lamb beans cypress

lamb tenderloin

5-bean pave: cannellini, flageolet, borlotto, cranberry, garbanzo

cypriot spice

peppadew gel

golden and mexican oregano

"Beans, beans, the magical fruit…"

You know the rest.

While there is nothing magical about flatulence, there are some that believe beans possess supernatural powers…

Jack certainly did when he traded in his cow.

So too did the Egyptians, who dedicated temples to beans and buried them in tombs.
Pythagoras believed beans contained souls in transit and banned their consumption.
Many cultures eat beans on New Years Day to bring good fortune in the coming year.

Magic, folklore, and superstition aside, beans do have an undeniable power. Nutritionists have long hailed legumes as a complete "superfood". High-fiber, low-fat, cholesterol-free, and the only food that fits into two food groups: vegetable and protein.

Besides, when well cooked and seasoned, they're just plain tasty.

Cypress (Thuja) is a member of Cupressaceae and is commonly known as arbor vitae (tree of life) and Whitecedar or Redcedar, although they are not true cedars. They have been immortalized in European landscape paintings.

Although cypress is used in herbal medicine to stimulate the immune system, it contains the terpene thujone, a potentially harmful substance in large doses that is regulated in food and drink. The levels of thujone in absinthe–provided by Artemisia–was once believed to cause psychotic behavior and led to its ban in the early twentieth century. The levels of thujone in Thuja is similar or less than those found in Artemesia, sage, juniper, and tansy.

just wondering

Can flavor…

be fractal?
heal?
alter mood?
affect behavior?
be separated from emotion?
transcend its function?
be genetically predisposed?
narrate a story?
paint a picture?
be composed to play like notes on a scale?
be charted as a periodic table?
inform texture?
satiate without caloric energy?
be masculine or feminine?
have a pedigree or hierarchy?
change the way we eat?

If you think you understand flavor and how we experience it, read this.

crab mango spruce pomelo vanilla

In my mind, mango and pine will always be tangled together. I have Luciano to thank for that.

Luciano was a dishwasher at the first restaurant that I worked in. He could rip through stacks of dirty dishes faster than any machine, work any station where he was needed, fix anything that was put in front of him. He also made the most delicate pasta that I've ever tasted. All this, he did with the demeanor of a pit bull, alternately growling and cursing like a sailor, then laughing and smiling like an impish boy. He held everyones respect with his consummate badassness.

He was a man of many talents and just as many peculiarities. For one, he had a habit of chewing on pine twigs, of which he kept a fresh supply in a freezer. When questioned, he explained that it kept his teeth clean and it was Nature's breath freshener. I had to agree as he did, indeed, have a dazzling-white smile and always smelled forest-fresh.

Luciano also introduced me to the mango. He brought one in for me one day when I expressed an interest in the fruit that he spoke of with an exaggerated fondness that made his eyes go soft. He showed me how to peel it with a paring knife, then cut away the flesh from the flat seed that he kept for himself, scraping it over and over between his teeth, because–as he put it–"It is the sweetest part…Nature's candy."

My first impression of the mango was favorable–a nice balance of sweet and tart, exotic aromas, buttery texture–yet there was an underlying flavor that intrigued me. When I identified it as pine and relayed this to Luciano, he burst out in a belly-laugh, explaining, "To me, everything tastes like pine"

It came as no surprise when, many years later, I confirmed that there is a concentration of the hydrocarbon, terpene, in the flavor profile of mangoes. Among these are limonene (citrus), pinene (pine), carvone (caraway, dill), myrcene (bay, verbena, myrtle), and ionone (violet, vetiver).

While playing with the flavor of pine (here, in the form of spruce) and mango, I found vanilla to be a nice bridge with both flavors, rounding out the sharp pitchyness of the pine and enhancing the floral aroma of mango. Pomelo, an enormous citrus that tastes like grapefruit without the bitterness, has a fragrant peel with tones of bergamot that played along well with these flavors.

Recently, in an email exchange with another chef, I mentioned this relationship between mango and pine. He was quick to reference a dish in The Big Fat Duck Cookbook. Sure enough, Heston Blumenthal had uncovered this relationship and composed a beautiful dessert around it.

king crab

mango

spruce

pomelo

avocado

vanilla

Although Luciano was in his fifties when I knew him, he was one of the fittest people I knew. He attributed this to a daily regimen of weight lifting and mango power shakes.

