#kouign gets up early to train

[punkk-draws]

capsaicin is 100% the kinda guy who is way too enthusiastic in the morning

[sleepingdeath-light]

Hi! I hope you don't mind me asking, it's early morning for me so:

- How would the TCC trio start off their day with their s/o? (eg eating breakfast together, go to the market together, etc.)

Okay so I’m just gonna focus on one specific activity that each of them incorporate into their mornings.

Capsaicin Cookie — cuddling in bed when they’re just starting to wake up, where the sheets are messy and practically knotted around them and they’re tangled up in each other and they don’t want to get up. He can happily stay there for hours if they let him, even if it means being late to training or missing it all together.

Kouign-Amann Cookie — bathing together first thing in the morning, or just generally going about their skincare and health routines together and helping each other out. Rubbing on ointments and lotions, braiding and washing hair, putting on face masks and just generally being really intimate and domestic.

Prune Juice Cookie — cooking and eating breakfast together. He’s practically always busy but he always makes sure to carve some time out in the early mornings so that they can cook and dance and laugh and stuff their faces together before he’s dragged off to do some spell or lesson or lecture (even if he really isn’t a morning person, he always makes the effort for them).

[activekidney73-blog]

To The Lune and Back: Lune Croissanterie

Dear Reader, I finally made the trip to Melbourne's Lune Croissanterie to try the much lauded and hyped croissants for myself. How do they stack up against the world's best? Is the two hour queue worth it?

18°C. That's the temperature that Kate Reid and her team work at. Working at this chilly temperature is one of the many things that form part of the complex and time consuming process of making what some say are among the best in Melbourne.

I'm here at Lune Croissanterie to eat pastry. After of course an early morning punishing training session that allows me to eat as much pastry as I want without compunction. And for a Thursday mid morning it is very busy with a lot of people doing their own photo shoots.

So let's talk about the queue and cult of Lune. Because for me, queueing is to be avoided if possible (a friend once said to me "Queuing is for punks" and her quote has reverberated around in my head since). It is entirely possible to avoid the two hour queue that snakes all the way around the block. Just avoid weekends. Or if you don't want to eat in you can get a smartly boxed up selection from the takeaway window on Mondays and Tuesdays.

I was under the impression that the pastries came warm out of the oven so decided to eat in. I ordered with the very patient and friendly staff who probably get sick of being asked the same questions but answer them as if they haven't said the identical thing to the previous customer.

I sit down at the bar for a hotly contested bar seat. I was in luck as even on a Thursday morning it is packed with people and I only lucked out on that seat as I was by myself. It was just me, a hot chocolate (there's coffee and hot chocolate but no tea) and seven pastries. They deliver them all at once and this causes the two women sitting next to me to gasp. "Are you kidding me?" one says out loud laughing good naturedly.

Traditional $5.80

I start with the traditional shiny topped croissant. I cut it in half and it's got a good honeycomb pattern. The honeycomb pattern is not as exact as a Sadaharu Aoki one which I'm convinced is made in heaven as its internal structure is so perfect.

It's light and lightly buttery. They uses two types of butter here: a Pepe Saya cultured butter and a French Beurre d'isigny. They tell me that the croissants are a three day process from beginning to end. The bar is the best spot to watch the "NASA lab" in action with pastry chefs shaping croissants and laminating croissants dough-it's hypnotic.

Ham and gruyere $9 (left)

I start with the savouries-the ham and gruyere with seeded mustard has got a nice amount of filling in it and is more addictive the more bites you take. Suddenly, three quarters of it is gone and I just hope that Mr NQN has forgotten my promise to bring pastries home.

Cauliflower $10

The cauliflower is a vegetarian friendly bear claw shaped pastry and comes filled with spiced cauliflower florets and thinly sliced pickled cauliflower florets and parmesan cheese. The top is dusted with a sesame dukkah-like spice mix for added flavour. It's $10 though and out of the two I prefer the ham and gruyere.

Kouign Amann $6.50

I delve into the sweet side next-the Kouign Amann is probably my favourite ever pastry. There's something about the butter, salt and caramelisation that makes this so utterly moreish. The kouign amann here is a modern interpretation and is shaped like a spiral or crispy laminated pastry. There isn't as much gooey caramel but it does deliver a nice crisp bite. Personally I love the caramel and the soft and crispness of a traditional one.

Almond Croissant $9

The twice baked almond croissant is a beautiful number with flaked almonds sitting upright on top hiding a lemony almond frangipane. I take a bite and then pack this up knowing that I will love this when warmed up at home in the oven. Interestingly they don't recommend reheating these and they say that the croissants are best eaten within 2-3 hours of baking. But to me, nothing beats warm pastry.

