kimchi brown butter

Winter is kimchi-making time. In the past, I've made batches with cabbage, bok choy, and thinly sliced cauliflower. This year, I'm back to the traditional Chinese cabbage variety.

Although kimchi is not in my culinary heritage, it holds an inextricable position in my family of deliciousness. Another esteemed member, brown butter–though seemingly disparate, has an affinity for kimchi. Linked by dimethyl sulfide, their symbiotic relationship feels like a toasty warm blanket on a cold winters night.

romanesco steak. buckwheat. lamb bacon. kimchi. brown butter.

serves 4

kimchi stock

If your kimchi has plenty of liquid, you can decrease the amount of vegetable stock. Adjust the finished stock with salt and additional spice and acid to make it vibrant.

500g (18 oz) kimchi

125g (4.5 oz) vegetable stock

Puree the kimchi with the stock in a blender. Strain through a chinoise. Reduce the stock by half.

romanesco steak

Cooking a thick cut of romanesco cauliflower in brown butter and kimchi infuses it with a nutty, meaty flavor with a kick of fiery spice.

2 1" thick crosscut slices of romanesco cauliflower, each cut in half

40g brown butter

100g kimchi stock

salt

Season the cauliflower with salt and place in sous vide bag with the brown butter and stock. Vacuum and seal bag. Sous vide at 85C for 20 minutes. keep warm.

lamb bacon

At the restaurant, we get saddles of lamb from Colorado. After they're broken down, we're left with sheets of creamy fat, striated with meat, from the backs. Because the sheets are thin, I glue 2-3 layers together and cure them to make bacon.

4 1/4" thick slices lamb bacon

Bake in a 300F oven until golden and crisp. Chop finely.

buckwheat groats

Buckwheat groats, also known as kasha, are a psuedocereal as they do not grow from a grass. The cooked seeds have a nutty, mild mushroom flavor.

1 1/2 cups buckwheat groats

3 cups vegetable stock

1 tsp salt

In a medium saucepan, bring the water to a boil. Add buckwheat and salt. Stir well, cover, and turn heat down to low. Cook for 15-20 minutes or until tender. Reserve half of the cooked groats to make puffed buckwheat.

puffed buckwheat

reserved cooked buckwheat

2 cups canola oil

Drain buckwheat well and spread out in a single layer on dehydrator tray or on a baking sheet. Dehydrate or bake in a 150F oven until groats are hard, dry, and shriveled. Place the oil in a deep pan and heat to 375F. Drop dehydrated groats into hot oil in small batches. They will puff immediately. Scoop out with a fine mesh spoon and transfer to paper towels to dry. Repeat with remaining groats.

kimchi and brown butter emulsion

Glycerine flakes are a fatty acid ester that is soluble in fat. It has the ability to thicken oils and form

emulsions from fat and water-based mediums.

70g (2.5 oz) brown butter

11g (.40 oz) glycerine flakes

60g (2.10 oz) kimchi stock

salt

Place brown butter and glycerine flakes in a saucepan and heat over medium heat just until flakes melt. Place the stock in a bowl and gently heat over simmering water until lukewarm. Very slowly drizzle the oil into the stock while whisking vigorously. When all of the oil is incorporated, the mixture may look as if it is separating. Set the bowl into a larger bowl of cold water and whisk vigorously until mixture is smooth and stable. Season with salt. The emulsion can now be gently warmed by whisking over warm water.

to finish

Blackened garlic is made by roasting whole, unpeeled garlic cloves in a 325F oven until they are hard, dry

and black. Grated over a finished dish, they act as an earthy and mildly bitter seasoning. Store fragrant tubers such as ginger root, galangal, and tumeric in the freezer and microplane over a dish just before serving to brighten its aroma and flavor.

blackened garlic

frozen galangal

finely chopped kimchi

Arrange a half-slice of cauliflower on a plate. Next to the cauliflower, place a small mound of chopped kimchi. Cover the kimchi with the cooked buckwheat. Sprinkle with the puffed buckwheat. Make another mound of chopped lamb bacon next to the buckwheat. Place a dollop of warmed emulsion on the plate. Microplane the frozen galangal over the buckwheat. Microplane the blackened garlic over the cauliflower and emulsion.

foie brioche macaron

foie and brioche macaron with raspberry, passion fruit and fig dip

French macarons are the stuff that fetishes are made of and empires are built on…just ask Prince Pierre of Paris. Once, you had to travel to the City of Light to worship at its altar. Now, the Cult of Macaron has spread to all corners of the globe.

