Ragazzi, at the start, do not be deluded into thinking that Annalena has not made flan before. No, no no. Indeed, there was a time in her life when she made it frequently. Why? That is lost to time. But as she made it this weekend, and at the request of Julie Greenhorn, she thought about adding it to the blog, and figured "Oh, it's there, somewhere..."
To paraphrase one of Annalena's favorite songs "WELL SHE ISN'T" (can any of my music trivia readers tell me where that's from?). Indeed, a surprise. Has it been five years since Annalena went Latina with her desserts? No, but flan was not one she made.
Now, let us begin by understanding that to talk about flan is to see passions flare. And Annalena has enough having to handle the passions that flare when she makes marinara sauce. Or uses heirloom beans instead of generic. Or uses a stick of butter instead of 6 tablespoons. So, with that in mind, and with the background that there are as many different approaches to flan as there are Iberians, let us begin.
Flan, as you probably know, is somewhat akin to caramel custard. Creme caramel, or whatever you want to call it. Asking Spaniards to distinguish the two is likely to get you a look along the lines of "How stupid are you?" Well... Annalena will not go there. There are versions that are flavored, versions that are done in large molds, versions that are done in small molds. Versions that have a dozen egg yolks in them, and versions that are done with cream, and only 4 eggs. There are versions done with milk, there are versions with honey. And as to the cooking. Oh, dear. There are stovetop flans. There are flans which use brown sugar, and flans which use burned honey. Heavens, it can make a lady crazy. BUT... cutting through all of that, Annalena is going to present her version for you, which is about as easy to make as can be. It also makes a deceptively light dessert which goes down very easily. Before you reach for that second helping, however, make sure you note these ingredients.
To begin, you need 3 cups of whole milk, and a cup of heavy cream. Mix this together in a bowl, together with four large eggs, and four additional egg yolks. Use a whisk, and beat to combine, but please do not be too aggressive here. One of the hallmarks of good flan, is the absence of air bubbles in the custard at the end. Beating too aggressively will defeat that purpose. Put that aside for now, because now we are going to make some caramel.
Have your baking containers ready. Annalena strongly recommends ramekins, and small ones too: ones that do not hold more than about half a cup. That means you will need at least 8. "At least 8," because when ramekins are described as holding 4 ounces, that means all the way up to the tippy top. You do not want to fill these to the tippy top, and your caramel is going to displace some volume too. So, have 10, or even 11 ready.
NOW, for caramel making, and again, an area of much contention. This is how Annalena makes hers. Get a heavy pot with high sides, and put 3/4 cup of white sugar in it (vanilla sugar, if you have it), and half that much water. Stir it together over low heat until it dissolves. THEN STOP. Many recipes tell you to keep stirring. DO NOT. Just lower the heat, and don't get your face to close to it, and watch it carefully. When the flan goes from light gold to a medium color gold, take the pot off the flame and swirl it, back and forth. The sugar is going to continue to heat, and darken before your eyes. Let it darken more than you think you want. There is no heat, so you won't burn it. Then, working quickly, pour as even and equal an amount of the caramel into as many of the ramekins as you can. You may get 8, you may get ten, or you may get more. Annalena got 8 with hers, and made three plain ones.
That caramel will harden almost immediately. Now, put the milk mixture into that very same pot, together with half a cup more of sugar. There is also caramel in the pot. At low heat, stir until the sugar has dissolved, and some of the caramel has melted, but no longer. Get a ladle to help you, and fill the ramekins. Not all the way to the top , but close.
Set your oven to preheat to 325, and also heat a pot or teapot of water. Don't worry about boiling, but get it hot. Then put the ramekins in a big container, say a 9x13 baking pan, and pour water to halfway up the sides. THis is going to be heavy, and it's going to be hot. So protect your hands, and then put it in the oven. Leave it alone for 30 minutes and check. It won't be done, but Annalena wants you to see what it looks like. Then continue to bake for fifteen minutes, and turn off the oven, leave the door opened, and let the stuff cool in there.
When they are cool enough to handle, take them out of the pan, and refrigerate them overnight.
When you're ready to eat, have a plate ready. Run the back of a knife around the perimeter of the ramekin, put the plate on top of it, and then flip the whole thing upside down. You will hear a very satisfying "plop" as the pudding comes out on the plate.
Annalena likes this with fruit salad, or a fruit puree of some kind. This time around, it was a mix of berries that were beginning to give her the stinkeye : rasp, black and blue. With some sweet wine and a bit more sugar.
It's not that hard, and this is one of those desserts which gets "oohs and ahhs" Must be something about puddings, one must surmise.
So, if you want to yell "OLE!" in the kitchen when you are finished, no one will think you are silly if they do not see you. And if they do, and do laugh at y ou.. no seconds for them.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Reuben reuben I've been thinking: what about a reuben casserole?
Ninety million years ago, when Annalena was in grammar school, occasionally we had what would pass for music instruction, with one of the most unpleasant humans in the world: Mr. Peters. UGH. I hated that class. And what we had to sing. Including a number, the lyrics of which are in the accompanying links
http://www.musiclegacy.com/Pages/reubenre.htm
Annalena remembered this song, unfortunately, when she read a recipe recently that was intriguing to say the least.
Now, before we head into this recipe, she should tell you that this one is far from the standard Annalena recipe. It is in fact a "recipe of all seasons," as there is absolutely nothing fresh in it. You can make it anytime of the year. It is NOT good for you. It has no redeeming values.
Except it tastes so goshdarn good. Annalena found this recipe, when looking through her Penzey's spices catalog. They publish recipes regularly. Most of them, Annalena just dispenses with as vehicles to use weird spice mixes. Others are very elementary, although she gives kudos for printing, with every issue, a recipe for saffron rice. Would that everyone made saffron rice once in a while.
But as usual, she digresses. This one struck home because it is a deconstruction, without saying so, of a classic reuben sandwich, one of Annalena's favorite forbidden foods. You know the Reuben, yes? Piled high- VERY high in the case of Carnegie Deli, with sauerkraut, corned beef, melted cheese, Russian dressing. Oh yes. So delicious. So bad for you. As one former friend once said "an embolism on a plate." The old adage "small portions" really doesn't work here. Annalena defies anyone to not try to finish a whole reuben sandwich, notwithstanding the consequences.
Well, what caught her eye, was the use of rye bread crumbs, for that very same issue had a recipe for rye bread, which yielded much more of a tasty rye loaf than Annalena and the Guyman could use. Hmmm.. And the farmers needed to be fed. And away we went.
It is good. It is VERY good. A warning: it is NOT cheap if you buy good stuff for it. It IS very easy. And you should make it, once in a while, as Annalena will. She does believe she found the first item for her New Year's repast.
Abbastanza. Let us get to our work. First, turn your oven to 350 and get yourself a 9x13 inch glass or ceramic baking dish. Pour out, and spread over that, two pounds of drained sauerkraut. Now, take a nice hefty tablespoon of caraway seeds, and sprinkle that over the sauerkraut. Next: two pounds of thinly sliced corned beef. (Next time, Annalena will use pastrami, or a mixture). You can rip this into small bits, and indeed, Annalena ripped up one pound into small bits, and then covered that, with thin slices. Now, the cheese. A full pound of Swiss, please, grated. If you had slices, presumably you could use that as well.
Good corned beef and good cheese are expensive. Console yourself with the fact that you are making a lot.
Now, the Russian dressing. This is not a staple of Annalena's kitchen, so she improvised, by taking 2 cups of mayonnaise (that is a full jar, ragazzi), and mixing it with 1/2 cup of ketchup. Spread this over the cheese. And, finally, you need the crumbs. DO NOT DO THIS WITH ANYTHING OTHER THAN RYE CRUMBS. Get some rye bread, toast it, and then pulse it in your food processor. You will be wanting a generous 2 cups or so. Do not worry about even crumbs. The oddities of texture make this more fun. Evenly pour that over the "Russian."
Now, get yourself a crane, and move that dish to the oven, for a good half hour. After about fifteen minutes, you will begin to get the wonderful smell that baked mayonnaise gives off. Then you will get melting cheese. And then, burning cheese, perhaps the greatest aphrodisiac the world has ever known. After half an hour, stop the cooking, get your crane and remove the casserole, and let it cool.
