Baker Karen Barker prefers savory crunch over sugary sweets for dessert

Karen and Ben Barker will be the guest speakers for Culinary Historians of Piedmont North Carolina (CHOP NC) from 7:30-8:30 p.m. Wednesday, April 17, at Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill. A meet and greet will precede the reading from 6:45-7:15 p.m. next door at Foster’s Market.


Karen Barker's Olive Oil Biscotti with Orange and Rosemary

There are many home bakers and professional chefs who aspire to be as creative Karen Barker. But now and then, the James Beard Award-winning pastry chef – who used to dazzle customers at the much-missed Magnolia Grill – finds herself in the position of a fan who just has to know how a certain treat was made.

“There is a great coffee place in the East Village of New York City that Ben and I really like called Abraco,” Barker says from the kitchen of the couple’s Chapel Hill home. “They make a sweet-savory black olive biscotti that is just delicious.”

Barker has made her share of biscotti; the twice-baked cookie can be made from a wide variety of ingredients (different flours and fats, with or without eggs) and endless flavor profiles. But there was something about this one that was especially memorable.  


Karen and Ben Barker prepare for dinner with friends.

“I’m not a big sugar person, so sweets don’t often excite me,” Barker says as she gathered ingredients on the heavy butcher block counter. “Once in Provence I saw someone make a dessert with black olive and tomatoes and herbs. But this was the first time I’d ever tasted a biscotti anything like that. I loved it.”

Barker was making a batch to bring to a meeting the next day of their dinner party club. Ben was prepping an appetizer of brined lamb tongue to be simmered with shallot in a red wine sauce. Karen was making the biscotti to provide a crunchy counterpoint to the final course, a dairy-free chocolate mousse served with a red Italian dessert wine.

“A savory cookie is not for everyone,” she concedes while giving the fragrant, purplish olives a quick mince and grinding a generous amount of black pepper into her mixer’s work bowl. “But dunk this into some wine, or scoop up some chocolate mousse … it’s just perfect.”

Barker says the recipe could be easily tweaked to substitute other ingredients: use lemon zest instead of orange, leave out the olives and add walnuts. “I wouldn’t try green olive, though,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “I just don’t think that would work.” 

Barker leaves the end slices on the counter after she returns the cookies to the oven for their final toasting. “Baker’s privilege,” she says, nibbling a slice deemed not pretty enough to serve. She closes her eyes for a moment to let the flavors fill her mouth.

“I have to say, I find these pretty addictive,” she sighs. “I have a hard time just having one of them."

Karen Barker’s Olive Oil Biscotti with Rosemary and Orange

Makes 1 loaf (about 18-22 slices)

2/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
2 eggs
1½ cups all-purpose flour
2/3 cup semolina or yellow corn meal
2 tsp. baking powder
½ tsp. salt
1 tsbp. minced rosemary
zest of 1 orange
1/4 cup fine chopped black olives (such as kalamata)
a few grinds of black pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine first three ingredients in the work bowl of mixer; combine well with paddle attachment. Add remaining ingredients, mix again. Ensure that all ingredients are thoroughly blended but avoid overworking the dough, which will be sticky.

Transfer dough with floured hands to a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Lightly press into the shape of a 12x3-inch log, adding pinches of flour if needed. Chill for at least 40 minutes but preferably for several hours.

Bake for 30 minutes or until loaf is lightly browned. Remove from oven. When cool enough to handle, use a serrated knife and cut half-inch slices on the diagonal; should yield about 18-22 pieces. Arrange flat on the baking pan - it's OK if they are crowded - and return to oven until just lightly golden around the edges, about 5-6 minutes. Turn slices over and toast again, about 3-4 minutes, until just golden on the edges.

Cool biscotti completely. Wrap in parchment paper or keep in airtight container.

On Dad and onions: A love story

Graham smooches Dad, who hds been entrusted with his Elmos. That's
 Tim and me before the Wall 'O Fame (Parsippany, NJ, February 1993).