Pecan Pie Croissant $10.50

And while the almond croissant is the most popular sweet croissant, I preferred the pecan pie croissant. It's a bit extra for starters which always appeals to me and it has a pecan frangipane which I prefer to an almond one as pecans have a stronger, nuttier flavour. It's also sweeter as it has a smokey maple bourbon syrup and a very lightly sweetened maple bourbon cream on top.

Pumpkin Pie Cruffin $7.50

There are three cruffins on offer that day and the lemon curd is the most popular but I feel more in the mood for a pumpkin pie one. The cinnamon sugar rolled croissant muffin is filled with pumpkin pie mousse, a thick maple syrup and a dab of unsweetened cinnamon cream on top.

The two ladies next to me that I have been talking to have departed and I look down at my black jeans. They are covered in buttery crumbs and sugar. I put what remains of the pastries into the box and pack up and leave. And when I catch an Uber the driver sees my box and just wants to talk Lune croissants.

So tell me Dear Reader, how long would you queue for or do you feel like queuing is for punks? And what is your favourite type of pastry? Have you tried a Lune croissant and what did you think?

This food was independently paid for.

119 Rose Street, Fitzroy, Yarra, Victoria 3065 +61 3 9419 2320 www.lunecroissanterie.com/

Source: http://www.notquitenigella.com/2018/10/25/lune-croissanterie-melbourne/

[jarclave13-blog]

Loba Pastry + Coffee

There were never any chairs at Bad Wolf Coffee, a beloved Chicago coffee shop known for its stellar pastries. You don’t think much about chairs until they aren’t there. There was a table customers could stand at, but the message was clear—don’t linger. When Val Taylor, a former Bad Wolf employee and supertalented pastry chef, took over the space a couple of years ago, one of the first things she did was add chairs. It was a small correction that significantly changed both the way the space worked and felt. Taylor also changed the name to Loba, Spanish for wolf, or more specifically she-wolf. The name is perfect.

Taylor moved to the states from Guadalajara when she was a teenager. Raised by women who cared about food and cooking, she gravitated toward it too, though she didn’t imagine pursuing it professionally. By the time she made her way to Chicago in her early 20’s, she found herself working a job she didn’t care about and searching the want ads for other opportunities. She saw that a restaurant called Blackbird was searching for a pastry assistant. Despite not having experience, or even a sense of what Blackbird was (one of the greatest fine dining rooms in the city) she talked her way into the job and under the wing of the pastry crew headed by Patrick Fahy. She liked the work, learned quickly, and before long she was confident that that was what she wanted to do. That initial training lead to a bunch of other experiences in impressive kitchens in Chicago and New York. Often staging for experience in between paid kitchen gigs. She had a lot of energy and was eager to learn everything she could.

But like many people who spend much time in the industry, Taylor gradually found herself feeling exhausted by the work and uncertain about her future. It seemed hard to imagine maintaining the fine dining restaurant grind—the hours, the repetition, the creative restrictions. She took a job working in an office in the suburbs because it seemed to make practical sense, but it quickly made her miserable. She laughs now remembering how often she would try to cheer herself up with a trip to Margie’s Candies after work, “Eventually they didn’t even need to ask for my order.” She’d found herself back where she started, working a job she wasn’t invested in and thinking about food.

Taylor had heard from friends about a coffee shop in Lakeview that was making great pastries. She woke up early one morning on a day off and decided to give it a try. She was existential crisis-ing and spent the walk contemplating her future. She knew when she entered Bad Wolf that is was something special and told the owner, Jonathan Ory, that she wanted to work there. He didn’t need an employee at the time, but somehow Taylor charmed (bullied?) her way into the kitchen, and found herself baking there in her free time.

When Bad Wolf closed (Ory moved out of state) it was resurrected and reinvented by Taylor (and partner Coyote DeGroot) as Loba, the name inspired by a story about an alpha female wolf in Yellowstone known for her dominance. It was Taylor’s opportunity to make the space her own. The name change brought with it those chairs, wifi, and smiles—a kinder, gentler, wolf, in some ways. In others, it was much more fierce—its potential realized. The physical space became more intentional, weirder, goth-ier (?). A collection of clocks on the wall tell us the time in Winnipeg, Chicago, Veracruz, and Belize, randomly (Taylor can’t explain it either). There is a possibly ironic shrine to Steve Dolinsky, famous headshot-wielding Chicago restaurant critic/shill; and a collection of miniature plastic body parts surrounding the tip jar. In a sense, the space became itself, or herself. It also features Taylor, a compelling character, and her small staff who spend the mornings greeting and chatting with regulars. It’s fun to get Taylor talking about her food, the excitement is contagious. She always humors me when I bombard her with questions about how something is made. Most mornings you’ll find her running up the stairs to check on something in her shoebox of a kitchen between pours of coffee and conversation.

