faux bois cookies

When tender vegetation succumbs to killing frosts, it's the trees that lend interest to the winter landscape. And after the bounty of summer fades into fond memories, the trees grace our holiday tables with good things to eat.

Trees are so ubiquitous that it's easy to take them for granted, but just try to imagine life without them. Our houses would have a different character and our hearths would be cold. Cooking, as we know it, would have deviated from its path and taken the course of history and the progress of man along with it.

But trees are more than wood— they enrich our catalog of flavor. Without the things we harvest from trees there would be no sweet reduced sap to pour over our pancakes. Chewing gum may have never been invented. We would not know the comfort of apple pie or the aroma of a ripe peach. Our pantries would be destitute of sweet, oily nuts and our spice racks would lack the warmth of cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and sweet bay. Winter, the bleakest season, would be unbearable without the spark of citrus.

So while we rejoice in our holiday hams and roasts and vegetables and grains, and all of the splendid things from pastures and fields, let us not forget to consider the trees and celebrate their bounty.

BISCUITS DE BOIS

These no-bake cookies are redolent of chocolate, chestnut, and bourbon. Bittersweet and boozy, they are decidedly adult treats. They were inspired by faux bois cement sculptures from the 19th century. Easy to make with these whimsical cookie cutters, they can alternately be made by cutting the dough freehand (or with a template) into branch shapes and pressing the surface with the tine of a fork to resemble bark. Make the dough well in advance to allow the flavors to mellow.

bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped 4 oz 113g
cocoa powder 3 Tblsp             11g
chestnut flour 3/8 cup            170g
egg white 1 large             40g
superfine sugar 2 Tblsp             26g
unsalted butter, softened 3.5 Tblsp          48g
bourbon 1.5 Tblsp          12g

Pulse the chocolate, cocoa powder, and chestnut flour in a food processor until the chocolate is the texture of sand.
In the bowl of an electric mixer, whip the egg white with the whisk attachment until it forms soft peaks. Gradually add the sugar while continuing to whip until stiff peaks form. Add the bourbon and whisk to incorporate. Remove the whisk and attach the paddle. Sprinkle the chocolate mixture over the meringue and beat on low for 1 minute. Add the soft butter to the crumbly mixture in the bowl and beat on low for 1-2 minutes, until a malleable dough forms. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and age in the refrigerator for at least 2 days and up to 1 week.
Roll out the dough to 1cm/3/8” thickness. Cut out branch shapes and press woodgrain into top. Set out on a rack to dry for a few hours.
Makes about 1 dozen cookies.

PINE PALETTES

The base of these cookies are sables flavored with spruce-infused sugar. The best flavor comes from the tender young tips that appear in spring— winter tips have a woodier flavor that is best extracted by pulverizing in sugar.
The spruce sugar is used again in the icing to anchor the woodgrained chocolate veneers.

Spruce sables:
sugar                                              1 cup 200g
spruce tips                                      .28 oz                      8g
unsalted butter, softened 1 stick                      114g
flour                                              1 1/2 cups              190g
salt                                                  1/8 tsp                   .84g

Place the sugar and spruce tips in a blender and blend on high speed for 2-3 minutes until sugar is pulverized. Let stand 5 minutes and blend again for 1 minute. Sift the sugar through a medium sieve to remove spruce chaff. Sift again through a fine sieve to remove small particles. Measure out 1/2 cup/80g of spruce sugar and place in a mixing bowl. Reserve the remaining sugar for icing.
Add the butter and salt to the sugar in the bowl and beat on medium speed for 2 minutes until creamy. Gradually add the flour while beating on low speed until it is absorbed. Transfer dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap, wrap tightly and chill for at least 2 hours.
Roll out dough into a large rectangle 1/4"/6mm thick. Using a straight edge and a pastry wheel, cut dough into eighteen 1 1/2" x 2 1/2"/4cm x 6.5cm rectangles. Place on parchment-lined baking sheets. Bake in a preheated 350F/176C oven for 8 mins, or until cookies are baked through but still pale in color. Let cool.

Chocolate veneer:
dark chocolate, melted                                  3 oz                          85g
white chocolate, melted                                  4 oz                          113.5g
milk chocolate, melted                                  2 oz                             56.5g

Drop about 1 Tablespoon of dark chocolate on a sheet of acetate and spread thinly into a 3"/7.5cm band with an offset spatula. Place a woodgraining tool at the top of the band and slowly drag it through the chocolate while rocking it back and forth. Transfer the acetate onto a baking sheet and refrigerate until chocolate hardens. Blend the white chocolate with the milk chocolate until uniform in color. Remove the acetate from the refrigerator and let temper at room temperature for a few minutes. Spoon some of the white/milk chocolate mixture over the dark chocolate and spread evenly in a thin layer until woodgrain is completely covered. Return to refrigerator until hardened. Carefully peel woodgrained bands from acetate and set aside. Repeat 4 more times until you have completed 5 bands.
Cut the bands into 18 rectangles that are slightly smaller than the cookies using a straight edge and a knife that has been heated over a flame or in hot water.

