Peter Hertzmann’s floating island: the evolution of a dish

One of the most gratifying aspects of blogging is the private interaction with readers through emails. I love reading your thoughtful questions, comments, and ideas. It's these interactions that often become fuel for the fire.
Two years ago, I worked with a young cook who had mentioned a book that had helped him to advance his knife skills: Knife Skills Illustrated by Peter Hertzmann. Imagine my surprize when a few days later I found mail from Peter in my inbox!
Peter Hertzmann* and I have exchanged dozens of emails since then and I've always found his insights stimulating. Last month he began sharing a misozuke project (complete with photos) that was particularly inspiring and I asked if I could share its evolution here on the blog.
This is how it began: 

Hi Linda,
You've created a miso-zuke monster—me.
I've now done oysters, scallops, endive, radishes, and cucumbers.  I originally was interested because of your article where you pickled some egg yolks. I wanted to do quail, rather than chicken eggs. I was never able to get the eggs cooked just right, so I sort of gave up. Then a couple of weeks ago, I started playing with peeling eggs with acetic acid. In the case of quail eggs, an overnight soak in white vinegar leaves a shell-less egg with both of the membranes intact. The egg feels a bit like a full water balloon. I threw a few of these eggs in shiro miso and nothing happened, or so it seemed. After two weeks, they appeared for all intents and purposes the same as when they have been first immersed in the miso. So I'd thought I break one and look inside. The membrane was a bit tough, but I was able to pick a small tear in one end with some forceps. The white came gushing out—not quite as fluid as water, but not really a jelly. Inside was a firm, pickled yolk that I could carefully pull and then wash all the white away from. The taste was definitely that of a yolk, but the presence of miso was also pronounced. With a light sprinkle of ichimi, the task was marvelous.
A new dozen is now pickling to see if this was a fluke, or not. Thanks again for turning me on to this technique.

Several things interested me about Peters process: 
1. dissolving the shell with vinegar allowed him to pickle the whole raw egg much more efficiently than waiting for the miso to penetrate the shell. This step alone opened up many ideas.
2. the texture of the cured yolk.
3. the miso-flavored egg whites.

A few weeks later, I received the following email:

Here's an update on the quail eggs. Like before, I removed the shells by soaking them in white vinegar (6% acetic acid) overnight. The following day I rubbed off any remaining shell with my fingers. The eggs, minus their shells, were immersed in shiro miso for two weeks. After rinsing they looked like…

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Other than appearing a bit browner than originally, their appearance and firmness was unchanged. I used a pair of small 45° forceps to tear a small hole in the tapered end of each egg and drained them into a bowl. The "white" was as viscous as water and brown in color…Fjgbgjei

After removing from the membranes and rinsing, the yolks, which were firm but not hard, looked like…
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I decided to cook the whites. I placed them in a small glass bowl and covered it with plastic film. This was placed in simmering water until the whites no longer jiggled. After cooling, the texture of the cooked whites was similar to a grainy custard. They tasted very much like the miso they had soaked in. I had hoped that they would cook hard so that I could sieve them for the final dish, but that was not to be.
About 4 hours later I plated the eggs…

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As you can see the yolk weeps. (The flower is a rosemary blossom.)
I'm intrigued by your suggestion to make a meringue with the whites. These eggs didn't produce much white to work with so I'm going to try the same process with a chicken egg so I can get more white.

 

Then a few weeks later I received the following update:

Here's the followup on the previous email. I used vinegar to once again remove the shell from an egg; this time a chicken egg. I started with two but one broke with moderate handling during the shell-removable phase. The remaining egg was covered with shiro miso for 21 days. At the end it looked like below.
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I should have measured the size after the shell was removed because I think it was then it grew. I should have weighed it also. Oh, well. It's obviously larger, but I can't say why.
I opened the egg onto a plate.
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Normal eggs have four layers of albumin, two thick and two thin. It now appeared to have three distinct types of albumen.
The yolk was similar to an egg cooked at 64°C (and I did roll, freeze, and cut this into ribbons). In the picture I had already crushed it a bit with my fingers.
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The white beat fairly normally in a stand mixer.
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And they seemed fairly stable, at least for an hour before they were all destroyed.
I tried doing two things with them. The first was to make sort of a floating island in dashi. As soon as the egg white hit the hot soup, it started to collapse.
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The final texture was similar to a kitchen sponge, but the flavor in the dashi was quite nice. It would be interesting to see if a little xanthum gum or versawhip would help stabilize them in the heat. I also tried some meringues, but they were a complete disaster. Besides collapsing most of the way, they turned brown like a cookie and tasted very salty. Maybe if they were stabilized they would have fared better. IN their plain form they weren't stable enough to pipe, but if they were, it would be interesting to make soup croutons out of them.

