Thursday, November 18, 2010

From Bittman to Plate


I’m a huge fan of Mark Bittman’s “The Minimalist” 101 series in The New York Times – reading it, that is. A few times a year, Bittman comes out with this fabulous list of 101 delicious-sounding items, all described in just a few sentences. I frequently print out the entire list.

And then I don’t cook from it.

I love the idea of the list, the way it moves cooking away from a strict recipe. Instead, you get a heap of ingredients and some suggestions for how they fit together. I’m a fairly competent cook; I can sort out proportions. Yet that lack of an extensive recipe is daunting, I admit it. I very rarely truly make up a new recipe based on what’s in the fridge and the pantry – more often I see what I’ve got, then troll the internet for a recipe, then adapt it. That I’m totally comfortable with. This is a step beyond.

This season’s list is billed as “101 Head Starts on the Day” – Thanksgiving, of course. Last night, I didn’t need a feast, I just needed a quick and easy dinner.

I chose #28: Toss cooked Israeli couscous with toasted pecans, orange zest and juice, chopped mint, cider vinegar and honey. Bake in an oiled dish or use as stuffing.”

Between the fridge, the pantry, and the garden, I had all those things. But it wasn’t going to be enough for dinner. However, the fridge revealed several butternut squash haunting its far corners – relics of our farm share. Squash will store practically forever.

Roasted butternut squash would surely go well with pecans and orange.

In the spirit of the list, I didn’t measure anything, so my recipe is a bit of a guess. As for why half an orange, well, because that’s what I had in the fridge (the other half went to garnishes for Aperol aperitifs last weekend – yum!).

Israeli Couscous with Roasted Butternut Squash, Pecans, Orange, and Mint

1 butternut squash

1 cups Israeli (pearl) couscous

1 T butter

1/3 c pecans, chopped

½ orange

1/3 c fresh mint, chopped

2 T cider vinegar

1 T honey

Peel, seed, cube, and roast a butternut squash, tossed with olive oil, salt, and pepper, in a 400 degree oven for about 45 minutes, until completely soft and slightly caramelized.

While the squash roasts, bring 1.5 cups of water to boil, couscous, and butter to a boil. Cover and reduce heat to low so that the couscous continues to simmer. Simmer for 10 minutes. Remove from heat and keep covered for 5 minutes. Fluff.

While the couscous simmers, toast the pecans in a dry skillet over low heat for about 5 minutes, until they have darkened slightly and smell lovely. Do not burn.

Zest the half orange and then juice it. Add the vinegar and honey (both to taste), and salt and pepper. Whisk.

Combine couscous, pecans, mint, and squash in a large bowl. Drizzle with dressing and toss. Adjust seasonings to taste.

Delicious. Thanks, Mark Bittman, for the inspiration.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Battle of the Pumpkins


One day when I was in high school a friend came over while my mom was making a pumpkin pie. She watched curiously as mom seeded, peeled, chopped and finally steamed the pumpkin before mixing it up into pie filling.

“My mom always uses canned pumpkin,” she said.

Then my mom got out the jiffy pie crust mix.

“You do the pumpkin from scratch but the crust from a box? That’s so weird. We always do the crust from scratch.”

Well, my friend was right – it was weird – although as with so many other family habits it took an outsider to point out the strangeness of my tribe’s cultural practices.

I make my pie crust from scratch – and with all butter. Yum. I also make my pumpkin pie, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin cheesecake, kaddo bowrani (Afghan pumpkin), and every other pumpkin dish from real pumpkin.

I’ve tasted pumpkin pie from the store. It doesn’t taste right.

But this also means that we don’t have pumpkin-based deliciousness all that often. Let’s face it – it takes time and work to get from a lovely whole pumpkin to the pumpkin mush that’s only one ingredient in a recipe. It would be so much easier to open a can.

I did some reading. I trust Cook’s Illustrated, so I went there first. They claim that canned pumpkin is just fine, and recommended some brands (Libby’s 100% Pure Pumpkin and One-Pie Pumpkin tied for first). I looked on Chowhound.com, another favorite source for foodie musings. Chowhounds seem to go for canned pumpkin as well.

Finally, I ran a test. I looked for the Libby’s canned pumpkin at my local Whole Foods, but came up empty handed, so I bought the 365 Everyday Value store brand. I also bought a sugar pumpkin.

