french onion tart + uk cookbook release

Hello from 30,000 feet! I wrote this on my 23rd airplane flight since November 2012, but heres the part where you can be certain at last that Im as weird as you already suspected: I still love flying as much as this guy. How could I not? At the time, there were perfect white puffs of clouds below us (I always call them Simpsons Clouds, because they remind me of the ones in the shows opener) and the sky above the clouds, as always, is piercingly blue. The day before, it was snow-sided mountains down below, and before that, circular fields inside perfect grids, fern-like trenches and mosaics that stretched to the horizon. That I also get to hang out at awesome bookstores and meet really nice people who indulge me (but really shouldnt, lest I feel encouraged) by laughing at my terrible jokes only makes it more fun.

This strange thing thats been happening over these book tours that I spend the entirety of my time outside the kitchen pining for it. I constantly jot down recipe ideas and become obsessed with making something very specific when I get home, like English muffins that taste like rye bread or a breakfast burrito like the awesome one I had at the Salt Lake City Airport (seriously) or intense homesick cravings for street meat from Rafiqis. Then I get home and nothing. My cooking motivation goes through the floor. I try not to fight it; I hate when cooking is a chore, so well order in or go out for one night, and then another. Usually, by the third evening, I am so completely over it the salad with too much dressing, the raw-centered burger that you send back and comes out burnt through that Im back in the kitchen, relieved that absence made my cooking obsession stronger.

Alas, its still March in New York City which means that just because Im excited to cook doesnt mean that theres a lot of very exciting ingredients to cook with right now. My fridge is either filled with ever-fresh vegetables and fruits of distant origins and disturbing packaging dates or its bare bones. Digging around the other day, I found little but onions, a old hunk of cheese, butter and eggs and could think of no better way to turn them into something greater than the sum of their parts than quiche. I took a page from my cookbook, wherein I reduce French Onion Soup to its most essential parts brothy caramelized onions, toasts and broiled cheese, to be served as a snack and expanded it into what has got to be the best dinner tart weve had in ages. If you like the soup but were hoping for more of a meal; if you have almost nothing in the fridge and dont feel like shopping; if youve got a brunch this weekend and want to up the bar on your go-to quiche, well, I think this is how you should.

The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook, UK/Australia Edition: Last Thursday, The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook came out in the UK and Australia. (The US edition, from Knopf, and Canadian edition, from Appetite Canad, were both released in October 2012.) I am so excited about it, I wanted to give you a little preview here. The book looks a little different; the cover is pink, abstract and jacketless, showcasing a recipe inside for Rhubarb Almond Hamantaschen. Theyre not really traditional hamantaschen; theres no vegetable oil or orange juice. In fact, theyre closer to free-form tartlets than they are to heavy cookies, just the way I like them. I hope you do too.

The recipes inside are exactly the same, but theyve been anglicized a little eggplants are aubergines, for example, and alternative suggestions are made for ingredients not readily available on the other side of the pond. While the U.S. edition has measurements in cups-and-spoons and weights in grams and sometimes ounces, the UK/Australian edition is just in weights and spoonfuls. The book should be available throughout the UK and Australia from online and brick-and-mortar retailers. I hope if you were holding out to buy the book until it finally crossed the pond, this will be worth the wait. [More Cookbook Information]

Out and about: Book Tour II continues, and what fun it has been! I will be in Minneapolis Tuesday evening and Louisville at the end of the month. Every listing and all of the details are on this page. Come say hi?

One year ago: Fried Egg Sandwich with Bacon and Blue Cheese and Multigrain Apple Crisps
Two years ago: Spaghetti with Lemon and Olive Oil, Pina Colada Cake and Whole Wheat Goldfish Crackers
Three years ago: Monkey Bread with Cream Cheese Glaze, Cauliflower and Caramelized Onion Tart, Thick, Chewy Granola Bars, Arroz Con Leche, Baked Rigatoni with Tiny Meatballs and St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake
Four years ago: Red Kidney Bean Curry, Thick Chewy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies, Meatball Sliders, Key Lime Coconut Cake, and Steak Sandwiches
Five years ago: Pear and Almond Tart, Escarole and Orzo Soup with Meatballs
Six years ago: Baked Tomato Sauce

French Onion Tart

I tend to fiddle around with different crust ratios each time I make a savory tart shell because Im still looking for my favorite. Below is (roughly) the one recommended by Larousse Gastronomique. If you have a go-to crust that you love, feel free to use it here. If you cant be bothered making one, theres no shame in buying one at the store. I also tend to go back and forth on the value of par-baking crusts if you blind bake them first, you will get a more crisp shell and deeper color in the end (if, uh, you bake it as long as I recommend below, and not for the shorter time that I did, because I wasnt paying attention). Its totally up to you if you feel this step is worth it; it still works if you put the filling in a raw pastry shell, it just stays a bit more pale.