In a followup email, I asked Peter some questions about his experiment:

L: I'd be interested to know why the egg grew, or swelled.
P: I would too. I wonder if the hydrostatic pressure of a normal egg is slightly positive so that it expands once the restraint of the shell is removed. I guess it would be possible to conduct a small experiment, but I'm not ready to sacrifice a dozen eggs at the moment.

L:You said you made meringues, but they weren't stable… I'm assuming that you didn't use sugar because of the savory application.  I like the idea of a salty/sweet meringue. Or perhaps a macaron?
P: Yep. No sugar, or anything else for that matter. Give the salt and sweet meringue a try and let me know how it is. I was thinking just savory, since the miso flavor is pretty pronounced.

A short while later, I received another email from Peter expressing a desire to use methylcellulose to stabilize the 'floating island' and he asked about ratios. I made some suggestions, and he responded:

I started with your suggestions and, as is normal for me, went my own way a bit. I also downloaded the Methocel tech sheet. It sounded like hot hydration would work better for me since I'm working in very small quantities.
I hydrated 1g of Methocel F50 in 20ml of simmering water, water that was boiled in microwave and then measured with a syringe. I stuck this in the frig for a few minutes. It was about 18°C when I pulled it out. I separated 1 extra-large egg white, about 30g. When i whisked the egg white and Methocel/water together is seemed to foam fairly rapidly so I decided to try whipping it in the KitchenAid. This took about 15 to 20 minutes to form soft peaks. I spooned this into hot hon-dashi to cook. I tried Chang's method of a 30-second steam followed by basting. I also tried a 60-second steam with less basting. The later was easier to do since I wanted to cook four at a time. In either case the linear shrinkage was about 50%, but still acceptable. I added ao-nori to the mixture part way through to give it a bit of color. I shot the picture quickly with my iPhone so the color is a bit off.
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The final mouth feel of the island was similar to a spongy hard-cooked egg white. Not the same as a floating island made with sugar, but very interesting. I feel good about the results, at least enough to drop a couple more eggs into a vinegar bath and start the pickling again. I'd like to eventually serve the egg white in a double-strength chicken consomme and load the egg white with a fresh herb, maybe oregano. Everything should be ready by May 6th. I already have some guests scheduled for dinner that night. Little do they know…
As always, thanks for your help.

*Peter's bio: Cooking for Peter is a serial obsession. After spending 25 years studying Chinese cooking, history, and culture, in the mid 1990s, Peter started applying the same energy to French cookery. Over a period of 15 years he taught himself to read French, studied the history of dishes back to the 14th century, and worked in eight different restaurant kitchens in France to hone his skills. In 1999, he started an e-zine about French gastronomy and in 2011 added a weekly blog of amuse-bouche and mignardise to the site. In 2007, Peter wrote the book Knife Skills Illustrated: A Users Manual, now used for teaching in a number of cooking schools and restaurants. He has taught knife-skills classes around the country and in Canada. He has made many television appearances, including The Martha Stewart Show. He recently demonstrated knife skills for four hours at the Exploratorium for their After Dark: Gastronomy event. Nowadays, besides teaching recreational classes, he teaches knifes skills and general cooking twice a week at the San Mateo County Jail and twice a month at JobTrain, a vocational training center specializing in providing job skills for the underprivileged. As a charter member of The Butchers Guild, Peter is currently editing the official Guild Butchery Glossary. In July, he once again will be presenting a paper at the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cooking. The subject for this year’s Symposium is Wrapped and Stuffed Foods, and Peter will be addressing how Modernist cuisine relates to the issue.

kasu egg

Think you're looking at soft boiled eggs?
Look again.

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While making kasu zuke egg yolks, I was struck by how natural the pale kasu looked surrounding the yellow yolks— a visual inspiration for a faux egg. The next step was to make an albumen with the flavor of kasu and the texture of a cooked egg white. After experimenting with various hydrocolloids, the synergy of gelatin, agar, and gelated rice starch produced a convincing (and delicious) fascimile. 

 

kasu eggs
makes 6 

You will need 2-part egg molds with a pouring hole at the top. The molding process is a bit fiddly— the first pour should be allowed to set just enough to support the weight of the yolk, but soft enough to meld with the second pour.  

1200g water
180g basmati rice

Bring water to a boil. Add rice and reduce heat to a simmer. Cover and cook for 25 minutes, until rice is very soft and tender. Drain rice, reserving the cooking liquid. Cool.

