cedar apple streusel

cedar-baked apple pudding

toasted flour and poncillo streusel

apple confit

cherry tobacco gel

cedar brandy ice cream

maple leather

Cedar is a prized aromatic wood that is widely used to line closets and storage chests. Toasting cedar breaks down the sugars in the wood and produces a complex aroma that is decidedly masculine.

With this dish, I've attempted to capture that aroma with the nuances of apples, tobacco, cherry, leather, brandy and molasses.

Baked apples are the quintessential comfort food. Here, I've gone hobo pack with them, tucking in a few sheets of toasted cedar, butter, nutmeg, vanilla, maple syrup and brandy. Their flavor is exquisite.

white chocolate eucalyptus watermelon olive

Eucalyptus is not a conifer. It is an angiosperm (enclosed seeds|pod) and not a gymnosperm (naked seeds|cone). In many other aspects it closely resembles a conifer, most of all in it's fragrant wood and leaves.

The aroma of eucalyptus is largely comprised of the monoterpene eucalyptol (about 70%, depending on the variety), also known as cineol, which gives it the characteristic fresh, spicy and camphoric scent that is shared by rosemary, sage and bay leaves.

I like the way that the fattiness of white chocolate rounds out some of the medicinal qualities of eucalyptus. They both have a cooling effect on the palate, and together they combine into a refreshing flavor.

I also like what agar and gelatin do to ganache. In the right amounts, they provide a toothsome delivery with a creamy mouthfeel and a clean finish. It also allows for doing fun things to ganache, like cutting it into cubes.

Watermelon also has a cooling effect with a green-ish flavor. The problem with pairing watermelon with traditional ganache is textural–when the ganache melts, it coats the tongue, making the wet, crisp watermelon feel odd and doesn't allow the flavor to come through. Altering the texture of the ganache gets around that. Briefly infusing the watermelon with lime juice adds acidity and terpenes that enhance the eucalyptus.

Fresh turmeric is a rhizome in the ginger family with a startling orange color. It also contains eucalytol along with other terpenes that contribute to its earthy and mildly floral aroma.

Black olive croquant is a flavor and texture counterpoint.

Eucalyptus is the only plant on my list of conifers that doesn't live in my yard. Without access to organically-grown eucalyptus, I've been leery of cooking with florist-grade because of the use of pesticides in these products. I picked up a sapling of an apple-scented variety (Eucalyptus bridgesiana) at a garden center last summer and have been nurturing it under flourescent lights. I used the first harvest to make this ganache.

Recipe: white chocolate eucalyptus ganache

In looking at the first photo, I realize that the scale of the dish is ambiguous. Scale is important–the size of a portion is directly related to our enjoyment of it. This dish is intended as an amuse– one or two bites of an intriguing combination that arouses the palate for what is to come. If that were to be more of the same, I'm afraid that the effect would be lost.

Eucalyptus is a genus of evergreen trees and shrubs that is comprised of about 700 species. It belongs to the family Myrtaceae, whose members include cloves, guava, and allspice. It is a native of Australia, where it is also known as blue gum because of its tendency to leak sap from breaks in the bark. They are not cold hardy but are widely cultivated in the tropics and subtropics. The largest consumers of eucalyptus are koalas.

crab mango spruce pomelo vanilla

In my mind, mango and pine will always be tangled together. I have Luciano to thank for that.

Luciano was a dishwasher at the first restaurant that I worked in. He could rip through stacks of dirty dishes faster than any machine, work any station where he was needed, fix anything that was put in front of him. He also made the most delicate pasta that I've ever tasted. All this, he did with the demeanor of a pit bull, alternately growling and cursing like a sailor, then laughing and smiling like an impish boy. He held everyones respect with his consummate badassness.

He was a man of many talents and just as many peculiarities. For one, he had a habit of chewing on pine twigs, of which he kept a fresh supply in a freezer. When questioned, he explained that it kept his teeth clean and it was Nature's breath freshener. I had to agree as he did, indeed, have a dazzling-white smile and always smelled forest-fresh.