Spruce icing:
reserved spruce sugar                                  6 Tblsps                      60g
unsalted butter, softened                              4 tsps                          21g
milk                                                              1 Tblsp                      18g

Cream the butter with the sugar, then blend in the milk.

To finish cookies: Spread a thin layer of icing on the center of each cookie. Top with a chocolate veneer, pressing gently to adhere.

Makes 18 cookies.

LOG SLICES

These cookies are made with 3 distinct batches of dough, flavored with products from 4 trees: acorn meal from White Oak (Quercus alba), maple sugar and syrup from Sugar Maple (Acer saccharum), mesquite flour from bean pods of the Mesquite tree (Prosopis), and ground pecans from the Pecan tree (Carya illinoinensis). Maple products and pecans are widely available, acorn meal can be found online or in Korean markets, and mesquite flour is found in health food shops.

Oak sapwood:
flour 2 cups 252g
acorn meal                                       1/2 cup                  66g
baking soda                                      1/2 tsp                   2.5g
salt                                                  1/8 tsp                     .84g
unsalted butter, softened                  1 1/2 sticks 170g
sugar 2/3 cup                  120g
egg                                                  1 large 50g

Maple heartwood:
flour 2 1/2 cups              338g
baking soda                                    1/2 tsp                  2.5g
salt                                                  1/8 tsp                     .84g
unsalted butter, softened       1 1/2 sticks 170g
maple sugar 2/3 cup                  120g
egg 1 large 50g

Mesquite bark:
flour                                            3/4 cups 100g
mesquite flour      1/2 cup    70g
baking soda                                      1/4 tsp 1.25g
salt                                                  pinch pinch
unsalted butter, softened 3/4 stick 85g
dark brown sugar 1/3 cup 52g
egg yolk   1 large 18g

finely chopped or ground pecans: 1 cup 90g
egg wash: 1 egg, lightly beaten

For each of the 3 doughs: In a medium bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients. Beat the butter with the sugar in a mixer bowl with the paddle attachment for 2 minutes on medium speed until light and creamy. Add the egg and continue beating until incorporated. Turn the speed to low and gradually add the dry ingredients in large spoonfuls until it is all absorbed and a malleable dough forms. For the Mesquite dough, stop beating while mixture is still crumbly. Tranfer to a bowl and cover with plastic wrap. Wrap the Oak and Maple doughs tightly in plastic. Chill all 3 doughs for at least 2 hours.
To form cookies: Cut off 1/4 of the Maple dough and roll into a cylinder that is 3/4"/2cm diameter x 6" /15.5cm long. Cut off slightly less than 1/3 of the Oak dough and roll out into a rectangle that is roughly 6" x 5" x 3/8" thick (1.5cm x 13cm x 1cm). Transfer dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap and trim one of the long edges so that it is straight. Brush the surface of the dough with the egg wash (glue) and place Maple cylinder along the straight edge. Using the plastic wrap to guide the dough evenly, roll the Oak dough around the Maple cylinder, pressing firmly, until it is completely wrapped, then trim the edge where they meet. The dough will crack as it bends, this is to be expected. Lay the flat of your palms on the center of the log and roll back and forth, exerting even pressure, moving hands slowly from the center of the log to the edges, until the outer layer of dough is smooth and the log has grown about 1"/2.5cm in length, and decreased slightly in diameter. Repeat the wrapping and rolling of each layer with remaining dough, alternating between the Maple and the Oak, and eggwashing between each, until the log is comprised of 6 layers and measures about 8"/20.5cm in length and about 2 1/2"/6.5cm in diameter.
Scatter the crumbly Mesquite dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap and pat into an 8" x 6"/20.5cm x 15.5cm rectangle. Brush the surface with eggwash and place the log along one of the long edges. Use the plastic wrap to completely encase the log with the Mesquite dough, pressing firmly to adhere, then repeat the rolling motion to form a compact log. Scatter the ground pecans on work surface and roll the log over them to irregularly coat the surface. Trim the ends of the log, wrap tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 4 hours until firm.
To bake cookies: Slice the log 3/8"/1cm thick, rolling the log between slices to help it maintain its shape. Lay the slices out on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake in a preheated 350 F/176C oven for 8-10 minutes.
Makes about 30 cookies.