This fed a goodly portion to seven very hungry, hard working farmers. Those with less strenuous jobs, should in fact consider small portions. But as in Rome, where traffic signs are suggestions, not rules, so too here. If you wish to pig out, do so. Annalena will tell you her experience however. She took a tablespoon of it, and it was good, so she had a second. And a third. At that point the queeze factor took over in her belly and she had to stop. So keep this in mind.
Now, with this hefty killer recipe, you might think that our next project will be something light and delicate. Hardly. Next time, ragazzi, we are going to make... flan. Stay tuned
http://www.musiclegacy.com/Pages/reubenre.htm
Annalena remembered this song, unfortunately, when she read a recipe recently that was intriguing to say the least.
Now, before we head into this recipe, she should tell you that this one is far from the standard Annalena recipe. It is in fact a "recipe of all seasons," as there is absolutely nothing fresh in it. You can make it anytime of the year. It is NOT good for you. It has no redeeming values.
Except it tastes so goshdarn good. Annalena found this recipe, when looking through her Penzey's spices catalog. They publish recipes regularly. Most of them, Annalena just dispenses with as vehicles to use weird spice mixes. Others are very elementary, although she gives kudos for printing, with every issue, a recipe for saffron rice. Would that everyone made saffron rice once in a while.
But as usual, she digresses. This one struck home because it is a deconstruction, without saying so, of a classic reuben sandwich, one of Annalena's favorite forbidden foods. You know the Reuben, yes? Piled high- VERY high in the case of Carnegie Deli, with sauerkraut, corned beef, melted cheese, Russian dressing. Oh yes. So delicious. So bad for you. As one former friend once said "an embolism on a plate." The old adage "small portions" really doesn't work here. Annalena defies anyone to not try to finish a whole reuben sandwich, notwithstanding the consequences.
Well, what caught her eye, was the use of rye bread crumbs, for that very same issue had a recipe for rye bread, which yielded much more of a tasty rye loaf than Annalena and the Guyman could use. Hmmm.. And the farmers needed to be fed. And away we went.
It is good. It is VERY good. A warning: it is NOT cheap if you buy good stuff for it. It IS very easy. And you should make it, once in a while, as Annalena will. She does believe she found the first item for her New Year's repast.
Abbastanza. Let us get to our work. First, turn your oven to 350 and get yourself a 9x13 inch glass or ceramic baking dish. Pour out, and spread over that, two pounds of drained sauerkraut. Now, take a nice hefty tablespoon of caraway seeds, and sprinkle that over the sauerkraut. Next: two pounds of thinly sliced corned beef. (Next time, Annalena will use pastrami, or a mixture). You can rip this into small bits, and indeed, Annalena ripped up one pound into small bits, and then covered that, with thin slices. Now, the cheese. A full pound of Swiss, please, grated. If you had slices, presumably you could use that as well.
Good corned beef and good cheese are expensive. Console yourself with the fact that you are making a lot.
Now, the Russian dressing. This is not a staple of Annalena's kitchen, so she improvised, by taking 2 cups of mayonnaise (that is a full jar, ragazzi), and mixing it with 1/2 cup of ketchup. Spread this over the cheese. And, finally, you need the crumbs. DO NOT DO THIS WITH ANYTHING OTHER THAN RYE CRUMBS. Get some rye bread, toast it, and then pulse it in your food processor. You will be wanting a generous 2 cups or so. Do not worry about even crumbs. The oddities of texture make this more fun. Evenly pour that over the "Russian."
Now, get yourself a crane, and move that dish to the oven, for a good half hour. After about fifteen minutes, you will begin to get the wonderful smell that baked mayonnaise gives off. Then you will get melting cheese. And then, burning cheese, perhaps the greatest aphrodisiac the world has ever known. After half an hour, stop the cooking, get your crane and remove the casserole, and let it cool.
This fed a goodly portion to seven very hungry, hard working farmers. Those with less strenuous jobs, should in fact consider small portions. But as in Rome, where traffic signs are suggestions, not rules, so too here. If you wish to pig out, do so. Annalena will tell you her experience however. She took a tablespoon of it, and it was good, so she had a second. And a third. At that point the queeze factor took over in her belly and she had to stop. So keep this in mind.
Now, with this hefty killer recipe, you might think that our next project will be something light and delicate. Hardly. Next time, ragazzi, we are going to make... flan. Stay tuned
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Suck it up: fava bean and pecorino salad
Ragazzi, first of all, Annalena wants to share something with you that stunned her. She was checking to make sure that she had not posted this recipe before, lest she waste your time. So, in looking up her fava bean recipes, she found that her post, on fava bean soup: had been reviewed 210 TIMES!!!! OMG, ragazzi, there are so many of you out there who love fava beans as Annalena does. Notwithstanding what is probably the biggest issue, at least for Annalena, and probably for many of you, for fava beans: the waste.
Fava beans come in big, thick pods, that you cannot use for anything else. They go to c ompost. No making stock, the way you can with green pea pods. And then, after you get the beans out, they are coated with a membrane that is not edible (the only person who has ever seemed to make them in a way where the membrane is palatable, is the estimable Patti Jackson - Ms. Jackson if you're nasty). She would say "what's hard? You do this and this and this..." Well, Patti, not all of us have your talents. FEW of us have your talents.
So, when you are ready to make this recipe, Annalena is going to suggest you do the following: after you have shelled your fava beans (on quantities, below), put them in a pot and cover it with water. Then, bring the watear to the boil. No need to start with boiling water here, and no need to salt. And the reason for just coating them with water that way, is so that you do not waste any water. (Incidentally, if you wish to follow this practice with all vegetables, including those which go into boiling water, proceed the same way. Just cover the vegetables with water, drain the vegetables, and then proceed to bring the water to boil).
Ok, so when you have the beans in the water, bring them to a boil. While the water is coming to a boil, get a bowl with ice and water ready. A big one. And then let the water cook the favas, for two minutes, or at most three, if they are very large. Then, drain the beans, and put them into the ice water. Take them out, one at a time, and squirt them out of their skins. They will not hold together, and that will be fine . And it is not nearly as tedious as you think: after you get into a rhythm, it's fun
Well, maybe not, but the rewards are great. If you start with a pound of favas, ultimately, you will have a half to 2/3 cup of usable cooked favas when you're done. Keep that in mind. You will need a lot. Sometimes, farmers will give you a break if you ask, but bring a big bag with you, and do not plan on buying less than three pounds. (this dish, by the way, is much easier if you have a significant other who does not cook. You can have him or her do it. Also, you can stop, at any point along the way here. After you have shucked the beans, you can refrigerate them for a couple of days and then peel them. And after you peel them, you can refrigerate them again, for a couple of days.
When you are ready to complete the dish, get some FRESH pecorino cheese. Now, ragazzi, most of you know cheeses like pecorino romano, or pecorino fulvi. These are grating cheeses. They are aged, and they are wonderful. And they will not work in this recipe. "Pecorino" just means little sheep. NOT lamb, just a small sheep. So, get thee to a good cheese monger, or to the farmers market, and ask for young pecorino. Taste it. ASK for a taste. If the seller will nto give one, go elsewhere. You want something that is mild, but full flavored. Take a look at the average size of your favas, and cube the cheese, to small cubes about 1/3-1/2 the size of an average bean. You will want anywhere from a total of 1/2-3/4 of the volume of beans, of cheese. So, if you have 2 cups of favas, you will want 1-1.5 cups of cubed cheese. Put this all in a bowl, and stir together.
NOW, the fun. Add some salt and pepper. Go easy at first. Then add some of the best quality extra virgin olive oil to it, and taste. Get a spoon of both the cheese and beans. This is YOUR salad, so adjust. You may want, for example, to add some lemon juice. Perche non? You may want more black pepper. Annalena almost always does.
Restrain yourself. Annalena has a very hard time not eating the whole bowl of this stuff, she loves it so much.
You can serve this as a little salad, or put it in lettuce leaves, or best of all, put it on some toasted crostini breads. And then enjoy. And regret that you didn't make twice as much as you did. That's ok. You can make it again. And now, get some extra beans and freeze them, and make it in the winter, when you are craving that taste of freshness.
