To make onion caramel: Line an 8" pan with greased waxed paper or a silicone mat. Place 300g of onion syrup in a 5-qt pot (don't use a smaller pot as the syrup will form large bubbles and expand considerably). Add 200g heavy cream and set the pot over medium-high heat, stirring until mixture begins to boil. Cook to 250F/121C. Immediately pour onto prepared pan and let cool until caramel hardens. Cut into desired sizes and shapes with an oiled knife.
Judging by the comments in the previous post, the general consensus was to take the onion syrup aboard the foie gras train. A very tasty ride, no doubt, but as y'all were thinking liver and onions, I was thinking waffles with syrup.
chamomile-poached granny smith apple balls ✢ caramelized pickled allium triquetrum ✢ fried shallot oil ✢ young spruce tips
porcini-mesquite waffle ✢ delice de bourgogne triple cream cheese
onion syrup
porcini-mesquite waffles
Porcini flour is made by grinding dried porcini mushrooms in a spice grinder. Mesquite flour can be purchased at health food stores. It is made from the dried pulp of mesquite (Prosopis alba) pods and has a sweet flavor and aroma, reminiscent of toasted coconut, roasted coffee, chocolate, and cinnamon.
85g all-purpose flour
20g mesquite flour
10g porcini flour
5g sea salt
3g baking soda
2g baking powder
150g buttermilk
57g melted butter
1 egg
In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients until uniform in color. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg while adding the buttermilk, then whisk in the melted butter. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the wet. Stir with a wooden spoon to combine the ingredients and form a smooth batter. Allow batter to rest for 5 minutes to hydrate flours.
While the batter hydrates, preheat waffle iron according to manufacturer's instructions.
When iron is hot, place 2 Tablespoons of batter in center of iron to make small waffles, or up to 1/4 cup to make full-sized waffles. Lower lid and cook until steam subsides and waffle pulls away easily from iron.
Makes 8-10 small waffles or 4 large.
sweet
tart
spicy
savory
salty
oniony
you know you want some
onion syrup
300g sugar
100g Vidalia onion juice (about 1 large onion, put through a juicer)
200g dry red wine
150g red wine vinegar
50g balsamic vinegar
50g extra-virgin olive oil
5g fleur de sel
1.5g sichuan pepper, coarsely ground
1 medium Vidalia onion, cut lengthwise into 8 wedges and separated into petals.
Place sugar and onion juice in a large saucepan. Stir until sugar is evenly wet. Cover pan and set over medium heat. Cook for 3 minutes, then remove cover and turn heat up to medium high. Cook syrup to 360F/182C, or until medium golden and smells like toasted onions.
Immediately remove pan from heat and carefully add the wine to the pan. The hot syrup will sputter and boil, add the wine slowly until it calms down. Return pan to stove and continue cooking on medium high heat. When the syrup has dissolved in the wine, add all of the remaining ingredients. Adjust the heat to maintain a full rolling boil and cook the syrup until it reduces and thickens to the consistency of maple syrup. This can take up to 10 minutes.
Allow syrup to cool slightly and strain out the onion pieces. Store syrup in refrigerator for up to one month.
warm weather elicits cravings for raw foods
buffalo tartare
pickled allium aioli
daikon white asparagus lime gelee
lime basil
I'm thinking of changing my job description from 'Freelance Chef' to 'Cook-on-Call'. These days, at least, that's how it seems to play out— people call and I go cook.
I received one such call recently to cook dinner for two on that same day. It was 3pm when the call came in.
The requests were clear and succinct:
dinner at 6
light fare
asian flavors
no meat— fish ok
3-5 small courses
no dessert
keep it simple
Secretly, I love these impromptu jobs. When I have days or weeks to plan the details of a meal, I feel as if I've already cooked it in my head and the actual preparation is anti-climatic. Of course, familiarity with the kitchen and the client's palate helps alleviate some of the stress.
Knowing that there was only time for one stop, I gathered supplies from my pantry, vegetable bin, garden, and china closet, deliberately overpacking to cover the unknown variables. I also packed my camera; which I often do, but rarely end up using.