190g cooked, drained basmati rice
280g reserved cooking liquid
60g compressed kasu
6g rice bran oil
5g mirin
4g salt
1.8g agar
1g gelatin

6 65℃ egg yolks (whole eggs cooked at 65℃/149℉ for 45 minutes, then peeled and separated from whites)

Place rice, liquid, kasu, oil, mirin and salt in blender and blend until smooth. Sprinkle gelatin and agar over top of mixture and blend for 10 seconds. Scrape mixture into a saucepan. (At this point, mixture will be thick, but will become fluid upon heating). Cover and heat mixture over low heat until it comes to a simmer. (It is important to keep pan covered while heating as evaporation will cause it to thicken). Quickly pour mixture into bottom half of 6 molds until about 2/3 full. Cover pan and keep warm. Place molds in freezer until barely set (mixture will yield slightly when pressed with a finger, but is no longer liquid. Center a yolk on top of mixture in each mold. Secure the top half of the mold in place, being careful to not disturb the position of the yolks. Fill the molds with the remaining mixture using a small funnel, if necessary. Carefully transfer the molds to the refrigerator and chill for at least 2 hours before unmolding.
To unmold: Submerge the molds in warm water for a few seconds to loosen. Carefully remove the top half of the molds, then invert the bottom halves over a plate until the eggs slip out.

egg yolk cheese

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These are 65C hen egg yolks that have been cured in miso for two weeks. The longer cure renders them dark and pungent. Although they were firmer than they were at 5 days, they remained moist and sticky. In order to dry them out, they were wrapped in the cheesecloth in which they were cured and hung in the refrigerator.  

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These are the cured egg yolks after hanging for twenty days. They've became firm enough to slice or grate neatly, with the smooth, plastic-y texture of an aged gouda. Their flavor, too, is transformed— the aging process rounds out the sharpness of the miso, creating a mellow complexity of flavor with the texture of cheese. Delicious!

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olive oil poached daikon ✢ fava ✢ meyer lemon  
egg yolk cheese 

miso-cured quail eggs

The earliest tsukemono (Japanese pickles) are believed to have been made with miso. The simple process, known as misozuke, involves embedding food in a bed of miso and allowing it to cure for at least 3 months. The most prized misozuke are cured for a year or more.   

Over the last several weeks, I've been curing a variety of plants and proteins in miso. My spare refrigerator is full of misozuke— bananas, apples, dried apricots and tomatoes, garlic, daikon, pumpkin, shiso leaves, kombu, bacon, pork skin and fatback, beef marrow, lamb breast, parmesan, gouda, and more. Though it'll be a few months before they're ready, I'm currently enjoying the egg yolks that cured in 4-5 days.

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These are quail eggs yolks after 4 days of curing in red miso. Counter-clockwise from bottom is: a pair of raw yolks, 62C, 63C, 64C, and 65C in the center with part of the albumen still attached. After curing, the raw yolks collapsed and were soft and sticky, while the rest retained their shape. The differences in texture among the 62C-65C yolks were subtle— all of them reminiscent of soft cheese with a rich, umami flavor. 

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bahn pho ✢  sauteed pea sprouts ✢ scallion ✢ buna shimeji 
miso-cured quail eggs ✢ red chili
 roasted chicken stock finished with kombu


artichoke bergamot green garlic

Artichoke

 

 I'm a big fan of artichokes that are carefully trimmed and presented whole. Piercing the dense flesh with a fork, and then a knife, is a sensation akin to carving a steak.

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Revisiting citrus gama (cooking in an aromatic vessel).
Here, the aroma is infused in reverse— from filling to vessel— with bergamot lemon zest in the savory custard.
The aroma is reinforced with a few strips of zest in the steaming water and the finished artichoke is dressed with the juice.
The brightness of the green garlic olive oil puree cuts through the richness of the custard and the maillardized crispy cream.
 

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Hmm… kinda looks like a ranunculus, no? 

artichoke flower

Artichokes make me wonder about the human spirit and its unbound curiosity. I mean— who was the first person to look at the hostile thistle with its sharp thorns and leathery scales and think “hmmm… that might be good to eat“?
Most likely, that person was from North Africa, where the wild thistle is thought to have originated. While I’ll never know his/her identity, I am grateful to them and the legions of people who have cultivated it since.

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The Globe artichoke (Cynara carunculus) is, in fact, a flower bud that is harvested before blooming. The immature flower is the mass of inedible fibers, known as the choke, found in the center of the bud. The edible part— the heart— is the thickened, fleshy receptacle located at the base. 
To get to the meaty heart, the scales must be removed, the choke scraped out, and the fibrous exterior peeled away. This process leaves a pile of fractal scales that are often needlessly discarded. The inner pale scales are delicately-flavored and tender as flower petals when the purple papery tips are trimmed away. The dark outer scales are too tough and fibrous to eat, but they retain a nugget of the heart at their base which is delicious and fun to eat when dipped into a sauce and scraped out between the teeth.