It is said that the macaron was introduced to the french via Catherine de Medici, though any frenchman worth his almond flour would argue that point. What is known for certain is that the original macaron was a humble cookie, a combination of egg whites, sugar and ground almonds. No additional flavorings or filling.

In Sofia Coppola's 2006 rendition of Marie Antoinette, there is a scene with the young queen and Ambassador Mercy that features the modern, brightly colored macarons. Its interesting that this modern version–a flavored and filled cookie sandwich–was created by a grandson of Laduree, over 100 years after Marie Antoinette's death. Even more interesting is that Laduree provided the pastries for the film.

Initially, the modern version of the macaron consisted of the original almond cookies sandwiched together with chocolate ganache. For the next 80-90 years, the flavorings remained simple: vanilla, chocolate, coffee, raspberry. It wasn't until the late 1990's that Pierre Herme began to seduce parisiennes with his annual haute-couture collections of sexy flavor combinations: olive oil and vanilla, passion fruit, rhubarb, and strawberry, white truffle and hazelnut, cream cheese, orange, and passionfruit, and my personal favorite–litchi, rose, and raspberry.

Nearly all of the flavor in these macarons is found in the filling. The cookies are largely left alone with the exception of food coloring, cocoa powder or chocolate, and in some cases, flavor essences. It is neccessary to maintain the delicate balance of ingredients in order to produce the crisp/fragile shell, the chewy/soft interior, and the characteristic "feet". With this in mind, I had to ask myself if there is any room for play.

The role of egg whites and sugar is fundamental. I've made macarons with methocel–they're not the same. That left me examining the almond flour. I understand its function; it provides structure and texture, but it also makes the flavor of macarons invariable and can be detected no matter what accompanying flavors are used. This, I realized, was a starting point.

As luck, or providence, would have it, I had a loaf of brioche on hand. I saw no reason why finely ground and toasted bread crumbs could not stand in for almond flour.

Macarons are notoriously capricious to make and my early attempts were hit-or-miss. It was only when I realized though the ingredients are simple, the technique is critical, that I began to get consistent results. Precisely following the procedure: leaving the egg whites at room temperature for 24 hours, sifting all dry ingredients, whipping the egg whites just until they hold their peaks, gentle folding, careful piping, leaving them to dry for 30 minutes before baking, ensured the control that was neccessary to determine if failure was caused by product, and not technique.

I am happy to report that both were a success. They came out of the oven looking perfect. The texture is right and the flavor captures the nuances and complexity of toasted brioche. The only question that remained was what to fill them with. As if I even had to ask.

Making macarons with bread crumbs is like getting a new playset at the playground. The potential for fun seems endless:

pumpernickle, pastrami, mustard

rye, smoked salmon, cream cheese

foccaccia, tomato, mozzarella

saltines, peanut butter, jelly

graham crackers, marshmallow, chocolate

oreos!

tollhouse

doughnuts, coffee

piecrust, apple, cheddar

…OK, I'll stop now.

turkey and trimmings

After spending the better part of yesterday breaking down and carving countless turkeys (yes, people really do order pre-roasted, pre-carved turkeys), I just had to play. All those sinews and tenacious muscles clinging to bones. Not to mention the incompatible white meat/dark meat cooking factor.

While gnawing meat off the bone makes for a primal experience, there are times when I want something more refined. If nature was not going to provide me with a product that can be cooked integrally and be easy to eat, I thought that I would give it a shot.

A core of brined white meat, wrapped around the wing bone, followed by a thin slice of brined dark meat, then skin…mission accomplished.

