montenebro

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.

montenebro

eggplant roasted with ras el hanout

crispy lamb pancetta

date puree

quail egg

escarole

oloroso sherry

white truffle x4

All told, my little 14 gram tartufo bianco d'Alba gave a lot of bang for the buck. It provided me a day's worth of delicious meals. A truffle-scented omelet for breakfast. For lunch, a bowl of fresh tagliatelle with butter, taleggio, and a scandalous shower of shaved truffle. And this heady quartet for dinner.

All truffle. All day.

Life is good.

puff pastry

Flour. Butter. Water. Salt. No leavening. Or is there?

When these four ingredients are combined into a homogeneous dough, then rolled out and baked, you end up with a cracker or flatbread. Not much rise there.

Blend the same ingredients together but stop while the butter is still discernible– about the size of peas. Now roll out and bake. You have a pate brisee or a short, flaky pie crust with unevenly puffed layers that may have doubled in height.

Now, take the same four ingredients, blend the flour, water and salt to make a dough. Evenly layer the butter throughout the dough through a series of rolling out and folding. Stop when you have made 6 "turns", resulting in 1459 alternating layers of fat and starch. After a final rolling and baking, you are left with pate feuilletee or puff pastry. This time, the finished pastry leaving the oven has risen up to 6 times in volume from the raw dough that went in.

Three products…sharing identical ingredients in similar proportions…with significantly different results. Do you know why?

Lacking chemical leavening, the release of gases is not responsible for the differences between the three pastry products. And with the absence of yeast, it cannot be attributed to fermentation.

What caused the puff pastry to rise to glorious heights and the pie crust to puff to a lesser degree is the steam created by the melted butter. As the butter melts and boils, the gluten matrix in the dough hardens, trapping the pockets of steam. The degree of rise in the three products varies with the distribution of fat and starch.

Understanding this was an epiphany. So was grasping the unfolding of egg proteins. And the destruction of sugar to make caramel. And so on.

These were my AH-HAA moments. They allowed me to analyse mistakes and to not only correct them, but to control the outcome. They liberated me from bondage to recipes, and with this freedom came a broader one: the freedom to create.

Modern cooking places an emphasis on science, when, in fact, chemistry has been at play throughout the history of food and cooking. Does a strong knowledge of food science make us good cooks? If that were true then scientists, by right, would all be chefs.

What about technique? Consider the baker who gets up at 3 AM every morning to bake bread. After some time, he can turn out hundreds of perfect loaves even while half-asleep. He may even have a grasp on the chemistry of his craft through extended observation of cause and effect. His talent and dedication may move him onto the saute line, where through repetition he learns to turn out a perfectly cooked piece of fish every time.

But would he know what to do with a salsify? Would he even know what to serve it with?

At ICC, Jordi Butron of Espai Sucre gave a presentation about the process of creating desserts. A lot of what he said resonated with me. In it, he stated (from my notes) "Pastry is techniques…but technique has to service flavor. Technique is easy–it only requires repetition, but a library of flavors takes many years to acquire."

As a baker, I have made puff pastry countless times. Through muscle memory, I could even make it while half-asleep. Because of my understanding of steam pockets and gluten matrixes, I was able to effectively teach it to my students, passing on the AH-HAA moments. My familiarity with this product allows me to play and ask questions:

Why butter? (because it is fat and for it's flavor)

What else is flavored fat? (oils..but they won't work, they're liquid and here, the fat needs to start as a solid)

What else is solid, flavored fat? (pork fat, bacon fat, foie, cheese…)

Cheese? Which cheese? (needs to be spreadable and have a high fat content…a triple cream)

Saint Andre? Boursault? Brillat-Savarin? (no…too subtle for the flavor to come through)

l'Explorateur? (a triple cream, assertive flavor…yes, it will work)

That is how I have come to make l'Explorateur puff pastry; a product that pleases me.

Will it please everyone? Is it ground-breaking? Life-altering? No. No. And no.

It is simply a token of where I'm at as a cook/baker at this moment in time and a synthesization of what I know about technique, food science and my own palate.