I think that he would approve of this mango lassi with a head of spruce foam, scented with a split vanilla bean.

Spruce (Picea) proliferates throughout Northern temperate zones. It is distinguished by its symmetrical conical growing habit, making it a prized landscape plant as well as a favorite Christmas tree. Spruce contains a good amount of vitamin C and its sap was used by Native Americans to make a gum, which later became the inspiration for the first commercially produced chewing gum.

Addendum: an interesting bit of information from a reader via email:

"…I lived on Kauai for four years where people with property have varied and excellent cultivars of all sorts of mango trees and one of my neighbors took me to his 'special' tree to harvest a basket load of perfectly luscious golden mangos. Then he showed me his personal quirk – mangos will bleed sap from the stem when they're picked and that was one of his favorite parts. I tried it and found it to be totally piney in flavor and from then on, I really taste the terpenes in the mango's I eat quite clearly. So fun. He believed it to be particularly healing too, though he didn't have any concrete thoughts about why specifically.
I recommend looking near the stem end of the mangos you find in the market for a shiney, dried drip of sap somewhere on the skin. You can usually peel it off and chew it like gum. It will be totally piney and delicious.
Thought you'd find this a fun bit to know…"

cod juniper apricot

There were few foods that I disliked eating as a child. Salt cod was definitely one.

It is said that the Portuguese have 1,000 ways of preparing bacalhau. Much to my dismay, many of these preparations made their way onto my dinner plate. No matter how much I protested or pleaded, the only requisite to leaving the table was to eat my bacalhau, thus saving me from an empty, degenerate life, the direct result of a salt cod deficiency. The potatoes, a traditional accompaniment, always came to my rescue. Not only did they make the fish more palatable, they provided a cover under which to hide the bits that I couldn't get down.

After a long separation, I've developed a taste for salt cod. I had to come back to it on my own terms. The dense, fibrous texture, which I once found so offensive, is what draws me to it now.

I can't help but feel a little naughty as I revert back to hiding the bacalhau in this dish, although this time around the intent is to bury it as a treasure and give it the respect that it deserves.

apricot lime puree

potato puree

egg yolk

crispy smashed yukon gold

juniper salt cod

juniper foam

juniper-gin tempura dome

In addition to playing off of the flavors and textures that are found in traditional Portuguese bacalhau dishes and the classic fish and chips, this dish explores the chemical relationship between the flavors of cod, juniper and apricot.

…………………………

More profoundly than spice, salt has steered the course of history. Our fundamental need for it prompted an age of discovery, displaced populations, built empires, leveled economies, instigated wars, and saved humanity from starvation.

The history of cod is intrinsically entwined with salt. Dating back over 500 years, salt cod has sustained entire populations on both sides of the Atlantic. Its commerce linked the New World to the Old. Codfish were once so plentiful that it was jokingly said that one could cross the Atlantic on foot by using their backs as stepping stones. Now, they have been overfished to near extinction, warranting heavy restrictions to protect the remaining population of Atlantic cod and challenging consumers to seek other options. Sustainable alternatives are Pacific cod, Alaskan pollock, and hook-and-line caught Haddock.

To make juniper salt cod: Finely grind fresh juniper sprigs and berries. Mix 1 part juniper with 2 parts coarse sea salt. Lay fresh fish fillets on a bed of juniper salt and completely cover with a thick layer of additional salt. Cover, and refrigerate for 2 days, after which time, the fish can be hung and dried in the refrigerator for up to a month, then hydrated before cooking. I prefer the texture when it is hydrated directly after salting. To hydrate: Rinse salt off of fish and soak in fresh, cold water for 2 days under refrigeration, changing water 3-4 times during this period. Cook as desired.

To make juniper foam: In a blender, place 500ml tonic water and 30ml juniper sprigs. Blend until liquified. Strain. Season liquid with salt and a few drops of lime juice. Place 1/2 of liquid in a saucepan and add 3 sheets of gelatin that have been bloomed in cold water. Heat until gelatin dissolves, then blend in remaining liquid and allow to cool. Strain again into an iSi canister and charge with N2O. Chill thoroughly before discharging.

To make juniper gin: Lightly smash leaves and berries on sprigs of juniper with a mallet. Place in a bottle of gin and set aside at room temperature for at least 3 days. Remove sprigs when the juniper has a pronounced presence in the gin.