Fava bean lovers, unite. This one is for you. And most of all for our newest, Julie S. Welcome to the cult Ms. J.
Fava beans come in big, thick pods, that you cannot use for anything else. They go to c ompost. No making stock, the way you can with green pea pods. And then, after you get the beans out, they are coated with a membrane that is not edible (the only person who has ever seemed to make them in a way where the membrane is palatable, is the estimable Patti Jackson - Ms. Jackson if you're nasty). She would say "what's hard? You do this and this and this..." Well, Patti, not all of us have your talents. FEW of us have your talents.
So, when you are ready to make this recipe, Annalena is going to suggest you do the following: after you have shelled your fava beans (on quantities, below), put them in a pot and cover it with water. Then, bring the watear to the boil. No need to start with boiling water here, and no need to salt. And the reason for just coating them with water that way, is so that you do not waste any water. (Incidentally, if you wish to follow this practice with all vegetables, including those which go into boiling water, proceed the same way. Just cover the vegetables with water, drain the vegetables, and then proceed to bring the water to boil).
Ok, so when you have the beans in the water, bring them to a boil. While the water is coming to a boil, get a bowl with ice and water ready. A big one. And then let the water cook the favas, for two minutes, or at most three, if they are very large. Then, drain the beans, and put them into the ice water. Take them out, one at a time, and squirt them out of their skins. They will not hold together, and that will be fine . And it is not nearly as tedious as you think: after you get into a rhythm, it's fun
Well, maybe not, but the rewards are great. If you start with a pound of favas, ultimately, you will have a half to 2/3 cup of usable cooked favas when you're done. Keep that in mind. You will need a lot. Sometimes, farmers will give you a break if you ask, but bring a big bag with you, and do not plan on buying less than three pounds. (this dish, by the way, is much easier if you have a significant other who does not cook. You can have him or her do it. Also, you can stop, at any point along the way here. After you have shucked the beans, you can refrigerate them for a couple of days and then peel them. And after you peel them, you can refrigerate them again, for a couple of days.
When you are ready to complete the dish, get some FRESH pecorino cheese. Now, ragazzi, most of you know cheeses like pecorino romano, or pecorino fulvi. These are grating cheeses. They are aged, and they are wonderful. And they will not work in this recipe. "Pecorino" just means little sheep. NOT lamb, just a small sheep. So, get thee to a good cheese monger, or to the farmers market, and ask for young pecorino. Taste it. ASK for a taste. If the seller will nto give one, go elsewhere. You want something that is mild, but full flavored. Take a look at the average size of your favas, and cube the cheese, to small cubes about 1/3-1/2 the size of an average bean. You will want anywhere from a total of 1/2-3/4 of the volume of beans, of cheese. So, if you have 2 cups of favas, you will want 1-1.5 cups of cubed cheese. Put this all in a bowl, and stir together.
NOW, the fun. Add some salt and pepper. Go easy at first. Then add some of the best quality extra virgin olive oil to it, and taste. Get a spoon of both the cheese and beans. This is YOUR salad, so adjust. You may want, for example, to add some lemon juice. Perche non? You may want more black pepper. Annalena almost always does.
Restrain yourself. Annalena has a very hard time not eating the whole bowl of this stuff, she loves it so much.
You can serve this as a little salad, or put it in lettuce leaves, or best of all, put it on some toasted crostini breads. And then enjoy. And regret that you didn't make twice as much as you did. That's ok. You can make it again. And now, get some extra beans and freeze them, and make it in the winter, when you are craving that taste of freshness.
Fava bean lovers, unite. This one is for you. And most of all for our newest, Julie S. Welcome to the cult Ms. J.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Being a Jadrool can be a good thing: green cucumber sauce for fish
When Annalena was much younger - yes, centuries ago - one of the ways we would insult each other, would be to call each other "jadrools." Annalena never knew what this meant, but she knew it was a BAD thing. A funny thing. Interestingly, it was almost always men calling men jadrools. Sometimes, a woman - you know, of "that kind" , would call a man the word, but ladies NEVER used it on each other. Interesting, don't you think, especially ...
since jadrool is a southern Italian dialectical word for cedriolo - a cucumber. Indeed, it was an insult to call someone a cucumber - it did NOT mean he was endowed; rather, it meant he was essentially an empty, stupid worthless person. And that is the reputation of cucumbers, at least amongst nutritionists. There are , apparently, no nutrients in cucumbers - NONE. They ARE low in calories, but for many people, eating cucumbers is akin to eating beans, or cabbage or , well. you get the idea.
Fact is, however, we LIKE cucumbers. People eat them all the time. Annalena fears that mostly they are eaten as dip carriers, or as pickles, but maybe there are those of you out there, who will say "I LOVE cucumbers. I eat them all the time." Indeed, Annalena does. She tries to eat her other, "better" vegetables and save the cucumbers for garnishes and salads (anyone who is eating green salad for nutrients should look elsewhere), but she LOVES her cucumbers. They do seem to have a residual "coolness" about them. You have, of course, heard "cool as a cucumber?" And out of American cooking culture, cucumbers are used in cooked form, be they cold or hot. Annalena remembers an amazing dish of cold jelly fish and cucumbers with peppers and peanuts, from her Asian studies days, and also, most recently, an amazing cold cucumber soup at Hearth, which almost brought her to her knees . ALMOST.
And add to that something her buddy Justin made for her at Il buco Alimentari: a crudo (which is essentially Italian sashimi) of yellowfin tuna, and a cold cucumber sauce. It was amazing.
And not being one to leave things alone, Annalena decided to make her own cucumber sauce, for her own tuna. It is good. No, ragazzi, it is VERY good. And while Annalena used it on grilled tuna, if you are partial to salmon (Annalena is not), get yourself some wild fish (copper river salmon has JUST come into season), poach it, or roast it, and serve it cold, with this sauce (cold, because here in NY, we are having a heat index of about 100, and Annalena is ready to melt like her sister the Wicked Witch of the West).
This recipe is, ultimately, a lesson in how to improvise. Annalena had a "taste" in her mouth, and went about creating it. You can and should be doing the same thing.
Let us begin. Let's start with 7-8 kirby cucumbers. Cut them into rough pieces, because you're going to blend them. Have ready a quarter cup of water, and a small handful of herbs.
Why is Annalena not specifying the herbs? Because she wants you to improvise. When you design your own recipe, think of the taste of your main ingredient (and if you don't know the taste of that ingredient, you really should be making something else). Now, think what would go well with it. To Annalena, cucumbers bring up thoughts of mint, lemon, dill, and tarragon. Also lemon and lime, and ginger. So, she went to her rooftop garden and picked a few leaves each of lemon verbena , peppermint, dill, and tarragon. There were probably not more than 1/4 cup of herbs. This all went into the blender, with the cucumbers and the water, and pureed, until there was a smooth, beautiful pale green sauce in that container. A taste revealed: SALT. DESPERATELY IN NEED OF SALT. So , in it went.
Something was still missing. Go back: lemon, lime, ginger. Well, lemon was there in the form of the lemon verbena, but ginger? Hmmmm. Annalena had a jar of pickled ginger from her favorite fancy food store, and rather than used the ginger itself (which she began to eat as she went along), she poured some of the liquid into the blender. If you are not fortunate enough to "happen to have" pickled ginger in the house, then put in a coin or two of fresh ginger, peeled, and process it again. And again, taste.
At this point, it was fine for Annalena's purpose, which was to pour on a one minute grilled tuna steak. But if you're looking for a different flavor, please go and add , subtract or substitute.
It's very pretty, and if you go back and read things: no fat, and essentially, nothing with calories. So use a lot of it. Use a lot of it because this sauce will not keep well, and certainly will not keep the pretty green color.
When you make it the first time, you will probably want to make it again, especially if you favor salmon. Green and pink remind Annalena of spring. And when we're feeling 100 degrees of temperature, and humidity, and wanting to change clothes every three hours, what could be nicer, or cooler, than to think of early spring?
since jadrool is a southern Italian dialectical word for cedriolo - a cucumber. Indeed, it was an insult to call someone a cucumber - it did NOT mean he was endowed; rather, it meant he was essentially an empty, stupid worthless person. And that is the reputation of cucumbers, at least amongst nutritionists. There are , apparently, no nutrients in cucumbers - NONE. They ARE low in calories, but for many people, eating cucumbers is akin to eating beans, or cabbage or , well. you get the idea.