Do these things make me a better cook? I'd like to think so. What I do know for certain is that by relying on their guidance, I am free to contemplate and to think about food; what it is…what it can be.

And that, I believe, is the starting point for innovation.

insalata caprese

peeled heirloom tomatoes, injected with basil oil

mozzarella balloon filled with tomato water foam

olive oil powder

basil gel "leaves"

balinese sea salt

mozzarella balloon

Back in May, I received an email asking me what I thought about the newly launched Mosaic site from Alinea. Just as I began to fret about not receiving the required password, I found it in a junk folder. I spent the next few hours (and many since) pouring over the techniques and ideas contained in the sampling of the anticipated book.

One of these, the mozzarella balloon, was what prompted me to give fresh mozzarella another try. It was very rewarding to finally succeed at making a high quality cheese that had eluded and frustrated me, but it was really the viable curd that I was after.

A few days ago, while in NYC for the International Chefs Congress, I took a break to visit Kitchen Arts and Letters. I can never resist perusing through their trove of esoteric cookbooks that is full of surprising gems. The biggest surprise awaiting me on this visit was a trail copy of Alinea. I'm here to tell you that it's for real, and it is an opus of a book, more massive and beautiful than us mere mortal cooks had any right to expect. Those of us who pre-ordered it directly from Mosaic will have it in our hot hands as early as next week. Get ready folks–this book is going to change everything.

mozzarella balloon

Break off a 4-5 oz. piece of mozzarella curd that has been acidified and ready to stretch. Place it in a bowl and cover it with water that has been heated to 71C (160F). Allow it to melt for a few minutes, then pull and stretch it to form a disc of uniform thickness that is roughly 6" in diameter.

Form hand into a C-shape and drape the disc loosely over.

Half-fill a whipped cream charger with a mixture of salted tomato water and extra-virgin olive oil that has been set with 1.5% gelatin. Charge with NO₂ cartridge. Chill. Shake charger firmly and place tip of nozzle over the center of mozzarella disc. Gather the disc around the nozzle, wrapping thumb and index finger around to hold firmly in place. With nozzle facing down, slowly discharge foam into mozzarella. While maintaining a firm grip, slowly slide balloon off of the nozzle, pressing and pinching the ends together to seal. Cut off any excess.

Serve immediately.

fresh mozzarella

My first attempt at making mozzarella was a miserable failure. I was overly optimistic. I started with 5 gallons of milk and ended up with 5 pounds of ricotta. It was fine ricotta, but it wasn't the pasta filata that I had hoped for. My family ate lots of lasagna that week.

My second attempt produced the same results. Ditto for the third. And the fourth.

I was obviously missing a piece of the puzzle. The recipe that I used was from a reliable source, complete with detailed, step-by-step instructions, but I could not make it past the second step where rennet was added to the inoculated milk. At this point, it was supposed to coagulate into a solid mass and separate from the whey, instead it formed small curds that would not "spin" or melt together. I tried different types of inoculants from citric acid to buttermilk to yogurt. I tried varying the amount of rennet. I tried different brands of milk–all to no avail. I'm not easily discouraged, but even I know when to let sleeping dogs lie.

I decided that it was time to revisit the mozz when a unique application recently caught my interest. More on that later. After further research, I found the missing piece: raw milk. While I found many accounts of mozzarella being successfully made from homogenized and pasteurized milk, I went directly to the source: real milk, straight from the cow, unhomogenized and unpasteurized.

The real advantage of making fresh mozzarella from raw milk is that I can produce a product that is superior to anything that I can buy in terms of flavor, texture, and nutritional content. On a socioeconomic level, it allows me to lighten my carbon footprint while supporting local farms. An added perk of raw milk is that in the summer, when cows graze on fresh grass and clover, the milk is rich, buttery, and yellow…pure sunshine.

Fresh mozzarella

yields about one pound

1 gallon raw milk

3 Tblsps plain yogurt

3 Tblsps buttermilk

1/2 tablet rennet

Step 1: Inoculation

Pour the milk into a large stainless steel pan. Set over medium heat and bring to 32C (89F). While milk is warming, stir together the yogurt and buttermilk. Add about 1/4 cup of milk from pan and blend well. Cover the pan and maintain the temperature at 32C for 10 minutes to allow the live cultures and bacteria to activate.