INCENSE TREE

The dough for these stacked cookie sandwiches is fragrant with orange zest and spices that are harvested from different parts of trees: cinnamon (the inner bark of Cinnamomum verum), star anise (the fruit of Illicium verum), nutmeg (the seed of Myristica fragrans), cloves (the dried flower buds of Syzygium aromaticum), and allspice (the dried unripe fruit of Pimenta dioica).
The buttercream filling is flavored with frankincense, the dried tree sap from Boswellia sacra. Frankincense can be found in Middle Eastern markets or online— look for milky white tears, free of debris.

Spice dough:
flour                                          3 cups                      405g
baking powder                          1/2 tsp                  2.5g
salt                                              1/2 tsp                  3.2g
ground cinnamon                          1 1/2 tsp                  4.5g
ground star anise                      1 tsp                      3g
ground nutmeg                          1 tsp 3g
ground cloves                              1/2 tsp                     1.5g
ground allspice                          1/2 tsp                  1.5g
unsalted butter, softened              11 oz                       312g
sugar                                          1/2 cup                  95g
muscavado sugar                       1/2 cup                  83g
egg                                          1 large                  50g
microplaned orange zest              2 tsp                      5g

Frankincense buttercream:
water                                      1/2 cup 120g
frankincense tears                      1 1/2 Tblsp          17g
sugar                                          1/2 cup               100g
egg whites                              3 large                  90g
cream of tartar                          1/4 tsp                  .80g
unsalted butter, room temp          1/2 lb                  226g
lemon juice                              1 tsp                      15g

24 karat gold leaf (optional)

To make cookies: In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients with the spices. Beat the butter with the sugar in a mixer bowl with the paddle attachment for 2 minutes on medium speed until light and creamy. Add the egg and orange zest and continue beating until incorporated. Turn the speed to low and gradually add the dry ingredients in large spoonfuls until it is all absorbed and a malleable dough forms. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and chill for 2 hours.
Roll the dough out to 1/4"/6mm thickness. With a set of 11 round cutters that graduate in size from 3/4"/2cm to 3 5/8"/9.25cm, cut 22 rounds by using each cutter twice. Place the cookie rounds on parchment-lined baking sheets and bake in a preheated 350F/176C oven for 6-8 minutes for the smaller cookies and 8-10 minutes for the larger ones. Allow to cool.
To make the frosting: place the water and frankincense tears in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. Cover pan and set aside for 10 minutes to infuse. Strain through a fine sieve. Rinse saucepan and return 1/4 cup/65g of the strained frankincense water to it. Pour the sugar into the center of the pan, stir gently to wet the sugar and set over medium-high heat. When sugar melts and syrup begins to reach 200F/ 93C, turn the heat to lowest setting.
In an electric mixer with the whisk attachment, beat the egg whites on high speed until frothy. Add the cream of tartar and beat until stiff peaks begin to form. Turn the mixer speed to low, return to the syrup and turn the heat up to high. Bring the syrup to 248F/120C (firm-ball stage) and immediately remove from heat. With the mixer still on low, slowly pour about 1/2 of the hot syrup down the side of the mixing bowl directly into the egg whites but avoiding the whisk. Turn mixer to high and beat for 30 seconds. Return mixer speed to low and slowly add the remaining syrup to the meringue in the same manner. Turn the speed back to high and beat for 2 minutes. Allow the meringue to cool completely before proceeding.
When meringue has cooled, add the butter, 1 Tblsp at a time, while beating on medium speed. If at any time it appears to have seperated, turn the speed to high and beat until it becomes creamy again. When al of the butter is incorporated, turn the mixer to low and beat in the lemon juice. Scrape buttercream into a pastry bag fitted with a #12 (7mm) round tip.
To finish tree: Line up the cookie rounds into 11 pairs and pipe the buttercream onto the bottom rounds all the way to the edges. Lightly press the top rounds onto the buttercream to form 11 cookie sandwiches. Stack the cookies on serving plate, starting with the largest and graduating to smallest, using a small dot of buttercream between each cookie to hold them together. If using gold leaf, press the tip of a small, damp brush on a corner of a leaf and pull to tear randomly. With the piece of gold leaf still attached to the tip of brush, transfer to cookie tree, pressing on a section of exposed buttercream to adhere. Continue until desired effect is achieved.

beet roses

If asked, I'd say that the rose is my favorite flower, but my husband knows better than to bring any home today. It's not that roses on Valentine's Day is a cliché… something so classic and eternally beautiful can never be that. I guess my objection is the mass-marketed, factory-farmed, ridiculously-priced aspect. Yet, as symbols of love and romance, they are undeniable. So, while there will be no long-stemmed, hothouse-forced, All-American Beauties in my house today, there will still be roses!