Fact is, however, we LIKE cucumbers. People eat them all the time. Annalena fears that mostly they are eaten as dip carriers, or as pickles, but maybe there are those of you out there, who will say "I LOVE cucumbers. I eat them all the time." Indeed, Annalena does. She tries to eat her other, "better" vegetables and save the cucumbers for garnishes and salads (anyone who is eating green salad for nutrients should look elsewhere), but she LOVES her cucumbers. They do seem to have a residual "coolness" about them. You have, of course, heard "cool as a cucumber?" And out of American cooking culture, cucumbers are used in cooked form, be they cold or hot. Annalena remembers an amazing dish of cold jelly fish and cucumbers with peppers and peanuts, from her Asian studies days, and also, most recently, an amazing cold cucumber soup at Hearth, which almost brought her to her knees . ALMOST.
And add to that something her buddy Justin made for her at Il buco Alimentari: a crudo (which is essentially Italian sashimi) of yellowfin tuna, and a cold cucumber sauce. It was amazing.
And not being one to leave things alone, Annalena decided to make her own cucumber sauce, for her own tuna. It is good. No, ragazzi, it is VERY good. And while Annalena used it on grilled tuna, if you are partial to salmon (Annalena is not), get yourself some wild fish (copper river salmon has JUST come into season), poach it, or roast it, and serve it cold, with this sauce (cold, because here in NY, we are having a heat index of about 100, and Annalena is ready to melt like her sister the Wicked Witch of the West).
This recipe is, ultimately, a lesson in how to improvise. Annalena had a "taste" in her mouth, and went about creating it. You can and should be doing the same thing.
Let us begin. Let's start with 7-8 kirby cucumbers. Cut them into rough pieces, because you're going to blend them. Have ready a quarter cup of water, and a small handful of herbs.
Why is Annalena not specifying the herbs? Because she wants you to improvise. When you design your own recipe, think of the taste of your main ingredient (and if you don't know the taste of that ingredient, you really should be making something else). Now, think what would go well with it. To Annalena, cucumbers bring up thoughts of mint, lemon, dill, and tarragon. Also lemon and lime, and ginger. So, she went to her rooftop garden and picked a few leaves each of lemon verbena , peppermint, dill, and tarragon. There were probably not more than 1/4 cup of herbs. This all went into the blender, with the cucumbers and the water, and pureed, until there was a smooth, beautiful pale green sauce in that container. A taste revealed: SALT. DESPERATELY IN NEED OF SALT. So , in it went.
Something was still missing. Go back: lemon, lime, ginger. Well, lemon was there in the form of the lemon verbena, but ginger? Hmmmm. Annalena had a jar of pickled ginger from her favorite fancy food store, and rather than used the ginger itself (which she began to eat as she went along), she poured some of the liquid into the blender. If you are not fortunate enough to "happen to have" pickled ginger in the house, then put in a coin or two of fresh ginger, peeled, and process it again. And again, taste.
At this point, it was fine for Annalena's purpose, which was to pour on a one minute grilled tuna steak. But if you're looking for a different flavor, please go and add , subtract or substitute.
It's very pretty, and if you go back and read things: no fat, and essentially, nothing with calories. So use a lot of it. Use a lot of it because this sauce will not keep well, and certainly will not keep the pretty green color.
When you make it the first time, you will probably want to make it again, especially if you favor salmon. Green and pink remind Annalena of spring. And when we're feeling 100 degrees of temperature, and humidity, and wanting to change clothes every three hours, what could be nicer, or cooler, than to think of early spring?
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Keeping her promise: a rollatini/parmesan hybrid
Ragazzi, yesterday Annalena taught you how to make a tasty vegetable and olive oil based tomato sauce. At the end of it, you had two quarts of it. And you may be wondering "what am I gonna do with all of this sauce.?" Well, Annalena is here to the rescue. And yes, you are welcome.
Eggplant season has started and Annalena is hitching up her crinolines and dancing. She LOVES eggplant. Does anyone else besides Annalena remember "The Eggplant Song" by Michael Franks?" Here they are ragazzi:
http://www.elyrics.net/read/m/michael-franks-lyrics/eggplant-lyrics.html
And DO go to youtube and listen. Well, Annalena is sort of like that woman with the Giocanda kind of look. And she does make her eggplant AT LEAST 19 different ways, but never raw with mayonnaise.
This recipe came out of necessity, the way most recipes do. Annalena had bought three medium sized eggplants from the farmers market, and did not want to lose them (the way she did her first two). So she looked in her fridge for what she had. Yes, all the ingredients for a classic parmagiana, but that is not where Annalena wanted to go with this recipe. See, she wanted a lighter dish (she didn't get one, but oh well), because after a vigorous struggle, Annalena is losing weight again. Also, expediency ruled here: in the refrigerator was a pound of sheeps milk ricotta from dancing ewe farms, which was a week old, and threatennig to go bad. When you pay 15.00 for a pound of ricotta, you do not eliminate it easily.
Eggplant rollatini has ricotta in it, but truth to be told, Annalena has never had a rollatini that she found satisfying. So, she combined the elements of rollatini, and parmagiana, to make what she thinks is a brand new dish. Shall we call it "melanzana allo stilo Annalena?" Let's.
So, you have a quart of your sauce from the prior recipe. Now, we make a custard of a pound of good quality ricotta (and again, Annalena will smite you if you are using the stuff that ends in an -O). Add to that two large eggs, a handful of torn basil leaves, any other herbs you may find of interest, and a hefty teaspoon of salt. Taste it, and if it needs salt, add more.
Now, let us address the eggplants. You do not need to peel these, but you do need to cut the stem end away. Then, make LONG cuts of thin slices of eggplant. You will want about 5-6 from each vegetable, but worry not if you get less. Preheat your oven to 400, and when that is happening, brush baking sheets lightly with olive oil, and then each slice of eggplant - even the inevitable, little tiny ones that have skin on them from the end. Put them in the oven and roast, for about 10-15 minutes. If you remember to turn them, fine, if not, no big deal. They will shrink, and you will be able to gather all of them on one baking sheet - you will probably need two to start.
Let us begin constructing the dish. Put some tomato sauce on the bottom of a 9x13 inch pan - ceramic or glass please (NEVER use metal with tomato. The acid and the metal react to give a bad taste, and probably create toxins). Now, put down a layer of eggplant slices. They do not need to overlap, and try to use half of what you have, covering as much surface as you can.
Now, pour and spread that ricotta mixture over the slices. It will be wet, and will pour very easily. Then, cover it with the eggplant slices which remain. Cover those slices with more sauce, and then slice mozzarella over the sauce.
Put the whole pan in the oven, uncovered, for about 45 minutes. The cheese will melt and bubble, and the dish will appear very, VERY liquid. Worry not. The eggs, as they cool, will bind up the dish very well.
You have noticed there is no parmesan in the dish? True, because you should put that on before you warm it up and serve it, because parmesan burns if it is heated too much.
Not too difficult, huh? You will want pasta with this dish. Perhaps something with pesto? Or, as some would, with leftover sauce. However you slice it, it is a dish for mid summer through the fall. Annalena commends you to making her namesake dish
Eggplant season has started and Annalena is hitching up her crinolines and dancing. She LOVES eggplant. Does anyone else besides Annalena remember "The Eggplant Song" by Michael Franks?" Here they are ragazzi:
http://www.elyrics.net/read/m/michael-franks-lyrics/eggplant-lyrics.html
And DO go to youtube and listen. Well, Annalena is sort of like that woman with the Giocanda kind of look. And she does make her eggplant AT LEAST 19 different ways, but never raw with mayonnaise.
This recipe came out of necessity, the way most recipes do. Annalena had bought three medium sized eggplants from the farmers market, and did not want to lose them (the way she did her first two). So she looked in her fridge for what she had. Yes, all the ingredients for a classic parmagiana, but that is not where Annalena wanted to go with this recipe. See, she wanted a lighter dish (she didn't get one, but oh well), because after a vigorous struggle, Annalena is losing weight again. Also, expediency ruled here: in the refrigerator was a pound of sheeps milk ricotta from dancing ewe farms, which was a week old, and threatennig to go bad. When you pay 15.00 for a pound of ricotta, you do not eliminate it easily.