My dad has been gone a long time, but it still makes me sad to count the years. It's easy math, really, because Graham was not even three when he died 18 years ago, just a few weeks before Father's Day.

When I think of him, as I often do, the thing I remember most was his wide grin and big laugh, a great belly jiggler often punctuated by a toss of the head and tears of joy. He was easily amused, my dad, and he did so many things that still strike me as incredibly funny.

The Big Kid, after building the Little Tykes play
gym in the cold while his grandson napped
(Sanford, NC, December 1993)

A thing you should know about Irving Warren was that, while he often splurged on us, his personal style favored frugality. He was a child of the Depression who did not like things to go to waste. He recycled office paper long before it was fashionable, painting glue on one side to make his own note pads. In addition to birthday gifts "too nice" to use and saved for special occasions that never came, we found dozens of glass jars in the garage after he died. Like the ledgers he filled with an accountant's precision, they were neatly arranged in a cabinet, each one containing different sorts of nuts, bolts, screws and nails, not to mention bits and pieces of carefully catalogued miscellany. Waste not, want not.

One night at dinner, which probably consisted of grilled steak and frozen vegetables, he inadvertently combined two of his favorite things. While intending to pour root beer into his drinking glass, he misjudged and tipped it instead into a take-out deli container full of sliced raw onions.

"Irving!" shouted my mother. "What are you doing? Irving!" My brothers and I quickly advanced from nervous silence to howling laughter. Dad just folded his hands and leaned in to peer at the foaming mess with calm acceptance. Slices of sharp, eye-watering onion were taken out a few at a time, gently tapped on the rim to let excess soda dripped off, then arranged on his plate, where he dutifully ate every bite.

I still marvel to think that this unplanned side dish did not choke him with heartburn, but the simple fact is my dad loved onion with just about everything, and this was long before the advent of Vidalias or other sweets he would have contentedly munched like apples.

I don't often need an excuse to tell this story, but I share it today as part of the international #LetsLunch food blog posting which celebrates dads. With this recollection and the ever-popular Lipton Onion Soup Mix dip in mind - it was my mother's go-to for virtually any gathering - I decided to make a dip for dad incorporating these two memorable ingredients: onions and root beer.

The splash of root beer that deglazes a skilletful of caramelized onions - I used one of my mother's favorite pans for good measure - makes this a somewhat sweet dip that stands up well to dark pretzel sticks and salty potato chips. If you'd like to make it more savory, opt for a rich stout or splash of full bodied red wine vinegar.

Root Beer Glazed Onion Dip
2 tbsp. unsalted butter
2 tbsp. olive oil
3 large garlic cloves
2 large purple onions
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
2 4-inch sprigs rosemary
Cheesecloth and butcher's twine
1/2 cup root beer soda (I used Dad's, a vintage brand he enjoyed)
1/2 cup pecorino romano, freshly grated
8 oz. container of sour cream
Pretzel sticks, ruffled chips

Sautee onions slowly to caramelize. Stop when you get
a nice layer on brown on the pan (above) - but before
the onions burn. Deglazing with root beer (below)
incorporates tasty bits into the mix and cleans pan.

Cut onions into large chunks and place in work bowl of food processor with garlic. Pulse until it is chopped to a fairly uniform coarse texture. Be careful to stop before it becomes a watery puree.

Melt butter with olive oil in skillet over medium-low heat. Add onion-garlic mix and sautee slowly. Wrap sprigs of rosemary in a small piece of cheesecloth; knot with twine then tuck into pan.

Check on mix and stir every 10 minutes or so; remove the rosemary after about 30 minutes (don't worry if a few sprigs escape). It should take about 40 minutes or more to fully caramelize, or even up to an hour if you work with a low flame and a lot of patience. Aim for the point where the onions just start to stick to the pan (above right), but be careful to not let them burn.