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Layering the scales with a sauce in a bowl is one way to present them. While the intention of this dish was to save them from the bin, it was directly inspired by the artichoke’s form and true nature as a flower. Amusingly, the restructured scales, or flattened artichoke, comes off looking like a water lily or lotus flower— yet another testament to the recurring designs found in nature which are never arbitrary or isolated.

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Artichokes and eggs are a great marriage, especially when piqued with acid. Sweetened with black garlic and crowned with sieved egg yolks, a classic sauce gribiche fits the bill nicely.

black garlic sauce gribiche

Hard boil 3 eggs. Peel and cool the eggs, then separate the yolks from the whites. Pass the yolks and the whites through a sieve separately into 2 bowls. Add 1 raw egg yolk to the bowl with the cooked yolks along with 1 Tblsp (16g) of Dijon mustard, 1 Tblsp (14g) of white wine vinegar, 1 tsp (5g) of salt, and pepper to taste. Whisk well until mixture becomes a smooth paste. In a slow, thin stream, add 1 cup (190g) of safflower oil, whisking constantly, until mixture thickens and mayonnaise is formed. Whisk in 1 Tblsp (16g) of black garlic puree (peeled black garlic cloves pureed with a little hot water into a smooth paste). Stir in 2 Tblsp(30g) chopped capers, 2 Tblsp (30g) chopped sour pickles, 2 Tblsp (20g) chopped fines herbes (fresh parsley, chervil, chives, and tarragon), and the sieved egg whites. Adjust seasoning.

  

eggs benedict

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Some dishes have stood the test of time by honoring tradition. Innovative chefs seek to redefine these classics by examining the flavors and textures that make the dish appealing and attempt to give us a purer, focused version. When successfully executed, the new dish feels like a rarefied distillation of the old. I think this is called refinement.

Eggs Benedict certainly falls prey to this category and I have yet to taste a better interpretation than the one served at WD-50. So good, in fact, that I had it twice on the same day.

Every component on Wylie Dufresne's plate is beyond reproach: Wafer-thin slices of crispy Canadian Bacon. Toasty English Muffin crumbs holding together a mind-bending cube of liquid hollandaise. But it was the egg yolk that did me in. Cooked sous vide at 70C for 17 minutes, egg yolks are transformed to the texture of soft, dense fudge that coats the mouth and leaves the tongue happily lapping over and over it like a dog with peanut butter. (OK, that was just me. That, I'm certain, is not called refinement.)

Eggsbenedict1

left: seasoned and whipped egg white quenelles, poached in barely simmering water.

center:  seasoned egg yolks in sealed piping bag,  70C water bath.

right:  piping cooked yolks.

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Eggs Benedict v.1.1 

70C egg yolks

brown butter hollandaise

whipped egg whites

crispy serrano ham

bacon curls

crispy ciabatta

plantago

Eggsbenedict2

Eggs Benedict v.1.2:  

egg yolk wrapped in serrano ham "cooked" in dehydrator at 150F for 45 minutes. 

brown butter hollandaise

mini English Muffin

plantago

daffodil

There's a place just up the road from me that I make a point to visit at this time of year.

It's the kind of spot that embodies the bucolic scenery of rural New England.

There are pastoral rolling hills…
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…moss-patinaed stone walls…
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…ancient gnarled trees…
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…steep stone steps…
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…and a lake with tiny islands.
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It's a magical place at any time of year, but for a few weeks in April it becomes an enchanted land of earth, water, stone, and daffodils.
Daffodils
Daffodils have an alluring aroma with sweet notes of honey, citrus, warm spice, and exotic fruit. However, they contain the alkaloids galanthamine and lycorine that render them highly toxic if consumed. Even deer won't touch them. 
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mango 
whipped honey
passionfruit souffle cake
orange blossom ice cream
pandan glass
ginger honey crystals
calendula buds
Download recipe:   Daffodil

egg dandelion onion

At this time of year, I'm usually on a mission to eradicate the dandelions before their long taproots grapple the earth. This year, I've decided to let them be and to try my hand at dandelion wine. 

I never thought I'd say this– but I'm actually hoping for a bumper crop of dandelion blossoms. [I write these words fully cognizant that they may come back to bite me] 

Dandelion

In the meantime, there are plenty of young tender leaves to toss into salads and to wilt down in hot bacon fat. Or to weave into a nest of grilled and dehydrated onions for a soft-boiled duck egg. Add to that: favas, lardo, and toasted almond bread and I'm wondering what I ever had against dandelions in the first place.
Egg dandelion
64°C duck egg*
crispy grilled and dried onions
young dandelion leaves
mashed fava beans
lardo**
toasted almond bread
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**This silky piece of lardo is courtesy of Peter Barrett, who was kind enough to share his masterfully-cured stash. 

*Martin Lersch, of Khymos, has an in-depth post on soft-boiled eggs that illustrates the difference that a single degree makes in cooking.