A pumpkin pie would have been the best test. But I was in the mood for pumpkin cake – plus I had plans to eventually make the sage ice cream recommended as an accompaniment (more on that later). I went through the skinning, the seeding, the chopping, and the steaming required to make pumpkin mush from a pumpkin. Then I got out a can opener and in under 30 seconds I had a second quantity of pumpkin mush. I started to hope that the canned pumpkin would win – or even tie. A tie would be just fine.

The canned pumpkin was darker orange and certainly more dense. The steamed pumpkin was clearly a bit watery by comparison. Unadulterated, they both tasted like pumpkin – different from one another, but neither obviously superior.

I mixed up two half-batches of pumpkin cake (dirtying many bowls in the process), and made a divider for my 13” x 9” pan using aluminum foil. Then I marked the from-canned batter with a “C” and the from-fresh batter with a “P” – of sprinkled pumpkin seeds.

Baked, the “C” cake was slightly darker and denser than the “P” cake.

For taste – drum roll, please – IT WAS A TIE.

Different, yes, but neither better than the other. I don’t think I can say I’m 100% won over to canned yet – I think a pie contest is in order first. But I’m definitely leaning…

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Takes Time, Not Effort


Time has been in short supply these past weeks, as you can tell from the lack of blog posts. I really have been cooking, though -- I'll tell you about the Sage Ice Cream soon, I promise.

I worked from home one day recently, and that meant I had time to get some lovely long-cooking dinner going. I still had to work all day, so I needed a dish that didn’t actually take a lot of time to make, but wanted a long, slow braise to make it delicious.

Falling-apart tender chunks of lamb. Peppers and tomatoes cooked down nearly to sauce consistency. Pillows of gnocchi. Perfect.

This recipe for Gnocchi with Lamb and Pepper Sauce met my needs perfectly. Plus it’s a great cold-weather meal. And it takes about 2.5 hours. Don’t let this deter you, though – a full two hours of that is time you can spend doing anything else (in my case, work), all while enjoying the warm scent of dinner as it permeates your home and whets your appetite.

For the last hour, you can open a bottle of wine and let it breathe – and imagine the moment when work is through and dining can begin.

Gnocchi with Lamb and Pepper Sauce

(Adapted from The Seasons of the Italian Cookbook http://www.amazon.com/Seasons-Italian-Kitchen-Diane-Darrow/dp/0871136570 , which I believe was Nick’s very first cookbook and has instructed us on many a fine meal of the years.)

1/2 lb. boneless lamb, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
salt & pepper
2 T olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1/4 c dry white wine (I often use dry Vermouth for cooking)
2 large bell peppers, any color, seeded and julienned
1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes, drained, juice reserved
1 lb. package frozen gnocchi

Heat the olive oil in a 10 inch skillet. When hot, add the garlic and bay leaves
and saute briefly, just until fragrant. Season the lamb with salt and pepper.
Add it to the pan and brown the pieces well on all sides (about 5 minutes). Pour
in the wine and cook, stirring occasionally, until it evaporates, about 10
minutes.

Add the peppers and tomatoes and a generous sprinkling of salt. Bring to a
simmer, cover, and cook very gently for two hours. Check from time to time, and
if the liquid has evaporated so that the lamb and veg are flying in the oil, add
a few tablespoons of the reserved tomato juice (or water, if you forgot to save
the tomato juice). The lamb will become falling apart tender and the peppers and
tomatoes will cook down into a chunky sauce.

Cook the gnocchi as directed on the package. Dress them in the sauce and serve
at once.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Great Cheescake Failure of '10

A few years ago, on a whim, I baked a Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake from an autumn Gourmet (Gourmet, how I miss you!). Nick loved it, and I've made it once a year ever since, to his great glee.

Once a year because 1) it's a lot of work, and 2) it's a huge cheesecake, and unless I get other people over to help us eat it, Nick and I will devour the entire thing ourselves.

As my loyal readers know, I held a BBQ last weekend to celebrate the gorgeous weather, and for that occasion I made a pretty fine roast. What I didn't mention was that I also baked a cheesecake. The Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake.

It failed completely.

