A La Mode #2: Love Me Sour

This week, sour cherries were at the market again! And there was much rejoicing. Also much pitting.

After last week’s cherry denial, I swooped down and bought up two quarts of sour cherries, brought them home, and lovingly wrapped them in plastic and dumped them in the refrigerator. The unpacking continues (so close, nearly done!). We were barely feeding ourselves. There was no time for fripperies.

Until Friday. Did I mention that my job has summer hours? I gladly exchange a few extra minutes each weekday for an entire Friday afternoon to while away as I will. And that meant pitting cherries.

This is not an activity I would encourage anyone to do in a hurry. Rushing through pitting two quarts of cherries sounds like a recipe for misery. Instead, I put on NPR, settled myself comfortably at the kitchen table, and put my paperclip to work. It was a meditative act, the pitting, an exercise in simplicity. I enjoyed it, though I don’t want to do it again very soon.

At the end of some unspecified amount of time later, I had a lot of pitted cherries. Each quart of cherries gave me about 3.5 cups of pitted cherries. My glorious ice cream book gave me a recipe for sour cherry frozen yogurt that took 3 of those cups. The rest I froze. Later in the summer, we’ll have that sour cherry tart I’ve been talking about for so long now.

It turns out that sour cherries taste like cherry candy. I never knew that cherry candy had anything to do with cherries—I thought it was just one of those constructed sweet flavors, a culinary depiction of redness.

Back in high school, I went to an orchard one afternoon with friends, and I still remember one of them offering me a Concord grape. “Eat it,” he said, a delighted grin on his face. “It tastes like grape candy.” It did, too.

This was just like that, but for cherries. I boiled them with sugar, then tasted the red syrup on the spoon, and I was licking cherry candy. I added a little kirschwasser from the liquor cabinet to the syrup as well, to keep the frozen yogurt smooth.

While the cherries and syrup cooled, I went out for Greek yogurt, for extra creaminess, and I also picked up some amaretti cookies from the Italian bakery across the street. The only amaretti I’d had before were from a package, and crisp all the way through. These little beauties shattered on the outside, giving way to a soft, interior of almond paste. So very good.

Almonds and cherries—a classic pairing. And what a classy combo they made, as ice cream sandwiches, or rather amaretti and sour cherry frozen yogurt sandwiches. Delicious!

Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt

adapted from The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

3 c sour cherries, pitted

¾ c sugar

1-2 T kirschwasser

1 c whole milk Greek yogurt

3 drops almond extract

Combine cherries and sugar in a medium saucepan, and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer five minutes, stirring frequently. The cherries will release a lot of juice. Add kirschwasser. (This would also be terrific with Amaretto, in which case you could skip the almond extract. But I had cherry liquor, so that’s what I added.) Set aside to cool--to at least room temperature. I popped it in the fridge overnight, myself.

Puree all ingredients in a food processor (a blender would likely work as well) until smooth. Seriously, blend these a lot so you don’t have big bits of cherry skin messing with the texture. It will be an amazing pink. I would like to paint my nails this color.

If the cherries started from fridge temperature, this is now ready to go in the ice cream machine. If not, cool in the fridge for two hours, then freeze it in the machine.

If at all possible, buy some amaretti cookies and make ice cream sandwiches. Oh, and then have your friends bring over some Vin Santo--an Italian dessert wine--and sip it while eating these on your roof deck. That makes for a pretty terrific Saturday night.

A la mode: A new project begins

As you may have noticed, Delicious Nadine has been on hiatus since, er, January. Oops.

Anyway, I'm back, and tastier than ever. I just moved into a neighborhood where Italian, Mexican, Vietnamese, and Cambodian foods all coexist -- plus some American, French, and what-not. There are three places that sell gelato within a short walk from home. One is literally across the street. In a bakery. Basically, I've moved to food heaven.

A la mode #1: Berry Plan B

Last week there were sour cherries at the farmer’s market. I knew that I wouldn’t have time to bake right then (Delicious Nadine just moved, and needed to unpack her pots and pans), but I determined that soon, I was going to have some sour cherry pie. I browsed online and chose the perfect recipe: a frangipane tart. I bought the almonds, made sure we had sufficient eggs and butter on hand.

Then last night I descended upon the table of fruits and veggies—and the only cherries on offer were sweet. Which as everyone knows are no good for baking.

But there were blueberries. I shrugged, heaved a sweet sigh for what might have been, and then transferred my affections to the available berry.

On the way home, I schemed up a menu: blueberry galette and lemon-buttermilk sorbet. That would drown my sour cherry sorrows.

I started out with the sorbet, since it would need to chill. Zest, juice, heat, stir, chill, freeze: yum. No problems. This is a fallback dessert for me, always easy, always good.

I’ve done the galette a few times as well, but never without, well, flour.

Yes, that’s right. I was out of flour. In my defense, I did just move, and beforehand I did my best to eat as many heavy foods as possible rather than move them. So I’m also nearly out of canned tomatoes and beans and all sorts of other staples. Also, out of flour means all purpose flour. It doesn’t include whole wheat, rye, brown rice, semolina, or a few other novelty items. Fortunately, I did have a small quantity of whole what pastry flour, which as everyone knows has a low protein content and will therefore bake up more tender than regular whole wheat. I’ve used it to sub in for half the white flour in pastries before.

I’d never done a crust entirely with whole wheat, though—and I didn’t even have enough of that for a galette. But I could manage enough for a few sweet biscuits to dot the top of some hot, bubbling berries.

An hour later, I pulled a gorgeous bowl of blueberry cobbler out of the oven. I was sweaty and dusted with flour, but I felt great. I had baked my first fruit dessert in my new home. And yes, blueberry cobbler with lemon-buttermilk sorbet was delicious.

Lemon-Buttermilk Sorbet

2/3 c sugar

1/3 c water

zest of one lemon

2 c buttermilk

1/4 c fresh lemon juice

1-2 T vodka or limoncello, optional

Heat sugar and water in a small saucepan, stirring, until sugar dissolves (it shouldn't have to get very hot). Add zest. Stick saucepan in the freezer to cool.

Once the sugar syrup is very cold, pour into medium bowl. Whisk in buttermilk, then lemon juice. If you're not going to eat this all in the next day or so, add the booze to help keep the texture from getting icy.

Freeze according to your ice cream machine directions. (I've always loved this line of instructions. It takes the recipe writer completely off the hook, right?)

The Digital Story of Delicious Nadine

Last week I took a terrific workshop with The Center for Digital Storytelling. I made this, my very first excursion into the world of Final Cut Express: Delicious Nadine, A Story in Three Courses. Enjoy!

Harold McGee Dodges My Question!

You may all remember The Great Cheesecake Failure of '10. I put a cheesecake in the oven. It dripped, and an oven fire ensued. Removed cheesecake, put out fire. Let oven cool, cleaned oven. Reheated oven and put cheesecake back in.

The cheesecake did nothing. Refused to bake any further.

Skin Like Duck-Garlic Candy

I spent Christmas in Paris (I know, what a good idea, right?). It was spectacular. I ate my way through the city of lights, walking around and looking at great art and architecture between meals, as a way to stimulate appetite. At the end of the day, back to the apartment for a nightcap of wine and Lyonnaise sausage before bed. Yum.

Courtesy of my friends Olivia and Emmanuel, I got to have a wonderful lunch at an actual French home, which was a truly lovely break from my wanderings from restaurant to restaurant. Plus, the food was outstanding.

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.