At the fish market I asked for the freshest catch and was shown a pristine hamachi with the head removed. I bought the upper half (about 2 lbs.) with the collar attached, and nothing else.
With the protein decided, I was free to plan the meal. I wanted to start with a raw preparation and end with the grilled collar, but while considering the other courses, I kept returning to the hamachi. It's a beautifully versatile fish that lends itself to many preparations, both raw and cooked. As I went back and forth about including sashimi, tartar, poached belly, or tempura, I realized that what I really wanted to do was an all-hamachi dinner. Furthermore, I wanted to weave the same flavors: fish, soy, allium, throughout the courses. The client had asked for simplicity, but would they be happy with an entire meal based on variations of the same flavor profile? By the time that I pulled into the driveway, I decided that they would.
As I unpacked, the client appeared in the kitchen to greet me and ask "What's for dinner?"
I might have laughed nervously, but my response was confident and emphatic,
"I hope you like hamachi!"
hamachi belly lime-pickled jicama sushi rice soy allium
hamachi sashimi tartar allium triquetrum granita
hamachi poached in dashi powdered soy and wasabi
spruce tip fluid gel lime zest
hamachi tempura dashi with miso and ponzu
pickled allium triquetrum bulbs peppercress
grilled hamachi collar tamari allium
To a cook, a clean plate speaks louder than compliments.
These allium were sent to me from Oregon, simply labeled as "wild onions". Originally, I thought they were ramsons (Allium ursinum), which grow wild in my area in the early spring. However, the triangular stems were exceedingly long and lacked the characteristic broad leaves that often cause ramsons to be confused with lily of the valley (a toxic plant). Further research revealed that they are, in fact, Allium triquetrum, commonly known as three-cornered leek, a species of Allium indigenous to the Mediterranean. They are also reported to grow in temperate areas of Britain and Japan. In the US, they are only found along coastal Oregon and California, where they are classified as an invasive weed.
All parts of the plant possess a refined leek/garlic flavor and aroma. The bulbs are dense and crisp, like water chestnuts, and are mild enough to eat raw, as are the lower part of the stems. The dark upper stems are fibrous and need to be cooked. The loose clusters of white flowers are more delicate in flavor. After the petals fall, the developed bulbils resemble caper berries, but with a subtle sulphuric flavor.
I see an extraordinary Gibson Martini in my near future.
I knew it was coming [the heat and humidity].
The change of weather had been forecast for days and discussed with the same fervor as an impending snowstorm. That's how it is in these parts. Weather rules.
But I didn't need a weather report to tell me that summer is quickly approaching. My dog does a fine job of that. His built-in barometer is fine tuned to low pressure systems, particularly the ones that bring oppressive humidity and summer storms. It causes him to pace the house restlessly until he drops from exhaustion. He's a dog of many talents (he can open doors and does a wicked Chewbaca impression) but when the sky starts to rumble, he has yet to figure out a way to fit his massive body under a bed.
Even without meteorologists and an anxious dog, I can always rely on the garden to tell me what part of the season we're in. The soil is finally warm and dry enough to plant summer vegetables. In the rock garden and perennial borders, the warm colors of spring bulbs and blooming shrubs give way to softer, cooler blues and pinks. And everywhere, there is green.
It's humbling to admit that a few days of hot, hazy sunshine does more to advance a plant's growth than all my fussing, nurturing and organic fertilizer put together. At this stage, my role becomes more passive; it's more about keeping up with the weeds. It feels a lot like raising teenagers.
And just as the garden changes with the weather, so, too, does my appetite. When it's hot and humid, all I want is cold and wet.
And, so, the change came: the heat and humidity descended, weather reporters congratulated themselves, the dog paced on cue, the garden flourished, the weeds rampaged, and I craved nothing but watermelon and iced tea.