Pour in the root beer and, with a wooden spatula, scrape up all the lovely browned bits. Keep stirring until liquid evaporates and mixture thickens.

Remove pan from heat and allow to cool completely. Stir in sour cream, blending well, then add grated cheese and mix again. Transfer to container and refrigerate at least 2 hours to let flavors meld.

Transfer dip to serving dish with chips and pretzels - or whatever you dad would like.

Lemony Rosemary Garlic Jelly

Rosemary jelly and chevre on crackers

Thanks to my husband's hard work, our yard has considerable curb appeal. Checking out joggers, strollers and dog walkers who pause to enthusiastically point out their preferred blooms is our favorite spring sport. Frankly, it's better than cable.

Curbside, there is little doubt that the annual showstopper is our rosemary. It grows thick around our mailbox at the sidewalk, where its tiny purple blossoms never fail to charm passersby. Our mail carrier once briefly abandoned her appointed rounds to ask if she could snap off a few sturdy springs for shrimp kebabs. An unfamiliar neighbor rang our bell, in the rain, to confess her admiration and beg for a clipping. I handed her the snips we keep by the door for that precise purpose.

I've made several herbal preserves from our garden, notably a pale green basil jelly that's delicious on simple grilled sandwiches - such as slices of hearty bread, fresh mozzarella, thick slabs of summer tomato and a crunchy sprinkle of sea salt.

This weekend, Tim gave the rosemary a serious haircut so I had plenty of fresh cuttings to make jelly - and share a fragrant bagful at the office. There are a few steps involved, mostly hands-off waiting, but it's worth it. Save any excess for yourself, or crack open a jar right away. It's terrific on crackers with a smear of tangy chevre.

Rosemary Infusion
4 generous cups fresh-cut rosemary sprigs
1 bottle reisling (or other sweet white wine)
2 cups water

Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes. Remove from heat and steep at least 1 hour.

Transfer cooled infusion to a jelly bag and let drip into a large measuring cup. It should yield about 4 to 4 1/2 cups rosemary stock. (If short, add just enough water to measure 4 1/2 cups.)

Garlic Crunchies
2 large cloves garlic, minced
1 large spring onion, white and pale green only, chopped
1 tbsp. fresh rosemary, coarsely chopped
1 tbsp. unsalted butter
1 tsp. Maldon sea salt

1 tbsp. lemon zest

In a small sautee pan, melt butter and add onion, stirring to coat. Add garlic and rosemary. Bubble on low heat until onion and garlic are lightly toasted and the butter has reduced by half. Remove from heat and stir in sea salt and lemon zest. Transfer to small bowl to cool.

Lemony Rosemary Garlic Jelly
4 1/2 cups rosemary stock
2 tbsp. white balsamic vinegar
1 pkg. low-sugar pectin (such as SureJel, pink box)
3 cups sugar
Garlic crunchies
1 dozen 4 oz. canning jars and lids (or comparable assortment)

Prepare jelly jars and lids according to USDA guidelines.

Bring rosemary stock, 1/4 cup sugar and package of pectin to boil in a deep, heavy-bottom pot. Stir well to ensure the pectin-sugar mix is absorbed.

Stir occasionally until mixture reaches a rolling boil that cannot be stirred down. Add sugar all at once, stirring well, then add garlic crunchies. Stir often until mix returns to a rolling boil. Use a timer or count to 60 seconds, then remove from heat.

Skim foam, if necessary, and pour hot jelly into sterilized jars. Press warmed lids onto clean jar rims and and lightly screw on the bands. Carefully place in hot water bath and turn heat to high. Boil  for 10 minute, then turn off heat and leave jars in water bath about 5 minutes to settle. Remove to heatproof surface to fully cool.

Jars should ping and lids should slightly depress to indicate complete seal. If you're not certain a jar has sealed, keep it in the fridge and enjoy as private stock. Store others in a cool cupboard until ready to use or share with friends.