Dream of Tartar

I have a long, unfortunate history of being trapped next door to neighbors from hell. There were the party animals who left their dog abandoned at home all night long, whimpering and barking. The neurotic woman who didn't believe in curtains or blinds, complained about outside lights that prevented her from sleeping and paraded around her apartment in an ill-fitting bathing suit. The vain cougar who walked from morning to night in stiletto heels on the hardwood floors above my head then had screaming matches at 2am with her boy toys. The young, slacker couple who blasted their stereo for hours on end. The twitchy psycho who banged on his ceiling (my floor) when I dropped a sheet of paper (it was literally just a sheet of paper, folks).

So imagine my complete and utter surprise when I woke up early one snowbound morning to find my front steps and sidewalk already plowed away. The elderly gentleman who rents the basement apartment next door had done it voluntarily while also clearing our shared driveway with a shovel and snow-blower. When I thanked him, he said, "why shovel my side just for five minutes when I can do the whole thing? Anyway, I need the exercise." I hadn't told him that my previous neighbor, also blessed with a snow-blower, didn't once offer to help me even on those blizzardy days when I was out for over an hour-and-a-half with my lo-tech shovel.

Wanting to show him my gratitude, I put together a care package of organic teas, fair-trade coffee (since I wasn't sure if he was a tea or coffee drinker) and a batch of home-made scones [see photo #1]. I used a recipe from that saucy diva of scrumptious food, Nigella Lawson. Her ingredient list for "Lily's Scones" reads like a recipe for baking soda biscuits [see photo #2] except for the generous inclusion of cream of tartar.

I've long wondered what the blimey cream of tartar is or does and why we don't use more of it. For one thing, it's misleadingly in powdered form despite its name. And "tartar" refers neither to the ethnic Tartars spread across Russia, nor the ugly buildup of dental plaque on neglected teeth. In fact, cream of tartar comes from the acid salt that crystallizes and encrusts the insides of wine casks as the juice of grapes are left to ferment. The ancients called the crusty purple stuff tartar or tartre (a reference to "encrustation" or "deposit"). When it is purified, the result becomes a white, acidic powder called potassium bitartrate. The powder allegedly keeps forever -- even if it has hardened into chunks, it can be broken apart and used in recipes.

Baking powder as we know it is simply a mixture of cream of tartar (an acid) and baking soda (an alkali). As remembered from high school chemistry class, an acid combined with a base creates a neutralizing chemical reaction that yields a metal, salt and water. In baking, this causes dough to bubble and leaven. Which is why we use baking powder in a lot of cakes and breads.

The acidity of cream of tartar is also used to stabilize whipped egg whites and add volume; it's used in candy-making to prevent caramelizing sugar from crystallizing; and it helps boiled vegetables keep their color.

So now, behold again the difference between the scones made with a touch of baking soda and lots of cream of tartar vs. the baking soda biscuits using only baking soda. They're both equally easy to make and tasty. However, you can see chemistry clearly at work here: the scones are much puffier than the biscuits: lighter, creamy soft yet still spongy (not doughy). It encourages me to try more baking projects with cream of tartar.

Btw, a single batch yielded more than two dozen scones so I shipped some off to my parents and kept a few for myself. This is simple bakery at its best.