Crust
2 cups (250 grams) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon table salt
1/2 cup (1 stick, 4 ounces or 113 grams) chilled butter, in cubes
3 tablespoons cold water

Filling
1 1/2 pounds (about 4 medium onions), halved and thinly sliced
1 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
Scant 1/2 teaspoon table salt
Pinch of sugar
1 cup low-sodium beef, veal or mushroom stock/broth
2 teaspoons cognac, brandy or vermouth (optional)
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup (about 2 ounces or 60 grams) grated Gruyere, Comte or Swiss cheese
1 large egg
1/2 cup heavy cream

Make crust: Mix flour and butter together in a large bowl or the work bowl of a food processor. Add butter; either rub the butter bits into the flour with your fingertips, with a pastry blender or (in the food processor option) by pulsing the machine on in short bursts until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Sprinkle in cold water and mix it with a spoon, a few more cuts with a handheld pastry blender, or by pulsing the machine a couple more times. The mixture should form large clumps. Knead it gently into a ball; it will be on the firm side but should be easy to roll.

Lightly butter a 9-inch round tart pan with a removable base. Dont have one? Try a standard pie dish or even a 9-inch cake pan. The second two options will be hard/impossible to unmold later, but theres no harm in serving the tart from its baking pan.

Roll your dough out between two pieces of plastic wrap until it is about 11 inches in diameter. Peel the top plastic layer off and reverse the dough into the prepared tart pan, lifting the sides to drape (rather than pressing/stretching the dough) the dough into the corners. Press the dough the rest of the way in and up the sides. Trim edges, which you can leave ever-so-slightly extended above the edge of the tart pan, to give you some security against shrinkage. Chill for 15 minutes in your freezer.

If par-baking the crust (see notes up top for pros/cons): Heat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly butter a piece of foil and press it tightly into your firm-from-the-freezer tart shell. Fill tart shell with pie weights, dried beans or rice or pennies and blind bake for 12 to 14 minutes. Remove from oven, carefully remove foil and weights, and return to oven for another 5 to 7 minutes, until lightly golden at edges. Set aside until needed.

Make filling: Melt the butter and olive oil together in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onions to the pan, toss them gently with the butter and oil, reduce the heat to medium-low, and cover the pan. Cook the onions for 15 minutes, then remove the lid, stir in the salt and sugar and saute without the lid for about 10 to 15 minutes, until the onions are fully caramelized and have taken on a deep golden color. Pour in cognac, if using it, and the stock, then turn the heat all the way up and scrape up any brown bits stuck to the pan. Simmer the mixture until the broth nearly completely disappears (wetter onions will make for a wetter quiche), about 5 to 10 minutes. Adjust the salt, if needed, and season with freshly ground black pepper.

In a small bowl, beat the egg and cream together.

Heat oven to 400 degrees.

Assemble and bake tart: Fill prepared tart shell with onion mixture. Pour egg-cream mixture over. Ideally, this will bring your filling level to 1/4-inch from the top, however, variances in shells, pans, pan sizes and even onion volume might lead you to have a lower fill line. You can beat another egg with cream together and pour it in until it reaches that 1/4-inch-from-top line if you wish. Sprinkle cheese over custard and bake 25 to 30 minutes, or until a sharp knife inserted into the filling and turned slightly releases no wet egg mixture. Serve hot or warm, with a big green salad.

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blood orange margaritas

Is everyone on vacation without you? Are your social media feeds one big blur of the freckled faces of people you once thought you loved basking in the Caribbean sun, showing unintentional contempt for you, back here, shivering and damp? Do your so-called friends in warmer climes gush about pea tendrils and new artichokes while your local market has shriveled roots that last saw the unfrozen earth in October? Of last year? Maybe, just this one time, an exception should be made and a tidy, brief pity party would be acceptable. I have just the elixir.