Eggplant rollatini has ricotta in it, but truth to be told, Annalena has never had a rollatini that she found satisfying. So, she combined the elements of rollatini, and parmagiana, to make what she thinks is a brand new dish. Shall we call it "melanzana allo stilo Annalena?" Let's.
So, you have a quart of your sauce from the prior recipe. Now, we make a custard of a pound of good quality ricotta (and again, Annalena will smite you if you are using the stuff that ends in an -O). Add to that two large eggs, a handful of torn basil leaves, any other herbs you may find of interest, and a hefty teaspoon of salt. Taste it, and if it needs salt, add more.
Now, let us address the eggplants. You do not need to peel these, but you do need to cut the stem end away. Then, make LONG cuts of thin slices of eggplant. You will want about 5-6 from each vegetable, but worry not if you get less. Preheat your oven to 400, and when that is happening, brush baking sheets lightly with olive oil, and then each slice of eggplant - even the inevitable, little tiny ones that have skin on them from the end. Put them in the oven and roast, for about 10-15 minutes. If you remember to turn them, fine, if not, no big deal. They will shrink, and you will be able to gather all of them on one baking sheet - you will probably need two to start.
Let us begin constructing the dish. Put some tomato sauce on the bottom of a 9x13 inch pan - ceramic or glass please (NEVER use metal with tomato. The acid and the metal react to give a bad taste, and probably create toxins). Now, put down a layer of eggplant slices. They do not need to overlap, and try to use half of what you have, covering as much surface as you can.
Now, pour and spread that ricotta mixture over the slices. It will be wet, and will pour very easily. Then, cover it with the eggplant slices which remain. Cover those slices with more sauce, and then slice mozzarella over the sauce.
Put the whole pan in the oven, uncovered, for about 45 minutes. The cheese will melt and bubble, and the dish will appear very, VERY liquid. Worry not. The eggs, as they cool, will bind up the dish very well.
You have noticed there is no parmesan in the dish? True, because you should put that on before you warm it up and serve it, because parmesan burns if it is heated too much.
Not too difficult, huh? You will want pasta with this dish. Perhaps something with pesto? Or, as some would, with leftover sauce. However you slice it, it is a dish for mid summer through the fall. Annalena commends you to making her namesake dish
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Tomato sauce a second way: olive oil and vegetables
Ragazzi, Annalena truly does not like to start her posts this way, but alas, here it is.
Those of you who read comments on this blog, will see the excision of several, over Annalena's last post on tomato sauce. That post dealt with a sauce that did involve, without question, much butter. It is as the recipe is written, and it is a good recipe. Nonetheless, there are some who must take issue, period.
Here is Annalena's position on this: if you do not care for the recipe, do not make it. If you care for the recipe somewhat, but wish to make it differently, then do so. Annalena posts the recipes as she made them, because they worked, and she liked them. Those are the guidelines here. Do not criticize the cook because you do not like the ingredient.
And these comments are relevant here, because there are some who will see this and say "AH. A healthy sauce. OLIVE OIL" Well, ragazzi, facts are facts, and calories are calories. Olive oil has as many calories as butter. It does NOT have cholesterol, but if you are in a situation where you should be lowering your cholesterol, then you should not be having butter in your sauce, period. This recipe has every bit as many calories as the butter based sauce. Is it as good? Yes, but in a different way. Think of it this way: you would use the first one, where you would use butter. You would use this one, where you would use olive oil. As she writes, Annalena is using half of the recipe to make a baked eggplant casserole (of which you will hear more in due course). For now, though, let us go to the sauce, which is a modification of a recipe published by the wonderful Marcella Hazan.
Let us start with two cans of crushed tomatoes. Or, two cans of tomatoes which you crush with your hands. As always, 28 ounces, or 32 ounces, is not of relevance. Put them in a pot and then add a cup, each of chopped celery, onions, and carrots. You may eyeball this, and you may save time, as Annalena did, by putting the vegetables, in chunks, into a food processor, and pulsing.
Now, you're ready to start the sauce, after you add a tablespoon of salt.
You read this correctly. Time to begin. Remember that making a tomato sauce, is making a reduction. That is all it is. If you want a wetter sauce, as Annalena did here, use a pot that is more narrow and tall, then wide and short. And vice versa. If you have the heat disperser, use it. If not, keep your heat very low, such that the mixture of tomato and vegetables barely breaks a bubble, and when it does, set a timer for 30 minutes to simmer away. Stir it every now and then.
After thirty minutes, pour in 2/3 cup - yes, 6 ounces or so - of extra virgin olive oil. Use the best you have, because the olive oil taste will be prominent, in a dish where it does not cook long. Increase the heat a bit and cook for fifteen minutes. Again, stir every few minutes. As you reach the end of the time, if you like (and at this time of year, you SHOULD like), add some fresh herbs. Annalena added fresh oregano, and at the very end, fresh basil.
And in 45 minutes, you have 2 quarts of sauce. Now, you can leave this as it is, and have a nice, chunky sauce where the vegetables are evident, or, as Annalena did, puree it to smoothness. In the former case, the color of the sauce is red. In the latter, brick orange. It is, of course, your call. As it always is.
Next up: we use the sauce, to make a lighter version of a pseudo eggplant parmagiana
Those of you who read comments on this blog, will see the excision of several, over Annalena's last post on tomato sauce. That post dealt with a sauce that did involve, without question, much butter. It is as the recipe is written, and it is a good recipe. Nonetheless, there are some who must take issue, period.
Here is Annalena's position on this: if you do not care for the recipe, do not make it. If you care for the recipe somewhat, but wish to make it differently, then do so. Annalena posts the recipes as she made them, because they worked, and she liked them. Those are the guidelines here. Do not criticize the cook because you do not like the ingredient.
And these comments are relevant here, because there are some who will see this and say "AH. A healthy sauce. OLIVE OIL" Well, ragazzi, facts are facts, and calories are calories. Olive oil has as many calories as butter. It does NOT have cholesterol, but if you are in a situation where you should be lowering your cholesterol, then you should not be having butter in your sauce, period. This recipe has every bit as many calories as the butter based sauce. Is it as good? Yes, but in a different way. Think of it this way: you would use the first one, where you would use butter. You would use this one, where you would use olive oil. As she writes, Annalena is using half of the recipe to make a baked eggplant casserole (of which you will hear more in due course). For now, though, let us go to the sauce, which is a modification of a recipe published by the wonderful Marcella Hazan.
Let us start with two cans of crushed tomatoes. Or, two cans of tomatoes which you crush with your hands. As always, 28 ounces, or 32 ounces, is not of relevance. Put them in a pot and then add a cup, each of chopped celery, onions, and carrots. You may eyeball this, and you may save time, as Annalena did, by putting the vegetables, in chunks, into a food processor, and pulsing.
Now, you're ready to start the sauce, after you add a tablespoon of salt.
You read this correctly. Time to begin. Remember that making a tomato sauce, is making a reduction. That is all it is. If you want a wetter sauce, as Annalena did here, use a pot that is more narrow and tall, then wide and short. And vice versa. If you have the heat disperser, use it. If not, keep your heat very low, such that the mixture of tomato and vegetables barely breaks a bubble, and when it does, set a timer for 30 minutes to simmer away. Stir it every now and then.
After thirty minutes, pour in 2/3 cup - yes, 6 ounces or so - of extra virgin olive oil. Use the best you have, because the olive oil taste will be prominent, in a dish where it does not cook long. Increase the heat a bit and cook for fifteen minutes. Again, stir every few minutes. As you reach the end of the time, if you like (and at this time of year, you SHOULD like), add some fresh herbs. Annalena added fresh oregano, and at the very end, fresh basil.
And in 45 minutes, you have 2 quarts of sauce. Now, you can leave this as it is, and have a nice, chunky sauce where the vegetables are evident, or, as Annalena did, puree it to smoothness. In the former case, the color of the sauce is red. In the latter, brick orange. It is, of course, your call. As it always is.