bull's blood beet chips on Couer de Bray (cow)

candy cane beet chips on Bonne Bouche (goat)

microwave beet chips

beets
1 quart water
1 Tblsp kosher salt
olive oil in a mister bottle

Slice the beets thinly on a mandolin so that they are slightly thicker than a credit card. (If your beets are round and you wish to make roses by embedding them in cheese, they will need to be tapered on one end like a rose petal.)
Add the salt to the water (yes, it's a lot of salt, but neccessary for proper dehydration) and bring to a boil. Drop in about a dozen beet slices at a time and boil for about 3 minutes, (adding more water to maintain the level or it will become too salty as it evaporates) or until they become flexible. Remove beets with a slotted spoon and spread out on paper towels. Blot the tops dry with additional towels. Transfer slices to a sheet of parchment paper on a flat, microwave-proof dish in a single layer. Spray the tops lightly with olive oil. Flip them over and mist again. Place beets in microwave and cook on high power for 1-2 minutes, depending on the wattage of your microwave (run a trail with a few beets to confirm the time— they should become crisp within a minute of removing them from oven). Repeat with remaining beets. Store in an airtight container at room temperature.

fruit tart

Once, my friend Judy gave me a rudimentary lesson on throwing pottery. I can still remember how the clay felt between my fingers as it turned on the wheel. Supple. Lithe. Obsequious. A gentle pull would make the clay rise like a tower; a push would flatten it into a slab. Up… down… out… in… I delighted in the responsive dance of force and symmetry.

I went into the pottery studio that day with a project in mind: a shallow bowl with thin walls that tapered gently outward. Tried as I did, my inexperienced hands couldn't make the clay dance that way. Later, it was decided that the best way to build the bowl was from a molded slab. The process involved rolling, cutting and molding. THESE were motions that my hands understood; it was the dance of pastry.

There are two types of molds used for clay slabs: slump and hump. In slump molding, the clay is laid inside the mold, much like pastry dough is fitted inside a pie or tart pan. In hump molding, the clay is draped over the outside of the mold. This was how I formed my bowl because: 1) it was the only type of mold available at the studio, and 2) it allowed the inside of the bowl to remain smooth and free of blemishes while modeling the slab to the mold. The process made me question why we build pastry crusts inside the confinement of pans and overlook the outside.

Wet clay is made up of fine mineral particles that float in thin layers of water. When clay is rolled, the particles line up in the direction of the force. If a clay slab is rolled in only one direction, the particles line up to form a grain that will cause the object to shrink against the grain when dried and fired.

I've often wondered why recipes for pie crusts insist that the dough should be rolled from the center out, and why they sometimes shrink unevenly when baked. I've wondered, too, about the turns in laminated doughs. I never expected to find the answers in working with clay, but I'm glad I did.

freeform pate brisee bowl ✢ yuzu curd ✢ meringue
rambutan ✢ lychee ✢ myoga ✢ ume
ground cherry ✢ black sesame

pork jowl creamed smoked cabbage

The other pork jowl steak was covered with thin slices of Benton's country ham, tightly rolled and cooked sous vide at 60C/140F for 3 hours, then chilled in the bag overnight.

The pork roll had remarkable flavor and texture, like a fine charcuterie— as if the ham had cured the pork from within. It held its shape, even when thinly sliced, until the heat of a pan caused them to unfurl their tails, whimsically creating pork commas.

Whoever said that cabbage is the lowliest of vegetables had surely never seen the Savoy, whose extravagantly blistered leaves look like the velvet trapunto quilts of European finery. The flavor, too, is more refined than the common smooth-leaved variety. And those nooks and crannies? They make great traps for sauces.

With the weather propelling toward winter, I've been working on hearty vegetable dishes that are free of dairy and gluten. In my world, where I'm often feeding people with restricted diets, dishes like these are my Ace in the hole. Cabbage was first on my list with the intention of transforming it into something comforting, yet luxurious. I thought I could accomplish that by saucing the tender leaves of Savoy with a creamy puree of itself, but that wasn't producing the full mouth feel that I was after.
Simultaneously, I've been exploring the process of using cooked grains and nut purees as thickeners in place of refined starches. Refined starches work wonders at altering texture without affecting flavor, but there are times when the whole personality of a food (instead of just one of its properties) is welcome. And cabbage had rolled out the mat.
I pondered the options over breakfast: wheat was out, so should I use buckwheat, quinoa, rice, pumpkin seeds, chestnuts? All were viable, but ultimately, the answer laid before me in my bowl of oatmeal.