One thing that I've learned over the years is that Thanksgiving is the one holiday that I can play with presentations, as long as the traditional flavor profiles remain in tact. At least thats how it plays out in my family.

white meat/dark meat petite drumstick

sweet potato marshmallow

liquid stuffing

brussels sprouts

whipped potatoes

pickled cranberries

This year, I am thankful that Thanksgiving only comes around once a year, and that someone else will be cooking my dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving!

foie cake

You've been looking forward to this meal for some time.

You've chosen the restaurant because you heard that the food is playful.

You're here because you're hungry, but not just for food.

You order the tasting menu.

You don't read through the courses because you want to be surprised.

You're now three courses in.

You're know you're hooked because you can't stop smiling.

Course #4 arrives.

The server sets down a plate in front of you.

He tells you what it is then walks away.

You don't hear him because you're looking at your plate.

You see that that there's a tiny cake on your plate.

You glance at the table next to you to see if you've gotten their dessert.

They're eating fish.

You're confused.

Then you smell foie.

You pick up your knife and cut into it.

It cuts like a cake.

You pull out a wedge and inspect it.

It looks like a cake.

You take a bite.

It's not what you expected.

The left side of your brain runs for cover.

The right side comes out to play.

You expected it to be sweet.

It's not.

You taste tart cranberries, sweet shallots, dry wine.

You taste toasted brioche.

You taste foie.

You don't taste cake.

The left side of your brain whimpers.

The right side giggles.

Your mouth is making plans to come back next week.

foie brioche

Brioche is the Coco Chanel of breads.

Her timeless appeal spans generations and cultures. A portent of good taste, she is a welcome accessory on any table.

Her distinctive perfume; a complex affair of bacteria and yeast, enriched with the elegance of eggs and butter, is a classic.

Even classics are fair game for refinement.

And what, I ask, is more refined than brioche and foie? Perhaps…brioche made with foie?

If you see someone sear or roast foie, and then proceed to discard the lovely, gorgeously-flavored foie butter….please tell them to stop!

faux pas

Did Tom Colicchio really tell a group of chefs to "make sure you put your tasting spoons in the bain-marie? [Ewww].

Old habits die hard.

Oh, and….brunoise is not the hardest knife skill.

Tourné, anyone?

foie apple grape

foie gras

green apple crisp

"grape"

curry

oxalis

grapes

One of my earliest taste memories is of grapes. Not of the insipid seedless supermarket variety. The grapes that I grew up eating were the European Vitis vinifera, grown in my backyard.

Growing grapes was my fathers passion. As far back as I can remember, he would tend the vines; training, pruning and grafting them year after year, in hopes of producing the perfect grape. The goal, of course, was to produce a great wine. The wines, though perfectly drinkable, were never remarkable.

When he stopped making wine, there was an abundance of grapes for the table. Just a few ripe bunches in a bowl would fill the house with a complex bouquet of aroma compounds made up of alcohols (methyl alcohol, ethyl alcohol), aldehydes (acetaldehyde, isobutyraldehyde), amines (methoxypyrazine), esters (ethyl, butyrate), thiols (mercaptohexyl acetate) and terpenes (linalool, nerol)–to name a few. Their flavor was amazing–a beautiful balance of acids, alkalies, tannins and sugars.

Nature blessed these fruits with many great attributes, but she did not make them conducive for good eating. Unless you are a bird.

As with most fertile plants that cover our planet, the grapes loftiest endeavor is to go forth and multiply. In order to sustain the species, Nature designed the grape berry as a seed carrier. Only when the seeds are ready, do the fruits ripen– making them attractive to the birds that will consume them and deposit the seeds.

Eating these grapes was a challenge. The skins, thick and tough, were unpalatable. Removing them was not an option, as they contained aromas and astringency necessary for a balanced flavor. The large seeds which contained the bulk of the tannins were completely inedible; Natures cruel joke to us humans.

As a child, I developed a slow, methodical approach to eating these grapes: First, the skins were split open to reveal the seeds, which were pried out with fingertips, and sometimes from impatience, with tweezers. Next, the tenacious skins were peeled, but only halfway, leaving them intact at the blossom end. Holding on to the end, I would insert the grape into my mouth, biting down on the skin to release the flavor and loosen the pulp, then remove and discard the masticated skin. Messy? yes. Attractive? no. It would take me nearly an hour to get through a small bunch.