The recipe instructs you to "Invert bottom of a 9-inch springform pan (to create flat bottom, which will make it easier to remove cake from pan), then lock on side and butter pan." Because I only bake the cheesecake once a year, I forget that the inverted bottom will mean that a sugary goo will drip out. I have vague memories of frantically wrapping the oozing pan in tin foil, or putting foil on the bottom of the oven to catch the stuff before it could burn on.

This year, the ooze was particularly virulent. The fire alarm went off. Piercingly. We got it silenced, opened all the windows, turned on some fans.

The alarm went off again. Now the kitchen, the living room, the entire apartment were rapidly filling up with smoke. I looked in the oven. There was a pool of smoking, sugary mess on the oven floor below the cake. I closed the oven, and started fanning smoke out the window.

The fire alarm went off a third time. It's really loud. The ooze had caught fire and was merrily burning. I could see it through the oven window. I paused. Picked up the silicon potholder, and removed the cheesecake from the oven. We were discussing the best way to put out the fire when it went out on its own.

Well. The cheesecake clearly wasn't going back in the oven.

Later, after our guests had left, I cleaned the oven. Thank you baking soda, the greatest cleaning product ever (Non-toxic, cheap, and effective. Yay!). A bit of scrubbing later, the oven was clean. I turned it back on, wrapped the cheesecake pan in foil, and put it in a water bath. No ooze was getting out. But I didn't know how long the cheesecake had been in the oven before, and the top had set slightly as it cooled, so I couldn't use a visual cue to tell me when it was done.

I have a horror of overdone cheesecake. I put it in the oven for a half hour.

The next day, you guessed it -- I cut a small slice before the BBQ started, just to test, and it was woefully raw. This was truly the point at which it was all over, but I refused to accept defeat. I tried microwaving the thing on low power, and then I shoved it in the fridge to chill.

When I checked it again later, still no go. It was cheesecake soup. I don't know exactly why -- whether cheesecake could be further cooked once chilled or not. I did a bit of reading online, and I found some suggestions that had to do with its custard nature. The idea being that once cooked and cooled, the eggs in the custard have formed their shape and won't get raw and reform into a new structure no matter how much heat is applied later. This may or may not be true.

The point is -- it's okay. I baked a cheesecake and it failed. Sure, it's a drag that the cheesecake wasn't available for dessert, but then Vivian and I whipped up some brownies and Dave ran to the store for ice cream and dinner was terrific. Great conversation, great company -- and a great roast.

I believe in cooking fearlessly, even if that means occasional failure. So a cheesecake failed. That was last week. This week the question is whether a sour cherry and almond tart will be superior if made with Frangipane or almond pastry cream. I've got a half recipe of each chilling in the fridge, along with some tart dough. Tonight I bake mini-versions of each for sampling purposes. I've stolen elements from about five different tart recipes for my versions.

And I bet they're going to be delicious.

I try. I have fun. Mostly, my delicious dishes succeed. Every now and then they fail. Then I laugh and move on.

PS. I did salvage a little bit of the cheesecake for Nick. The edges were cooked through, so I cut them off before throwing the cake away. Here's what was left of the fabulous Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

My Best Roast Yet

It's October, and I assume that even this sweltering summer must eventually say goodbye. So when I saw that the weather report for Saturday was a gorgeous sunny 78 degrees, I invited everyone over for a final BBQ before packing the grill into the basement.

As it happened, none of my vegetarian friends could make it, and I decided to try out a recipe for grilling a huge hunk of meat that I've been eying ever since it showed up in my Cook's Illustrated last summer.

Now, I have nothing against vegetarians. I was one myself for a decade, and I still eat vegetarian at least half the time. And it's not that I think my vegetarian friends would object to me serving a roast -- but when they come over, I want to put my best energy into something for them as well as something for the meat eaters. A roast seems out of place.

But every once in a while, it's fun to pit myself against an enormous hunk of meat. There's more at stake there. That hunk of meat cost a pretty penny, usually. If I ruin it, then dinner is ruined. So there's an element of thrill is doing a big ol' roast. Or maybe I'm just easily amused.

On the way home from work on Friday, I stopped at the delightful Reading Terminal Market and wound my way to Harry G. Ochs and Sons, my favorite butcher. (They also have terrific homemade sausages, by the way.)

I consulted my print-out of the five acceptable cuts of meat, rated in order of preference, as supplied by Cook's Illustrated. I do love them so.