To make juniper gin tempura dome: In a bowl, combine 2 eggs, 5g agave syrup, 3g salt, 80g AP flour, 100g rice flour, 120ml tonic water, and 120ml juniper gin. Whisk together until smooth. Heat the back of a ladle in a deep-fryer of vegetable oil to 375F. for 2 minutes. Remove ladle and let excess oil drip back into deep-fryer. Invert ladle over a bowl and drizzle the tempura batter over the back in a lacy pattern. Lower ladle into hot oil and fry for 2-3 minutes or until golden and crispy. Carefully remove dome from the back of the ladle using the tip of a knife to help it dislodge.

Various species of Juniper (Juniperus) grow widely throughout the Northern hemisphere. The needles of most Junipers look like tiny, overlapping scales. The berries, which are actually cones, mature to a deep blue in the fall and remain on the branches throughout the winter. They provide the distinct flavor of gin and are used in Northern and Eastern European cuisines to flavor wild game and choucroute garnie.

trout quinoa tangerine fir

fir-infused trout

crispy quinoa crust

fir oil

tangerine

black olive dust

If you've ever belonged to the Scouts of America, or have been camping, then you surely know what a hobo pack is. Maybe you don't. Or you need to be reminded.

A hobo pack is a self-contained meal where a square of foil serves as both pan and plate.

When my boys were young and had polar tastes in food, both of which conflicted with my husband's and mine–hobo packs saved my sanity. With very little effort, I could assemble fresh and nutritious meals that were customized to our individual tastes without destroying my kitchen. In the dog days of summer, vegetables and herbs went directly from the garden (with a brief pause under the faucet) to awaiting packs by the grill–no kitchen involved. In the winter, the packets were cooked on glowing embers in the fireplace and eaten on plates while sitting on the floor in front of the fire. These meals always felt effortless.

But if it was just convenience that I was after, there were other alternatives. What appealed to me about hobo packs was the cloche environment that allowed for infusing flavor. Here, there was plenty of room for play. Virtually any ingredient(s) that performs well in a steamy, hot environment is a candidate for this method, with herbs, spices, liquids and/or fats added for flavor.

What distinguishes this method from other forms of vapor cooking is that it is performed on a very hot heat source, which introduces the element of caramelization in the bottom layers that permeates the rest of the contents. One adjunct to this is that when using dried woody herbs as a bed, they will burn and impart a smoky flavor.

That smokiness was what I was going for when placing rainbow trout (a good choice for sustainability) on a bed of dried fraser fir needles. The result is a stunning sweet, resinous aroma that infiltrates the fish. If terroir, or 'a sense of place' can be captured in a dish, this one certainly does, conjuring up memories of sitting around a campfire in a fragrant forest, with a well-stocked lake nearby. In this context, food really does taste better when kissed by the great outdoors.

A thick layer of fresh fir needles are arranged on a square of heavy-duty foil. A deboned filet of trout is rubbed with olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper. Thin slices of tangerine are arranged over top. The foil is tightly sealed around fish, leaving some airspace for heat circulation. The packet is placed on a red-hot cast iron skillet (it's ready when drops of water immediately evaporate) and cooked for 3 minutes, then removed and allowed to steam for 5 minutes before opening.

Fraser fir (Abies fraseri) is the quintessential American Christmas tree, known for its fragrance and ability to retain its soft needles for weeks after cutting. It has one of the strongest terpene scents among conifers.

To make fir oil, blend fresh needles in a high speed blender with olive oil. Strain and store in an opaque container in the refrigerator.

sardine raspberry vinegar yogurt pine

Speaking of trends…its encouraging to see sustainable seafood on many lists.

Although we perceive the vast oceans as an endless source of food, pollution and careless fishing practices within the industry is depleting our supply faster than it can sustain itself. As chefs, it is our responsibility to educate and provide delicious and sustainable alternatives in order to sway popular taste. As consumers, we have the power to implement change, starting with the choices that we make (money talks).

Knowing what seafoods to choose can be confusing as it is not always a question of overfishing a particular species, but sometimes it is the location where they are caught and, often, it is the practice of a fishery or farmer that is harmful to the environment. There is a comprehensive guide here that lists good choices as well as alternatives and those to avoid. As a simplified general rule, large fish are most vulnerable, whereas small fish such as mackerel, herring, and sardines are not. In addition to being eco-friendly, these sustainable species are rich in omega-3 fatty acids, wallet-friendly, and loaded with umami.