You may not be in the tropics, but glass-for-glass, we can fake it. You may not have fresh coconuts overhead and sweet mango and papaya slices on your breakfast plate, but if we hurry, we can grab onto the tail end of blood orange season and squeeze it into something better.

Things might get awkward, however, if you have a three year-old. What that, mommy? he might ask as he sleepily wanders in from his rare (but wildly applauded) nap and youll explain that youre making orange juice from special red oranges and youll realize by the look on his face that your child you, a person that turns flour into bread, potatoes into pasta, sugar into caramel hadnt realized that orange juice didnt come in a carton and to fend off the feelings of failure, put him to work and pour him a glass of something he found so outstandingly delicious, you all but forgot about that Pity Party you were planning.

No need to. Stow whats left of the orange juice in the fridge until after he goes to bed, and then pull down the (admittedly dusty) Triple Sec and tequila, and see if you can dig up some passable limes from the fridge. Get some ice cubes and a tall glass. If youve been hanging onto any tacky drink umbrellas, this is the time to bust them out. Measure, pour, mix and sit back, close your eyes, imagine yourself on a deserted beach where you are completely unable to remember what you were feeling grumpy about. Happy weekend!

Book Tour Im in Pittsboro, North Carolina as we speak, but I might be heading your way in the next two weeks. Wouldnt that be grand? See more here.

Blood Orange Margaritas

Its been over seven months since the last SK drink recipe. Lets fix that.

Note: If you dont have triple sec or cointreau, simple syrup will make for an equally sweet but less boozy result.

Serves 2, but only if you share.

1/2 cup blood orange juice
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice
3 tablespoons triple sec or cointreau, or more to taste
7 tablespoons white or silver tequila
Lime or blood orange slices for garnish, plus some of those drink umbrellas

Mix. Fill two glasses with ice and divide between them. Garnish. Drink and daydream.

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italian stuffed cabbage

Prior to November, what I knew of stuffed cabbage rolls were limited to the Jewish/Eastern European variety, which I make the way my mother-in-law does. I hadnt given it further thought because as far as I was concerned, it was never broken, and needed little improvement, and when theres little room for me to tinker in the kitchen, I quickly lose interest. But if I had, it might have occurred to me that cabbage, being one of the ultimate peasant foods, has probably been wrapped around meat thats been ground and then stretched (always budget-minded, those peasants) with other ingredients and cooked in a sauce in a zillion different ways over the centuries. And oh, the fun we might have been having this whole time.

As it turns out, it could be argued that any region that can grow large cabbage leaves is indeed stuffing them with something. The most cursory of Google searches leads one on a tour of Greek lahanodolmathes, stuffed with ground beef and rice and covered with a traditional egg and lemon (avgolemono) sauce; French chou farci, stuffed with beef or pork, sometimes mushrooms, wrapped in large layers of cabbage leaves and served in wedges; Polish gloabki, or little pigeons, with pork and beef, and rice or barley (sigh); Slovak holubky or halupki; Serb or Croatian sarma with (hold me) sauerkraut and ham hocks, and Arabic mahshi malfouf which adds lemon juice, cinnamon and mint (swoon) to the usual ground meat and rice medley. And guys, Im just getting started. The idea that there are this many ways to fall in love with stuffed cabbage torments me, and leaves me daydreaming about a Westeros-length winter wherein we could audition each one.

For today, however, I am just going to take you to Italy, via Vancouver, in a tiny, wonderful restaurant called La Quercia, where everything I thought I knew about stuffed cabbage was hatched open by a single appetizer shared by a group in a sea of dishes that was so delicious, I am not sure anyone but me noticed. But still, I havent been able to forget it. I did what I always do when an idea obsesses me, I jotted it near the top on a list of recipe ideas that I swear, stretches longer than Manhattan right now, and vowed to find my way back to it as soon as possible. It wasnt even necessary, because three months later, it came to me, when my favorite English person in Rome wrote about none other than mondeghini in/al sugo.

