. Arrange the chilled dough a minimum of 4 inches apart on parchment- or Silpat-lined sheet pans.