Pickles scare you, don't they. Well, not MOST of you. I know Susan in Oswego is not afraid of pickle. In fact, I know for a fact that Susan has never been scared by a pickle in her life, no matter how big it's been. But we won't go there. And when I say scare you, I mean MAKING them. There is a mystique about pickle making, borne out of too many episodes of Andy Griffith and Aunt Bea screwing up hers, and those jars of ugly looking vegetables that remind you of the biology class with the specimens that were older than the building.
GET OVER IT. Pickles are great. Pickles are easy. There's a very simple brining, from Alice Waters' new book "In the Green Kitchen" (it's indispensable for EVERYONE), and once you do this, you will wonder why you were afraid.
Let me say at the start that these are NOT storage pickles. You make these, you eat them, or you refirgerate them. You make em in small batches. And they're good. Here's what you need.
You need a cup and a half of a good quality vinegar. Ms. Waters recommends white wine vinegar, I use apple cider. I KNOW she would approve. Combine that with the same amoutn of water. Then add 2.5 tablespoons of sugar, a teaspoon of slat, a bay leaf, a few sprigs of thyme, half a teaspoon of coriander seeds, a couple of c loves and a bit of dried chilis. You can change these spices, but try them
Put this in a non -reactive (non metallic) pot, and bring it to a boil. When it has, drop the temperature to a simmer and add vegetables. Whatever you like, but not mixed vegetables. You do this a vegetable at a time. If the veggie is a tough, thick one, then let it cook in the brine, but usually, you won't need to do this. I usually just let them sit at the simmer, for five minutes or so, then turn it off and let them cool in the liquid.
Given the season, I have done these with ramp bulbs and with fiddleheads. With the fiddleheads, since they tend to give off a dark, murky fluid as they sit, I drained the brine off and refrigerated them "dry." But the ramp bulbs are sitting in their brine, and they are GOOD. We had them with toasted cheese sandwiches this afternoon, and we'll put em out with fish as well.
C'mon folks! The season is upon us, you KNOW you are looking for new ways to do your favorite vegetables, and this is IT. I can't wait to do some asparagus the same way.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
"The Price of Salt?" Nope: just a crust for fish
Those "in the know" will recognize the allusion. "The Price of Salt" is a novel that Patricia Highsmith, whom most of you DO know, wrote under a pseudonym. In it's time, it was a sensation, because (i) it was a lesbian themed novel (ii) that had a happy ending. If you look at the literature of the period, it is filled with suicides and despair. This one is not. And with Ms. Highsmith writing, you know it is well written.
Well, this has absolutely nothing to do with the recipe, except for the inclusion of salt. Baking under a crust of salt has a long tradition, in the same way that baking in clay does. I guess it was a way to preserve things from air, and keep them fresh, and also, because you could cook things for a long time, at a slow temperature, it was ideal. This recipe does not use a low temperature though; however, it does produce a delicious product that may overcome the fear that some of you have, in working with whole fish. Ready to get started?
First, get a whole fish, or a couple of whole fish, from your monger. Don't go for anything bigger than about 2 pounds or so. That's big enough for two people with good appetites. If you have more people than that, get more fish. The monger will gut and clean the fish for you, but leave the head and tail on. Have him or her scale it if you want, but you don't have to because... well, you'll find out.
When you're ready to cook, wash and dry the fish, and put it aside for a minute, and crank up the oven to 450. Now, make your crust. This is simple: you need plain old salt, flour and water. The ratios are 2:1:1, sort of. Two pounds of salt, 1 cup of flour, and 1 cup of water. Scale up or down as necessary, but keep that ratio. A pound of salt with half a cup of flour and half a cup of water will do a one pound plus fish nicely. Mix the dry ingredients and the water together. You'll get something like wet beach sand.
Put the fish on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Then, put the salt mixture over the fish and encase it completely. Pretend you're in a Wagnerian opera and you're trying to hide Freia from the giants with piles of gold (obscure, I know, but you're smart. You'll get it).
Put this into the oven, and let it bake for 30 minutes. This is ideal for those of you who are scared of cooking a whole fish, because using this method, it's just about impossible to overcook the fish.
After the 30 minutes or so , get ready to do what is my favorite part of the recipe: take a strong object, like a meat pounder or a rolling pin or something like that and WHACK the salt coating, which will be dry, hard and slightly brown. The paper will p robably be slightly singed as well because - ok, let's review, what's the temperature at which paper burns (Sue, put down your hand. We know you know: here's a hint: Ray Bradbury wrote a book with the temperature in the title. It's about burning books. It's wonderful and scary. READ IT).
The crust will fall away and it will take the skin with it. It will leave behind what may very well be the moistest fish you have ever eaten, and it will NOT be salty. Don't believe me? Try it and send hate mail if it is.
Then, just cut the fish away from the skeleton and serve it forth, preferably with some pickled vegetables. I made pickled ramps and fiddleheads, using the bulbs of the ramps I used to make the pesto for the cheese fritters.
Oh, you want the pickling recipe? SURE. I'll give it to you next time around. I promise.
Give this a try. The price of salt is not high, and you'll have a wonderful, fancy presentation that will astonish people. You can smile at hoe easy it was , whisper "Grazie Annalena" and go on with your life.
