When categorizing desserts, there are those that run the gamut from the merely pedestrian right on through to the magnificent: but standing head and shoulders above them all there is the gustatory ecstasy that comes straight out of the oven at Rosie’s Bakery—confections that defy classification, desserts that occupy a niche all their own.
Ask anyone who has spent any time in Cambridge what is among their most vivid memories, and the transcendent allure of the treasures displayed in the gleaming, mirrored-glass cases of Rosie’s rank right up there with Harvard Square, MIT and the “Dirty Water” of the River Charles.
Rosie’s, a little hole in the wall bakery located in Cambridge’s Inman Square is one of the city’s great equalizers; it is a happy hodgepodge of color, class and accent, its old fashioned wrought-iron tables home to everyone from Snuggly-laden soccer moms to the intellectual elite; from Hollywood starlets to Supreme Court Justices, all of them sharing one common bond: They are all pilgrims at the end of their quest, united by nothing more than a longing for the endorphin-laced manna that are the creations of Judy Rosenberg.
There is nothing else like it—trust me on this one—anywhere.
As you have probably figured out by now, my family and I love Rosie’s. No special occasion could be considered complete without one of her heartbreakingly perfect creations to help mark it. Marriages have been consummated, graduates honored, birthdays observed and children conceived (!)—all with a little help from Rosie’s.
We were once a six block walk from her bakery’s front door—and thank goodness we did walk; although her desserts are achingly beautiful to behold—and even better to eat—they can at best be charitably described as “deadly to the average American adult mid-section”, best consumed in small doses, spaced as widely apart as one can bear.
Rosenberg is a serious practitioner of All-Butter, Fresh Cream, Sugar-Packed, No-Holds-Barred Baking—which also happens to be the title of her first cookbook, a must for anyone who delights in basking in the multi-sensory rapture found hidden within the silken layers of a sensual slice of sour cream chocolate cake.
Like Rosenberg’s sinfully sweet creations, this isn’t merely a cookbook. A mix of autobiography, culinary chemistry lesson and kitchen table chat, Rosenberg offers within its pages her own insight as to why the taste of a glistening fruit crème tartlet can cut through class schisms like a knife slicing through one of her fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pies.
The first section of the book is rightfully devoted to Judy herself. In it she writes about, among other things, how she became a baker, the physical “buzz” she gets from sampling a perfectly prepared dessert and most interesting of all, how she stays so depressingly slender in the face of all those delectable baked goods: and if you haven’t already guessed, it involves a diet which consists of lots of fruits, veggies, water and brown rice—all chased with a fat slab of cheesecake.
Who says there isn’t a price to be paid for decadence?
The second part of her cookbook is what could be called the “nuts and bolts” underpinning Rosenberg’s art. Within its pages she offers useful tips on assembling the proper baking tools—as well as numerous cheap substitutes for those of us who don’t have a fortune to put toward a state-of-the-art kitchen.
She also offers up a fascinating primer in the whys and wherefores of the science of successful baking. This section alone was an education for me, a woman who can best be described as an enthusiastic but woefully intermediate baker. There is a wealth of useful detail contained in this section alone—and it contains informational nuggets that can be applied to just about any dessert no matter what its origin.
And then there are her recipes
Rosenberg could have been stingy, keeping the secrets of her baking craft all to herself: certainly no one would blame her—after all, nobody faults Debby Field for holding her cookie recipes close to the vest—but as would be expected from the warm and generous Rosenberg, she willingly offers up the secrets behind every one of her fabulous desserts. And what a list it is.
Some of our family favorites?
Boom-Booms
Peccancy in an 8” pan, these are cream cheese-laced brownies so sweet, so fudgy, so dizzyingly rich that I sometimes have to lie down after eating them. Wonderful when chased with a glass of really cold milk, these are brownies I’d crawl for. My personal favorite stop on the road to nutritional ruin.
Velvet Underground Cake
When my long-suffering life partner and I married, we splurged and chose Rosie’s to bake our wedding cake. Every guest attending wanted to know how such a tiny cake could serve such a large crowd—but one small bite from a razor thin sliver of this voluptuously rich, dark chocolate, buttercream-frosted confection silenced the wagging tongues: The better to focus on the serious business at hand.
Cake this good should be against the law.
Just don’t make this easy to prepare cake too often. You’ll start to crave it every day.
Chocolate Orgasms
In her book, Rosenberg likens the heightened physical reaction she experiences from consuming the perfect dessert to the climactic bliss of an ideal romantic interlude—thus, Rosie’s Chocolate Orgasms were born. And believe me, these treats deserve the X-rated moniker: These are brownies so obscenely dense that they thud when placed on an eager diner’s plate (check out the ingredients and you will understand why). These are bar cookies that transcend the term “dessert” becoming something so much more: indescribable delight for the senses, blissful satisfaction for the soul. This is Rosie’s signature dessert; and in her bakery (as well as my household), it is far and away her most popular.
There are a lot more recipes in her book, all of them equally wonderful—try the bourbon chocolate pecan pie—but (hold onto your waistline) just remember that this isn’t called no-holds-barred baking for nothin’. In other words, if it isn’t sinfully decadent, it ain’t in here—which is okay by me.
There is so much to like about Rosie’s cookbook it’s almost hard to classify it all; but for me, it was Rosenberg’s care in choosing her recipes so that just about anyone, no matter what his or her level of baking skill, can make creations that rival the best of her bakery offerings.
Most of her recipes don’t require the reader to do postgraduate work at the Culinary Institute of America to get great results. Although she offers confections breathtaking enough to wow company, a good many of the recipes in Rosenberg’s book are simple variations of the favorite comfort foods we all grew up with. My 15-year-old daughter Caitlin, (inspired to learn baking so that she could create at will her favorite Rosie's treat), has been making Rosie’s chocolate chip cookies with minimal assistance since the age of 13—that’s how easy these recipes can be.
But for the faint of heart Rosie offers pep talks and advice during any possible rocky recipe sections, offering step-by-step advice on such heretofore gravitational impossibilities as lofty meringues, towering soufflés and other stuff you never thought you could try at home with any success. Rosenberg (with the help of Nan Levinson) writes like your friendly next-door neighbor speaks, gently coaxing even the timid into giving some of the more complicated baking techniques outlined in her book a whirl.
Barbara Maslen was given the thankless task of illustrating Rosie’s cookbook; I’d guess that the artist, correctly surmising that she could never replicate Rosenberg’s beautiful works of edible art, chose to complement rather than attempt an accurate depiction of the desserts in this book. A wise move on Maslen’s part (no pencil sketch could do Rosenberg’s recipes justice) but a loss for those who like to see a finished product before they start baking.
The only real criticism I have about this book is not in its contents, but its construction. In the 10 years I have owned this cookbook, I have not seen a spiral bound edition published. This is a cookbook born to work on the kitchen counter. I refer to it so often when baking that its annoying habit of snapping shut due to its stiff paperback spine is a source of constant irritation. I doubt that the hardcover edition would be much better. How I wish the publishers would issue a spiral-bound edition of this book.
Hey Workman Publishing! Are you listening?
One final thing: Rosenberg writes that it is her desire for this cookbook to become dog-eared, batter-smeared and lovingly referred to often; its recipes passed down from generation to generation, assuming the status of “family”—only then will she judge her work to be a success.
Well, congratulations Rosie. In our house at least, your wish has been granted.
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