And that kitchen is the most important change, the pastry game became smart and adventurous, and for me, some of the most exciting stuff in Chicago. It really howls. Taylor often draws on flavors and forms from her native Mexico. She makes a remarkable Tres Leches cake using sourdough, cajeta caneles, and a mole croissant (although, philosophically, she’d like everyone to get over their obsession with “fucking croissants”). But there are other influences, a matcha cheese danish, a violet-glazed buckwheat cake, a ham and cheese kouign-amann (vestiges of her fine dining days?). She’s as likely to make something vegan or gluten free as she is not. A Pineapple and Sourdough muffin I recently ordered was both it turned out, but I would’ve been sure it was mostly wheat and butter. Her decisions to include or exclude seem determined by outcomes rather than diet concerns. She also plays with sweetness, pushing into savory territory at times.

On a recent visit I asked Taylor about why the shop hasn’t gotten more press—I remain confused by how under the radar it has flown, despite my own excitement and proselytizing. I hypothesized that it is partially a pastry problem, historically the most neglected part of kitchens, which of course is wrapped up in gender problems—they’re often staffed by females. She didn’t disagree, but she also suggested it was partially her fault. She admits to being bad at seeking out press and also, “I’m a punk. I’m too unpredictable.” She explained that what has happened in the past is that something she made would get press, a chocolate cardamom muffin, let’s say, and then customers would show up wanting to try one, but it wasn’t there. Usually because Taylor got tired of making it and moved on to other things.

This becomes part of the deal you strike as a regular at Loba, it’s unpredictable. You might find something you truly love, and you may never see it again. You gotta trust in Taylor—trust that the thing you love will be replaced by something equally delicious. It leads to another kind of regular, the kind of regular who is game for whatever. A devotee. It keeps things interesting for Taylor, she’s operating on her own terms and every day can be an adventure. Her years in kitchens taught her a lot about what she needs to sustain this work for herself and she is not going to get stuck making the same thing every day. She has found creative freedom (and better hours) at Loba, and we all benefit.

One of the few things that show up regularly in the Loba pastry case is Taylor’s Pepita Crunch Bar, inspired by florentine cookies and palanquetas de cacahuate. It is a good example of why she is so great, and the recipe works like a dream for home cooks. An oat bar base is topped with a mix of nuts and seeds bound together by a honey caramel sauce. The recipe can easily be made vegan by subbing the butter for Earth Balance (something she does regularly) and the honey for golden syrup. Makes a whole bunch, so be prepared to share with friends or strangers. The nut/seed mix can be adjusted to taste as long as the weight stays about the same—though this combo is pretty perfect (“because aesthetics” says Taylor)

Loba Pastry + Coffee is located at 3422 N Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.

Pepita Crunch Bar by Val Taylor of Loba Pastry + Coffee

Oat Base:

250g all purpose flour

200g old-fashioned rolled oats

5g baking powder

200g Earth Balance baking stick (If using dairy butter bump it to 220g)

225g light brown sugar

2g of salt

Caramelized nut topping:

125g roasted and unsalted peanuts (no skins)

50g slivered or sliced almonds

25g black sesame seeds

75g sugar

40g honey (use golden syrup if making these vegan)

3g salt

3 tablespoons water

100g Earth Balance (or equal amount of dairy butter)

Preheat oven to 375F. Line a quarter sheet pan with parchment paper and set aside.

To make the oat base:

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, and baking powder. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar, and salt together until light and fluffy, stopping occasionally to scrape the sides and bottom of bowl. Add the dry ingredients in three additions and mix until fully combined and dry ingredients are no longer visible. Dump dough out into prepared pan and use your hands to flatten it into an even layer.

Bake for 14-17 minutes, or until light golden brown. Allow to cool while you make the caramelized topping. (oat base can be made a day in advance)

To make the caramelized nut topping:

Combine the nuts and seeds in a small bowl and set next to your stove.

In a small saucepan combine the sugar, honey, salt, and water and cook over medium-high heat until a golden sunset tone–kind of a medium amber. Turn down heat to lowest setting and whisk in the butter, a couple of tablespoons at a time, until you have a smooth caramel. Immediately add the nuts and seeds and stir to coat. Working quickly, pour the caramelized nut topping over the oat base and use an offset spatula to spread it into an even layer. The topping will get more difficult to spread as it cools, but don’t sweat it because you’ll get another chance….

Return the pan to the oven for 7-10 minutes, which will help bond the topping to the base. When you remove the pan from the oven, you can now spread out any of the caramelized nut topping that had clumped up. The warmth of the oven will have loosened things up.

Allow to cool to room temperature before cutting into bars.

Source: http://www.lottieanddoof.com/2018/04/loba-pastry-coffee/

[hedgeradish9-blog]

Loba Pastry + Coffee

There were never any chairs at Bad Wolf Coffee, a beloved Chicago coffee shop known for its stellar pastries. You don’t think much about chairs until they aren’t there. There was a table customers could stand at, but the message was clear—don’t linger. When Val Taylor, a former Bad Wolf employee and supertalented pastry chef, took over the space a couple of years ago, one of the first things she did was add chairs. It was a small correction that significantly changed both the way the space worked and felt. Taylor also changed the name to Loba, Spanish for wolf, or more specifically she-wolf. The name is perfect.