Well, this has absolutely nothing to do with the recipe, except for the inclusion of salt. Baking under a crust of salt has a long tradition, in the same way that baking in clay does. I guess it was a way to preserve things from air, and keep them fresh, and also, because you could cook things for a long time, at a slow temperature, it was ideal. This recipe does not use a low temperature though; however, it does produce a delicious product that may overcome the fear that some of you have, in working with whole fish. Ready to get started?
First, get a whole fish, or a couple of whole fish, from your monger. Don't go for anything bigger than about 2 pounds or so. That's big enough for two people with good appetites. If you have more people than that, get more fish. The monger will gut and clean the fish for you, but leave the head and tail on. Have him or her scale it if you want, but you don't have to because... well, you'll find out.
When you're ready to cook, wash and dry the fish, and put it aside for a minute, and crank up the oven to 450. Now, make your crust. This is simple: you need plain old salt, flour and water. The ratios are 2:1:1, sort of. Two pounds of salt, 1 cup of flour, and 1 cup of water. Scale up or down as necessary, but keep that ratio. A pound of salt with half a cup of flour and half a cup of water will do a one pound plus fish nicely. Mix the dry ingredients and the water together. You'll get something like wet beach sand.
Put the fish on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Then, put the salt mixture over the fish and encase it completely. Pretend you're in a Wagnerian opera and you're trying to hide Freia from the giants with piles of gold (obscure, I know, but you're smart. You'll get it).
Put this into the oven, and let it bake for 30 minutes. This is ideal for those of you who are scared of cooking a whole fish, because using this method, it's just about impossible to overcook the fish.
After the 30 minutes or so , get ready to do what is my favorite part of the recipe: take a strong object, like a meat pounder or a rolling pin or something like that and WHACK the salt coating, which will be dry, hard and slightly brown. The paper will p robably be slightly singed as well because - ok, let's review, what's the temperature at which paper burns (Sue, put down your hand. We know you know: here's a hint: Ray Bradbury wrote a book with the temperature in the title. It's about burning books. It's wonderful and scary. READ IT).
The crust will fall away and it will take the skin with it. It will leave behind what may very well be the moistest fish you have ever eaten, and it will NOT be salty. Don't believe me? Try it and send hate mail if it is.
Then, just cut the fish away from the skeleton and serve it forth, preferably with some pickled vegetables. I made pickled ramps and fiddleheads, using the bulbs of the ramps I used to make the pesto for the cheese fritters.
Oh, you want the pickling recipe? SURE. I'll give it to you next time around. I promise.
Give this a try. The price of salt is not high, and you'll have a wonderful, fancy presentation that will astonish people. You can smile at hoe easy it was , whisper "Grazie Annalena" and go on with your life.
Another way to fry cheese: ricotta fritters
Some time ago, I was talking with the head of my work department, who is a man who likes good food, and good wine. I was telling him about fricco, the wonderful chip of baked or fried montasio cheese. I was making them that weekend. You have to imagine this next line in a Tennesee accent, from someone who has lived in Texas for a long, LONG time:
"Fried cheese? Well, there isn't any debate about that. There is nothing finer."
OK, 'fess up. Every single one of you while laughing can remember eating those little bits of burned cheese on dishes, or picking the crispy parts off of mac and cheese, and so forth.
I'm not making that up now, am I? Let's admit it: we love fried things, and we LOOOOOOVVVVVE fried cheese. Period. Mozzarella in carozza, fricco, deep fried cheese sticks, the list goes on.
Well, here's a fancy one. And I have to admit, when I first saw it, I said "not going to work." When I decided to try it, I thought "it's gonna fail."
Well, it worked. It's pretty easy too. But please read Annalena's plea at the end of this. It has nothing to do with cooking. It has to do with saving our planet.
Ricotta fritters are a soft, delightful way to get your fried cheese jones satisfied. They're something different: sort of like a cross between a pancake and a chip. Not hard to do, but some planning is in order.
First, you need a pound of GOOD QUALITY ricotta. I get mine from the farmers' market, in these little baskets that allow liquid to leech out. Use something like that. Don't use that ghastly thing that ends in a big O (I've said that before, haven't I?). Even with the good quality stuff, put it in a sieve or something and let it drain for at least six hours. When I made it, I also used half a pound of good quality mozzarella (NOT the stuff that ends in an O), chopped fine. You could add parmesan, about half a cup, grated, but I did not. You could also add chopped smoked meats, or peas, or both. Again, none are necessary and I just wanted the pure flavor of the cheese.
OK, you mix the ricotta, the mozzarella, 3 large egg yolks , a bit less than a teaspoon of salt, a few turns of black pepper from your pepper mill, and 3 tablespoons of bread crumbs, plain or flavored. Also, get half a cup of those bread crumbs and put them in a bowl, separate from the cheese and whatnot. Finally, get a big frying pan, and put two cups of oil in it.
Measure the first fritter. It should be about a tablespoon and a half of cheese. Form a ball in your hands, and then roll it in the bread crumbs. Put it on a paper towel lined baking sheet, and keep on doing that with all the other cheese. You'll get about 22-24 of them. Press them into ovals.
Get your oil hot - to 350 degrees or so (here's how to tell: take a wooden spoon and put the handle end of it in the oil. When bubbles form angrily around that stem, the oil is ready).
Carefully put the cheese discs into the oil, and have two large tablespoons and a slotted spoon ready. After about a minute and a half, turn the discs and fry for another minute and a half. Scoop them out, drain them on the paper towel, and you know what? You are done.