Unfortunately, some people avoid these fish because of their assertive flavor or simply because they are unfamiliar.

Luckily for me, the humble sardine and I are old friends. Growing up in a Portuguese household, fewer foods were brought to the table with more reverence. The large, meaty ones were simply grilled whole, to be filleted at the table. The smaller ones were lightly fried and pickled overnight in garlic and onion-scented vinegar–their tiny bones so tender that they became an integral part of their texture. This preparation was my favorite. Though I couldn't stomach them for breakfast (as my parents often did), I enjoyed them as a snack.

Escabeche de Sardinha is as simple as quickly frying small sardines that have been seasoned and lightly dusted with flour, in olive oil. These are then removed from the pan, the heat turned down, and thinly sliced onions and garlic are added to the pan and slowly stewed. When soft, the pan is deglazed with red wine vinegar and the escabeche is poured over the sardines and chilled overnight. They are best eaten at room temperature.

For this dish, I swapped shallots for the onions, omitted the garlic, and deglazed with raspberry vinegar.

Sardines, vinegar, and raspberries have an affinity for each other and share aroma compounds: ester (isovaleric acid), alcohol (butanediol), and aldehyde (acetaldeyhde). Pine, yogurt and cocoa also play in with the flavors of fish and raspberries. Chemistry aside, its a great tasting combination.

sardine

vinegar

raspberry

yogurt

pine

cocoa

Eastern White Pine (Pinus strobis) proliferates throughout northeastern North America. The long, thin needles contain five times as much Vitamin C (by weight) as lemons.

For the pine dust: Bring equal amounts (by weight) of sugar and water to a boil. Reduce until syrupy. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly. Drop in pine needles, stir to coat and remove to a silpat. If the syrup is too hot or the needles remain in it for too long, they will begin to discolor. Separate the needles and dehydrate until they snap when bent. Grind in a spice grinder.

conifers

Every January, we are inundated with lists that forecast trends for the coming year. As someone who works in fashion as well as food, watching trends is more than a curiosity; its a vital tool for staying current.

In fashion, as in art and music, it is often the innovators that drive the trends, creating perpetual fluxes that shape and define current culture. In these arenas, trends move quickly from concept to mainstream, where consumers not only embrace innovation but expect it.

By contrast, in the visceral arena of food, innovation moves slowly and is often met with reluctance. At their best, consumer-driven trends have markedly improved the state of our food with movements towards organic, local and sustainable. At their worst, they subject us to tsunamis of fads, convenience, and medical quackery. How else would you explain no-carb bread, candy bars-as-meals, and Sandra Lee*?

Innovation, by definition, means the introduction of something new. In this spirit, allow me to introduce a list of focused flavors that I would like to see become a trend. Let me preface by saying that this is not my innovation–avant-garde chefs have been exploring these flavors for years.**

So, are you intrigued? bored? shocked? ready to hurl?

Not surprisingly, I've seen all of these reactions when discussing the flavor of conifers in food, but its really not so radical…or new. In fact, some have a long history in food & beverage:

Juniper is the primary flavorant of gin.
Birch beer, made from birch bark, is a nostalgic beverage from the nineteenth century.
Cedar was used by North American Indians long before Europeans settled here.
Pine nuts, the buttery seed of the genus Pinus, have been consumed since the Paleolithic period.

Moreover, using aromatic parts of trees to flavor food is routine in any kitchen. Peppercorns, nutmeg, cinnamon and bay leaf are used by even a novice cook.

It makes me question why pine and all of its tall friends have been largely ignored. It could be because they tend to be overpowering and evocative of Christmas trees, medicine, and… well… turpentine. Indeed, terpene, the family of aroma compounds to which conifers belong, was named after turpentine, a product of pine resin.

Terpenes are a large class of hydrocarbons that are highly aromatic. Members of the terpene family are: pinene (the aroma of conifers), limonene (the aroma of citrus), menthol (the aroma of peppermint), thujone (the aroma of sage), thymol (the aroma of thyme) and many more that comprise the flavor of the majority of herbs and spices.