Luciano also introduced me to the mango. He brought one in for me one day when I expressed an interest in the fruit that he spoke of with an exaggerated fondness that made his eyes go soft. He showed me how to peel it with a paring knife, then cut away the flesh from the flat seed that he kept for himself, scraping it over and over between his teeth, because–as he put it–"It is the sweetest part…Nature's candy."

My first impression of the mango was favorable–a nice balance of sweet and tart, exotic aromas, buttery texture–yet there was an underlying flavor that intrigued me. When I identified it as pine and relayed this to Luciano, he burst out in a belly-laugh, explaining, "To me, everything tastes like pine"

It came as no surprise when, many years later, I confirmed that there is a concentration of the hydrocarbon, terpene, in the flavor profile of mangoes. Among these are limonene (citrus), pinene (pine), carvone (caraway, dill), myrcene (bay, verbena, myrtle), and ionone (violet, vetiver).

While playing with the flavor of pine (here, in the form of spruce) and mango, I found vanilla to be a nice bridge with both flavors, rounding out the sharp pitchyness of the pine and enhancing the floral aroma of mango. Pomelo, an enormous citrus that tastes like grapefruit without the bitterness, has a fragrant peel with tones of bergamot that played along well with these flavors.

Recently, in an email exchange with another chef, I mentioned this relationship between mango and pine. He was quick to reference a dish in The Big Fat Duck Cookbook. Sure enough, Heston Blumenthal had uncovered this relationship and composed a beautiful dessert around it.

king crab

mango

spruce

pomelo

avocado

vanilla

Although Luciano was in his fifties when I knew him, he was one of the fittest people I knew. He attributed this to a daily regimen of weight lifting and mango power shakes.

I think that he would approve of this mango lassi with a head of spruce foam, scented with a split vanilla bean.

Spruce (Picea) proliferates throughout Northern temperate zones. It is distinguished by its symmetrical conical growing habit, making it a prized landscape plant as well as a favorite Christmas tree. Spruce contains a good amount of vitamin C and its sap was used by Native Americans to make a gum, which later became the inspiration for the first commercially produced chewing gum.

Addendum: an interesting bit of information from a reader via email:

"…I lived on Kauai for four years where people with property have varied and excellent cultivars of all sorts of mango trees and one of my neighbors took me to his 'special' tree to harvest a basket load of perfectly luscious golden mangos. Then he showed me his personal quirk – mangos will bleed sap from the stem when they're picked and that was one of his favorite parts. I tried it and found it to be totally piney in flavor and from then on, I really taste the terpenes in the mango's I eat quite clearly. So fun. He believed it to be particularly healing too, though he didn't have any concrete thoughts about why specifically.
I recommend looking near the stem end of the mangos you find in the market for a shiney, dried drip of sap somewhere on the skin. You can usually peel it off and chew it like gum. It will be totally piney and delicious.
Thought you'd find this a fun bit to know…"

cod juniper apricot

There were few foods that I disliked eating as a child. Salt cod was definitely one.

It is said that the Portuguese have 1,000 ways of preparing bacalhau. Much to my dismay, many of these preparations made their way onto my dinner plate. No matter how much I protested or pleaded, the only requisite to leaving the table was to eat my bacalhau, thus saving me from an empty, degenerate life, the direct result of a salt cod deficiency. The potatoes, a traditional accompaniment, always came to my rescue. Not only did they make the fish more palatable, they provided a cover under which to hide the bits that I couldn't get down.

After a long separation, I've developed a taste for salt cod. I had to come back to it on my own terms. The dense, fibrous texture, which I once found so offensive, is what draws me to it now.

I can't help but feel a little naughty as I revert back to hiding the bacalhau in this dish, although this time around the intent is to bury it as a treasure and give it the respect that it deserves.

apricot lime puree

potato puree

egg yolk

crispy smashed yukon gold

juniper salt cod

juniper foam

juniper-gin tempura dome

In addition to playing off of the flavors and textures that are found in traditional Portuguese bacalhau dishes and the classic fish and chips, this dish explores the chemical relationship between the flavors of cod, juniper and apricot.

…………………………

More profoundly than spice, salt has steered the course of history. Our fundamental need for it prompted an age of discovery, displaced populations, built empires, leveled economies, instigated wars, and saved humanity from starvation.