I served these with a sauce I made of ramp leaves, olive oil and toasted walnuts. Essentially a ramp pesto. Just dip em in. If you drain the fritters well, they are fine cold, or you could warm em up. The keep beautifully.
Now, the plea. Annalena, who prides herself on being a servant of stewardship to this planet, learned recently that pouring oil down our drains, our toilets, etc, is not good. I forget the ratio, but it is something like every gallon of oil renders 1000 gallons of water non-drinkable. I did not know and that scares me. I will find another source for disposing of my used cooking oil. And if anyone has any ideas on that, please share them with us all, so that we can enjoy dishes like this, without feeling guilty about polluting our waters .
"Fried cheese? Well, there isn't any debate about that. There is nothing finer."
OK, 'fess up. Every single one of you while laughing can remember eating those little bits of burned cheese on dishes, or picking the crispy parts off of mac and cheese, and so forth.
I'm not making that up now, am I? Let's admit it: we love fried things, and we LOOOOOOVVVVVE fried cheese. Period. Mozzarella in carozza, fricco, deep fried cheese sticks, the list goes on.
Well, here's a fancy one. And I have to admit, when I first saw it, I said "not going to work." When I decided to try it, I thought "it's gonna fail."
Well, it worked. It's pretty easy too. But please read Annalena's plea at the end of this. It has nothing to do with cooking. It has to do with saving our planet.
Ricotta fritters are a soft, delightful way to get your fried cheese jones satisfied. They're something different: sort of like a cross between a pancake and a chip. Not hard to do, but some planning is in order.
First, you need a pound of GOOD QUALITY ricotta. I get mine from the farmers' market, in these little baskets that allow liquid to leech out. Use something like that. Don't use that ghastly thing that ends in a big O (I've said that before, haven't I?). Even with the good quality stuff, put it in a sieve or something and let it drain for at least six hours. When I made it, I also used half a pound of good quality mozzarella (NOT the stuff that ends in an O), chopped fine. You could add parmesan, about half a cup, grated, but I did not. You could also add chopped smoked meats, or peas, or both. Again, none are necessary and I just wanted the pure flavor of the cheese.
OK, you mix the ricotta, the mozzarella, 3 large egg yolks , a bit less than a teaspoon of salt, a few turns of black pepper from your pepper mill, and 3 tablespoons of bread crumbs, plain or flavored. Also, get half a cup of those bread crumbs and put them in a bowl, separate from the cheese and whatnot. Finally, get a big frying pan, and put two cups of oil in it.
Measure the first fritter. It should be about a tablespoon and a half of cheese. Form a ball in your hands, and then roll it in the bread crumbs. Put it on a paper towel lined baking sheet, and keep on doing that with all the other cheese. You'll get about 22-24 of them. Press them into ovals.
Get your oil hot - to 350 degrees or so (here's how to tell: take a wooden spoon and put the handle end of it in the oil. When bubbles form angrily around that stem, the oil is ready).
Carefully put the cheese discs into the oil, and have two large tablespoons and a slotted spoon ready. After about a minute and a half, turn the discs and fry for another minute and a half. Scoop them out, drain them on the paper towel, and you know what? You are done.
I served these with a sauce I made of ramp leaves, olive oil and toasted walnuts. Essentially a ramp pesto. Just dip em in. If you drain the fritters well, they are fine cold, or you could warm em up. The keep beautifully.
Now, the plea. Annalena, who prides herself on being a servant of stewardship to this planet, learned recently that pouring oil down our drains, our toilets, etc, is not good. I forget the ratio, but it is something like every gallon of oil renders 1000 gallons of water non-drinkable. I did not know and that scares me. I will find another source for disposing of my used cooking oil. And if anyone has any ideas on that, please share them with us all, so that we can enjoy dishes like this, without feeling guilty about polluting our waters .
Nice and crisp: strawberry rhubarb crisp
Annalena is about to make her annual journey to San Francisco, and hopes to regale all of you with her tales along the way. BUT before she goes, she wants to leave you with a recipe that I do hope you will make.
It seems that some of the food crops have come to market much earlier this year than last. Is that global warming at work? Rhubarb came in on EXACTLY the same day as it has for the past two years: April 24. But I remember making desserts before this trip that included only rhubarb, because there were no strawberries. I also recall eating just a few asparagus before we went on the trip, always at the end of May. This year, we have been enjoying asparagus nearly every day, for the last three weeks. As for strawberries, we are told that, by the time we get back, the south New Jersey berry season will be over. Hmmm. Mother Nature, or global warming, or both?
well, with a dinner party upon her, Annalena decided to make a strawberry rhubarb crisp. Know what she found? NO RECIPES. Plenty of recipes for rhubarb crisp, none for the combinaton. And, she also found that these recipes were, well, SKIMPY. Annalena does NOT skimp on her friends. No siree. So, she developed this recipe which follows.
Let us start with the crisp topping. Most crisp toppings have some form of oat, and some kind of nut in them, usually pecans or walnuts. Well, recently, I have enjoyed Patty Jackson's rhubarb tart, with comes with chopped hazelnuts on top, and I recalled eating a rhubarb pie with a scoop of pistachio ice cream, and thinking it was a wonderful combination. Pistachio won out here, as the topping, but please by all means use what you like.
