4 - 5 courses for 6 - 12 people from a 64-square-foot kitchen. With an electric range.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Bill the Cat
Gorgeous Sungolds. Simply gorgeous, and probably the last of the season, in such quantity. How to honor such glory, one may ask? Perhaps sorbet? Below is the frustrating-and-still-not-successful journey.
Found lots of recipes, many using multiple ingredients. But I want to highlight the straightforward tang and lovely liquidity of my tomatoes (not for me, the coring/de-seeding thing--methinks that's where the most concentrated, lively flavor lives) without distractions. Well, maybe a little fennel pollen, since I have a bunch and some is losing its flavor (What? This old thing?); I loved the combo of the initial hit of bright, fruity Sungold acidity with the fennel flavor following on the back palate.
Recipe #1: trial run of 10 oz. cherry tomatoes, 5 Tbs. simple syrup infused with cracked fennel seeds, pinch coarse salt, 1-1/2 tsp. fennel pollen, and 1 Tbs. lemon juice. Blended, chilled thoroughly, and made into sorbet (via the Breville). Upshot? Ack--tasted like sundried tomatoes.
Recipe #2: 10 oz. cherry tomatoes, 3 Tbs. glucose syrup (to reduce sweetness whilst still preventing large ice crystals), 2 Tbs. fennel seed-infused simple syrup, 1 tsp. fennel pollen, and 1-1/2 Tbs. lemon juice. Blended, chilled thoroughly, and made into sorbet. Upshot? Ack--tasted like sundried tomatoes.
Perhaps new techniques were needed. Made tomato water, with the idea that perhaps the meatiness of the tomato flesh is what I find objectionable. Also, I wondered if the minimal heat added via blending the tomatoes contributed a slightly-cooked essence to the tomatoes, resulting in that sundried flavor. Continued to use glucose syrup as well as simple, to reduce the sundried fruitiness. Further reduced the fennel pollen, to continue to cut the sweet flavors.
Recipe #3: 10 oz. cherry tomatoes, chopped and put through largest-holed disc of a food mill into a cheesecloth-lined bowl. Allowed the cheesecloth to drain at room temp x 2 hours with the occasional squeeze. Mixed the resulting tomato water with 2/3 cup (minus 2 tsp.) chilled water, 1 tsp. each fennel simple and glucose syrups, a pinch of coarse salt, 2 tsp. lemon juice, and a pinch of fennel pollen. Made it into sorbet without chilling first. Upshot? A finer texture, less sundried tomato flavor, and definitely not sweet. Still occasionally too sundried-y. Because of the finer texture, I found the bits of fennel pollen distracting. Also, a bit too icy. I shall try one more round, using my actual Sungolds. I'll add a little vodka to reduce iciness, and flavor the tomato water with fennel before straining it out through the cheesecloth. Any additional suggestions (Hello? Anyone there?) are warmly welcomed.
ACK!!!
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Ugh.
Great good fun for many many hours yesterday at Rock Creek Seafood in Fremont, with Charlene and guest appearances by Pat. And Marcin. Seared sardine salad (albeit without the much-touted roasted eggplant), heirloom tomato salad with house-made lemon ricotta, etc. Midway through the first round, plans for the inaugural Saturday Supper Club were scrapped in favor of dinner there for me birthday (oh Karen, it's yer birthday...).
46th Birthday Dinner Venue
But today I have been paying the price. Ergo, tonight Harvey and I (and probably a nosheleh for Briggs) shall dine on fregola sarda, which is toasted Sardinian pasta (kinda like a honkin' big couscous). With saffron. A wonderful thing about fregola is that it will continue to expand as it sits in liquid, be that on the stove or in the fridge. So it can be hard to give proportions. I fancy it soupy, meself. So the "recipe" below is really just a rough guideline. Usually I would top it with grated parm. However, gentle reader(s), I will refer you back to my delightful repast at the Rock Creek as an explanation for why tonight's Solo Sunday Supper is so simple (a little alliteration from anxious anchors...).
Fregola Sarda with Chicken Stock and Saffron
Liquid to pasta ratio: Start with 2:1, and increase to taste. Bring chicken stock to a boil. Crumble in a few pinches of saffron threads. Add pasta, return to the boil, and turn heat down to a simmer. Cover, stir occasionally, and cook for 15 to 20 minutes. The fregola should still be a little chewy. Add extra liquid as needed whilst cooking to prevent sticking. Unless you fancy a Sardinian version of tadig. Remember, I don't judge. Ess, ess, mein kinds.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
You're my inspiration, part uno
http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2011/09/sour-beer-sorbet-lambic-jenis-splendid-ice-creams-recipe.html
Not a big fan of the sweet-and-sour. Don't like bread and butter pickles. But I do love a good balance between fruitiness and tang; perhaps I simply need to expand my working definition of "sweet-and-sour".
So I'm on a quest to improve my ice cream/sorbet/ice milk/etc. skills, by making many many frozen treats. Imagining who would wanna eat sooo much ice cream and sorbet was challenging, until I realized that I have a captive audience of tasters at my beck and call; I work in skilled nursing, so there's always someone who appreciates homemade, as long as I honor dietary and texture restrictions. Et voila!