The history of cod is intrinsically entwined with salt. Dating back over 500 years, salt cod has sustained entire populations on both sides of the Atlantic. Its commerce linked the New World to the Old. Codfish were once so plentiful that it was jokingly said that one could cross the Atlantic on foot by using their backs as stepping stones. Now, they have been overfished to near extinction, warranting heavy restrictions to protect the remaining population of Atlantic cod and challenging consumers to seek other options. Sustainable alternatives are Pacific cod, Alaskan pollock, and hook-and-line caught Haddock.

To make juniper salt cod: Finely grind fresh juniper sprigs and berries. Mix 1 part juniper with 2 parts coarse sea salt. Lay fresh fish fillets on a bed of juniper salt and completely cover with a thick layer of additional salt. Cover, and refrigerate for 2 days, after which time, the fish can be hung and dried in the refrigerator for up to a month, then hydrated before cooking. I prefer the texture when it is hydrated directly after salting. To hydrate: Rinse salt off of fish and soak in fresh, cold water for 2 days under refrigeration, changing water 3-4 times during this period. Cook as desired.

To make juniper foam: In a blender, place 500ml tonic water and 30ml juniper sprigs. Blend until liquified. Strain. Season liquid with salt and a few drops of lime juice. Place 1/2 of liquid in a saucepan and add 3 sheets of gelatin that have been bloomed in cold water. Heat until gelatin dissolves, then blend in remaining liquid and allow to cool. Strain again into an iSi canister and charge with N2O. Chill thoroughly before discharging.

To make juniper gin: Lightly smash leaves and berries on sprigs of juniper with a mallet. Place in a bottle of gin and set aside at room temperature for at least 3 days. Remove sprigs when the juniper has a pronounced presence in the gin.

To make juniper gin tempura dome: In a bowl, combine 2 eggs, 5g agave syrup, 3g salt, 80g AP flour, 100g rice flour, 120ml tonic water, and 120ml juniper gin. Whisk together until smooth. Heat the back of a ladle in a deep-fryer of vegetable oil to 375F. for 2 minutes. Remove ladle and let excess oil drip back into deep-fryer. Invert ladle over a bowl and drizzle the tempura batter over the back in a lacy pattern. Lower ladle into hot oil and fry for 2-3 minutes or until golden and crispy. Carefully remove dome from the back of the ladle using the tip of a knife to help it dislodge.

Various species of Juniper (Juniperus) grow widely throughout the Northern hemisphere. The needles of most Junipers look like tiny, overlapping scales. The berries, which are actually cones, mature to a deep blue in the fall and remain on the branches throughout the winter. They provide the distinct flavor of gin and are used in Northern and Eastern European cuisines to flavor wild game and choucroute garnie.

sardine raspberry vinegar yogurt pine

Speaking of trends…its encouraging to see sustainable seafood on many lists.

Although we perceive the vast oceans as an endless source of food, pollution and careless fishing practices within the industry is depleting our supply faster than it can sustain itself. As chefs, it is our responsibility to educate and provide delicious and sustainable alternatives in order to sway popular taste. As consumers, we have the power to implement change, starting with the choices that we make (money talks).

Knowing what seafoods to choose can be confusing as it is not always a question of overfishing a particular species, but sometimes it is the location where they are caught and, often, it is the practice of a fishery or farmer that is harmful to the environment. There is a comprehensive guide here that lists good choices as well as alternatives and those to avoid. As a simplified general rule, large fish are most vulnerable, whereas small fish such as mackerel, herring, and sardines are not. In addition to being eco-friendly, these sustainable species are rich in omega-3 fatty acids, wallet-friendly, and loaded with umami.

Unfortunately, some people avoid these fish because of their assertive flavor or simply because they are unfamiliar.

Luckily for me, the humble sardine and I are old friends. Growing up in a Portuguese household, fewer foods were brought to the table with more reverence. The large, meaty ones were simply grilled whole, to be filleted at the table. The smaller ones were lightly fried and pickled overnight in garlic and onion-scented vinegar–their tiny bones so tender that they became an integral part of their texture. This preparation was my favorite. Though I couldn't stomach them for breakfast (as my parents often did), I enjoyed them as a snack.