Here's what you do. you take a big heaping cup of flour. REALLY heaping: close to a cup and a third. Mix it with a half cup of sugar. I used all white sugar, but you can mix em if you like. Add a pinch of salt and a cup of toasted pistachio nuts.
How do you toast the nuts? Get the unsalted ones (you could, come to think of it, use salted ones if you like), put em on a baking sheet, and bake at 35o until you begin to smell nuts. Get them out of the oven and into a bowl to cool. When they're cool, add them to the dry ingredients. Then cut up a stick and a half of unsalted butter (ESPECIALLY if your nuts are salted), and rub that into the dry ingredients. You can pulse it in a food processor if you like, and that will chop up the nuts for you.
That's your topping, and you can make that a millenium ahead of time, just freeze it.
For the fruit: Get three pounds of rhubarb. Cut the yucky ends off, and then cut the rhubarb into pieces about a half to 2/3 inch long. Add a quart of strawberries, cut into halves or quarters, depending on their size. Add a cup of sugar to this, together with a third of a cup of flour. Mix it all up together, and let it sit until you begin to see some liquid coming off of the fruit. When that happens, fill a BIG baking dish with the fruit. Pour the crisp topping over it. Put the baking dish on a baking sheet, and put the whole contraption into a preheated, 375 degree oven and let it cook for nearly an hour. You want to see thick, bubbling red juices at the end, that scare you when you think of how hot they will be (because they will be that hot).
Let this sit before you eat it. It's too hot, and the flavors need time to develop. Please do Annalena a favor and do not refrigerate it, though. If you do, the crisp will lose its crispness. It will still be tasty, but you will lose that element of it. It won't sit around all that long if you have the kind of friends I do.
You could make this, by the way, in individual ramekins. That was Annalena's original plans, but when 8 for dinner became 9, and Annalena only had 8 ramekins. One makes do. It's all good.
Have some fun. Switch nuts, switch fruits, and make some of these during the summer, when fruit is at its best
It seems that some of the food crops have come to market much earlier this year than last. Is that global warming at work? Rhubarb came in on EXACTLY the same day as it has for the past two years: April 24. But I remember making desserts before this trip that included only rhubarb, because there were no strawberries. I also recall eating just a few asparagus before we went on the trip, always at the end of May. This year, we have been enjoying asparagus nearly every day, for the last three weeks. As for strawberries, we are told that, by the time we get back, the south New Jersey berry season will be over. Hmmm. Mother Nature, or global warming, or both?
well, with a dinner party upon her, Annalena decided to make a strawberry rhubarb crisp. Know what she found? NO RECIPES. Plenty of recipes for rhubarb crisp, none for the combinaton. And, she also found that these recipes were, well, SKIMPY. Annalena does NOT skimp on her friends. No siree. So, she developed this recipe which follows.
Let us start with the crisp topping. Most crisp toppings have some form of oat, and some kind of nut in them, usually pecans or walnuts. Well, recently, I have enjoyed Patty Jackson's rhubarb tart, with comes with chopped hazelnuts on top, and I recalled eating a rhubarb pie with a scoop of pistachio ice cream, and thinking it was a wonderful combination. Pistachio won out here, as the topping, but please by all means use what you like.
Here's what you do. you take a big heaping cup of flour. REALLY heaping: close to a cup and a third. Mix it with a half cup of sugar. I used all white sugar, but you can mix em if you like. Add a pinch of salt and a cup of toasted pistachio nuts.
How do you toast the nuts? Get the unsalted ones (you could, come to think of it, use salted ones if you like), put em on a baking sheet, and bake at 35o until you begin to smell nuts. Get them out of the oven and into a bowl to cool. When they're cool, add them to the dry ingredients. Then cut up a stick and a half of unsalted butter (ESPECIALLY if your nuts are salted), and rub that into the dry ingredients. You can pulse it in a food processor if you like, and that will chop up the nuts for you.
That's your topping, and you can make that a millenium ahead of time, just freeze it.
For the fruit: Get three pounds of rhubarb. Cut the yucky ends off, and then cut the rhubarb into pieces about a half to 2/3 inch long. Add a quart of strawberries, cut into halves or quarters, depending on their size. Add a cup of sugar to this, together with a third of a cup of flour. Mix it all up together, and let it sit until you begin to see some liquid coming off of the fruit. When that happens, fill a BIG baking dish with the fruit. Pour the crisp topping over it. Put the baking dish on a baking sheet, and put the whole contraption into a preheated, 375 degree oven and let it cook for nearly an hour. You want to see thick, bubbling red juices at the end, that scare you when you think of how hot they will be (because they will be that hot).
Let this sit before you eat it. It's too hot, and the flavors need time to develop. Please do Annalena a favor and do not refrigerate it, though. If you do, the crisp will lose its crispness. It will still be tasty, but you will lose that element of it. It won't sit around all that long if you have the kind of friends I do.
You could make this, by the way, in individual ramekins. That was Annalena's original plans, but when 8 for dinner became 9, and Annalena only had 8 ramekins. One makes do. It's all good.
Have some fun. Switch nuts, switch fruits, and make some of these during the summer, when fruit is at its best
By Popular Demand: strawberry shortcake
There are certain dishes that Annalena just doesn't make anymore. In some cases, it is because she is bored with them. In others, it is because, well, miraculous cook though she may be, Annalena just does not do the dish well. Fried chicken, for example, is NOT one of her strong points. Nor are brownies. I swear, that if I put four pounds of ingredients into a brownie mix, what comes out, at the end, weighs
20. It's true. I swear it is. Had the Greeks had my brownies at the time of the Trojan war, they would not have needed the horse. My brownies would have brought down the wall. My beter half makes a better brownie.