Taylor moved to the states from Guadalajara when she was a teenager. Raised by women who cared about food and cooking, she gravitated toward it too, though she didn’t imagine pursuing it professionally. By the time she made her way to Chicago in her early 20’s, she found herself working a job she didn’t care about and searching the want ads for other opportunities. She saw that a restaurant called Blackbird was searching for a pastry assistant. Despite not having experience, or even a sense of what Blackbird was (one of the greatest fine dining rooms in the city) she talked her way into the job and under the wing of the pastry crew headed by Patrick Fahy. She liked the work, learned quickly, and before long she was confident that that was what she wanted to do. That initial training lead to a bunch of other experiences in impressive kitchens in Chicago and New York. Often staging for experience in between paid kitchen gigs. She had a lot of energy and was eager to learn everything she could.

But like many people who spend much time in the industry, Taylor gradually found herself feeling exhausted by the work and uncertain about her future. It seemed hard to imagine maintaining the fine dining restaurant grind—the hours, the repetition, the creative restrictions. She took a job working in an office in the suburbs because it seemed to make practical sense, but it quickly made her miserable. She laughs now remembering how often she would try to cheer herself up with a trip to Margie’s Candies after work, “Eventually they didn’t even need to ask for my order.” She’d found herself back where she started, working a job she wasn’t invested in and thinking about food.

Taylor had heard from friends about a coffee shop in Lakeview that was making great pastries. She woke up early one morning on a day off and decided to give it a try. She was existential crisis-ing and spent the walk contemplating her future. She knew when she entered Bad Wolf that is was something special and told the owner, Jonathan Ory, that she wanted to work there. He didn’t need an employee at the time, but somehow Taylor charmed (bullied?) her way into the kitchen, and found herself baking there in her free time.

When Bad Wolf closed (Ory moved out of state) it was resurrected and reinvented by Taylor (and partner Coyote DeGroot) as Loba, the name inspired by a story about an alpha female wolf in Yellowstone known for her dominance. It was Taylor’s opportunity to make the space her own. The name change brought with it those chairs, wifi, and smiles—a kinder, gentler, wolf, in some ways. In others, it was much more fierce—its potential realized. The physical space became more intentional, weirder, goth-ier (?). A collection of clocks on the wall tell us the time in Winnipeg, Chicago, Veracruz, and Belize, randomly (Taylor can’t explain it either). There is a possibly ironic shrine to Steve Dolinsky, famous headshot-wielding Chicago restaurant critic/shill; and a collection of miniature plastic body parts surrounding the tip jar. In a sense, the space became itself, or herself. It also features Taylor, a compelling character, and her small staff who spend the mornings greeting and chatting with regulars. It’s fun to get Taylor talking about her food, the excitement is contagious. She always humors me when I bombard her with questions about how something is made. Most mornings you’ll find her running up the stairs to check on something in her shoebox of a kitchen between pours of coffee and conversation.

And that kitchen is the most important change, the pastry game became smart and adventurous, and for me, some of the most exciting stuff in Chicago. It really howls. Taylor often draws on flavors and forms from her native Mexico. She makes a remarkable Tres Leches cake using sourdough, cajeta caneles, and a mole croissant (although, philosophically, she’d like everyone to get over their obsession with “fucking croissants”). But there are other influences, a matcha cheese danish, a violet-glazed buckwheat cake, a ham and cheese kouign-amann (vestiges of her fine dining days?). She’s as likely to make something vegan or gluten free as she is not. A Pineapple and Sourdough muffin I recently ordered was both it turned out, but I would’ve been sure it was mostly wheat and butter. Her decisions to include or exclude seem determined by outcomes rather than diet concerns. She also plays with sweetness, pushing into savory territory at times.

On a recent visit I asked Taylor about why the shop hasn’t gotten more press—I remain confused by how under the radar it has flown, despite my own excitement and proselytizing. I hypothesized that it is partially a pastry problem, historically the most neglected part of kitchens, which of course is wrapped up in gender problems—they’re often staffed by females. She didn’t disagree, but she also suggested it was partially her fault. She admits to being bad at seeking out press and also, “I’m a punk. I’m too unpredictable.” She explained that what has happened in the past is that something she made would get press, a chocolate cardamom muffin, let’s say, and then customers would show up wanting to try one, but it wasn’t there. Usually because Taylor got tired of making it and moved on to other things.