"I'd like a top sirloin," I said.

The butcher eyed me doubtfully. "That's a big cut of meat. How much did you want?"

"Three to four pounds?" I have no idea how big a top sirloin is. It's not visible in any of the three glass counters. I don't know if he'll agree to cut it to size, or how much it'll cost me, but I persevere.

Without a word, he goes into the back, behind the swinging door, and returns with a huge hunk of meat sealed in plastic. It's clearly way more than the measly three to four pounds I need. But without a murmur, he slices open the plastic and hacks off a chunk. Onto the scale it goes. Five and half pounds. He hacks off some more. Four and a half pounds.

"Do you want the fat?" he asks me.

I scrutinize the meat. One side is covered with a thick layer of white fat. I steal a glance down at my cheat sheet of meats: no fat layer. "No, thanks."

He slides a long knife under the fat and lops it off. Back on the scale, and now it's just a hair over four pounds.

"Perfect," I say. Then I hold my breath for the total. This recipe is explicitly supposed to be inexpensive. The name is Inexpensive Charcoal-Grill-Roasted Beef with Garlic and Rosemary. But you never know with meat. Just a couple more dollars a pound, multiplied by four, sends the price up a bundle.

"$5.99 a pound," the butcher says. Exactly as Cook's Illustrated predicted. Not too shabby for all that lovely meat.

Back home I mince garlic and rosemary, combine them with salt and pepper, and smear the mix all over the roast, then wrap it in plastic and pop it in the fridge, as instructed. It'll wait there, getting more and more flavorful, until the next afternoon.

What else can I say? The cooking went exactly as described in the recipe. My instant-read thermometer suddenly died, but we somehow managed to take the beef off the grill at exactly the right moment for a gorgeous rare center anyway.

My god, did it taste good. The herbs burned off for the most part during the initial sear, but they'd already done their good work overnight. Plus the lovely grill smoke and the tender beefiness of the meat. It was easily the best roast I've ever made, and I've done some pretty tasty roasts in the past.

Now the only difficulty is going to be grilling all winter long. Can I really put the grill in the basement after that performance?

Inexpensive Charcoal-Grill-Roasted Beef
with thanks to Cook's Illustrated


4 teaspoons kosher salt
6 medium garlic cloves , minced or pressed through garlic press (about 2 tablespoons)
2 tablespoons minced fresh rosemary leaves
1 tablespoon ground black pepper
1 (3- to 4-pound) top sirloin roast (see note)

Vegetable oil for cooking grate
1 (13 by 9-inch) disposable aluminum roasting pan

1. Combine salt, garlic, rosemary, and pepper in small bowl. Sprinkle all sides of roast evenly with salt mixture, wrap with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 18 to 24 hours.

2. Open bottom grill vents fully. Light large chimney starter half filled with charcoal (3 quarts, about 50 briquettes) and allow to burn until coals are fully ignited and partially covered with thin layer of ash, about 15 minutes. Arrange all coals over one-third of grill. Position cooking grate over coals, cover grill, and heat grate until hot, about 5 minutes. Scrape grate clean with grill brush. Dip wad of paper towels in vegetable oil; holding wad with tongs, wipe cooking grate.

3. Place roast over hot part of grill and cook until well browned on all sides, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, punch fifteen 1/4-inch holes in center of aluminum roasting pan in area roughly same size as roast. Once browned, place beef in pan over holes and transfer pan to cool side of grill. Open lid vents halfway and cover grill, positioning vents over meat.

4. Cook roast, rotating pan 180 degrees halfway through cooking and removing lid as seldom as possible, until instant-read thermometer inserted into thickest part of meat registers 125 degrees for medium-rare or 130 degrees for medium, 40 to 60 minutes. Transfer meat to wire rack set on rimmed baking sheet, tent loosely with foil, and rest for 20 minutes. Transfer meat to carving board and cut across grain into thin slices. Serve immediately.

Technique

Keeping the Heat Down

Traditional recipes for grill-roasting sear the meat over the hot side of the grill, then move it to the cooler side, where it cooks at a slower, gentler pace. To ensure an evenly cooked, rosy-pink, tender interior, we adjusted that approach in two ways: First, we minimized the overall heat output by using only half a chimney’s worth of coals—just enough to give the meat a good sear. (To replicate this effect on a gas grill, we turn one burner to medium and the other burners off.) Second, we shielded the seared roast from excess heat by placing it in a disposable aluminum pan when we moved it to the grill’s cooler side. Both measures help keep the roast below 122 degrees for as long as possible; past this temperature, the enzymes that tenderize meat are inactivated. And the more time meat has to break down, the more tender the results.