Step 2: Coagulation

While the milk is activating, dissolve the rennet in 1/4 cup of tepid water. Stir the dissolved rennet into the milk gently, but quickly. Cover the pan and set aside, undisturbed, for 2-3 hours in a warm, protected place until it coagulates into a solid mass that will pull away from the side of the pan.

Note: I place the pan in a large bowl of warm water and monitor the temperature of the water, maintaining it at 32C. It is important to not disturb the curd while it is coagulating.

Step 3: Cutting the curd

After 2 hours, check the curd for a clean break by poking a finger into the coagulated curd and lifting. If the curd does not break cleanly, allow it to sit, undisturbed until it does. Be patient.

When a clean break is achieved, cut the curd with a long, thin knife into 1/2" cubes. Stir the cut curds gently, breaking up any large curds.

Set the pan over medium heat and bring the temperature up to 36C (97F) with constant, gentle stirring. The curds will continue to break up.

Step 4: Acidification.

In order for the curd to spin, or melt together and stretch, it must be acidified to a PH of about 5.3. To achieve this, cover the pan tightly and set aside in a warm place for 8-10 hours. After 8 hours, check to see if it will spin by removing a walnut-sized piece of curd and dropping it into a bowl of water at 71C (160F). When it is lifted out and pulled, it should stretch without breaking. If it breaks, allow the curds to acidify further.

Step 5: Melting

Once the curds spin, heat a half gallon of water to 71C (160F). Drain the acidified curds in a colander (reserve a quart of the whey to make a brine if you will not be consuming the mozzarella immediately). Break up the mass of curds and place into a large bowl. Pour the hot water over the curds.

Allow them to soften for a few minutes, stirring gently, until they begin to melt.

Step 6: Molding

When the curds melt and fuse together, pull off a lemon-sized piece and with two hands, pull and stretch like taffy. Fold it onto itself and continue the stretching and folding until it is smooth, glossy, and elastic. If it begins to stiffen while working, let it soften in the hot water before molding.

Roll the sheet of stretched curd upon itself, working it into a smooth ball.

If you do not intend to consume the mozzarella immediately (I recommend that you do), the balls can be stored for up to two days in brine.

To make a brine: dissolve 1/4 cup of salt in 1 cup of hot water. Mix in the reserved quart of whey. Cool.

potato juniper

fingerling potatoes in a progression of textures and temperatures

clockwise from top right:

baked potato skin [hot/cold] juniper. creme fraiche. caviar

potato salad [cold] pickled 83˚potatoes. mustard mayo. juniper snow

raclette potato [warm] potato puree. raclette

juniper roasted potato [hot] coffee oil. balinese salt

potato soup [hot] smoked potato. maytag blue. gin foam. crispy potato spoon

Juniper is an coniferous (cone-bearing) shrub that belongs to the Cypress family. Along the east coast of the United States, the native juniper is Juniperus Virginiana
and is identified by tiny scale-like needles and small berries that are green throughout the summer and turn dusky blue in the fall. These berries are actually cones and are used in the production of gin, providing it's distinct flavor. The berries, like the needles, have a clean, bracing botanical flavor.

baked potato skin

A taste of earth, sea, pasture and forest.

fingerling potatoes
juniper oil
creme fraiche, chilled
caviar, chilled

Bake fingerling potatoes in a 350 F oven until tender. Cut each in half and scoop out most of the flesh. Rub with juniper oil and return to oven until they begin to crisp. Put a dollop of creme fraiche in each potato skin and top with caviar. Serve immediately.
To make juniper oil: Wash sprigs of juniper and pat dry with paper towels. Add to blender with enough extra virgin olive oil to cover. Blend until sprigs are finely chopped and oil turns green. Strain through a fine mesh sieve.

potato salad

83C is the optimum temperature for sous vide vegetables as explained by Chad on this post. Cooking the potatoes with vinegar and salt pickles them as they cook.
The grated juniper snow is a refreshing jolt against the warm spice of mustard and earthy potatoes.