This becomes part of the deal you strike as a regular at Loba, it’s unpredictable. You might find something you truly love, and you may never see it again. You gotta trust in Taylor—trust that the thing you love will be replaced by something equally delicious. It leads to another kind of regular, the kind of regular who is game for whatever. A devotee. It keeps things interesting for Taylor, she’s operating on her own terms and every day can be an adventure. Her years in kitchens taught her a lot about what she needs to sustain this work for herself and she is not going to get stuck making the same thing every day. She has found creative freedom (and better hours) at Loba, and we all benefit.

One of the few things that show up regularly in the Loba pastry case is Taylor’s Pepita Crunch Bar, inspired by florentine cookies and palanquetas de cacahuate. It is a good example of why she is so great, and the recipe works like a dream for home cooks. An oat bar base is topped with a mix of nuts and seeds bound together by a honey caramel sauce. The recipe can easily be made vegan by subbing the butter for Earth Balance (something she does regularly) and the honey for golden syrup. Makes a whole bunch, so be prepared to share with friends or strangers. The nut/seed mix can be adjusted to taste as long as the weight stays about the same—though this combo is pretty perfect (“because aesthetics” says Taylor)

Loba Pastry + Coffee is located at 3422 N Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.

Pepita Crunch Bar by Val Taylor of Loba Pastry + Coffee

Oat Base:

250g all purpose flour

200g old-fashioned rolled oats

5g baking powder

200g Earth Balance baking stick (If using dairy butter bump it to 220g)

225g light brown sugar

2g of salt

Caramelized nut topping:

125g roasted and unsalted peanuts (no skins)

50g slivered or sliced almonds

25g black sesame seeds

75g sugar

40g honey (use golden syrup if making these vegan)

3g salt

3 tablespoons water

100g Earth Balance (or equal amount of dairy butter)

Preheat oven to 375F. Line a quarter sheet pan with parchment paper and set aside.

To make the oat base:

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, and baking powder. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar, and salt together until light and fluffy, stopping occasionally to scrape the sides and bottom of bowl. Add the dry ingredients in three additions and mix until fully combined and dry ingredients are no longer visible. Dump dough out into prepared pan and use your hands to flatten it into an even layer.

Bake for 14-17 minutes, or until light golden brown. Allow to cool while you make the caramelized topping. (oat base can be made a day in advance)

To make the caramelized nut topping:

Combine the nuts and seeds in a small bowl and set next to your stove.

In a small saucepan combine the sugar, honey, salt, and water and cook over medium-high heat until a golden sunset tone–kind of a medium amber. Turn down heat to lowest setting and whisk in the butter, a couple of tablespoons at a time, until you have a smooth caramel. Immediately add the nuts and seeds and stir to coat. Working quickly, pour the caramelized nut topping over the oat base and use an offset spatula to spread it into an even layer. The topping will get more difficult to spread as it cools, but don’t sweat it because you’ll get another chance….

Return the pan to the oven for 7-10 minutes, which will help bond the topping to the base. When you remove the pan from the oven, you can now spread out any of the caramelized nut topping that had clumped up. The warmth of the oven will have loosened things up.

Allow to cool to room temperature before cutting into bars.

Source: http://www.lottieanddoof.com/2018/04/loba-pastry-coffee/

[clamjumper5-blog]

Loba Pastry + Coffee

There were never any chairs at Bad Wolf Coffee, a beloved Chicago coffee shop known for its stellar pastries. You don’t think much about chairs until they aren’t there. There was a table customers could stand at, but the message was clear—don’t linger. When Val Taylor, a former Bad Wolf employee and supertalented pastry chef, took over the space a couple of years ago, one of the first things she did was add chairs. It was a small correction that significantly changed both the way the space worked and felt. Taylor also changed the name to Loba, Spanish for wolf, or more specifically she-wolf. The name is perfect.

Taylor moved to the states from Guadalajara when she was a teenager. Raised by women who cared about food and cooking, she gravitated toward it too, though she didn’t imagine pursuing it professionally. By the time she made her way to Chicago in her early 20’s, she found herself working a job she didn’t care about and searching the want ads for other opportunities. She saw that a restaurant called Blackbird was searching for a pastry assistant. Despite not having experience, or even a sense of what Blackbird was (one of the greatest fine dining rooms in the city) she talked her way into the job and under the wing of the pastry crew headed by Patrick Fahy. She liked the work, learned quickly, and before long she was confident that that was what she wanted to do. That initial training lead to a bunch of other experiences in impressive kitchens in Chicago and New York. Often staging for experience in between paid kitchen gigs. She had a lot of energy and was eager to learn everything she could.

But like many people who spend much time in the industry, Taylor gradually found herself feeling exhausted by the work and uncertain about her future. It seemed hard to imagine maintaining the fine dining restaurant grind—the hours, the repetition, the creative restrictions. She took a job working in an office in the suburbs because it seemed to make practical sense, but it quickly made her miserable. She laughs now remembering how often she would try to cheer herself up with a trip to Margie’s Candies after work, “Eventually they didn’t even need to ask for my order.” She’d found herself back where she started, working a job she wasn’t invested in and thinking about food.