creamed smoked cabbage

Adding steel cut oats to cabbage puree gives it a creamy richness, but don't substitute instant or rolled oats or you may end up with a gluey, too-much-Xanthan-like consistency.
If meat products are not an issue, I recommend using chicken stock, augmented with ham scraps for the liquid. Otherwise, vegetable broth, or water, is fine.
Smoking the cabbage is optional, but especially in the absence of meat, it makes a marked difference in the enjoyment of the dish.

oatmeal: 20g steel cut oats, lightly toasted in a dry pan
60g apple cider
1g salt
Place all of ingredients in a vacuum bag and seal. Cook in an 82C/180F water bath for 55 minutes.

cabbage: 350g de-ribbed Savoy cabbage leaves that have been cut into 1/4" squares
              bouquet garni of: 1 bay leaf, 5 peppercorns, 4 juniper berries, 2g fresh caraway seeds or 1g dried
              200g vegetable, chicken, or ham stock
              6g salt
              2g baking soda
Pack cabbage and bouquet garni into a vacuum bag. In a small bowl, stir the stock, salt, and baking soda until dissolved, them pour over the cabbage in bag. Seal bag and place in water bath with the oatmeal (82C/180F) for 45 minutes. When done, open the bag and drain contents, discarding the bouquet garni.
Lightly smoke the cabbage with smoked apple wood chips in a smoker for 5 minutes, following manufacturer's directions. (alternately, use a smoke gun).
Separate 125g of the cooked cabbage and place the remaining cabbage in a saucepan.

cream: 6g sliced garlic
              50g extra virgin olive oil
              125g of smoked cabbage from above
              contents of cooked oatmeal bag from above
              50g vegetable, chicken, or ham stock
2g fresh caraway leaves, or a blend of 1.5g fresh dill weed and 1g dried caraway seeds
Heat the olive oil over low heat and add the garlic. Sweat the garlic until fragrant, translucent, and just beginning to color. Scrape into a blender along with the remaining ingredients. Blend on high to form a smooth puree.
to finish: scrape puree into saucepan with remaining cabbage and toss over low heat until warmed through and the cabbage leaves are evenly coated. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

I toasted some Savoy leaves (after misting them with olive oil) in a 176C/350F oven for a few minutes until they were crisp. They reminded me of the Caldas da Rainha ceramics that I collected in the 90's when they were popular. I was drawn to their realistic depictions of natural forms, mostly cabbage leaves. My favorite piece remains a soup tureen, a trompe l'oeil of a head of Savoy, which I swear that any soup that is served from it tastes better.

The crispy cabbage leaves make tasty edible bowls for serving the creamed smoked cabbage. They can be picked up, folded, and eaten out of hand— no utensils required. Here, they're filled with creamed smoked kale (which works just as well as cabbage), slices of rolled pork jowl, 64℃ quail egg yolk, fresh garbanzo beans cooked with horseradish, and pickled rutabagas.

consuming passion

heart fortune cookies

There is some room to play with the flavor of these cookies— the oil, juice, and extract can be varied according to your desired flavor profile and the sugar can be infused with strongly-scented products such as herbs, vanilla beans, citrus peel, or rose petals.

❤cookie batter:
2 egg whites
46g sweet almond oil
13g beet juice
4g raspberry extract
100g sugar
67g AP flour
6g cornstarch
red food coloring

Place the egg whites, oil, juice, and extract in a medium bowl and whisk lightly to incorporate. Sift the sugar, flour, and cornstarch together and add to wet ingredients. Stir with a wooden spoon until batter is smooth. Add food coloring to desired shade and blend well.

❤stencil:
cookie template
thick sheet of acetate or plastic
X-acto knife or sharp blade
slips of paper printed with fortunes, folded in half

trace cookie template onto acetate or plastic. Cut out center with an X-acto knife or sharp blade.

❤to make cookies:
Preheat oven to 163C/325F. Place stencil on silpat or parcment-lined baking sheet. Spoon about a Tablespoon of batter onto center of stencil cutout. With a small offset spatula, spread the batter thinly and evenly to completely fill cutout in stencil. Carefully lift stencil and rinse and pat dry for next use. If you have experience with shaping hot tuiles, you can bake up to 4 cookies at a time— beginners should start with one. Place baking sheet in the oven and check after 4 minutes. The surface should be glossy but not wet to the touch and the edges should be just starting to brown. Remove baking sheet from oven and carefully (they're hot!) but quickly (they must be worked hot) peel cookie off of silpat and flip it top side down. Place a folded fortune in the center of the cookie. Lift pointed edge that is nearest to you and fold up and over to meet and align with other pointed edge, enclosing the fortune. Lift the cookie with the points facing up, pinching them together and lightly drape the folded bottom edge over the rim of a cup or bowl to create the crease that will form the top of the heart. Hold the cookie in place over the rim until it hardens while working the sides together so that they meet and close. The cookie must be shaped while it is hot and flexible— if it hardens too quickly, it can be returned to the oven for 1-2 minutes to soften. Place cookies in a muffin tin to hold their shape until they cool.

flowering teas

I woke up to snow again today; anathema to the three feet that's already on the ground. I spent the morning looking through seed catalogues; at technicolor pictures of lush vegetables and cheerful flowers, dreaming of the exuberance of summer. "If you plant us", they seem to say, "it will come."

