blue cheese demythified

I used to think that blue cheese was an urban legend…

In my youth, a neighborhood kid once told me about a cheese that was blue with mold. It was the kind of conversation that kids have when they want to gross each other out, but he was serious. I refused to believe him … I mean, who would willingly eat moldy cheese? Surely, it belonged in the same category as the bogeyman; a tool used by mothers to threaten their children into compliance.

And I was no stranger to funky cheeses. My parents would load their suitcases with oozing, washed rind stink-bombs on their frequent trips to Portugal. So offensive were they, that every article of clothing had to be aired out and washed, while the suitcase itself was immediately banished to the furthest corner of the attic. Thinking about it now, it’s a wonder that they ever made it past customs.

But, of course, I grew up, developed a palate, and came face to face with the blue veined myth. I can’t say that it was love at first bite, but it grew on me, and I quickly developed a taste for it. In fact, I often crave it.

I am fortunate to have sampled many varieties of blue cheese. I count Fourme d’Ambert, Roquefort and Cabrales among my favorites; each one unique, and possessing it’s own endearing qualities. I like to eat the mellower, milky varieties like Fourme d’Ambert, Maytag, and Gorgonzola with marmelada, the Portuguese equivalent of membrillo, that my mother makes every year from the marmelos (quinces) that she harvests from a tree in her back yard. The stinging Roquefort and fierce Cabrales pairs very nicely with dead- ripe pineapple.

On a recent trip to NYC, I stumbled upon a variety that I was unfamiliar with- Mossend Blue from Bonnieview Farms in Vermont, made from raw milk. It looked so seductive that before I even sampled it, I knew that it would be coming home with me.

Having both marmelada and ripe pineapple on hand, I sampled each separately with the Mossend Blue and was undecided. When I put all 3 flavors together, I was amazed at well they played together; the quince forming a bridge, both linking and supporting the sharpness of the cheese and astringency of the pineapple.

I almost always trust my sense of taste and smell, but when I stumble upon a new combination that surprises me, I seek confirmation. In these instances, I turn to the well designed site FOODPAIRING, but could not find it there. Turning to another source, a database of flavor and scent components, produced 2 hits that confirmed a link to these 3 flavors: 2-heptanone and butyl isobutyrate. I love when that happens.

Mossend Blue
quince paste
pineapple
duck confit
frisee
serrano ham foam
sichuan- pineapple caramel

The Mossend Blue is the star of this dish, but the award for the best supporting role goes to the sichuan- pineapple caramel for its sweet, tangy, spicy taste and fruity, floral aroma.

Sichuan- Pineapple Caramel
1 cup sugar
1 cup fresh pineapple juice
1/4 cup heavy cream
1 tsp freshly ground sichuan pepper

Place the sugar and juice in a large saucepan and cook over medium high heat, skimming off any foam that appears on the surface with a spoon. Continue cooking over medium high heat until the mixture thickens and turns amber. When it reaches the soft ball stage (about 240 F), remove the pan from the stove and quickly stir in the cream using care as the temperature of the cream will cause the hot caramel to sputter and foam. Stir in the sichuan pepper. The cooled caramel can be stored in a jar in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks, if you can resist it for that long.

mascarpone and caramelized milk

Mascarpone is a lovely substance…a thick triple-cream cheese that tastes of sweet cream with a tangy finish. It is far too rich to eat more than a spoonful or two straight up, but it is indispensable as an ingredient. A few spoonfuls stirred into a soup, pasta or risotto will elevate it from good to sublime. It makes an amazingly creamy and rich ice cream, tames the sweetness of caramel, and stabilizes whipped cream.

Mascarpone can easily be made at home from heavy cream (pasteurized produces a better product than ultra pasteurized) and tartaric acid (the primary acid found in wine–can be purchased online or at a wine-making supply store). It takes less than 10 minutes to prepare, but it must thicken and drain for 12 hours before it can be used.

Here’s how:

Mascarpone

2 cups heavy cream
1/8 teaspoon tartaric acid

Heat cream in a heavy saucepan to 180 degrees F. over medium-high heat, being careful that it does not scorch. Remove from heat as soon as it comes up to temperature and stir in the tartaric acid. Continue stirring for 1-2 minutes. Transfer to a glass or plastic container and refrigerate for 2 hours. At this point, it should have thickened significantly. Set a sieve over a bowl and line it with a triple thickness of cheesecloth and pour in mascarpone. Let drain for an additional 10 hours in the refrigerator.