potatoes:
fingerling potatoes, cut into 1/8" slices
white wine vinegar
salt
olive oil

Lay potato slices out on a plate and sprinkle liberally with vinegar and salt and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Pack potato slices into a vacuum bag in a single layer and add excess vinegar from plate. Vacuum and seal. Place in 83C water bath and cook for 90 minutes. Remove bag from bath and chill in refrigerator until cold.

mustard mayo:
2 parts prepared mayonnaise
1 part whole grain mustard
honey, lemon juice, and salt to taste

Combine all ingredients until well blended. Chill.

juniper snow:
200 g water
25 g juniper needles
10 g agave nectar
3 g salt

Place all ingredients in a blender and blend until juniper is finely chopped. Strain through a fine mesh sieve. Transfer to a plastic storage container and freeze until solid. Simultaneously, place an empty metal bowl into freezer. Pop block of ice out of container and grate to form snow, letting it fall loosely into chilled metal bowl. Freeze until ready to use.

raclette potato

This is a reconstructed potato, made from potato puree set with Methocel and wrapped with a melted raclette cheese skin. For recipe and step-by-step illustrations, see previous post.

juniper roasted potato

Roasting the potatoes wrapped in juniper releases it's
aromatic essential oils, perfuming the potatoes (and your kitchen) with it's scent. Alternately, they can be roasted over hot coals for a primal experience.

Lerida makes a blended oil from extra virgin olive oil and virgin coffee oil that is simply amazing. Here, it rounds out the spicy, woody tones of the juniper.

juniper sprigs

fingerling potatoes

coffee oil

balinese hollow salt

Preheat oven to 375F. Wrap juniper sprigs around potatoes and fasten in place with small gauge wire. Place on baking

sheet and roast until potatoes are tender. Unwrap while

hot, drizzle with coffee oil and sprinkle with salt.

potato soup

Creamy and comforting, earthy potatoes with the complexity of smoke, the bite of blue cheese, and a kiss of gin, delivered with a crispy potato spoon. A satisfying finish.

soup:

1 large potato, peeled and cut into 1" chunks

2 cups milk

3 Tblsps butter

3 oz Maytag blue cheese

salt and pepper

Place potato chunks into saucepan with enough salted water to cover. Cook over high heat until very tender. Drain, and pass through a ricer. Set aside to cool.

When cool, place potatoes in a smoker and lightly smoke. Or, to create your own smoker, use a pan that can be fitted with a steamer basket and a cover. Fill the pan with wood chips and a small amount of water. Cook, covered, to create the smoke. When the water has evaporated, place the potato puree in the steamer basket, quickly covering to hold in the smoke. Remove the potatoes after approximately 1 minute or when the flavor of the smoke has permeated the potatoes.

Place the milk, butter, and blue cheese into a saucepan and heat until butter and blue cheese have melted. Add the smoked potato puree and blend with an immersion blender until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Keep soup hot until ready to serve.

hot gin foam:

150 g gin

100 g water

2.5 g soy lecithin

Combine water, gin, and lecithin in a small saucepan. Heat until very hot. Quickly form foam by blending with immersion blender. Keep foam hot until ready to serve.

Crispy potato spoon:

Cut a 1/2" thick slice from a large potato. Cut a spoon shape from the slice. Carve out the underside of the handle, leaving it 1/4" thick. Scoop out the bowl of the spoon with a melon baller. Carve the underside of the bowl until it is of a uniform thickness. Rub the spoon on all of the surfaces with olive oil. Place, bowl-side-down, on a baking sheet and bake in a 250F oven until it is browned and crispy. (If the handle browns faster than the bowl, wrap it with parchment paper, then foil.)

raclette potato

I have a confession to make:

I am a sucker for babies. They reduce me to a pile of cooing, quivering jelly. When I encounter a neonate, i have to fight the urge to stuff their pudgy cheeks, fists, and feet into my mouth. This may seem bizarre, but I'm willing to bet there are some of you that are nodding in recognition.