Escabeche de Sardinha is as simple as quickly frying small sardines that have been seasoned and lightly dusted with flour, in olive oil. These are then removed from the pan, the heat turned down, and thinly sliced onions and garlic are added to the pan and slowly stewed. When soft, the pan is deglazed with red wine vinegar and the escabeche is poured over the sardines and chilled overnight. They are best eaten at room temperature.

For this dish, I swapped shallots for the onions, omitted the garlic, and deglazed with raspberry vinegar.

Sardines, vinegar, and raspberries have an affinity for each other and share aroma compounds: ester (isovaleric acid), alcohol (butanediol), and aldehyde (acetaldeyhde). Pine, yogurt and cocoa also play in with the flavors of fish and raspberries. Chemistry aside, its a great tasting combination.

sardine

vinegar

raspberry

yogurt

pine

cocoa

Eastern White Pine (Pinus strobis) proliferates throughout northeastern North America. The long, thin needles contain five times as much Vitamin C (by weight) as lemons.

For the pine dust: Bring equal amounts (by weight) of sugar and water to a boil. Reduce until syrupy. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly. Drop in pine needles, stir to coat and remove to a silpat. If the syrup is too hot or the needles remain in it for too long, they will begin to discolor. Separate the needles and dehydrate until they snap when bent. Grind in a spice grinder.

tangerine gingerbread coconut black sesame

Gingerbread– a western invention inspired by eastern spices– makes perfect sense when paired with other asian flavors: coconut, tangerine, and black sesame. Although lemon verbena is not widely used in the east, its exotic flavor fits in with the aromatic cuisines of Southeast Asia and provides this dish with a lilting high note.

An interesting synergy developed with the tangerine component. It had started out as a whipped gelatin where sweetened juice was blended with 3% gelatin. Upon whipping, it felt thin. In an attempt to raise the viscosity, I decided against xanthan and opted for methocel. In the initial test, 0.5% of methocel F50 showed a marked improvement in texture. In a subsequent test, increasing the amount to 1% resulted in a dense foam with a rich mouthfeel reminiscent of a fruit curd…definitely something to play with.

And so, with ginger bread returned to its home (and in high spirits), this journey ends.

I think I hear the forest calling…

montbriac pear endive ginger bread

Somedays, the path from concept to execution is clear and linear, where flavors and textures that are united in the mind manifest themselves on a plate with smug accuracy. But the palate doesn't lie. Not even when the brain falls under the spell of an ingredient. That hussy–the quince–she had me completely seduced.

Blame it on the Montbriac, the instigator of the incident. Upon tasting the RocheBaron* creamy blue cheese, I knew that I wanted to highlight it in something more than a cheese plate. With the tangy funk of Roquefort in mind, I flipped through my mental catalog of flavors. Intuition, through the filter of experience, produced the following hits: ripe fruit esters, bitter greens, warm toasty aromas.

Ginger bread instantly found its role. Ground and toasted with walnut oil, it fit the profile that I was after. Belgian endive hearts, caramelized in brown butter, reinforced the nuttiness and introduced a mellow bitterness and succulent, crisp texture.

The pieces fell into place. The path was clear. Then, it happened.

Reaching for the ripe Bartletts on the counter, my attention wavered to the neighboring quince.

"Hello" she said "why not choose me instead of Mr. Predictable over there. I am the unexpected twist that your dish needs."

I should have followed my instincts, which told me not to listen to a love child of the rose and the apple.

Looking back, I think my resolve shifted when she swayed me with the spicy, floral fragrance that she can only release when ripe. She was a fruit in heat and I am a whore for heady aromas. That was my unraveling…but, the truth is that she had me at hello.

And so, I spent the ensuing hour trying to coax her into playing nice. The problem was that she insisted on being the star. She made the cheese feel rubbery, the endive taste flat, and robbed the ginger bread of its spice. They all threatened to walk off stage if she were not recast.