Taylor had heard from friends about a coffee shop in Lakeview that was making great pastries. She woke up early one morning on a day off and decided to give it a try. She was existential crisis-ing and spent the walk contemplating her future. She knew when she entered Bad Wolf that is was something special and told the owner, Jonathan Ory, that she wanted to work there. He didn’t need an employee at the time, but somehow Taylor charmed (bullied?) her way into the kitchen, and found herself baking there in her free time.

When Bad Wolf closed (Ory moved out of state) it was resurrected and reinvented by Taylor (and partner Coyote DeGroot) as Loba, the name inspired by a story about an alpha female wolf in Yellowstone known for her dominance. It was Taylor’s opportunity to make the space her own. The name change brought with it those chairs, wifi, and smiles—a kinder, gentler, wolf, in some ways. In others, it was much more fierce—its potential realized. The physical space became more intentional, weirder, goth-ier (?). A collection of clocks on the wall tell us the time in Winnipeg, Chicago, Veracruz, and Belize, randomly (Taylor can’t explain it either). There is a possibly ironic shrine to Steve Dolinsky, famous headshot-wielding Chicago restaurant critic/shill; and a collection of miniature plastic body parts surrounding the tip jar. In a sense, the space became itself, or herself. It also features Taylor, a compelling character, and her small staff who spend the mornings greeting and chatting with regulars. It’s fun to get Taylor talking about her food, the excitement is contagious. She always humors me when I bombard her with questions about how something is made. Most mornings you’ll find her running up the stairs to check on something in her shoebox of a kitchen between pours of coffee and conversation.

And that kitchen is the most important change, the pastry game became smart and adventurous, and for me, some of the most exciting stuff in Chicago. It really howls. Taylor often draws on flavors and forms from her native Mexico. She makes a remarkable Tres Leches cake using sourdough, cajeta caneles, and a mole croissant (although, philosophically, she’d like everyone to get over their obsession with “fucking croissants”). But there are other influences, a matcha cheese danish, a violet-glazed buckwheat cake, a ham and cheese kouign-amann (vestiges of her fine dining days?). She’s as likely to make something vegan or gluten free as she is not. A Pineapple and Sourdough muffin I recently ordered was both it turned out, but I would’ve been sure it was mostly wheat and butter. Her decisions to include or exclude seem determined by outcomes rather than diet concerns. She also plays with sweetness, pushing into savory territory at times.

On a recent visit I asked Taylor about why the shop hasn’t gotten more press—I remain confused by how under the radar it has flown, despite my own excitement and proselytizing. I hypothesized that it is partially a pastry problem, historically the most neglected part of kitchens, which of course is wrapped up in gender problems—they’re often staffed by females. She didn’t disagree, but she also suggested it was partially her fault. She admits to being bad at seeking out press and also, “I’m a punk. I’m too unpredictable.” She explained that what has happened in the past is that something she made would get press, a chocolate cardamom muffin, let’s say, and then customers would show up wanting to try one, but it wasn’t there. Usually because Taylor got tired of making it and moved on to other things.

This becomes part of the deal you strike as a regular at Loba, it’s unpredictable. You might find something you truly love, and you may never see it again. You gotta trust in Taylor—trust that the thing you love will be replaced by something equally delicious. It leads to another kind of regular, the kind of regular who is game for whatever. A devotee. It keeps things interesting for Taylor, she’s operating on her own terms and every day can be an adventure. Her years in kitchens taught her a lot about what she needs to sustain this work for herself and she is not going to get stuck making the same thing every day. She has found creative freedom (and better hours) at Loba, and we all benefit.

One of the few things that show up regularly in the Loba pastry case is Taylor’s Pepita Crunch Bar, inspired by florentine cookies and palanquetas de cacahuate. It is a good example of why she is so great, and the recipe works like a dream for home cooks. An oat bar base is topped with a mix of nuts and seeds bound together by a honey caramel sauce. The recipe can easily be made vegan by subbing the butter for Earth Balance (something she does regularly) and the honey for golden syrup. Makes a whole bunch, so be prepared to share with friends or strangers. The nut/seed mix can be adjusted to taste as long as the weight stays about the same—though this combo is pretty perfect (“because aesthetics” says Taylor)

Loba Pastry + Coffee is located at 3422 N Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.

Pepita Crunch Bar by Val Taylor of Loba Pastry + Coffee

Oat Base:

250g all purpose flour

200g old-fashioned rolled oats

5g baking powder

200g Earth Balance baking stick (If using dairy butter bump it to 220g)

225g light brown sugar

2g of salt

Caramelized nut topping:

125g roasted and unsalted peanuts (no skins)

50g slivered or sliced almonds

25g black sesame seeds

75g sugar

40g honey (use golden syrup if making these vegan)

3g salt

3 tablespoons water

100g Earth Balance (or equal amount of dairy butter)

Preheat oven to 375F. Line a quarter sheet pan with parchment paper and set aside.