Next up: we use the sauce, to make a lighter version of a pseudo eggplant parmagiana
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Catching up on ketchup
Ragazzi, by now you know Annalena's rule when it comes to staples: if she can make it better than she can buy it, she'll make it. If she can make it better, but it's close, and the work is ridiculous, she'll buy it. That is why she makes bread, but buys pasta, makes mayonnaise when the mayonnaise is really important (like in vitello tonnato), but buys it for turkey sandwiches, and makes her own salad dressing, but buys jam.
With mustard, Annalena makes her own grainy mustard, but smooth mustard is too difficult in the home kitchen. We are not a household that uses a lot of ketchup, but we do use it. When we do, we almost always use June Taylor's wonderful wickedly expensive organic stuff. It's worth every penny of the 18.00 a bottle or so that it costs.
Why would you want to make your own ketchup? Well, as the recipe Annalena studied this week will tell you, look at the ingredients. Corn syrup. Do we need to go further? In truth, you cannot make ketchup without sugar, but... and then there are the preservatives. How do you think ketchup stays on those shelves so long. And was anyone else as revolted as Annalena was, when we went to green and purple ketchup and they were best selling items? OH DEAR.
So when Annalena saw a recipe for homemade ketchup, she decided to give it a try. Know what? You should make this at least once. Annalena bets that if you make it, you will probably do it again. It is easy. You will feel accomplished. And, when you figure out the cost, you will never argue about good quality, organic condiments again. Three cups of ketchup cost Annalena about 13.00 to make. It is worth it, but when you can buy a bottle of the stuff for a dollar, you really have to wonder....
OK, here we go. You start with tomatoes. The little ones, and the ripest, reddest ones you can find. Organic? Sure, if you can find them, but you're going to need two quarts and the local ones are already 5.00 a quart, without organic certification. Up to you. Cut them in half, lengthwise (this will take you about ten minute), and toss them in a cold skillet - a BIG, wide one - with two cups of red wine vinegar (DON'T use white), and 3/4 cup of brown sugar. Dark is bettter, light is good. Stir this all together. Add four teaspoons (that is a teaspoon and a tablespoon) of salt, and two teaspoons of black pepper, freshly ground. Stir together well, and turn the heat to medium high. Not too high, but just a bit over medium. Stick around, but now, really, you don't have to do anything, except maybe stir it once in a while.
Eventually, the liquid will begin to evaporate out. If you have made risotto, you know the effect Annalena is looking for , when she says "draw a line down the middle and see how fast or slowthe stuff takes to fill the line." When you get there, you can take it off the heat. (Annalena's recipe said 25 minutes. It was more like 40).
Now, when you look at this, you will not be encouraged. You will have floating bits of tomato skin, seeds, and what looks like curdled tomato sauce. Persevere, dump it in a food processor, and churn it. Take a look, and churn it again, until it's nice and smooth. It will be thick: somewhere in between tomato sauce and tomato paste. Taste it. If you are so inclined, stir in some worcester sauce (Annalena was not so inclined).
You will get about three generous cups out of this. Fat free, vegan, and really, very very good. And when you think about it, how much ketchup do you REALLY use? This will last you for awhile. Or share it with a friend who is less adventursome than you are. Have your friend make the pickles maybe, and swap.
With mustard, Annalena makes her own grainy mustard, but smooth mustard is too difficult in the home kitchen. We are not a household that uses a lot of ketchup, but we do use it. When we do, we almost always use June Taylor's wonderful wickedly expensive organic stuff. It's worth every penny of the 18.00 a bottle or so that it costs.
Why would you want to make your own ketchup? Well, as the recipe Annalena studied this week will tell you, look at the ingredients. Corn syrup. Do we need to go further? In truth, you cannot make ketchup without sugar, but... and then there are the preservatives. How do you think ketchup stays on those shelves so long. And was anyone else as revolted as Annalena was, when we went to green and purple ketchup and they were best selling items? OH DEAR.
So when Annalena saw a recipe for homemade ketchup, she decided to give it a try. Know what? You should make this at least once. Annalena bets that if you make it, you will probably do it again. It is easy. You will feel accomplished. And, when you figure out the cost, you will never argue about good quality, organic condiments again. Three cups of ketchup cost Annalena about 13.00 to make. It is worth it, but when you can buy a bottle of the stuff for a dollar, you really have to wonder....
OK, here we go. You start with tomatoes. The little ones, and the ripest, reddest ones you can find. Organic? Sure, if you can find them, but you're going to need two quarts and the local ones are already 5.00 a quart, without organic certification. Up to you. Cut them in half, lengthwise (this will take you about ten minute), and toss them in a cold skillet - a BIG, wide one - with two cups of red wine vinegar (DON'T use white), and 3/4 cup of brown sugar. Dark is bettter, light is good. Stir this all together. Add four teaspoons (that is a teaspoon and a tablespoon) of salt, and two teaspoons of black pepper, freshly ground. Stir together well, and turn the heat to medium high. Not too high, but just a bit over medium. Stick around, but now, really, you don't have to do anything, except maybe stir it once in a while.
Eventually, the liquid will begin to evaporate out. If you have made risotto, you know the effect Annalena is looking for , when she says "draw a line down the middle and see how fast or slowthe stuff takes to fill the line." When you get there, you can take it off the heat. (Annalena's recipe said 25 minutes. It was more like 40).
Now, when you look at this, you will not be encouraged. You will have floating bits of tomato skin, seeds, and what looks like curdled tomato sauce. Persevere, dump it in a food processor, and churn it. Take a look, and churn it again, until it's nice and smooth. It will be thick: somewhere in between tomato sauce and tomato paste. Taste it. If you are so inclined, stir in some worcester sauce (Annalena was not so inclined).
You will get about three generous cups out of this. Fat free, vegan, and really, very very good. And when you think about it, how much ketchup do you REALLY use? This will last you for awhile. Or share it with a friend who is less adventursome than you are. Have your friend make the pickles maybe, and swap.
Condimania: pickled cabbage
Ragazzi, Annalena loves her pickles. The more sour, the better (which may explain her disposition somewhat). And while, every now and then, Annalena does in fact make a batch of storage cucumber pickles, the facts of living in a New York apartment are such that storing pickles, is not really an option. Of course, the fact that there is only the Guyman (who is NOT a picklepuss) and Annalena factors into this. Either we make gifts of large batches of pickles, or we buy what is frequently, well, unsatisfactory.
Annalena's thoughts turned to pickles this week, because she had picked up a lovely speciment of spitzkohl at her Farmer's Market. Now, for those of you who are less than conversant with the German language, "spitzkohl" means, literally, pointed , or spiked, cabbage. A link to a picture follows:
http://de.fotolia.com/id/9796084
Annalena is told that this type of cabbage was once predominant in southern Germany, but has essentially disappeared. Pennsylvania Dutch (who are not Dutch), grow it in the United States, and it is perhaps not surprising that Annalena found it at a farm from Pennsylvania. Our grower had tried it this year, for the first time. And in one of those glorious conminglings that is only HERE, the farmer is from Syria, living in Pennsylvania Dutch country, selling vegetables in New York, to an italian american.
Well, Annalena was intrigued.
OK, so the spitzkohl was sitting in the fridge, giving Annalena dirty looks in the way only German vegetables can (don't ask). Annalena's thinking was then, thus: she loves Chinese pickled cabbage, and we were having Asian vegan dumplings for lunch (again, don't ask). Why not turn the German vegetable into a Chinese pickle?
Mulitculturalism comes easily, if you don't try. And Annalena has a wonderful easy recipe for you, adopted from the much overlooked "The Art of Simple Food" by the goddess, Alice Waters.
What is wonderful about this cookbook, is that it assumes you are an adult, and that you can, and will modify the recipes. As Annalena did here. The book has a great recipe for what Annalena's fratellino, il gattopardo would call "refrigerator pickles" that can be adapted to any vegetable (it is, ahem "versatile"). And Annalena did so.
As noted, this was done with a spitzkohl, but use whatever cabbage you have. If you use red cabbage, however, Annalena suggests that you stick with the white vinegars, rather than doing a color combination. She thinks the flavor would be too strong.
This is also ridiculously easy to make. You should have a jar of some kind of these "sottoaceti" in your fridge, at all times.
For the cabbage, slice your vegetable finely, to get about 8-10 cups of raw veggies (relax. it will shrink). Put this aside while you prepare the pickle brine.