Conifers aren't so scary when you realize that they are only a few molecules away from that of rosemary, sage, thyme and mint.

*not to pick on Sandra Lee, whom I'm sure is a lovely gal, but doesn't "semi-homemade" = "semi-good"?

**one of my most memorable dishes of 2008 was the chicken liver spaetzle, pine, and cocoa nibs at WD-50.

WARNING: As with all unfamiliar plants, be sure to correctly identify them before consuming. Although those listed here are known to be safe in small to moderate doses, the ones that contain the terpene thujone may be harmful if consumed in large doses– large meaning more than a rational individual could possibly consume. Thujone is present in cedar, cypress, and juniper. My exploration will be limited to using flavor from the natural plant source–use caution with concentrated essential oils. Under no circumstances should you consume any part of the conifer yew (Taxus) which contain highly toxic alkaloids and can be identified by its soft red berries.

tangerine gingerbread coconut black sesame

Gingerbread– a western invention inspired by eastern spices– makes perfect sense when paired with other asian flavors: coconut, tangerine, and black sesame. Although lemon verbena is not widely used in the east, its exotic flavor fits in with the aromatic cuisines of Southeast Asia and provides this dish with a lilting high note.

An interesting synergy developed with the tangerine component. It had started out as a whipped gelatin where sweetened juice was blended with 3% gelatin. Upon whipping, it felt thin. In an attempt to raise the viscosity, I decided against xanthan and opted for methocel. In the initial test, 0.5% of methocel F50 showed a marked improvement in texture. In a subsequent test, increasing the amount to 1% resulted in a dense foam with a rich mouthfeel reminiscent of a fruit curd…definitely something to play with.

And so, with ginger bread returned to its home (and in high spirits), this journey ends.

I think I hear the forest calling…

montbriac pear endive ginger bread

Somedays, the path from concept to execution is clear and linear, where flavors and textures that are united in the mind manifest themselves on a plate with smug accuracy. But the palate doesn't lie. Not even when the brain falls under the spell of an ingredient. That hussy–the quince–she had me completely seduced.

Blame it on the Montbriac, the instigator of the incident. Upon tasting the RocheBaron* creamy blue cheese, I knew that I wanted to highlight it in something more than a cheese plate. With the tangy funk of Roquefort in mind, I flipped through my mental catalog of flavors. Intuition, through the filter of experience, produced the following hits: ripe fruit esters, bitter greens, warm toasty aromas.

Ginger bread instantly found its role. Ground and toasted with walnut oil, it fit the profile that I was after. Belgian endive hearts, caramelized in brown butter, reinforced the nuttiness and introduced a mellow bitterness and succulent, crisp texture.

The pieces fell into place. The path was clear. Then, it happened.

Reaching for the ripe Bartletts on the counter, my attention wavered to the neighboring quince.

"Hello" she said "why not choose me instead of Mr. Predictable over there. I am the unexpected twist that your dish needs."

I should have followed my instincts, which told me not to listen to a love child of the rose and the apple.

Looking back, I think my resolve shifted when she swayed me with the spicy, floral fragrance that she can only release when ripe. She was a fruit in heat and I am a whore for heady aromas. That was my unraveling…but, the truth is that she had me at hello.

And so, I spent the ensuing hour trying to coax her into playing nice. The problem was that she insisted on being the star. She made the cheese feel rubbery, the endive taste flat, and robbed the ginger bread of its spice. They all threatened to walk off stage if she were not recast.

Meanwhile, the Bartletts stood in the wings, quietly mocking me. They did not protest when I reduced them to a fragrant juice. Or, when I blended them with LM pectin and a touch of calcium, transforming their texture to that of pear confit.

With the spell broken and a cleared head, it was no surprise that the rest of the cast cheered when the pear entered the stage and that the dish received rave reviews.

* RocheBaron Montbriac is a rich and creamy blue cheese with an ash rind. Made in Pouligny-Sainte-Pierre in central France, it is the product of a successful experiment resulting from injecting Roquefort mold into a soft Brie.

ICC 2009

StarChefs.com has announced that the 4th annual International Chefs Congress will take place on September 20-22, 2009 in New York City. If you work in the food & beverage industry, you won't want to miss this event. As an added incentive, StarChefs.com is offering a special 3-day early bird pass for only $199 (regular admission is $325). Hurry, though…the offer expires February 28th.