To make the oat base:

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, and baking powder. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar, and salt together until light and fluffy, stopping occasionally to scrape the sides and bottom of bowl. Add the dry ingredients in three additions and mix until fully combined and dry ingredients are no longer visible. Dump dough out into prepared pan and use your hands to flatten it into an even layer.

Bake for 14-17 minutes, or until light golden brown. Allow to cool while you make the caramelized topping. (oat base can be made a day in advance)

To make the caramelized nut topping:

Combine the nuts and seeds in a small bowl and set next to your stove.

In a small saucepan combine the sugar, honey, salt, and water and cook over medium-high heat until a golden sunset tone–kind of a medium amber. Turn down heat to lowest setting and whisk in the butter, a couple of tablespoons at a time, until you have a smooth caramel. Immediately add the nuts and seeds and stir to coat. Working quickly, pour the caramelized nut topping over the oat base and use an offset spatula to spread it into an even layer. The topping will get more difficult to spread as it cools, but don’t sweat it because you’ll get another chance….

Return the pan to the oven for 7-10 minutes, which will help bond the topping to the base. When you remove the pan from the oven, you can now spread out any of the caramelized nut topping that had clumped up. The warmth of the oven will have loosened things up.

Allow to cool to room temperature before cutting into bars.

Source: http://www.lottieanddoof.com/2018/04/loba-pastry-coffee/

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Loba Pastry + Coffee

There were never any chairs at Bad Wolf Coffee, a beloved Chicago coffee shop known for its stellar pastries. You don’t think much about chairs until they aren’t there. There was a table customers could stand at, but the message was clear—don’t linger. When Val Taylor, a former Bad Wolf employee and supertalented pastry chef, took over the space a couple of years ago, one of the first things she did was add chairs. It was a small correction that significantly changed both the way the space worked and felt. Taylor also changed the name to Loba, Spanish for wolf, or more specifically she-wolf. The name is perfect.

Taylor moved to the states from Guadalajara when she was a teenager. Raised by women who cared about food and cooking, she gravitated toward it too, though she didn’t imagine pursuing it professionally. By the time she made her way to Chicago in her early 20’s, she found herself working a job she didn’t care about and searching the want ads for other opportunities. She saw that a restaurant called Blackbird was searching for a pastry assistant. Despite not having experience, or even a sense of what Blackbird was (one of the greatest fine dining rooms in the city) she talked her way into the job and under the wing of the pastry crew headed by Patrick Fahy. She liked the work, learned quickly, and before long she was confident that that was what she wanted to do. That initial training lead to a bunch of other experiences in impressive kitchens in Chicago and New York. Often staging for experience in between paid kitchen gigs. She had a lot of energy and was eager to learn everything she could.

But like many people who spend much time in the industry, Taylor gradually found herself feeling exhausted by the work and uncertain about her future. It seemed hard to imagine maintaining the fine dining restaurant grind—the hours, the repetition, the creative restrictions. She took a job working in an office in the suburbs because it seemed to make practical sense, but it quickly made her miserable. She laughs now remembering how often she would try to cheer herself up with a trip to Margie’s Candies after work, “Eventually they didn’t even need to ask for my order.” She’d found herself back where she started, working a job she wasn’t invested in and thinking about food.

Taylor had heard from friends about a coffee shop in Lakeview that was making great pastries. She woke up early one morning on a day off and decided to give it a try. She was existential crisis-ing and spent the walk contemplating her future. She knew when she entered Bad Wolf that is was something special and told the owner, Jonathan Ory, that she wanted to work there. He didn’t need an employee at the time, but somehow Taylor charmed (bullied?) her way into the kitchen, and found herself baking there in her free time.

When Bad Wolf closed (Ory moved out of state) it was resurrected and reinvented by Taylor (and partner Coyote DeGroot) as Loba, the name inspired by a story about an alpha female wolf in Yellowstone known for her dominance. It was Taylor’s opportunity to make the space her own. The name change brought with it those chairs, wifi, and smiles—a kinder, gentler, wolf, in some ways. In others, it was much more fierce—its potential realized. The physical space became more intentional, weirder, goth-ier (?). A collection of clocks on the wall tell us the time in Winnipeg, Chicago, Veracruz, and Belize, randomly (Taylor can’t explain it either). There is a possibly ironic shrine to Steve Dolinsky, famous headshot-wielding Chicago restaurant critic/shill; and a collection of miniature plastic body parts surrounding the tip jar. In a sense, the space became itself, or herself. It also features Taylor, a compelling character, and her small staff who spend the mornings greeting and chatting with regulars. It’s fun to get Taylor talking about her food, the excitement is contagious. She always humors me when I bombard her with questions about how something is made. Most mornings you’ll find her running up the stairs to check on something in her shoebox of a kitchen between pours of coffee and conversation.