Simplicity itself. 1.5 cups of white vinegar (Annalena used apple cider. Wine or champagne would be good too), mixed with an equal amount of water. 2.5 tablespoons of sugar (do not omit this). That is what is required. Now, for the spices. You should play with what "sounds" or "feels" good to you; however, as 'pardo would say "without coriander seeds it ain't pickles." So put half a teaspoon or so in the liquid for Pardo and Annalena. For this recipe, she used a bay leaf, a few sprigs of thyme from the rooftop garden, and some "crown dill" . "Crown dill" is the yellow efflorescence of the dill plant. It looks something like a green and yellow flower. Among Swedes, this is THE herb to use. If you do not have it, then use plain chopped dill. Also a couple of cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced, and a pinch of salt, bordering on half a teaspoon.
Ms. Waters recommends cloves and a hot pepper. Annalena did not use these, but for cabbage would say yea to the pepper and nix to the cloves. Caraway seeds, perhaps.
So you bring this pot to a boil, and then you pour it over the vegetables. Push them down to make sure they are covered, put a lid on the bowl, and go away. Let it cool to room temperature.
The day you make these, they will be good. After you stuff them into a jar (they will fill a quart jar), cover them with the brine, and let them sit in the fridge overnight, they are transformative, and you will wonder how you lived without them.
No fat in this ragazzi.
So please, do this for Annalena. Other leafy or soft vegetables, thin ones like onion slices, cucumber slices, etc, can be done the same way. If you want to know about thicker heavier ones ASK HER. It is not hard.
And next time, continuing condimania, we are going to make ketchup . Or catsup. Aren't you thrilled? Are you not on the edge of your seat?
MUAh.
Annalena's thoughts turned to pickles this week, because she had picked up a lovely speciment of spitzkohl at her Farmer's Market. Now, for those of you who are less than conversant with the German language, "spitzkohl" means, literally, pointed , or spiked, cabbage. A link to a picture follows:
http://de.fotolia.com/id/9796084
Annalena is told that this type of cabbage was once predominant in southern Germany, but has essentially disappeared. Pennsylvania Dutch (who are not Dutch), grow it in the United States, and it is perhaps not surprising that Annalena found it at a farm from Pennsylvania. Our grower had tried it this year, for the first time. And in one of those glorious conminglings that is only HERE, the farmer is from Syria, living in Pennsylvania Dutch country, selling vegetables in New York, to an italian american.
Well, Annalena was intrigued.
OK, so the spitzkohl was sitting in the fridge, giving Annalena dirty looks in the way only German vegetables can (don't ask). Annalena's thinking was then, thus: she loves Chinese pickled cabbage, and we were having Asian vegan dumplings for lunch (again, don't ask). Why not turn the German vegetable into a Chinese pickle?
Mulitculturalism comes easily, if you don't try. And Annalena has a wonderful easy recipe for you, adopted from the much overlooked "The Art of Simple Food" by the goddess, Alice Waters.
What is wonderful about this cookbook, is that it assumes you are an adult, and that you can, and will modify the recipes. As Annalena did here. The book has a great recipe for what Annalena's fratellino, il gattopardo would call "refrigerator pickles" that can be adapted to any vegetable (it is, ahem "versatile"). And Annalena did so.
As noted, this was done with a spitzkohl, but use whatever cabbage you have. If you use red cabbage, however, Annalena suggests that you stick with the white vinegars, rather than doing a color combination. She thinks the flavor would be too strong.
This is also ridiculously easy to make. You should have a jar of some kind of these "sottoaceti" in your fridge, at all times.
For the cabbage, slice your vegetable finely, to get about 8-10 cups of raw veggies (relax. it will shrink). Put this aside while you prepare the pickle brine.
Simplicity itself. 1.5 cups of white vinegar (Annalena used apple cider. Wine or champagne would be good too), mixed with an equal amount of water. 2.5 tablespoons of sugar (do not omit this). That is what is required. Now, for the spices. You should play with what "sounds" or "feels" good to you; however, as 'pardo would say "without coriander seeds it ain't pickles." So put half a teaspoon or so in the liquid for Pardo and Annalena. For this recipe, she used a bay leaf, a few sprigs of thyme from the rooftop garden, and some "crown dill" . "Crown dill" is the yellow efflorescence of the dill plant. It looks something like a green and yellow flower. Among Swedes, this is THE herb to use. If you do not have it, then use plain chopped dill. Also a couple of cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced, and a pinch of salt, bordering on half a teaspoon.
Ms. Waters recommends cloves and a hot pepper. Annalena did not use these, but for cabbage would say yea to the pepper and nix to the cloves. Caraway seeds, perhaps.
So you bring this pot to a boil, and then you pour it over the vegetables. Push them down to make sure they are covered, put a lid on the bowl, and go away. Let it cool to room temperature.
The day you make these, they will be good. After you stuff them into a jar (they will fill a quart jar), cover them with the brine, and let them sit in the fridge overnight, they are transformative, and you will wonder how you lived without them.
No fat in this ragazzi.
So please, do this for Annalena. Other leafy or soft vegetables, thin ones like onion slices, cucumber slices, etc, can be done the same way. If you want to know about thicker heavier ones ASK HER. It is not hard.
And next time, continuing condimania, we are going to make ketchup . Or catsup. Aren't you thrilled? Are you not on the edge of your seat?
MUAh.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Getting to noyau you: noyau ice cream
Ciao Ragazzi. Before presenting this recipe, Annalena would like to just set forth some information that may be important to at least some of you. First, it is an ice cream recipe, so you will need an ice cream maker to prepare it. Second, it involves an odd ingredient, and it means you will have to collect something as you eat it: the pits of apricots, and some of you may not be willing to do that. Third, you will have to use some true elbow grease in preparing the recipe.
If she has not scared you off yet, Annalena does beg you to continue, for even if you never make this, you will learn some culinary history, some chemistry, and perhaps even have a recipe for when you do have that ice cream maker.
Noyau. Or, in the plural, noyaux. Annalena is far from literate, let alone fluent, in French. She learned from those far better at that language than she, that "noyau" is a pit, or a seed. And while that is the general meaning, "noyau" is almost always used to refer to the pits of stone fruits: peaches, plums, apricots, cherries. AND... the noyau is not, strictly speaking the pit. What is is? Well, Annalena is sure that you have experienced the situation when you eat a peach, and the pit splits open. There is a small, almond shaped kernel in that pit. Does that sound familiar? Are you shaking your head yes?
That , ragazzi, is a noyau. And it looks like an almond for a reason: at one time, it WAS an almond.
See, stone fruits, and almonds, are related. You would see this more clearly, if you saw almonds when they grow. They do not grow as those little hard nuts we all love, nor do they grow as the nut in the shell we can sometimes buy. No, they start as very small, hard, green fruits: almost like... unripe peaches. It does not take long for that green exterior to harden into a shell, but for the two weeks or so that it takes, those who enjoy these green almonds (Annalena does not), have themselves a veritiable feast day. And so, by seeing it, you see that the nut we call an almond, is actually the seed (the noyau), of a fruit.
It will probably not surprise you that since they look like almonds, noyaux actually do have an almond flavor. And they have some rather serious culinary uses. Annalena understands, but has never tasted, that there is a noyaux liqueur available in France, tinted red , interestingly enough. Perhaps you did not know that "amaretti," those lovely hard and crunchy Italian cookies we all love, are NOT made with almonds. They are classically made with BITTER almonds, BUT... bitter almonds carry a toxin, and most countries will not permit the importation of anything using bitter almonds. So.... Annalena's countrymen, crafty as they are, use the noyaux from stone fruit, to make the cookies. If you think about how much fruit is used in a good restaurant, in season, or in canning factories, etc, you will understand that, indeed, there is a source of what would be treated as a waste product, and is, ultimately, used to make something wonderful.
You've learned a lot already, haven't you? Ah, but it is going to continue. The toxin, in bitter almonds, is prussic acid. It is also present in the kernels of stone fruit, but there is a very easy way to eliminate it, if you are worried. (you should not be, by the way: the amount of noyaux we will use here is trivial). If you bake fruit stones, for fifteen minutes at 350, you will destroy the prussic acid. And you will make it much easier to extract the noyaux themselves.