You could say I ran to the kitchen. And yet, when a dish torments you as long as this one has and you finally have a potential path to unlocking its greatness at home, am I the only one who melodramatically fears disappointment? Will this really be it at last? Will it take another twenty rounds to get it right will the perfectly seasoned, tender, featherlight meatballs wrapped lovingly inside a gorgeous doily of a cabbage leaf all still elude me? Will it have the simple sauce, flecked with bright, plump tomato bits? Or will be the a cruel victory, a dish thats in fact perfect, but such a pest to make that youll only do so once a year.

Not this one; this one exceeded every expectation. Not only did it taste exactly as good as I remembered it, but it was the easiest stuffed cabbage I have ever made: theres just about nothing to chop, no pile of mirepoix that you must work your knife through, again and again. You really dont saute a thing; there are no chopped onions that are promised to soften and sweeten in 5 minutes but actually take 15. There were no false promise of profound flavor that fall weakly on the plate. My goodness, even the (currently) pickiest three year-old on earth applauded these meatballs, and when this happens, I encourage you to buy double what you need, because youll be making it again that very week.

One year ago: Double Coconut Muffins
Two years ago: White and Dark Hearted Brownies and Green Bean Salad with Frieds Almonds
Three years ago: Chocolate Souffle Cupcakes with Mint White Chocolate Cream and Spaghetti with Cheese and Black Pepper
Four years ago: Toasted Coconut Shortbread, Devils Chicken Thighs and Hot Fudge Sauce
Five years ago: Seven Yolk Pasta Dough, Best Chocolate Pudding, Pasta Puttanesca + Broken Artichoke Hearts Salad
Six years ago: Moms Chocolate Chip Meringues and Vegetable Dumplings

Italian Stuffed Cabbage [Mondeghini al sugo]
Adapted from Rachel Eats, who adapted it from from Giorgio Locatellis recipe in Made in Italy and Jane Grigsons Vegetable Book.

This dish is a mid-winter delight, budget-minded, not terribly complicated to make, hearty and delicious wilted cabbage leaves, a tender meatball and a simple, bright sauce. It went instantly into our rotation of favorite cold-weather dishes.

The recipes original measurements were in metrics; I have done my best to translate them, but not accurately as I made some tweaks (slightly higher proportion of sausage to bread, etc.) to taste.

For the bread, you can use white bread (as originally called for) or whatever you have around. I had a day-old hunk of whole wheat sourdough miche that was absolutely delicious in here, and I was happy to rescue it. If necessary, the bread can be soaked in water instead of milk. Chicken sausage could probably replace the pork nicely. And if youre like me, and totally forgot to get fresh herbs, and skip them, nothing terrible happens since the sausage should already be well-seasoned. Cabbage rolls are typically formed like an egg roll folded in sides, rolled up filling but I was so taken by the packets we had in Vancouver, wrapped almost like a wine bottle and pinned at the top for cooking only, that I wanted to emulate that here. Any shape will work.

Makes approximately 12 cabbage rolls; a serving can range from 2 (petitely) to 3 per person. I took Rachels lead and served it with mashed potatoes; these are decadent.

1 large savoy cabbage
7-ounce (200-gram) hunk of bread (see above), crusts cut away, torn into small scraps (youll have about 3 loose cups of scraps)
2/3 cup (approximately 150 ml) whole milk
14 ounces (400 grams) or approximately 4 plain pork sausages (I used sweet i.e. non-spicy Italian), casings removed
1 small sprig of sage, finely chopped
1 small sprig of rosemary, finely chopped
2 tablespoons grated parmesan
Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 28-ounce can peeled plum tomatoes
2 tablespoons (30 ml) olive oil
1 clove garlic, peeled and minced

Prepare cabbage: Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Discard any messy or broken outer cabbage leaves and carefully peel 12 nice, large leaves. (I think the cabbage can tell if youre in a rush, and will tear more easily. Work carefully. That said, a torn leaf will hardly ruin the dish.) Blanch leaves for about 30 seconds to 1 minute (you can do a few at at time), until wilted, and spread out on towels so that they dry and cool.

Make filling: Place bread scraps in bottom of large bowl and pour milk over. Let sit for a few minutes, then mash it gently with a spoon until something close to a paste forms. Mix with sausage meat, herbs, parmesan and a pinch or two of salt and black pepper; I find this easiest with a fork or bare hands.