Shopping

Best Cheap Roasts for Grilling

Our grill-roasting method will work with any of these inexpensive cuts; however, some produced better results than others. The options are listed in order of preference from left to right.

TOP SIRLOIN
Flavor: ***
Texture: ***
Cost: $5.99/pound
Comments: This cut was judged "buttery," with bold, beefy flavor and ample juiciness.

TOP ROUND
Flavor: **
Texture: **
Cost: $4.49/pound
Comments: Though slightly chewy, this cut boasted rich, meaty flavor.

BOTTOM ROUND
Flavor: **
Texture: **
Cost: $4.49/pound
Comments: A little tough because of its large muscle fibers, bottom round has a rich, somewhat gamy flavor.

CHUCK EYE
Flavor: **
Texture: * 1/2
Cost: $3.99/pound
Comments: This roast packs great beefy flavor; but only if it's cooked to medium so the intramuscular fat can melt.

EYE ROUND
Flavor: * 1/2
Texture: **
Cost: $4.99/pound
Comments: Though its flavor is subtle, this lean, uniform cut won fans for even cooking, tenderness, and easy slicing.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

The Evolution of Apple Cake

It all started with this recipe for Crunchy Topped Whole Wheat Plum Cake. I liked the look of it. I liked the fact that it used whole wheat flour, because I’m always seeking ways to make both delicious and healthy (or not unhealthy) things. Those couple of tablespoons of Cognac or brandy – I bet they would combine with that nutty whole wheat goodness in a delightful way.

Plus, I had a ton of apples at home. Yes, apples – not plums. The minute I saw this recipe, I knew I was going to make it with apples. This summer’s fruit share has given us pounds and pounds of apples, which haunt the back corners of the fridge. The early apples were mealy, not good for eating fresh, but I knew I could bake with them, so they stayed. During the heat of the summer, though, there was no way I was turning on the oven. Most evenings I tried to avoid even using a burner.

The apples waited.

I knew the cake would be delicious with apples. There was nothing about this cake that needed the flavor of plums (although I’m sure it’s also delicious with plums). So last week I whipped up a cake, following the recipe exactly, only replacing the apples with plums.

It was… good. Fine. Solidly okay. Apple slices, of course, are less juicy than slices of plum, so they didn’t really need to be tossed with flour. Sprinkled on top of the cake, they didn't cook down so much as dry out. But the cake element was yum and tasted great with the apples.

Last night, the air was cool. I put on a sweater and read outside until the light failed, then came indoors and poured a couple of fingers of Snap into a glass over ice. It tasted of warm ginger and molasses. I felt like baking.

This time I tweaked the recipe. We were out of brandy, so I substituted in a vanilla liquor and cut the vanilla. Chopped the apples into small chunks and folded them into the batter before spreading it into the pan. I also used a smaller pan to get a thicker cake. Finally, a handful of chopped walnuts scattered the top, and over them, the dusting of sugar.

I considered adding crystallized ginger or some ground cardamom, but I didn’t want to go overboard. I do think that either would have been delicious – perhaps next time.

There will definitely be a next time. In fact, I may just make this once a week. First, there are all those apples to use up. And second, it’s wonderful. It tastes like autumn in the best possible way, warm and wholesome and sweet and good. Not too sweet, it works for breakfast, tea, or dessert. Success.

Whole Wheat Apple Cake

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus more to grease pan

3 medium apples, pitted and chopped

1 1/4 cups whole-wheat flour

1/2 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup sugar

2 tablespoons Cognac or brandy (or vanilla liquor)

1 teaspoon vanilla (eliminate if using vanilla liquor)

1 large egg

1/2 cup milk

2 tablespoons Demerara sugar, for sprinkling

1/3 cup chopped walnuts, for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Grease a 9-by-9-inch baking pan.

Combine the whole-wheat flour with the baking powder and kosher salt in a bowl.

In another bowl, beat together butter, ½ cup sugar, booze and vanilla (if using) until light and fluffy. Add the egg and beat until thoroughly combined.