After this past week of recipe testing (Molly Moon's Blackberry Sage was the biggest hit), I have started to feel the pressure of waning fresh summer fruit. But returning to my (purported) aversion to sweet-and-sour, I was the most intrigued by Jeni Britton Bauer's sour beer/stone fruit sorbets. Above, a recipe. I made the black plum/cassis lambic version. Crazy depth of flavor, but I found myself adding a squeeze of lemon juice; it was just too sweet. However, and here's my rant of the day, the undertone of vanilla courtesy of the dearth of un-vanilla'd light corn syrup was a bit distracting. I worry that I'll have to find glucose powder and make my own...
I was at Chuck's today to pick up the lambic (Land of 1000 beers! Holla!), and my newest boyfriend Paul mentioned a beet lambic that they have. He's a very helpful young fella; ladies in yer twenties, go git him! So I had to have that lambic, despite my dislike of beets (they taste like dirt). So my next project is to find fruits and herbs that will work w/the beet lambic. Yippee! Until then, however, I shall make Kinako ice cream for my darling Kim D's patio warming party. It's a big deal, because her younger daughter has been allergic to soy and dairy, but now she's okay. Roasted soy powder and dairy, baby! Mazel tov to the Kim-Roupps!
Not a big fan of the sweet-and-sour. Don't like bread and butter pickles. But I do love a good balance between fruitiness and tang; perhaps I simply need to expand my working definition of "sweet-and-sour".
So I'm on a quest to improve my ice cream/sorbet/ice milk/etc. skills, by making many many frozen treats. Imagining who would wanna eat sooo much ice cream and sorbet was challenging, until I realized that I have a captive audience of tasters at my beck and call; I work in skilled nursing, so there's always someone who appreciates homemade, as long as I honor dietary and texture restrictions. Et voila!
After this past week of recipe testing (Molly Moon's Blackberry Sage was the biggest hit), I have started to feel the pressure of waning fresh summer fruit. But returning to my (purported) aversion to sweet-and-sour, I was the most intrigued by Jeni Britton Bauer's sour beer/stone fruit sorbets. Above, a recipe. I made the black plum/cassis lambic version. Crazy depth of flavor, but I found myself adding a squeeze of lemon juice; it was just too sweet. However, and here's my rant of the day, the undertone of vanilla courtesy of the dearth of un-vanilla'd light corn syrup was a bit distracting. I worry that I'll have to find glucose powder and make my own...
I was at Chuck's today to pick up the lambic (Land of 1000 beers! Holla!), and my newest boyfriend Paul mentioned a beet lambic that they have. He's a very helpful young fella; ladies in yer twenties, go git him! So I had to have that lambic, despite my dislike of beets (they taste like dirt). So my next project is to find fruits and herbs that will work w/the beet lambic. Yippee! Until then, however, I shall make Kinako ice cream for my darling Kim D's patio warming party. It's a big deal, because her younger daughter has been allergic to soy and dairy, but now she's okay. Roasted soy powder and dairy, baby! Mazel tov to the Kim-Roupps!
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon Watermelon 2013
So since I moved into my apartment four-ish years ago, I have realized my passion for watermelon. The flavor! The color! The texture! The seasonality! Therefore, lo these past several years, I have thrown these watermelon-themed dinner parties. This year's was often-delicious and mostly-successful. Below, behold the shining star, with props given to all appropriate parties.
(Ersatz) Watermelon Rind Mostarda with Mascarpone (props to Marcella Hazan via The New York Times for the inspiration, and WhiskingWings at food.com for initial recipe re: how to candy watermelon rind)
4 cups peeled watermelon rind (no pink flesh, thankyouverymuch), cut into 1/4-inch dice
2 cups granulated sugar
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 - 4 tablespoons dry mustard, or to taste
(Ersatz) Watermelon Rind Mostarda with Mascarpone (props to Marcella Hazan via The New York Times for the inspiration, and WhiskingWings at food.com for initial recipe re: how to candy watermelon rind)
4 cups peeled watermelon rind (no pink flesh, thankyouverymuch), cut into 1/4-inch dice
2 cups granulated sugar
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
2 - 4 tablespoons dry mustard, or to taste
Place watermelon rind and sugar in deep pot, cover, and let sit 4 hours to overnight (at room temperature) to macerate.
When ready to make (mine sat out in 80-degree weather for about 12 hours), stir constantly as the mixture comes to a simmer, to ensure that sugar dissolves completely (likely has dissolved prior to heating, secondary to high water content of watermelon rind).
Add lemon juice, sugar, and 1 - 2 tablespoons mustard. Stir thoroughly, cover, and simmer until cubes are translucent (~ 2 1/2 hours).
When watermelon rind is translucent, uncover pot and increase heat to bring mixture to a boil. Add another 1 - 2 tablespoons mustard (to taste), and cook for 30 - 45 minutes, stirring often to prevent sticking and burning. Cook until mixture reduced to a syrupy consistency; the longer it's cooked, the deeper and more intense the flavor will be.
Ladle into jar(s), loosely cover until at room temperature, and then refrigerate. For longer storage, use sterilized jars and process in a water bath for 30 minutes.
To serve: Combine equal parts mostarda and mascarpone, serve either with or on bread, toasted or not.
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