Make the cabbage rolls: Lay your first cabbage leaf on the counter. If it doesnt want to lay flat, pare away some of the thickest stalk (with a paring knife or vegetable peeler) to make it easier. Form some of the filling mixture into a golf ball-sized round. Wrap cabbage leaf around it (see Note about shape up top) and pin at the top with a toothpick. Repeat with remaining leaves and mixture.

Make the sauce: To prepare your tomatoes, either break them up with your hands (for bigger chunks), run them through a food mill or roughly chop them right in their can with scissors (what I did here). In a heavy saute pan with a lid or a medium (5 to 6-quart) Dutch oven, heat olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and saute for about 30 seconds (just until golden, not a moment longer) then add the tomatoes, bringing the sauce to a gently boil. Season with salt if needed. Add cabbage packages, arranging them carefully in the pan so they all fit, cover the pot and gently simmer them for 25 minutes. Remove the toothpicks and carefully turn the rolls over, cooking them for another 25. Remove the lid and simmer for another 10 minutes to cook off some of the wetness. Theyre all cooked now, but if you can rest them for another 15 minutes before eating them, the flavors settle and they become even better.

Okay, now you can dig in. Repeat frequently, yes?

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salted caramel brownies

A couple months ago, someone requested that I try my hand at caramel brownies. Amazingly, this person was not my husband, but he endorsed this idea so wholeheartedly that I suspect he might have paid this person off. Then again, in most peoples minds, who doesnt want to make caramel brownies? What kind of strange person considers what would happen when sea salt-flecked deeply copper-colored homemade caramel meets a chewy, rich homemade brownie and then shrugs it off, Eh, Ill pass. Guys, its me. Its not that I didnt think that a salted caramel brownie could be delicious, its just that I imagine its well-trodden territory, which to me translates as people who want to make this already know how to and then I figure my time would be better spent making other things, like weird egg salads and silky hummus.

But then, as I did a quick search or two, I discovered things that caused me to make that crooked face that I made when Im thinking really hard, because sometimes after a day of explaining to a preschooler why we have to wear pants when we leave the apartment when I fully understand the desire to simply not wear pants sometimes, thinking is really hard. The first is that a whole lot recipes started with store-bought caramels or caramel sauce, which made me sad, because the homemade stuff requires three ingredients that you probably have, is really easy to make and the flavor comparison (especially if you add a fourth ingredient, salt) well, there is none. They barely deserve to share the same name. The next thing that gave me pause was that they all looked achingly sweet, as if little consideration was given to the fact that dousing an already-sweet brownie with caramel sauce might cause teeth to hurt/dentists to buy new vacation homes.

By now, I already accepted that any further resistance would be futile. I mean, if you were to distill any given Smitten Kitchen blog entry into the simplest formula, most of the time it would roughly = 2 causes of furrowed brow/piqued curiosity + 1 polite request + 1 borderline-begging request + a notable absence of willpower. But as I got into the kitchen, I found a third source of drama, which was in how the caramel-brownie merger should be approached. Spreading half the batter in the pan, covering it with caramel, and then adding the second half of the brownie batter was kind of difficult, and the caramel filling all but disappeared into the brownie. A marbled attempt not only led to vanished caramel, but it left trenches in the brownie tops where the caramel had once been, like some sort of sad memorial. And the thing I realized was, if Im going to eat something called a caramel brownie, what Im really hoping for are parts instantly recognizable as either; I want the caramel to tangle around the brownie and vice-versa, not just dissolve into a caramel-flavored brownie.

The only idea I had left was the craziest one, wherein you kind of fake-make caramel candies that are cold and big enough that they take longer to disappear into the the batter than the batter takes to bake. The results, however, are madness, and I urge you not to make them. Why? Why take you this far only to send you home? Because no good can come of them. Theyre ludicrously rich but not icky sweet, so its easy to forget that you should never, ever eat more than one. Theyre so loud with dark chocolate and salted caramel flavors, they might even be better than either part. Worse, theyre structurally unsound. Those squares of caramel melt into puddles that trickle out when you slice them, leaving a weak, almost gooey, chocolate foundation behind. I mean, trickling salted caramel? Gooey chocolate? Yuck. Its okay guys; Im happy to audition these terrible things so that you do not have to. What a relief, right?