Now, if you think about those two dishes, they are both "iconic." Who does not know fried chicken, or brownies? So, deciding to leave alone the classics to those who can do them, I have done so. And so it was with strawberry shortcake. Until this week.
It was one of those "perfect storms" of cooking. Here's what happened. I swear, it is all true. Nevia, the goddess of vegetables and some fruit, said to me, last Saturday "would you like some strawberries? The catch is, you have to make me something?" My reply, not being all that stupid was "SURE. What would you like?" She then put about 4 pounds of berries into containers for me and said "how about strawberry shortcake?"
Oh boy. Well, I did not want to look a gift strawberry in the mouth, nor did I want to disappoint Nevia, so home I went, determined to defeat this beast. And I have. With the help of the indispensible Lindsey Shere.
I use Ms. Shere's book for ice cream recipes, and always forget that it is a fabulous book on desserts, generally. Seriously, ragazzi, you should all track down this book and cook from it. Her style is wonderful, and the recipes are "elegant." I say that in the sense of a beautiful black dress. You want to say it's "simple," but it's sad that this word has developed a set of negative connotations. So, let's stick to elegant. So it is with this recipe.
See, getting the fruit and whipped cream right has never been a problem for the redoubtable Annalena. But the biscuits? Again the "4 pounds in/10 pounds out" problem was always there. But the recipe that Ms. Shere provides is stellar. And it's elegant.
OK, it's simple. Let's get started.
First thing: get your berries. LOTS of them . As many as you can afford. This is a dessert of pure, late spring indulgence. Get ripe ones, but if they're not so ripe, what you're going to do to them will help a lot. Cut them into halves , or quarters if you're using the huge darlings that have no taste. Then, add a quarter cup of sugar for every four cups of cut berries you have. Crush about a quarter of the berries with the back of a spoon or a meat pounder (CAREFUL kids), or whatever you have. Then, put the mix aside, unrefrigerated, and let it macerate. The juices will run, and if you taste this after about 20 minutes, you will hug yourself for the miraculous thing you've just done.
Now, let's get the biscuits together. You need 2 cups of flour, a half teaspoon of salt, a TABLESPOON (important), of baking powder, a stick of cold, unsalted butter, and a cup of cream. Take a quarter cup of that cream and put it aside.
Mix the dry ingredients together. Then put in the cut butter and get your fingers in there and just mix the stuff up until you get a mix that looks like rough cornmeal or polenta. Some pieces of butter floating around are fine. Pour the 3/4 cup of cream into that, stir it around (I used my hand), and then dump everything onto a board. Knead it a few times, and then roll it out, or press it out, to a 1/2 inch thick slab. You can either cut this into squares, or get a round cutter and cut the classic biscuits out of them. Try to make about 10-12 (I got ten). Put them on an ungreased baking sheet, and then paint the tops with the remaining cream.
Bake them for 12 minutes, if you make them smaller, or fifteen, if you made them bigger.
You will be amazed how they will puff up. They will brown on the bottom, which is fine. Take em out, and let them cool.
While they're cooling, take another cup of heavy cream and add about a quarter cup of sugar to it. Whip it to soft peaks.
Now, you're ready. Cut open the biscuits and put a layer of half of them down. Put the berries and juice over that, saving just a bit of juice. Put the other half of the biscuit halves on the berries, and cover the mass with the cream.
You could also do this in individual portions. And you could use ice cream, or custard, in place of the whipped cream. You could also mix different fruits. I plan to do this with blueberries AND with sour cherries, as they come into season.
A cooking monster, defeated, thanks to the push of a nice Korean lady, and the book of a confirmed Californian. Annalena considers this a good day.
20. It's true. I swear it is. Had the Greeks had my brownies at the time of the Trojan war, they would not have needed the horse. My brownies would have brought down the wall. My beter half makes a better brownie.
Now, if you think about those two dishes, they are both "iconic." Who does not know fried chicken, or brownies? So, deciding to leave alone the classics to those who can do them, I have done so. And so it was with strawberry shortcake. Until this week.
It was one of those "perfect storms" of cooking. Here's what happened. I swear, it is all true. Nevia, the goddess of vegetables and some fruit, said to me, last Saturday "would you like some strawberries? The catch is, you have to make me something?" My reply, not being all that stupid was "SURE. What would you like?" She then put about 4 pounds of berries into containers for me and said "how about strawberry shortcake?"
Oh boy. Well, I did not want to look a gift strawberry in the mouth, nor did I want to disappoint Nevia, so home I went, determined to defeat this beast. And I have. With the help of the indispensible Lindsey Shere.
I use Ms. Shere's book for ice cream recipes, and always forget that it is a fabulous book on desserts, generally. Seriously, ragazzi, you should all track down this book and cook from it. Her style is wonderful, and the recipes are "elegant." I say that in the sense of a beautiful black dress. You want to say it's "simple," but it's sad that this word has developed a set of negative connotations. So, let's stick to elegant. So it is with this recipe.