Add half the flour mixture and beat until just combined. Pour in the milk and continue beating, scraping down the bowl as necessary. Add the remaining flour mixture and beat until just combined.

Add the apples and fold them into the batter with a spatula. There will seem to be a very proportion of apples to batter.

Scrape the dough into the pan, smoothing the top with a spatula. Sprinkle the walnuts and then the Demerara sugar on top. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, until the top is golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool before serving.


Monday, September 6, 2010

The Fastest Dinner in Philly

The ginger beer is coming along. With two batches down, I have yet to achieve the perfect balance of overpowering ginger flavor and delicate carbonation. More tinkering will be done. I'll share when I've gotten the recipe just right.

That's not actually my excuse for not blogging. My completely excellent excuse is that the Philly Live Arts and Fringe Festival is on, and I'm seeing 24 shows in two weeks. So far, six down (three fantastic, two good, one meh), 18 to go by September 15.

I did this kind of manic theater race last year, too, and it was a blast -- but it doesn't lend itself to awesome cooking experiences. I'm lucky to cram a slice of pizza into my mouth while biking from venue to venue.

Tonight, however, I felt the need for a wholesome, light yet filling home-cooked meal, so I turned to a recipe that I made up years ago. It's so simple, in fact, that I blush to call it a recipe. However, it's delicious, quick, and actually pretty good for you.

Soba Salad

soba noodles
lettuce
sesame oil
seasoned rice vinegar
some sort of protein -- chicken, steak, tofu, whatever -- if desired

Put some salted water on to boil. When it reaches a full boil, drop in 1-2 packets of soba noodles (These come bound with a plastic ribbon, several to the package. I'm sure they have a proper name, but I don't know it.) Stir. Check the noodles at 4 minutes, no matter what the package says. If you buy them at an Asian grocery store, as I do, you may not be able to read the package anyway. Because it's in Japanese.

While the water boils and the noodles cook, wash the lettuce. Roughly chop as much as you want and arrange in a heap on the plates.

Stir together equal parts sesame oil and seasoned rice vinegar (about 1.5 teaspoons of each for two servings) in a cup.

If you want protein, cook it up. Season with salt and pepper. A quick fry will do nicely.

When the soba is done, with a bit of give left in the soft noodles, drain and rinse with cold water until barely warm. Mound noodles on top of the lettuce. Drizzle dressing over the salad. Top with protein slices.

That's it. Takes about 10 minutes, if you get your timing right. Yum.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

A Good Week for Ginger - SNAP is out!


SNAP, the much anticipated -- at least by me -- gingersnap spirit by Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction is now out. It's been out for days! How did I miss this?

I may sound ginger obsessed, and perhaps I am. I'm okay with that. I'm also fascinated with AitA's spirits projects. I love Root, their first foray into booze, which evokes the pre-prohibition alcoholic Root tea that became, courtesy of the Temperance movement, root beer. On the rocks or mixed with cream soda, it's quite tasty.

Plus, I have a history of trying for slightly off-the-wall spirit flavors myself. I already mentioned the ginger vodka (the secret is equal parts fresh and candied ginger, for a touch of sweetness and complex ginger flavor). I also took it one step further and created a gingersnap vodka, infused with the spices that go into gingersnap cookies and, yes, molasses for sweetness. It really did taste like alcoholic gingersnaps.

So I have a strong interest in Snap. Not only do I love ginger, but I'm probably one of the few people who has tried for this flavor myself before. I want to see how theirs came out.

Ginger Beer, Part 1


I've done homemade ginger beverages before. Ginger syrup mixed with seltzer, mostly. The occasional ginger-citrus drink And okay, yes, some delicious ginger vodka as well. True ginger beer, however, always intimidated me. It involves fermentation. That, to me, implies a lot of time, a high level of difficulty, and the possibility of explosions.

But when I saw this recipe in the New York Times Magazine, I knew I had to try it. Toby Cecchini had all my same qualms, and he told me it would be okay. It would be easy. One day, maybe two, tops. Just a little yeast, the same stuff I use to bake bread.

Yes, it might explode. But probably not.

Last night, I made ginger beer. I adjusted Cecchini's recipe slightly to align with the ingredients I had on hand -- the juice from one lemon, and no cream of tartar.