Salted Caramel Brownies

I used my standard approach to salted caramel, but I dialed back the heavy cream so that it would be less soft, and therefore better able to hold up in the batter. The brownie is my one-bowl favorite, with less salt and sugar to compensate for the sweetness and extra salt in the caramel. The result is a soft, messy brownie that it much, much, much easier to cut neatly if placed in the freezer until semi-firm.

Makes 1 88 pan of brownies which you can cut into 16 2-inch squares, 25 smaller squares, 32 21-inch bites or a mess of hearts from a cookie cutter.

Caramel
1/2 cup granulated sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter (or salted, but then ease up on the sea salt)
Heaped 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt (or 1/8 teaspoon table salt, more to taste)
3 tablespoons heavy cream

Brownie
3 ounces (85 grams) unsweetened chocolate, roughly chopped
1 stick (4 ounces or 115 grams) unsalted butter, plus extra for pan
1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon (5 ml) vanilla extract
Heaped 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt or 1/8 teaspoon table salt
2/3 cup (85 grams) all-purpose flour

Make caramel: Set a square of parchment paper over a medium-sized plate. Lightly butter or coat the parchment with a spray oil, just as an added security measure.

In a medium, dry saucepan over medium-high heat, melt your sugar; this will take about 5 minutes, stirring if necessary to break up large chunks. By the time it is all melted, if should be a nice copper color; if not, cook until it is. Remove from heat and stir in butter. It may not incorporate entirely but do your best. Stir in cream and salt and return saucepan to the stove over medium-high heat, bringing it back to a simmer and melted again any sugar that solidified. Cook bubbling caramel for a few minutes more, until it is a shade darker.

Pour out onto parchment-covered plate and transfer plate to your freezer. Freeze until solidified, which can take anywhere from 20 to 30 minutes in a decent freezer to 40 minutes in my terrible one.

Meanwhile, or when your caramel is almost firm, make your brownies: Heat oven to 350F. Line an 88-inch square baking pan with parchment, extending it up two sides. Butter the parchment or spray it with a nonstick cooking spray.

In a medium heatproof bowl over gently simmering water, melt chocolate and butter together until only a couple unmelted bits remain. Off the heat, stir until smooth and fully melted. You can also do this in the microwave in 30-second bursts, stirring between each. Whisk in sugar, then eggs, one at a time, then vanilla and salt. Stir in flour with a spoon or flexible spatula.

Assemble brownies: When caramel is firm, remove it from the freezer and chop it into rough 1-inch squares. Gently fold all but a small amount of caramel bits into batter. Scrape batter into prepared pan, spreading until mostly even. Scatter remaining caramel bits on top. Bake in heated oven for 30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cool thoroughly a process that can be hastened in the freezer, which will also produce cleaner cuts and cut into squares or other desired shapes.

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Salted Caramel Brownies Recipe : Ina Garten : Recipes : Food Network Made these tonight and they were FABULOUS!! There is a typo in the directions. This recipe is in her new cookbook and so I double checked everything. Online, the ... Salted Caramel Brownies Bakers Royale Taking my favorite brownie from good to great by stacking it with some salted caramel. Yep, Im totally stuck in a salted caramel rut, although I Salted Caramel Brownies - Pink Parsley There are people in the world who don't like sweet and salty together. I just don't understand. That's like saying you don't like kittens. But I guess these people do ... Salted Caramel Brownies Annie's Eats My hope is to inspire you to be fearless in the kitchen, to try new things, to take the time to make things the homemade way and most importantly, to have fun doing it! kumquat: Gluten-Free Ratio Rally: Salted Caramel Brownies i thought i may have to sit this one out because of too many other plates spinning right now, but how can i pass this month's theme up... brownies! i mean, really ... Recipe: Salted Caramel Brownies :: Ina Garten :: Culinate Join Culinate. With a free Culinate membership, you can: Create your own recipe collections; Queue recipes for later use; Blog your culinary endeavors Salted Caramel Brownies - She Makes and Bakes I'm having a hard time trying to express how incredibly awesome these salted caramel brownies are. I want to swim in them. I want to hide in my closet and eat all of ... A CUP OF JO: The Best Salted Caramel Brownies You'll Ever Have Brownies are famous for being a go-to food when you're craving a scrumptious chocolate treat. Adding in swirls of caramel and a dash of sea salt makes them ...