See, getting the fruit and whipped cream right has never been a problem for the redoubtable Annalena. But the biscuits? Again the "4 pounds in/10 pounds out" problem was always there. But the recipe that Ms. Shere provides is stellar. And it's elegant.
OK, it's simple. Let's get started.
First thing: get your berries. LOTS of them . As many as you can afford. This is a dessert of pure, late spring indulgence. Get ripe ones, but if they're not so ripe, what you're going to do to them will help a lot. Cut them into halves , or quarters if you're using the huge darlings that have no taste. Then, add a quarter cup of sugar for every four cups of cut berries you have. Crush about a quarter of the berries with the back of a spoon or a meat pounder (CAREFUL kids), or whatever you have. Then, put the mix aside, unrefrigerated, and let it macerate. The juices will run, and if you taste this after about 20 minutes, you will hug yourself for the miraculous thing you've just done.
Now, let's get the biscuits together. You need 2 cups of flour, a half teaspoon of salt, a TABLESPOON (important), of baking powder, a stick of cold, unsalted butter, and a cup of cream. Take a quarter cup of that cream and put it aside.
Mix the dry ingredients together. Then put in the cut butter and get your fingers in there and just mix the stuff up until you get a mix that looks like rough cornmeal or polenta. Some pieces of butter floating around are fine. Pour the 3/4 cup of cream into that, stir it around (I used my hand), and then dump everything onto a board. Knead it a few times, and then roll it out, or press it out, to a 1/2 inch thick slab. You can either cut this into squares, or get a round cutter and cut the classic biscuits out of them. Try to make about 10-12 (I got ten). Put them on an ungreased baking sheet, and then paint the tops with the remaining cream.
Bake them for 12 minutes, if you make them smaller, or fifteen, if you made them bigger.
You will be amazed how they will puff up. They will brown on the bottom, which is fine. Take em out, and let them cool.
While they're cooling, take another cup of heavy cream and add about a quarter cup of sugar to it. Whip it to soft peaks.
Now, you're ready. Cut open the biscuits and put a layer of half of them down. Put the berries and juice over that, saving just a bit of juice. Put the other half of the biscuit halves on the berries, and cover the mass with the cream.
You could also do this in individual portions. And you could use ice cream, or custard, in place of the whipped cream. You could also mix different fruits. I plan to do this with blueberries AND with sour cherries, as they come into season.
A cooking monster, defeated, thanks to the push of a nice Korean lady, and the book of a confirmed Californian. Annalena considers this a good day.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Moroccan Carrot Salad
When Annalena ventures outside of her realm to other cuisines, she looks for "consanguinities." (Look it up. You'll love the word). Is there something that I can point to and say "this reminds me of Italian stuff" Sometimes, there isn't, like with guacamole, but it's so good that I just learn to make it, and continue to learn to make it.
There are certain consanguinities between Moroccan food, and SOUTHERN Italian food. In fact, they exist for all of those wonderful Mediterranean cuisines. Paula Wolfert is the expert on that kind of thing (THE expert), and I urge you to become familiar with her books and her recipes. I'm afraid that we will not see the likes of Ms Wolfert, who is both chef and anthropologist, for a while. She's not going anywhere, but I'm looking for the next generation of explorers who learn their cuisine cultures, too.
I am told by her books, and by others, that there is an entire repertoire of carrot salads in Moroccan cooking, and that sounds fine to me. I made this one as part of a plate of three salads for a party. It vanished. I could have made three times as much. It typifies much of what is so wonderful about the style of Mediterranean cooking: it's easy, it's simple (the two are NOT synonymous in cooking), and it tastes good. It is also extremely economical. AND... for all you busy folks out there, you can make it ahead of time.
I am also told that it's Arabic name is "Shalata chizo." I might add that it's MOROCCAN Arabic, because if you want to get into a linguistic duel, start talking about the different varieties of Arabic.
Ok. First, you need a pound of carrots. Scrape em clean, and then grate them roughly. The big hole end of a box grater (if you don't have one, GET ONE), is perfect for this. Put them into a big bowl, and just start tossing in the following things: 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil (the recipe says you can use vegetable oil. DONT). Then squeeze in the juice of one or two lemons. If you happen to have a meyer lemon, use one of those, or use all meyer juice. Next a big helping of chopped cilantro (if you like it), or parsley (if you don't). I used parsley because I didn't know if my guests would like the cilantro. It was fine Use the flat leaved varieity. "Big helping?" I used about 3/4 of a cup, triple what the recipe called for. Also chop up 4 cloves of garlic, really fine. Then add a teaspoon of ground cumin, a teaspoon of sweet paprika (yes, there is more than one kind. If you don't have the sweet, use the smoked, which is what I did). Add some salt, and then, finally something hot and spicy. Harissa is authentic, cayenne pepper works. Half a teaspoon of this.
Like I say, just put this all in a bowl, toss it together with your hands, cover it, and put it in the fridge. You can do this two days ahead if you want, it's just fine and it's better for it.
Put it out with toasted pita bread, or just plain pita bread, and watch it disappear.
Play it out. How long would it take you to make this salad? Fifteen minutes? I think you can handle it.
Summer is coming up. Can you think of much better than this with your barbeque?
There are certain consanguinities between Moroccan food, and SOUTHERN Italian food. In fact, they exist for all of those wonderful Mediterranean cuisines. Paula Wolfert is the expert on that kind of thing (THE expert), and I urge you to become familiar with her books and her recipes. I'm afraid that we will not see the likes of Ms Wolfert, who is both chef and anthropologist, for a while. She's not going anywhere, but I'm looking for the next generation of explorers who learn their cuisine cultures, too.