Despite their promise, I know summer will eventually come. And though it's far too soon to look for signs; in winter, hope springs eternal.

I first discovered flowering teas at Pike Place Market in Seattle nearly 4 years ago and have been collecting them since. Sometimes called blooming tea, or art tea, the bundled balls are made of select white tea leaves (unfermented Camellia senesis) bound together with silk thread. Inside, they hide flowers— lily, jasmine, chrysanthemum, carnation, calendula— delicately stitched to the leaves. When dropped into hot water, they slowly unfurl to reveal their hidden beauty; burlesque in a tea cup.

The tea is not the finest or most complex that I've tasted, but on a day like today, watching something bloom before my eyes is visual therapy.

sticky toffee foie pudding

I remember the moment I fell in love with textiles. I was studying fashion design at Parsons when the draping instructor suggested I attend an exhibit of 18th century textiles at the Met. I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to see a bunch of dusty old fabrics. "Go", she said. "they will inspire you."

Coming out of a lifetime of denim, polyester, and cotton jersey, I was hopelessly unprepared for the opulence of that exhibit. Printed chintzes, sumptuous velvet brocades, luxe silk damasks, allegorical Toile de Jouy, gossamer laces—each one a masterpiece of fiber and thread. Collectively, they told a story of a pre-industrial era of impeccable craftsmanship and a soignee world of extravagance and luxury. I had no desire to possess them, I wanted only to bask in their splendor.
I was, indeed, inspired.

If ever there was to be an exhibit of Pure Luxury, foie gras would make a salient display. The luxury of foie is not in its price, though considerable, but in the sensual experience of consuming it. I've always found it's velvety mouthfeel and resonant flavor to be more hedonistically aligned with a rich dessert.

Among other things, studying fashion instilled in me an awareness of trends and the cycles of design; most are just revivals of old elements made new for modern taste. Looking through a book of medieval cookery, I was struck by how many savory dishes were made sweet with honey and fruits. Now, it seems, the dessert cycle has leaned towards the savory— adding salt, savory herbs, vegetables and animal. The latter— lest we forget— includes eggs, butter and cream. How to take it to the next step? Are we ready for fish, flesh, or offal even, in our dessert? Maybe we'll never be ready for candied kidneys, but in regards to foie gras, I can only wonder "what took so long?".

Brandy-soaked cubes of foie, embedded in moist cakes redolent of dates and muscavado, an arabesque of sticky sweet brandy-spiked sauce— it is the stuff of baroque fairy tales; a decadence fit for kings and queens— the gustatory equivalent of brocade pillows and damask sheets.

sticky toffee foie pudding
red currant jelly ice cream
sugared red currants

sticky toffee foie pudding
serves 6

40g foie gras, cleaned of veins
130g Tuaca or brandy
60g dates, roughly chopped
86g reserved Tuaca or brandy from soaking foie
56g unsalted butter at room temperature
55g muscovado sugar
97g eggs
84g flour
4g baking soda
6g baking powder

sauce:
78g muscovado sugar
1.5g salt
175g heavy cream
25g butter
30g reserved Tuaca or brandy from soaking foie

Cut foie with a heated knife into 6 cubes, each measuring 1.25cm x 1.25 cm x 2cm and place in small bowl. Pour Tuaca or brandy over foie to submerge (use more if needed). Set aside to marinate for 2 hours. Strain through a fine sieve, reserving brandy for cake and sauce.
Heat 86g of reserved brandy in a small saucepan to 43C/110F. Add dates and cook over very low heat for 5 minutes. Remove pan from heat, cover, and set aside for 10-15 minutes to soften dates. Stir the dates and brandy vigorously with a wooden spoon until they break up and the mixture looks like a chunky puree. Set aside to cool.
Preheat oven to 176C/350F. Grease 6 small dariole molds. Cream the butter and sugar with an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment on medium speed until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and beat for 2 minutes, then add the date/brandy puree and beat for 1 minute. Sift together the dry ingredients and add to mixer. Beat for 1-2 minutes, or just until incorporated.
Spoon batter into each of greased molds until half full. Place a cube of marinated foie in each of the molds, then cover with remaining batter until molds are nearly full. Place filled molds in a baking dish, spacing them 5cm apart. Pour boiling water into baking dish until it comes halfway up the sides of the molds. Immediately cover tightly with foil and place in oven. Bake for 12 minutes or until the top of the cake springs back when pressed. Remove cakes from water bath, cover loosely with foil to keep warm while making sauce.
To make sauce: Place all ingredients except brandy in a medium saucepan. Set over medium heat and whisk while cooking until thick and smooth, about 4- 5 minutes. Remove from heat and whisk in 30g of reserved brandy until smooth and silky.
To serve: Unmold the warm cakes and dip each one in the sauce, rolling around until well coated. Transfer each to serving plate and carefully spoon a small amount of sauce over the top, letting it drip down the sides. Serve warm.