And that kitchen is the most important change, the pastry game became smart and adventurous, and for me, some of the most exciting stuff in Chicago. It really howls. Taylor often draws on flavors and forms from her native Mexico. She makes a remarkable Tres Leches cake using sourdough, cajeta caneles, and a mole croissant (although, philosophically, she’d like everyone to get over their obsession with “fucking croissants”). But there are other influences, a matcha cheese danish, a violet-glazed buckwheat cake, a ham and cheese kouign-amann (vestiges of her fine dining days?). She’s as likely to make something vegan or gluten free as she is not. A Pineapple and Sourdough muffin I recently ordered was both it turned out, but I would’ve been sure it was mostly wheat and butter. Her decisions to include or exclude seem determined by outcomes rather than diet concerns. She also plays with sweetness, pushing into savory territory at times.

On a recent visit I asked Taylor about why the shop hasn’t gotten more press—I remain confused by how under the radar it has flown, despite my own excitement and proselytizing. I hypothesized that it is partially a pastry problem, historically the most neglected part of kitchens, which of course is wrapped up in gender problems—they’re often staffed by females. She didn’t disagree, but she also suggested it was partially her fault. She admits to being bad at seeking out press and also, “I’m a punk. I’m too unpredictable.” She explained that what has happened in the past is that something she made would get press, a chocolate cardamom muffin, let’s say, and then customers would show up wanting to try one, but it wasn’t there. Usually because Taylor got tired of making it and moved on to other things.

This becomes part of the deal you strike as a regular at Loba, it’s unpredictable. You might find something you truly love, and you may never see it again. You gotta trust in Taylor—trust that the thing you love will be replaced by something equally delicious. It leads to another kind of regular, the kind of regular who is game for whatever. A devotee. It keeps things interesting for Taylor, she’s operating on her own terms and every day can be an adventure. Her years in kitchens taught her a lot about what she needs to sustain this work for herself and she is not going to get stuck making the same thing every day. She has found creative freedom (and better hours) at Loba, and we all benefit.

One of the few things that show up regularly in the Loba pastry case is Taylor’s Pepita Crunch Bar, inspired by florentine cookies and palanquetas de cacahuate. It is a good example of why she is so great, and the recipe works like a dream for home cooks. An oat bar base is topped with a mix of nuts and seeds bound together by a honey caramel sauce. The recipe can easily be made vegan by subbing the butter for Earth Balance (something she does regularly) and the honey for golden syrup. Makes a whole bunch, so be prepared to share with friends or strangers. The nut/seed mix can be adjusted to taste as long as the weight stays about the same—though this combo is pretty perfect (“because aesthetics” says Taylor)

Loba Pastry + Coffee is located at 3422 N Lincoln Avenue in Chicago.

Pepita Crunch Bar by Val Taylor of Loba Pastry + Coffee

Oat Base:

250g all purpose flour

200g old-fashioned rolled oats

5g baking powder

200g Earth Balance baking stick (If using dairy butter bump it to 220g)

225g light brown sugar

2g of salt

Caramelized nut topping:

125g roasted and unsalted peanuts (no skins)

50g slivered or sliced almonds

25g black sesame seeds

75g sugar

40g honey (use golden syrup if making these vegan)

3g salt

3 tablespoons water

100g Earth Balance (or equal amount of dairy butter)

Preheat oven to 375F. Line a quarter sheet pan with parchment paper and set aside.

To make the oat base:

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, and baking powder. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, cream the butter, sugar, and salt together until light and fluffy, stopping occasionally to scrape the sides and bottom of bowl. Add the dry ingredients in three additions and mix until fully combined and dry ingredients are no longer visible. Dump dough out into prepared pan and use your hands to flatten it into an even layer.

Bake for 14-17 minutes, or until light golden brown. Allow to cool while you make the caramelized topping. (oat base can be made a day in advance)

To make the caramelized nut topping:

Combine the nuts and seeds in a small bowl and set next to your stove.

In a small saucepan combine the sugar, honey, salt, and water and cook over medium-high heat until a golden sunset tone–kind of a medium amber. Turn down heat to lowest setting and whisk in the butter, a couple of tablespoons at a time, until you have a smooth caramel. Immediately add the nuts and seeds and stir to coat. Working quickly, pour the caramelized nut topping over the oat base and use an offset spatula to spread it into an even layer. The topping will get more difficult to spread as it cools, but don’t sweat it because you’ll get another chance….

Return the pan to the oven for 7-10 minutes, which will help bond the topping to the base. When you remove the pan from the oven, you can now spread out any of the caramelized nut topping that had clumped up. The warmth of the oven will have loosened things up.

Allow to cool to room temperature before cutting into bars.

Source: http://www.lottieanddoof.com/2018/04/loba-pastry-coffee/