With some disdain, I faced a pot of stock that I had made the night before from vegetable trimmings and herbs from the garden: asparagus, pea pods, wild onions, celery, lovage, chervil, ferns, yarrow, chives, and a handful of Parmesan rinds. A hot soup had seemed like a good idea in the cool of the evening, but on a sweltering afternoon, I re-imagined it as a cold tisane. While the cold, flavorful stock strained clear through a coffee filter, I dashed outdoors to collect a handful of leaves and petals: sedum, yarrow, fern, oxalis, dianthus, hesperis, chives. Along with some willowy stalks of asparagus, it was just what I craved— a cold, wet tonic on a hot, humid day.
I heard from a reader who made the asparagus sauce. He wanted to tell me that it brought fond memories of something his mother used to make. That's about the nicest thing that anyone can say to me.
He said it reminded him of his mother's green goddess dressing. He said that she, too, made it in a blender and sometimes added avocado. I don't know about you, but that sounded really good to me.
Green goddess is a mayonnaise, herb, scallion and anchovy dressing, created in the 1920's at The Palace Hotel in San Francisco as a tribute to actor George Arliss, who starred in the stage play "The Green Goddess". Most often, it is found as a white mayonnaise flecked with herbs that (I think) doesn't live up to the promise of its name. This one certainly does.
This dressing was made using the asparagus sauce base, the lemon juice increased to 1 Tblsp and (taking a cue from James' mom) added 1/2 of a ripe avocado. I left the anchovies out of the dressing, instead I sauteed minced boquerones along with crumbled rye bread in brown butter. Now I want to put these savory toasted crumbs on everything.
The egg drops are simply lightly whisked egg yolks dropped into hot (185F/85C) clarified butter. At first, they drop to the bottom, then float to the surface when done like tiny dumplings.
Deep-fried asparagus florets are not nearly as entertaining as those of broccolini, but they are crisp, nutty and delicious nonetheless.
These components, along with a tender heart of butterhead lettuce and a long curl of nutty Parmesan, make an altogether agreeable salad.
Thanks to James and his mom for the inspiration.
I think I forgot to say… that asparagus sauce?
It goes great with asparagus too.
asparagus
asparagus sauce
midnight moon goat gouda custard
There are times when I buy asparagus only for the tips and am left with several inches of tender stalk. That is never a problem for me, they quickly become a base for my favorite springtime sauce.
I don't remember when I first started making asparagus sauce; it's one of those seasonal staples that I pull out of my culinary closet like a favorite pair of sandals. Like the sandals, the sauce goes with everything and puts a 'spring in the step' of anything it's paired with.
The sauce varies every time I make it, adapting to what I have on hand. Basically, it consists of asparagus, leafy greens, and herbs; quickly pureed in a blender and emulsified with extra virgin olive oil. The asparagus can be whole stalks or trimmings, cooked until tender. The leafy greens can be arugula, spinach, sorrel, or even lettuce leaves. Herbs can be anything you like, although I avoid basil because of oxidation. Invariably, I include a form of raw allium to lift the flavors: scallions, ramps, spring onions, shallots are all good.
I urge you to try it for its versatility. It's fantastic with eggs, grilled or poached fish, and even makes chicken breast taste exciting. Its a delicious dip for raw vegetables, dressing for potato or pasta salad and makes the best risotto when stirred in at the final stage of cooking. It's so good that even these tiny fried spearings are falling all over themselves to get a taste.
asparagus sauce
3 cups cold water
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups of roughly chopped asparagus
1 1/2 cups of leafy greens (spinach, arugula, sorrel, lettuce), loosely packed
1/2 cup of fresh herbs (parsley, chervil, tarragon, cilantro), loosely packed
1 medium shallot, scallion, small spring onion, or small bunch of chives, roughly chopped
1 tsp salt
20 grinds black pepper
1/4 cup water from cooked asparagus
1 tsp lemon juice or vinegar
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Bring water and salt to a boil. Add asparagus and cook until tender. Place leafy greens, herbs, shallot, salt and pepper in a blender. Drain hot asparagus, reserving 1/4 cup of cooking water, add both to blender along with lemon juice. Blend on high speed, slowly drizzling in the olive oil until it is all incorporated and the sauce is smooth. Adjust seasoning to taste.
If it is to be served hot, serve immediately, or chill to serve cold. Sauce will keep in refrigerator for up to 5 days.
Playing with Fire and Water 