This same compulsion applies to baby vegetables (just ask Sid Wainer). These, I recognize, are OK to put in my mouth.

My first vegetable garden was largely dedicated to the cultivation of baby root vegetables. I planted miniature varieties of white turnips, red and yellow beets, cylindrical and round carrots, and red and white pearl onions in neat rows. It was a garden fit for a dollhouse.

I also planted Yukon Gold potatoes that were intended to be full size, but when I prematurely dug them up, I was delighted to find tiny, marble-size potatoes clinging to the roots. Within minutes, I was in my kitchen, rinsing off the still-wet earth, their skins so thin that the force of the water nearly peeled them away. After a few minutes in boiling, salted water, they went into a saute pan with fruity olive oil, smashed cloves of garlic and sprigs of thyme. Heavenly, they were; creamy inside, crisp and earthy outside. Later that day, I made a simple dinner of roasted baby potatoes with melted raclette cheese, good bread and wine. I will never forget those humble meals; they rekindled my love affair with the potato.

Nowadays, I seldom grow potatoes, mainly because I don't want to sacrifice the space in my garden required to grow and hill them. At this time of year, I am on the lookout for new crops of spuds that appear at the market and will rummage through bins and baskets, picking out the tiniest specimens.

The newborn fingerlings that I found, just hours old I was told, were prime for simple preparations. But, of course, I had to play.

raclette potato

Methocel SGA forms a firm gel when heated and reverts to it's original state (here, a soft puree) as it cools. For best results, allow it to hydrate overnight.

160 g hot potato puree

75 g milk, cream, or buttermilk

15 g butter

salt

100 g water

5 g methocel SGA150

raclette cheese, cut into thin slices.

To make potato puree: Peel potatoes and cut into chunks. Drop into boiling, salted water and cook until very tender. Drain and pass through a ricer, tamis or sieve 2-3 times or until a very smooth texture is achieved. This is best made just before proceeding with recipe, while still hot.

Combine hot potato puree with milk, butter, and salt, stirring vigorously until butter melts.

Add methocel to water and blend it in with an immersion blender. Combine gel with potato mixture, stirring until well blended. Cover and chill overnight in refrigerator.

The next day, preheat oven to 250F. Fill molds with potato mixture and bake for 8-10 minutes, or until firm. Remove from oven and unmold onto baking sheet lined with silpat.

Lay slices of cheese alongside potatoes and return to oven just until cheese softens and begins to spread.

Peel cheese off silpat and drape over potato. Lift potato and mold the cheese around the bottom, pressing into place.

If desired, the raclette potato can be painted with strongly-brewed, finely-ground coffee. Serve warm.

blueberry chevre

blueberry cheese
crottin de chavignol
blueberry-burgundy
shiso
sorrel

oxalis

goat

goat
tomato-turmeric-coconut
bocconcino di pura capra
balsam fir

I grew up eating goat. In my house, it was always prepared the same way: as Chanfana, a stew made from chunks of mature goat, red wine, bacon, garlic, bay and lemon, slowly braised for the better part of a day in a low oven.

In central Portugal, there is an age-old war raging between two
villages over the claim to the origins of the dish. Chanfana is so venerated in this region, that the markets are filled with black earthenware cooking vessels, known as cacoilos, that are used exclusively for it’s preparation. The religious fervor surrounding the dish culminated in the formation of a ‘Chanfana Brotherhood’.

Goat was not a meat that I looked forward to eating. Fortunately, the distinct scent of it wafting through the house heralded its appearance at the table and bought me ample time to come up with an excuse to get out of eating dinner.

I watched Iron Chef: Battle Goat with interest, and came away inspired by the diverse and creative preparations that Bobby Flay and Jose Andres presented in the episode. It was with this renewed interest that I purchased a loin of cabrito, or young goat.

It’s funny that as a child, I never imagined that I would willingly cook goat for myself, but the scent of it wafting through my own kitchen transported me back to the days of Chanfana, faster than a time machine, but did not fill me with dread. Instead, it made me grateful to my mother, who lovingly prepared this dish as a reminder of her culinary heredity, and in doing so, provided me with sensory triggers to my own.