Other members of my family did not have the patience (or neurosis) to eat them "properly" and would just eat them whole, or not bother at all. And yes, these grapes made an extraordinary jelly, but how many jars can a family consume or give away?

Not that many, it turned out. And so, the grapes were left for the birds.

A few years ago, my father, tired of cleaning the mess and tending the vines, cut them down and installed an awning over the patio that was once covered with a flourishing grape arbor.

Every year since, come October, I get a craving for those old world grapes.

I miss them.

"Those things are better which are perfected by nature than those which are finished by art", said Cicero, a long, long time ago

Nature, with her infinite variations, has always been a primary source of inspiration, as well as aggravation, but I have to concur with William Blake, who said "Great things are done when men and mountains meet"

This is not a mountain…its just a grape.

My intention here was to recreate the flavor and balance of the grapes, without the obstacles of seeds and skin. With my father's grapes no longer available, I turned to the the Concord (Vitis labrusca). The pulp was separated from the skins and each juiced separately. The pulp was set with agar and gelatin and molded. After a few trials, I found the best ratio was .85% agar to .35% gelatin. When the gelled pulp was unmolded, the grapes were marinated in the juice from the skin. Adria applies this technique in Gelatina Cru by vacuum sealing. I found that I had better control over the penetration and ultimate proportions of skin/pulp by simply allowing it to sit in the marinade for a few hours.

For the first time, I am able to enjoy the flavor and texture of old world grapes with none of the distractions. This technique also opens up possibilities for other whimsies…grapes made of white wine, marinated in red. Or, other manipulations of flavor contrasts between pulp and peel…sweet orange gel, marinated in bitter orange.

Have I outwitted Mother Nature? Just maybe on this one…but she is still legions ahead.

For a philosophical take on Man vs. Nature in the context of food, read "Cooking: The Quintessential Art" by Herve This and Pierre Gagnaire, a book that I forgot to include in my previous post. Chadzilla quotes from the book in a recent post, sparking an insightful conversation.

(I can't put up this post without a shout out to my friend, Uwe, who embraces the nicknames Uva and Queso [grape and cheese]. Check out his blog Gratifood. His food will make you drool. His language will make you smile.)

barrage

with great anticipation

they began to arrive

one by one

so many ideas

inspiration

information

…so little time

and then the big FAT one

waddles in

part cookbook

part comic book

part science text

…all sick with it

oh dear

i'm feeling like Alice in Wonderland

if i should disappear from here

its because ive fallen down a rabbit hole

don't s

tuna pumpernickel sunchoke yacon

salt cured tuna

pumpernickel pudding

sunchoke nuggets

pickled yacon

honey mustard pearls

white sage

pumpernickel pudding

120g egg yolks

120g sour cream

250g whole milk

150g coarse, dry pumpernickel crumbs

salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350. Butter the insides of individual molds or set them in a large baking dish.

In a large bowl, whisk together the yolks, sour cream, milk, and salt. Fold in the pumpernickel and pour into molds. Fill the baking dish with enough boiling water to come halfway up the sides of the molds. Cover the baking dish with foil. Place in oven and bake until the puddings are no longer wet in the centers.

sunchoke nuggets

250g sunchokes, peeled and cut into brunoise

50g unsalted butter

salt and pepper to taste

Heat a heavy skillet over medium high heat until hot. Add butter. When butter starts to brown, add sunchokes and toss well. Season with salt and pepper. Continue cooking, constantly tossing in browned butter until sunchokes are crispy on the outside and soft inside.

pickled yacon

150g yacon, peeled and thinly shaved

250g rice wine vinegar

5g salt

5g sugar

Bring the vinegar, sugar and salt to a boil. Allow to cool to room temperature. Pour over the yacon in a nonreactive bowl. Cover and chill for 1 hour.

honey mustard pearls

40g dijon mustard

20g honey

20g water

1g agar

1 quart cold vegetable oil

Whisk together the mustard, honey, water and agar. Bring to a boil. Fill a syringe with the mixture and squeeze out individual drops into cold oil. Let pearls stand in oil for a few minutes to gel. Scoop out pearls with a mesh strainer and rinse with cool water.