summer pasta

In these, the last days of summer, autumn encroaches clever and lithe.

I try to ignore the signs, but it's worse than that.

I see the chlorophyll drain from the leaves and tell myself it's just the sun. I notice the flowers looking dry and wan and say it's because I didn't give them enough water. And… isn't the goldenrod blooming extra early this year?

I'm in denial.

It's not because I dislike autumn. I don't. But because I will miss summer.

It's not even that it's been a good summer. It hasn't! Losing my father cements it as one that I will poignantly remember forever.

Still… I hate to see it go.

I think what I'll miss most is the bounty at my fingertips.
The joyful sight of fruits on the vine.
The perfume of herbs baking in the sun.
The many colors of ripe.
Nature, in all of her white-hot intensity.

But it's not over yet.

As the sun arcs lower in the sky and night grows longer and cooler, summer vegetables rush to put out their last flush. It's a well known fact that leafy greens, crucifers, and root vegetables taste sweeter when nipped by cold, but I would swear that late-season tomatoes and corn are the best of all. They are only sweeter in memory.

Colors and flavors, the icons of summer, are arranged atop a swath of emulsified tomato milk like notes on a scale. A seasonal keyboard.

Tucked in between are tubes of parmesan pasta. I'll tell you about those next time.

These are covered by a strip of reduced corn juice, thickened by its inherent starch and bursting with flavor. Its form is controlled by freezing, then tempered to a fluid sauce.

Just for this dish, I ignore my tendency towards minimalism, my carefully managed urge to over garnish. I lay it all out. Let nature play all of her notes at once. A crescendo of flowers and herbs.

This is my tribute. An homage. A celebration.
The swan song of summer.

popsicles

I'm always looking for uses for plant materials that are often overlooked or discarded because they're too fibrous to eat.
Wild carrot stems may appear thin and fragile, but are rigid and strong enough to support these popsicles.

Layering is one way to control progression of flavors.
Usually, in the context of a meal, flavors progress from savory to sweet.
Here, they move from sweet to savory, starting with wild carrot syrup, then on to naturally sweet casaba melon, and ending with fig leaf tea.

The popsicles were molded in silicone plastique molds made from test tubes.
Don't try freezing liquids in thin glass molds. Trust me.

three little figs

Once upon a time, not so long ago or far away, there was a very special fig.

Figgy [as she liked to be called] was no ordinary fig. She was a fig with aspirations.

Indeed, all figs have aspirations; they all want to be immortal. In the glory of their ripeness, they put on their dusky makeup and most alluring perfume in hopes of attracting hungry birds and beasts to spread their seed.
But our Figgy wanted something different for herself. She wanted to go out in a blaze of glory and to live on as a fond memory.

To this end, Figgy placed ads in dozens of newspapers. She received many replies, but thought none earnest. [She was convinced that they were all just greedy bluejays.] Then she received a call from a chef who seemed genuinely interested. Figgy followed her instincts and agreed to a formal meeting.

The meeting was held at the chef's restaurant. Chef greeted her warmly and seated her at a table in the kitchen, then proceeded to present her with dish after dish of the finest food she had ever tasted. After dinner, Chef joined Figgy for a glass of Port and asked her about herself.

Figgy told Chef that her ancestors had come from a faraway land that was once called Persia, but is now known as Iran. They had lived there for centuries in the most splendid gardens that the world had ever seen.
"Did you know that the word paradise is from an ancient Persian word for walled garden?" asked Figgy.
From there, they migrated west to Egypt, then north to Greece, where figs were held in high esteem by both slaves and royalty.
"My forebears were among the figs that concealed the asp in Cleopatra's basket and flourished in King Alcinous' orchard during Odysseus' visit."
"Fascinating", said Chef and begged her to continue.
"Successive generations continued westward along the Mediterranean: Rome, Provence, Andalucia, and finally the Algarve, where my grandmother settled. When my mother was just a sapling, she was packed in a box and shipped across the Atlantic to New England. That's where she lives now; in a pot on a terrace during the bearing season and winters in a heated greenhouse. She is happy and well cared for."

