Month: December 2008

puffed pasta

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puffed ras el hanout pasta with yogurt

This post should come with a warning:
Caution–consuming this product could be habit forming and produces psychological and physical symptoms including euphoria, chronic smiling, compulsive readings of Arabian Nights, and uncontrollable urges to take up belly dancing.
Pregnant women are at high risk.
Consider yourself warned.
………….
To make puffed pasta: roll out dough very thinly (second to last setting on a pasta machine). Cut into desired shapes. Cook in boiling, salted water until tender. Drain well, then spread out on baking sheets or dehydrator trays. Dehydrate or bake in 150F oven until hard and dry, occasionally flipping pasta. Dried pasta can be stored for prolonged periods in airtight containers. To puff, fry in vegetable oil at 375F until golden and puffed. Serve sprinkled with dried yogurt powder and sumac, or with Greek yogurt for dipping.
If you make ras el hanout pasta, be sure to cut some into wide pappardelle ribbons and cook them al dente, then toss with yogurt and serve with braised lamb. You won't be sorry.
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This concludes the ras el hanout portion of the program (that is not to say that it will not be revisited at a later time).
Stay tuned for more Adventures with Spice.

ras el hanout montenebro date

Deep in the Sahara, a dry, desert wind blows, picking up speed as it travels north. By the time that it reaches North Africa, it collides with a cool, humid air mass that blows off the Mediterranean, forming the formidable ill wind known as the sirocco. 

The chergui, as it is called in Morocco, wreaks havoc at the marketplace in Marrakesh, disrupting displays and covering wares with dust and sand. The spice merchants watch helplessly as the carefully formed cones of their finest spice are sent swirling into the air, caught by the chergui and carried off like loot as it makes its way east.  
In Tunisia, it blows through plantations of date palms. The tall, slender trunks bow in its wake, mercilessly shaking the fronds and dislodging the drupes. These, too, are caught in the wind and carried north. 
It makes its way across Malta, where it plunders a lemon grove, then up the coast to Naples, where it leaves the maccheronaros enraged as it makes off with sheets of pasta.
From there, it travels due west, across the Mediterranean, picking up speed and humidity. When it reaches Spain, it glides over ancient landscapes and makes its way to the elevated plains of Castilla y Leon. Approaching the fortified city of Avila, it sweeps over Romanesque walls, topples herds of goats, then takes off with their prized Montenebro cheese.
Turning south, it heads back towards the Mediterranean to Jerez de la Frontera. It rushes through a vineyard, uprooting vines of Pedro Ximenez and swipes multiple bottles of Fino off a shelf at a bodega. It hightails itself out of town, but not before ruffling the skirts of a group of flamenco dancers.  
Propelled by a low pressure system on its tail, it makes its way across the Atlantic. Laden with mischief and loot, the wind tires and loses momentum. When it reaches the New World, it has barely enough energy to make its way through an open door, seeking a safe spot to deposit its spoils before going off to expire.
An unsuspecting resident enters the room and stares in disbelief at the scene before her. Every surface in the kitchen is covered with piles of fragrant spice, sheets of pasta, logs of cheese, lemons, dates, and bottles of sherry. She shudders as a cold breeze brushes past her and she closes the door. 
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ras el hanout raviolo filled with Montenebro
dried date and fino sherry puree
spruce powder
yogurt with sumac
puffed ras el hanout pasta
fresh date
preserved lemon
spruce

ras el hanout

Nothing puts me in a holiday mood faster than the warm and sweet aroma of spice. A batch of spice-scented cookies–be they gingerbread, speculas, bizcochos, lebkuchen, pepparkakor, or melomakarona–baking in the oven sets off visions of sugarplums dancing through my head.

Today, spices are so readily available that we forget the blood, sweat, and tears that have made them a common staple in our cupboards. Spices were once more valuable than gold and their procurement the most dangerous and competitive game in the world, impelling unprecedented explorations and discoveries. The scent of spice is a wormhole into history.

Around the world, spice is the common thread that weaves together culinary traditions. Each culture has their own magical blend to offer: garam masala of India, five spice of China, mole of Mexico, baharat of the Middle East, and ras el hanout of North Africa. These blends are a syntheses of flavor and aroma–warm, complex, and elusive.

Ras el hanout, in Arabic, is top (or head) of the shop, referring to the Moroccan souks, where each merchant offers a house blend of his finest spices. These nuanced blends can include at least a dozen–and up to a hundred different spices, both common (nutmeg, mace, ginger, black pepper) and exotic (chufa nuts, ash berries, orisroot, cantharides–the now banned beetle spanish fly). The best blends are those in which the individual spices are not easy to decipher and where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. 
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clockwise from top left: nutmeg, saffron, anardana (ground pomegranate seeds), mace, grains of paradise, cardamom, cinnamon, black pepper, turmeric, allspice, and ginger (center)
This year, my food-centric friends will be receiving the "top of my shop". This, along with a free range chicken or leg of lamb, makes a welcome gift, one that I would be delighted to receive…especially if it came with this to cook it in. Just sayin'. 
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montenebro

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Montenebro is a cheese that is made from pasteurized goats milk. It is also known as Queso de Tietar, as it is only made in Valle de Tietar in the province of Avila in Castilla y Leon, Spain.
It is distinct from other goat cheese made in the region and is distinguished by its flattened log shape (said to be modeled after a Castilian mule's foot) and its soft, dark rind. Within the rind is a pale, creamy paste that is gloriously dense and creamy.
Montenebro is not a cheese for the meek–it is assertive and pungent with characteristic barnyard flavor, mellowed by notes of hazelnut and pine (enebro, in Spanish, is juniper). It demands to be enjoyed with bold flavors and wines with weight and intensity.

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montenebro
eggplant roasted with ras el hanout
crispy lamb pancetta
date puree
quail egg
escarole
oloroso sherry

preserved parsley

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I don't remember when I first began preserving leaves with glycerin. As a gardener, it was just something that I did to prolong the fleeting life of flowers and foliage. 
I do remember introducing it to my boys when they were young. In the autumn, we would gather branches of oak, beech, and maple leaves just as the colors began to turn and submerge them in vases filled with a solution of equal parts of water and glycerin. Over the next week, we would watch the color metamorphose as the chlorophyll ceased production, triggering the release of pigments. The glycerin, an emollient, would fill the cells, rendering the leaves supple and leathery. They would last for years this way, more so if pressed. Undoubtably, I still have some hidden between the pages of old books.
Last week, as I was preserving some blue holly cuttings this way, it occurred to me that I've only applied this procedure for decorative purposes, when all along, I've ignored its role as a food preservative. It was time to rectify that.
Within three days, a few sprigs of parsley were visibly transformed by the glycerine. The color darkened and the leaves appeared denser and heavier. The taste is sweet up front, which is surprising in a pleasant way, followed by the fresh flavor of parsley. Even after a week of sitting on the counter, loosely wrapped, the leaves are still supple and appear fresh.
Now, the obvious question arises: How can this make food better? Is the answer in its ability to preserve… or transform…or both?