I twisted the cap on tight, wrapped the plastic bottle in a plastic bag, and put it in a bucket in the pantry, in case of explosion.

This morning I checked the bottle. It was tight, so I opened the cap to release some of the trapped CO2. A gorgeous and powerful ginger aroma wafted out as well.

Given the warm weather, my ginger beer should be done fermenting tonight. Then I can chill (to stop fermentation) and drink.

I'm excited. Bring over some rum, and we can have a dark 'n' stormy.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Thank You, Harold McGee

Why was the caramel ice cream so soft? On Saturday, it took 40 minutes in the ice cream machine to get to slushy, and after an afternoon in the freezer it never froze beyond soft serve texture. Even days later, the last remaining bites refused to truly freeze.

This is the complete opposite of my usual problem of homemade ice cream or sorbet that freezes rock hard in a single day -- I add a couple of tablespoons of liquor to the mix to counteract that effect. Now I wanted to know what was keeping this glorious caramel ice cream from freezing as hard as I wanted it, for the perfect medium of solid but scoopable.

I turned to Harold McGee and his magnificent opus, On Food and Cooking. Of course, he had the answer:
"Plain frozen cream is hard as a rock. Sugar makes it softer, but also lowers its freezing point (the dissolved sugar molecules get in the way as the water molecules settle into ordered crystals)."

I love learning the answer. Now all I have to do is turn that knowledge into action. I just might have to make several batches of caramel ice cream in search of the perfect texture. Volunteer tasters, contact me.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Two Triumphs


Two triumphs last night, and that's not even counting the chocolate sorbet, which was pretty fantastic itself. In fact, these have been a good couple of days for delicious items to imbibe and devour.

A desire to make use of the fresh herbs in the garden led to two beverages discoveries, a lemon-thyme cocktail of my own invention and a blueberry-thai basil-gin drink that I had the inspiration to search the web for, and the good luck to find. And then I made my best ever sangria as well -- so good that I even bothered to write down the ingredients for later replication.

These weren't even the real triumphs.

Vegetable Torta and Salted Caramel Ice Cream, those were the culinary triumphs.

I had Friday afternoon off (the last of summer hours for 2010), and all I felt like doing was cooking. Much as I love to write, sometimes I need to get my hands on something other than a keyboard. I wanted something complicated and delicious, that I could spend some serious time on and then be proud of.

These recipes fit the bill perfectly. The Vegetable Torta clocked in at about 2.5 hours, all active (plus baking time) and then I made the Chocolate Sorbet as well. I didn't have the energy for the Salted Caramel Ice Cream, so I promised myself that I'd make the caramel first thing on Saturday to give it plenty of time to cool, churn, and freeze before the guests arrived for our evening BBQ.

The torta was so damn good. It is now my official go-to recipe for a nice vegetarian main course. On further reflection, I bet I can cut the time down to 1.5 active hours, and call that time well spent. I wish I'd taken a photo of how lovely it looked, but I didn't. Maybe next time.

The caramel ice cream didn't freeze all that solid, more like soft serve than regular ice cream. But the taste -- I served scoops of it and the chocolate sorbet in plastic cups. We were all sitting in a loose circle in the dark yard, gently lit by the pinkish glow of the streetlight. The cheerful babble of wine- and food-fueled conversation faded as the cups spread around the group. Total silence fell. We just ate. Then the murmurs arose: good, so good. Dave described Kathryn as having tears in her eyes as she licked her spoon.

It really was that good. I want to tinker with the recipe some to get the texture a little more solid, but otherwise, this was one of the most perfect foods I have ever tasted, let alone created.

Lemon-Thyme Cocktail

2 oz vodka
1 oz lemon-thyme syrup (see below)
juice from half a lemon
seltzer to taste

Combine ingredients in a glass over ice, stir lightly to combine. Adjust seltzer quantity to taste.

Thyme Lemonade

Same as above, only leave out the vodka. Lovely non-alcoholic beverage.

Lemon-Thyme Syrup

2 T fresh thyme leaves
zest from one lemon
1/2 c sugar
1/2 c water

Bring all ingredients to a boil in a small saucepan, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Let cool, then chill overnight in the refrigerator. Strain and pour into a glass bottle. I bet this will keep in the fridge for at least a week, but I haven't had the chance to test that theory. It tastes too good.