I am told by her books, and by others, that there is an entire repertoire of carrot salads in Moroccan cooking, and that sounds fine to me. I made this one as part of a plate of three salads for a party. It vanished. I could have made three times as much. It typifies much of what is so wonderful about the style of Mediterranean cooking: it's easy, it's simple (the two are NOT synonymous in cooking), and it tastes good. It is also extremely economical. AND... for all you busy folks out there, you can make it ahead of time.
I am also told that it's Arabic name is "Shalata chizo." I might add that it's MOROCCAN Arabic, because if you want to get into a linguistic duel, start talking about the different varieties of Arabic.
Ok. First, you need a pound of carrots. Scrape em clean, and then grate them roughly. The big hole end of a box grater (if you don't have one, GET ONE), is perfect for this. Put them into a big bowl, and just start tossing in the following things: 1/4 cup of extra virgin olive oil (the recipe says you can use vegetable oil. DONT). Then squeeze in the juice of one or two lemons. If you happen to have a meyer lemon, use one of those, or use all meyer juice. Next a big helping of chopped cilantro (if you like it), or parsley (if you don't). I used parsley because I didn't know if my guests would like the cilantro. It was fine Use the flat leaved varieity. "Big helping?" I used about 3/4 of a cup, triple what the recipe called for. Also chop up 4 cloves of garlic, really fine. Then add a teaspoon of ground cumin, a teaspoon of sweet paprika (yes, there is more than one kind. If you don't have the sweet, use the smoked, which is what I did). Add some salt, and then, finally something hot and spicy. Harissa is authentic, cayenne pepper works. Half a teaspoon of this.
Like I say, just put this all in a bowl, toss it together with your hands, cover it, and put it in the fridge. You can do this two days ahead if you want, it's just fine and it's better for it.
Put it out with toasted pita bread, or just plain pita bread, and watch it disappear.
Play it out. How long would it take you to make this salad? Fifteen minutes? I think you can handle it.
Summer is coming up. Can you think of much better than this with your barbeque?
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Didja miss me? Well, I'm back: with green garlic ricotta pudding souffle
Yes, yes, yes, Annalena DID abandon all of you for an extended period of time. The reasons are multitude as are the excuses, and I shall not offer any, but I will offer my apologies, to anyone who may have wondered "is the woman ok?" "is she coming back?" And so on and so forth. To paraphrase one of my favorite Joan Baez songs "I never left, said she." And now I'm back. And one way or the other, I will fill you in on the recipes I have been making. I will TRY (but I will not promise), to get one down every day, especially now that we are full flush in the glory of spring.
Asparagus. Rhubarb. Greens. Yes, the market is beginning to bulge. If you have a friend who happens to grow strawberries, you may get some of those too. They're not "there" yet, but they are "here."
Many of the things that we are finding at the market now, are transient. REALLY transient. You can find them for a few weeks, and then they are gone, gone GONE, whereas others will be around for a while. By the end of June, at the latest, the local asparagus will be finished, so we're eating them just about every day now. Ramps are here, but not for much longer. I still wait for the fiddleheads. And... one of my favorite things has come in. Call it "spring" garlic, call it "young" garlic, call it "green" garlic, but just ask for it, and use it.
Green garlic, as I call it, is garlic that has not quite gone to cloves. It has a mild flavor. Not as mild as leeks, and not as strong as the garlic we are used to. It's distinct. And you should enjoy it, NOW.
As with many of my recipes, this is a variation on something I learned from studying the recipes out of Chez Panisse. They serve up , and present in recipe form, a dish that they call green garlic pudding souffle'. I studied that recipe this morning, and thought "I am NOT ready to commit to this for lunch." Also, it called for gruyere cheese, which I do not have in the house. But I DO have ricotta that is beginning to luck at me askance. So, a bit of thinking , and a readiness to sacrifice lightness for heft, and away we went.
Get yourself a few bunches of green garlic from the farmers market. You're going to want somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 pound of it. Err on the side of buying more. You won't regret it. You will also need a pound of good quality ricotta (and as I've said before, this does not mean the stuff that ends with an "O" and you can get at the supermarket.). Four egggs. Some butter, and a bit of milk.
Yes, it's rich. But it's spring. The weather is warm. You're encouraged to take exercise. And in a few weeks, this will not be here.
So, get those green garlics, cut off the root ends, and then chop them roughly. You will want , ultimately, a scant cup or so of the chopped stuff. Saute' them, in a couple of tablespoons of butter, until they're soft. It will not take long. Try not to brown them, but if you do, it's far from the end of the world.
Put the garlic into a food processor with the ricotta, and the eggs, and a good pinch of salt. Whizz that to the point where the cheese is smooth, but you can still see bits of the garlic in there. Put it aside (incidentally, you can do this part of the dish hours before you eat. ). Now, get the whites from the 4 eggs, and whip them until you get soft peaks. What is a soft peak? Glad you asked Sue (I KNEW it was you). Lift the beater head, and watch the tip of the white . If it forms a curly cue, but falls over, that's soft peaks. Fold the cheese mixture into this (I have seen this step written a skazillion times as putting the whites into the eggs. I have not observed a difference in the order). Stir the stuff together, gently, until it's uniformly combined. Then, pour it into a buttered baking dish (you don't have to use a souffle' dish. I used an 8x8 glass baking pan and I was happy with it). Put that on a baking sheet, and get it into a preheated, 400 degree oven.