Yesterday, I found myself with a fresh supply of mascarpone and a question that I have been pondering: Could mascarpone be caramelized?
I knew that I could stir in some burnt sugar and cook it down a bit , but I didn’t want to swing it that far into the sweet zone. What I wanted was to maintain the balance of sweet and tart, but deepen the flavor; make it more complex. But if I didn’t add sugar…would it still caramelize? Some would argue that the absence of sugar would instead cause the milk solids to toast (as in browned butter), but heavy cream does contain some sugar (16 grams per cup), so I got busy…

I packed mascarpone into a half pint mason jar, leaving an inch of headroom at the top, then sealed it with a lid and band. I then placed it on a folded towel in a pressure cooker and poured in about 3" of water, sealed the cooker and and brought it up to pressure. Worried about the water level, I decided to check it after 30 minutes. (My paranoia about letting the water bath dry out stems from a dulche de leche incident a few years ago involving a can of sweetened, condensed milk in a saucepan and one distraction too many…I’m still cleaning that mess up.) The water level had gone down about an inch, which I replaced, and it was just starting to take on color. I placed it back in the cooker for another 30 minutes. The color had noticeably deepened and it appeared to have retained its creamy texture, so I decided to stop there. As soon as it had cooled, I popped the lid and there it was…the sweet, nutty, toasty aroma and flavor that I was looking for. I now had a product that was familiar in texture and mouth feel, yet more complex and nuanced in flavor to play with.

Heady with success, I wondered what else could Be caramelized. I put every dairy product that I had on hand into mason jars and processed them in the same way. Here’s the results:

hits deepened color, taste and aroma, unaltered texture

whole milk
processed for 90 minutes

heavy cream
processed for 90 minutes

canned evaporated milk
processed for 90 minutes

misses deepened color, taste and aroma, altered texture

lebne
processed for 60 minutes
(formed soft curds that could be whipped until creamy, but remained slightly grainy)

sour cream
processed for 60 minutes
(formed firm curds; texture could not be restored by whipping)

conclusions It appears that the cultured products curdled under the intense heat/prolonged cooking, while the uncultured ones achieved the desired effect. This is just a rudimentary observation…I wish that I knew more about the science at play here. Regardless, I am happy with the 4 new products that I have here. I am especially excited about the versatility of heavy cream and what it can produce: flans, custards, whipped cream and maybe even butter. Back to ~~work~~ play.

UPDATE: Chemistry professor and author Robert L. Wolke writes in his book What Einstein Told His Cook, "the word caramelization should be reserved for the browning of sugar- any kind of sugar- in the absence of protein. When sugars or starches occur together with proteins as they do in onions, breads, and meats, the browning is mostly due to the Maillard reaction, not caramelization."
So. I guess that I should refer to these products as Maillard milk.

The call of the rainforest

While the temperature hovers around 0 degrees here in the Northeast, I should be thinking about hot, soothing soup, or a slow-braised joint of meat. Instead, I am finding comfort in dreaming of the tropics.

The rainforest fascinates me…an infinite and largely undiscovered source of plant and animal life. As a teenager, I spent a glorious month in Brazil, staying with family in Santos, but my stay was confined to the coast around Sao Paulo, and only skimmed the outer edges of the Amazon.

Perhaps the most celebrated chef in Brazil today is Alex Atala of D.O.M. Restaurante in Sao Paulo, which is counted among the top 50 restaurants in the world. Besides being a gifted chef and speaking 3 languages fluently, chef Atala is enthusiastic about discovering and sharing the resources of the rainforest, which he calls "a universe of aromas". This is no small feat, considering that the Brazilian diet is still tied to old customs and subsists largely on rice and beans and other imported goods.

Having captured my imagination, I set out to weave together flavors/aromas from crops that are widely grown in rainforest climates…and I do mean weave in a literal sense…hey, if Wylie can tie foie in a knot, why not weave? I edited a long list of possibilities down to those that I knew would work well together:
banana
coconut
lime
tamarind
coffee
vanilla
cashew

I began with a piece of grouper, which was seasoned and placed in a bag with vanilla-infused coconut milk and a piece of banana leaf, sealed under vacuum, and cooked sous-vide at 50C for 20 minutes.

Next, I separated the flavors and aromas into two agar sheets. I chose agar because of its heat stability–I didn’t want it to melt as soon as it came in contact with the hot fish–but I was careful to keep these sheets on the soft side, barely firm enough to manipulate. The first sheet (creamy, rich, slightly sweet) was made by mashing bananas with lime juice(for flavor and to retard darkening), I added agar to the coconut milk, brought to a boil, then combined this with the banana mash. I then poured this out onto a plastic-lined flat container to a thickness of 1/4" and chilled until set.

The second sheet (aromatic, tart, bitter) was made using the same procedure, except the agar was heated with tamarind puree and a hint of vanilla extract, then combined with a pulled shot of espresso and molded.

After both sheets set up, I cut them into 1/2" strips and carefully wove them together, holding them in the refrigerator until just before service, when they were inverted onto the squares of grouper. To finish, a little sprinkle of ground cashews and lime zest.

So, you may ask, is this dish "a universe of aromas"?
No…but, maybe a microcosm.