So, let us go forward. Theoretically, you can make this recipe with any stone fruit. Practically, apricots are all that work. Peach stones are too large to crack, effectively at home. Cherries? Oh, dear. You would need somewhere on the order of 100 of them to make this ice cream, and picking the tiny noyau out of the cherry pit debris, is not for those with less than saintly patients (Incidentally, there is a Middle Eastern spice, called mahlab, made from ground cherry pits. Annalena is not a fan). Plums SHOULD work, but they don't. It seems that they are too small. So, just like Goldilocks, Annalena finds apricot pits "just right."
To make a quart of this lovely, unusual ice cream, you need 24 apricot pits. That is about 3 pounds worth, and if you eat fruit in season, you will have this. Simply put them aside as you eat the fruit, and when you have 24: MAKE ICE CREAM.
As noted, above, put them on a baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes at 350. Then let them cool. If you like, for comparison purposes, save one pit, unbaked, and see the difference fifteen minutes can make.
When they are cool, you must crack them. You can use a nutcracker, which is neater, but rough on your hands, especially if, like Annalena, you are borderline arthritic. She uses, instead, her meat pounder (no jokes, please). A good, solid THWAP on each one will releasae the noyau. Probably not in whole form, which is good, because you want to grind them up just a bit anyway.
Do try to pick them out of the broken shells, but you need not be a surgeon at this. You will have another chance to clear them out later.
OK, so now you have your noyaux. Place them in a pot, and add two cups of heavy cream. Bring it just to the boil, turn it off, cover it, and go away for 30-45 minutes. When you come back, smell the cream. You will get a very almondy odor that is somewhat intoxicating. It will remind you of... amaertti, or perhaps, amaretto liqueur. If you like, you may strain the cream at this point, but there is no need to do so, and if you leave the material in, you will get a stronger flavor. Add a full cup of sugar, and then a cup of milk. Finally, six egg yolks, and then cook this, until you have a custard that coats the back of a spoon, as with any other ice cream. Chill it overnight if you can, or at least until it is cold.
NOW it is time to strain the stuff. Right over a colander, and into your ice cream maker. The custard is white, so you will be able to pick out any detritus. And then get to work. "To everything, churn, churn churn " (which was the title for this piece before Annalena tossed it in favor of the musical theatre reference).
Annalena GUARANTEES you that you have never tasted anything like this. If you make it, you will make it again. And if you don't make it, you will be heading to the home of your friends with ice cream makers and asking "can you? would you?"
Put this on a plate with some dessert made with stonefruit, or berries, or anywhere you would want some almondy goodness.
The clever among you will be seeing pudding, custard, panna cotta, and so forth on your horizons as well. If you are, Annalena is pleased. So, perhaps you do NOT need an ice cream maker. Just a nice, strong meat pounder. And after all, we all have one of those, don't we?
Alla prossima carissimi.
If she has not scared you off yet, Annalena does beg you to continue, for even if you never make this, you will learn some culinary history, some chemistry, and perhaps even have a recipe for when you do have that ice cream maker.
Noyau. Or, in the plural, noyaux. Annalena is far from literate, let alone fluent, in French. She learned from those far better at that language than she, that "noyau" is a pit, or a seed. And while that is the general meaning, "noyau" is almost always used to refer to the pits of stone fruits: peaches, plums, apricots, cherries. AND... the noyau is not, strictly speaking the pit. What is is? Well, Annalena is sure that you have experienced the situation when you eat a peach, and the pit splits open. There is a small, almond shaped kernel in that pit. Does that sound familiar? Are you shaking your head yes?
That , ragazzi, is a noyau. And it looks like an almond for a reason: at one time, it WAS an almond.
See, stone fruits, and almonds, are related. You would see this more clearly, if you saw almonds when they grow. They do not grow as those little hard nuts we all love, nor do they grow as the nut in the shell we can sometimes buy. No, they start as very small, hard, green fruits: almost like... unripe peaches. It does not take long for that green exterior to harden into a shell, but for the two weeks or so that it takes, those who enjoy these green almonds (Annalena does not), have themselves a veritiable feast day. And so, by seeing it, you see that the nut we call an almond, is actually the seed (the noyau), of a fruit.
It will probably not surprise you that since they look like almonds, noyaux actually do have an almond flavor. And they have some rather serious culinary uses. Annalena understands, but has never tasted, that there is a noyaux liqueur available in France, tinted red , interestingly enough. Perhaps you did not know that "amaretti," those lovely hard and crunchy Italian cookies we all love, are NOT made with almonds. They are classically made with BITTER almonds, BUT... bitter almonds carry a toxin, and most countries will not permit the importation of anything using bitter almonds. So.... Annalena's countrymen, crafty as they are, use the noyaux from stone fruit, to make the cookies. If you think about how much fruit is used in a good restaurant, in season, or in canning factories, etc, you will understand that, indeed, there is a source of what would be treated as a waste product, and is, ultimately, used to make something wonderful.
You've learned a lot already, haven't you? Ah, but it is going to continue. The toxin, in bitter almonds, is prussic acid. It is also present in the kernels of stone fruit, but there is a very easy way to eliminate it, if you are worried. (you should not be, by the way: the amount of noyaux we will use here is trivial). If you bake fruit stones, for fifteen minutes at 350, you will destroy the prussic acid. And you will make it much easier to extract the noyaux themselves.
So, let us go forward. Theoretically, you can make this recipe with any stone fruit. Practically, apricots are all that work. Peach stones are too large to crack, effectively at home. Cherries? Oh, dear. You would need somewhere on the order of 100 of them to make this ice cream, and picking the tiny noyau out of the cherry pit debris, is not for those with less than saintly patients (Incidentally, there is a Middle Eastern spice, called mahlab, made from ground cherry pits. Annalena is not a fan). Plums SHOULD work, but they don't. It seems that they are too small. So, just like Goldilocks, Annalena finds apricot pits "just right."
To make a quart of this lovely, unusual ice cream, you need 24 apricot pits. That is about 3 pounds worth, and if you eat fruit in season, you will have this. Simply put them aside as you eat the fruit, and when you have 24: MAKE ICE CREAM.
As noted, above, put them on a baking sheet and bake for 15 minutes at 350. Then let them cool. If you like, for comparison purposes, save one pit, unbaked, and see the difference fifteen minutes can make.
When they are cool, you must crack them. You can use a nutcracker, which is neater, but rough on your hands, especially if, like Annalena, you are borderline arthritic. She uses, instead, her meat pounder (no jokes, please). A good, solid THWAP on each one will releasae the noyau. Probably not in whole form, which is good, because you want to grind them up just a bit anyway.
Do try to pick them out of the broken shells, but you need not be a surgeon at this. You will have another chance to clear them out later.
OK, so now you have your noyaux. Place them in a pot, and add two cups of heavy cream. Bring it just to the boil, turn it off, cover it, and go away for 30-45 minutes. When you come back, smell the cream. You will get a very almondy odor that is somewhat intoxicating. It will remind you of... amaertti, or perhaps, amaretto liqueur. If you like, you may strain the cream at this point, but there is no need to do so, and if you leave the material in, you will get a stronger flavor. Add a full cup of sugar, and then a cup of milk. Finally, six egg yolks, and then cook this, until you have a custard that coats the back of a spoon, as with any other ice cream. Chill it overnight if you can, or at least until it is cold.
NOW it is time to strain the stuff. Right over a colander, and into your ice cream maker. The custard is white, so you will be able to pick out any detritus. And then get to work. "To everything, churn, churn churn " (which was the title for this piece before Annalena tossed it in favor of the musical theatre reference).
Annalena GUARANTEES you that you have never tasted anything like this. If you make it, you will make it again. And if you don't make it, you will be heading to the home of your friends with ice cream makers and asking "can you? would you?"
Put this on a plate with some dessert made with stonefruit, or berries, or anywhere you would want some almondy goodness.
The clever among you will be seeing pudding, custard, panna cotta, and so forth on your horizons as well. If you are, Annalena is pleased. So, perhaps you do NOT need an ice cream maker. Just a nice, strong meat pounder. And after all, we all have one of those, don't we?
Alla prossima carissimi.
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