NOW, get a kettle and pour water (room temperature) onto the baking sheet, until it comes about an inch up the baking dish. Let the thing cook away for about 30 minutes.
This isn't going to rise much, because of the ricotta. But it will rise a bit, and it will firm up, without getting hard. Scoop it out and serve it in bowls, preferably with something like my smothered dandelion greens.
Glad you asked. Here's how you do it. Cut the dandelion greens from their stems, at the point where the stems begin to get tough. Toss the tough stuff, and then put the greens into a big pan, with a few tabelspoons of olive oil. Start with a cold pan, and cook for a few minutes. NOW, add a bit of salt, and a quarter cup of water. Cover the pan, lower the heat, and leave it alone for ten minutes. The greens will darken, but hold their shape, and they will get lovely tender.
They are a perfect foil for the souffle pudding, but if you want, make them as a side vegetable dish, maybe putting a few drops of an acid of some kind: white vinegar, lemon juice, sumac, etc, into them.
This was our lunch today, so we ate big portions. Serve it forth as you will. For me, I could eat the whole dish myself. But I'm a big boned kinda gal.
Asparagus. Rhubarb. Greens. Yes, the market is beginning to bulge. If you have a friend who happens to grow strawberries, you may get some of those too. They're not "there" yet, but they are "here."
Many of the things that we are finding at the market now, are transient. REALLY transient. You can find them for a few weeks, and then they are gone, gone GONE, whereas others will be around for a while. By the end of June, at the latest, the local asparagus will be finished, so we're eating them just about every day now. Ramps are here, but not for much longer. I still wait for the fiddleheads. And... one of my favorite things has come in. Call it "spring" garlic, call it "young" garlic, call it "green" garlic, but just ask for it, and use it.
Green garlic, as I call it, is garlic that has not quite gone to cloves. It has a mild flavor. Not as mild as leeks, and not as strong as the garlic we are used to. It's distinct. And you should enjoy it, NOW.
As with many of my recipes, this is a variation on something I learned from studying the recipes out of Chez Panisse. They serve up , and present in recipe form, a dish that they call green garlic pudding souffle'. I studied that recipe this morning, and thought "I am NOT ready to commit to this for lunch." Also, it called for gruyere cheese, which I do not have in the house. But I DO have ricotta that is beginning to luck at me askance. So, a bit of thinking , and a readiness to sacrifice lightness for heft, and away we went.
Get yourself a few bunches of green garlic from the farmers market. You're going to want somewhere between 1/3 and 1/2 pound of it. Err on the side of buying more. You won't regret it. You will also need a pound of good quality ricotta (and as I've said before, this does not mean the stuff that ends with an "O" and you can get at the supermarket.). Four egggs. Some butter, and a bit of milk.
Yes, it's rich. But it's spring. The weather is warm. You're encouraged to take exercise. And in a few weeks, this will not be here.
So, get those green garlics, cut off the root ends, and then chop them roughly. You will want , ultimately, a scant cup or so of the chopped stuff. Saute' them, in a couple of tablespoons of butter, until they're soft. It will not take long. Try not to brown them, but if you do, it's far from the end of the world.
Put the garlic into a food processor with the ricotta, and the eggs, and a good pinch of salt. Whizz that to the point where the cheese is smooth, but you can still see bits of the garlic in there. Put it aside (incidentally, you can do this part of the dish hours before you eat. ). Now, get the whites from the 4 eggs, and whip them until you get soft peaks. What is a soft peak? Glad you asked Sue (I KNEW it was you). Lift the beater head, and watch the tip of the white . If it forms a curly cue, but falls over, that's soft peaks. Fold the cheese mixture into this (I have seen this step written a skazillion times as putting the whites into the eggs. I have not observed a difference in the order). Stir the stuff together, gently, until it's uniformly combined. Then, pour it into a buttered baking dish (you don't have to use a souffle' dish. I used an 8x8 glass baking pan and I was happy with it). Put that on a baking sheet, and get it into a preheated, 400 degree oven.
NOW, get a kettle and pour water (room temperature) onto the baking sheet, until it comes about an inch up the baking dish. Let the thing cook away for about 30 minutes.
This isn't going to rise much, because of the ricotta. But it will rise a bit, and it will firm up, without getting hard. Scoop it out and serve it in bowls, preferably with something like my smothered dandelion greens.
Glad you asked. Here's how you do it. Cut the dandelion greens from their stems, at the point where the stems begin to get tough. Toss the tough stuff, and then put the greens into a big pan, with a few tabelspoons of olive oil. Start with a cold pan, and cook for a few minutes. NOW, add a bit of salt, and a quarter cup of water. Cover the pan, lower the heat, and leave it alone for ten minutes. The greens will darken, but hold their shape, and they will get lovely tender.
They are a perfect foil for the souffle pudding, but if you want, make them as a side vegetable dish, maybe putting a few drops of an acid of some kind: white vinegar, lemon juice, sumac, etc, into them.
This was our lunch today, so we ate big portions. Serve it forth as you will. For me, I could eat the whole dish myself. But I'm a big boned kinda gal.
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