Meanwhile, the Bartletts stood in the wings, quietly mocking me. They did not protest when I reduced them to a fragrant juice. Or, when I blended them with LM pectin and a touch of calcium, transforming their texture to that of pear confit.

With the spell broken and a cleared head, it was no surprise that the rest of the cast cheered when the pear entered the stage and that the dish received rave reviews.

* RocheBaron Montbriac is a rich and creamy blue cheese with an ash rind. Made in Pouligny-Sainte-Pierre in central France, it is the product of a successful experiment resulting from injecting Roquefort mold into a soft Brie.

ras el hanout montenebro date

Deep in the Sahara, a dry, desert wind blows, picking up speed as it travels north. By the time that it reaches North Africa, it collides with a cool, humid air mass that blows off the Mediterranean, forming the formidable ill wind known as the sirocco.

The chergui, as it is called in Morocco, wreaks havoc at the marketplace in Marrakesh, disrupting displays and covering wares with dust and sand. The spice merchants watch helplessly as the carefully formed cones of their finest spice are sent swirling into the air, caught by the chergui and carried off like loot as it makes its way east.

In Tunisia, it blows through plantations of date palms. The tall, slender trunks bow in its wake, mercilessly shaking the fronds and dislodging the drupes. These, too, are caught in the wind and carried north.

It makes its way across Malta, where it plunders a lemon grove, then up the coast to Naples, where it leaves the maccheronaros enraged as it makes off with sheets of pasta.

From there, it travels due west, across the Mediterranean, picking up speed and humidity. When it reaches Spain, it glides over ancient landscapes and makes its way to the elevated plains of Castilla y Leon. Approaching the fortified city of Avila, it sweeps over Romanesque walls, topples herds of goats, then takes off with their prized Montenebro cheese.

Turning south, it heads back towards the Mediterranean to Jerez de la Frontera. It rushes through a vineyard, uprooting vines of Pedro Ximenez and swipes multiple bottles of Fino off a shelf at a bodega. It hightails itself out of town, but not before ruffling the skirts of a group of flamenco dancers.

Propelled by a low pressure system on its tail, it makes its way across the Atlantic. Laden with mischief and loot, the wind tires and loses momentum. When it reaches the New World, it has barely enough energy to make its way through an open door, seeking a safe spot to deposit its spoils before going off to expire.

An unsuspecting resident enters the room and stares in disbelief at the scene before her. Every surface in the kitchen is covered with piles of fragrant spice, sheets of pasta, logs of cheese, lemons, dates, and bottles of sherry. She shudders as a cold breeze brushes past her and she closes the door.

ras el hanout raviolo filled with Montenebro

dried date and fino sherry puree

spruce powder

yogurt with sumac

puffed ras el hanout pasta

fresh date

preserved lemon

spruce

black bass parsley lemon

black bass

preserved parsley

parsley root puree

parsley fluid gel

preserved lemon oil

pork apple cedar

Pork and apple…you knew it was coming– didn't you?

I've been playing with this classic pairing for awhile now, but none of the permutations have inspired me to post on it. In fact, I recently paired pork belly with apple pie. I was actually quite excited about it because I knew the flavors would work if I kept the sugar in check and it would further break down the wall of what we perceive as a savory and a dessert. And even though I made the crust with lard (which, by the way, makes the flakiest pastry), it didn't come together for me. I think that the problem was the crust itself; the texture distracted from the creamy/crispy pork belly. I haven't completely abandoned it, though…just filed it away for another time.

In the meantime, the apple caramel gel entered the picture with its butterscotchy mouthfeel, caramelized apple flavor, and balance of sweet with tart. It was the perfect element to unite the spiced apple balls–three types of apples sous vide with spiced butter (honeycrisp-nutmeg, gala-cinnamon, roma-clove)–with the cedar-scented pork. The scent of the spiced apples, when warmed on a vanilla bean, alongside the cedar pork, is intoxicating and stirs up all kinds of memories of hearth and home. The crisp element–a cylinder of whipped granny smith apple gel–reminded me of an apple core, which inspired this presentation. Finally, the baby leeks that I started from seeds in October, introduced notes of umami.

I hope this was worth the wait…I know it was for me.