"And you?" asked Chef, "Tell me why you're here."
"I was born in the greenhouse and moved onto the terrace when I was still very young. The family that cared for us would gather there every night for dinner. From high up on one of my mother's boughs, I would watch them feast on the most sumptuous foods. With every bite, they all agreed that it was the best they had ever tasted and that they would remember it forever. It was then that I realized that I didn't want to be gobbled up by a hungry bird. I want to be savored, to be lingered over, to be remembered! I'm hoping that you can help me with that."

"I will do my best, but tell me… what would you like me to do with you?"
Figgy had thought long and hard about this. It's true; she was a dreamer, but she was also a sensible fig. She understood that in order to make a lasting impression, she needed some enhancement. In her haste to fulfill her destiny, perhaps she had left her mother too soon and was not as sweet and ripe as she could have been.
"I can fix that with a bit of honey." said Chef.

Figgy's mother had taught her many things about her history and her anatomy. She often lamented that figs are mistaken for fruit when they are actually flowers. She had explained that inside herself were hundreds of flowers that looked like long, thin filaments, and that each one held a seed. These seeds, she had said, were what perpetuated their species and held them in regard as an ancient symbol of fertility. But they were often cursed by humans for getting caught in their teeth and interrupting the sensual experience of eating figs.
Chef listened to her concern and suggested that a blender would break down her seeds, if she would allow it.

Figgy was not afraid of the blender or what it would do to her, she was ready to sacrifice herself fully. But she was adamant about retaining her form, of which she was fiercely proud, despite it's phallic shape that has been a source of embarrassment to both men and women throughout the ages. So much so, that the original Arabic word for figs is now considered an obscenity.
"No problem" said Chef "I can mold you so that you will look exactly like yourself, but better."

This pleased Figgy and she was anxious to get started, but Chef was hesitant.
"I think that to make you truly memorable, you will need to share the spotlight with other flavors. If we do it right, they will not rob you of your glory, but make you more delicious. Will you trust me?"
When Figgy seemed amenable, Chef continued, "Great! I'd like to introduce you to some of my friends that I think you will get along with very nicely."

Chef rushed into the kitchen, swept things up off the counter, and laid them out in front of Figgy.

"First, I'd like you to meet Onion Caramel. She may look cloyingly sweet, but she's surprisingly sassy."
"Yes, I like her." said Figgy taking a taste "She's got lots of personality!"

"Next, there's Dark Chocolate. He's smooth, suave, mysterious and seductive, but with a bitter edge to balance your sweetness."
"Oh my, I'd better stand my ground with him or he will sweep me off my feet."

"And, finally" said Chef, lifting the lid off a round, wooden box "there's Epoisses."
Figgy shrieked and stepped back, holding her breath.
"Now don't be afraid. I know Epoisses seems offensive, but I assure you, it's only skin-deep. If you take some time to get to know her, you'll find that she's full of character and actually sweet and mild on the inside."
Figgy watched Chef cut through the rind and expose a pale, creamy heart. She tasted carefully and found Epoisses agreeable and lovely.

"So, when do we get started?" asked Figgy.

The next morning Chef entered the kitchen to find Figgy and her friends engaged in a lively conversation.
When Chef asked Figgy if she was ready, she pulled Chef aside and said in a hushed tone, "I really love my new friends. We couldn't get along any better, but I'm worried. They are all such wonderfully memorable characters, how can I stand out among them?"

Chef understood and said reassuringly, "Figgy, I promise you that when I present your dish tonight that it will only be you that they see. And from then on, when they remember your dish, it will be you that they reference."

Chef and staff worked steadily throughout the day in preparation for the special meal. Every seat for both sittings were full and expectations were high. Course after course of Chef's carefully planned and executed meal was dispatched from the kitchen with only a few minor glitches. Figgy's dish was the final course.
When the last plate left the kitchen, Chef congratulated the staff, cleared the pass, hung her apron, and entered the dining room.

Late that evening, Chef was alone in the kitchen writing menus, taking inventory, and listing orders for the next day's deliveries. Intermittently, she paused to reflect on the evening's accolades. There had been so many kind words from her guests: enthusiastic bloggers snapped photos and offered praise, critics hinted at rave reviews. There was even conjecture of a Michelin star. But the words that pleased her most were: "…the fig dish…", followed by various adjectives, " fantastic!… delicious!… brilliant!… memorable!"

As Chef turned the lock on the restaurant for the night, she felt overwhelming gratification.
For giving her best.
For pleasing her guests.
For making her staff proud.
But most of all, for keeping her promise to Figgy.

left to right:
dark chocolate-covered epoisses
onion caramel
Figgy