whipped apple caramel gel

Whipping air into the caramel gel changes its appearance from translucent to opaque and lightens the texture. Although it now resembles a creamy caramel, the impact on the palate is lighter and cleaner, leaving only an impression of creaminess. The real surprise is the tartness that wraps itself around the sweetness,(the acid concentrates along with the sugar) and plays out like an agrodolce.

I can see savory as well as sweet applications for this product, but first, I had to play with some plating variations.

apple caramel gel

The intention was to make pate de fruit.

The intention was to make it with only fruit juice. No added sugar.

The intention was to make it with agar and gelatin. Not with pectin.

The intention was one thing. The result was another.

Pate de fruit is typically made with Certo–a high methoxyl pectin that forms gels in a high sugar enviroment. Low methoxyl pectin does not need sugar, but requires the presence of calcium. The apple juice that I intended to use contained only inherent sugar (fructose) and insignificant amounts of calcium.

Agar and gelatin will form a variety of gels–from soft to brittle, depending on the proportions used–and require neither sugar or calcium. This was the territory that I intended to explore.

The initial gels were unremarkable–either too brittle or too soft. Concentrating the sugars through reduction introduced a desirable stickiness and became a critical point. Reducing too far resulted in a syrup, not enough produced a gel that was rigid and brittle.

Through a series of reductions and additions of decreasing amounts of juice, the emerging texture is firm enough to hold its shape, yet the pull of a knife renders it fluid. The mouthfeel is creamy like caramel with the viscosity of gel.

The intention was to make a pate de fruit. The result is a caramel gel.

apple caramel gel

Lacking a refractometer to measure brix, the results may require final adjustments in reduction/addition.

150g apple juice

1.5g agar

.6g gelatin

Place the apple juice in a saucepan. Sprinkle the agar and gelatin over the top. Let stand 2 minutes for the gelatin to bloom. Set pan over medium high heat, whisking until gelatin and agar are dissolved. Bring to a boil and continue boiling under mixture is reduced to app. 2 Tablespoons.

Add 80g apple juice. Boil and reduce to app. 2 Tablespoons.

Add 30g apple juice. Bring to a full rolling boil for 30 seconds.

Remove from heat and cool.

turkey and trimmings

After spending the better part of yesterday breaking down and carving countless turkeys (yes, people really do order pre-roasted, pre-carved turkeys), I just had to play. All those sinews and tenacious muscles clinging to bones. Not to mention the incompatible white meat/dark meat cooking factor.

While gnawing meat off the bone makes for a primal experience, there are times when I want something more refined. If nature was not going to provide me with a product that can be cooked integrally and be easy to eat, I thought that I would give it a shot.

A core of brined white meat, wrapped around the wing bone, followed by a thin slice of brined dark meat, then skin…mission accomplished.

One thing that I've learned over the years is that Thanksgiving is the one holiday that I can play with presentations, as long as the traditional flavor profiles remain in tact. At least thats how it plays out in my family.

white meat/dark meat petite drumstick

sweet potato marshmallow

liquid stuffing

brussels sprouts

whipped potatoes

pickled cranberries

This year, I am thankful that Thanksgiving only comes around once a year, and that someone else will be cooking my dinner.

Happy Thanksgiving!

foie cake

You've been looking forward to this meal for some time.

You've chosen the restaurant because you heard that the food is playful.

You're here because you're hungry, but not just for food.

You order the tasting menu.

You don't read through the courses because you want to be surprised.

You're now three courses in.

You're know you're hooked because you can't stop smiling.

Course #4 arrives.

The server sets down a plate in front of you.

He tells you what it is then walks away.

You don't hear him because you're looking at your plate.

You see that that there's a tiny cake on your plate.

You glance at the table next to you to see if you've gotten their dessert.

They're eating fish.

You're confused.

Then you smell foie.

You pick up your knife and cut into it.

It cuts like a cake.

You pull out a wedge and inspect it.

It looks like a cake.

You take a bite.

It's not what you expected.

The left side of your brain runs for cover.

The right side comes out to play.

You expected it to be sweet.

It's not.

You taste tart cranberries, sweet shallots, dry wine.

You taste toasted brioche.

You taste foie.

You don't taste cake.

The left side of your brain whimpers.

The right side giggles.

Your mouth is making plans to come back next week.

foie apple grape

foie gras

green apple crisp

"grape"

curry

oxalis

grapes

One of my earliest taste memories is of grapes. Not of the insipid seedless supermarket variety. The grapes that I grew up eating were the European Vitis vinifera, grown in my backyard.

Growing grapes was my fathers passion. As far back as I can remember, he would tend the vines; training, pruning and grafting them year after year, in hopes of producing the perfect grape. The goal, of course, was to produce a great wine. The wines, though perfectly drinkable, were never remarkable.

When he stopped making wine, there was an abundance of grapes for the table. Just a few ripe bunches in a bowl would fill the house with a complex bouquet of aroma compounds made up of alcohols (methyl alcohol, ethyl alcohol), aldehydes (acetaldehyde, isobutyraldehyde), amines (methoxypyrazine), esters (ethyl, butyrate), thiols (mercaptohexyl acetate) and terpenes (linalool, nerol)–to name a few. Their flavor was amazing–a beautiful balance of acids, alkalies, tannins and sugars.

Nature blessed these fruits with many great attributes, but she did not make them conducive for good eating. Unless you are a bird.

As with most fertile plants that cover our planet, the grapes loftiest endeavor is to go forth and multiply. In order to sustain the species, Nature designed the grape berry as a seed carrier. Only when the seeds are ready, do the fruits ripen– making them attractive to the birds that will consume them and deposit the seeds.

Eating these grapes was a challenge. The skins, thick and tough, were unpalatable. Removing them was not an option, as they contained aromas and astringency necessary for a balanced flavor. The large seeds which contained the bulk of the tannins were completely inedible; Natures cruel joke to us humans.

As a child, I developed a slow, methodical approach to eating these grapes: First, the skins were split open to reveal the seeds, which were pried out with fingertips, and sometimes from impatience, with tweezers. Next, the tenacious skins were peeled, but only halfway, leaving them intact at the blossom end. Holding on to the end, I would insert the grape into my mouth, biting down on the skin to release the flavor and loosen the pulp, then remove and discard the masticated skin. Messy? yes. Attractive? no. It would take me nearly an hour to get through a small bunch.

Other members of my family did not have the patience (or neurosis) to eat them "properly" and would just eat them whole, or not bother at all. And yes, these grapes made an extraordinary jelly, but how many jars can a family consume or give away?

Not that many, it turned out. And so, the grapes were left for the birds.

A few years ago, my father, tired of cleaning the mess and tending the vines, cut them down and installed an awning over the patio that was once covered with a flourishing grape arbor.

Every year since, come October, I get a craving for those old world grapes.

I miss them.

"Those things are better which are perfected by nature than those which are finished by art", said Cicero, a long, long time ago

Nature, with her infinite variations, has always been a primary source of inspiration, as well as aggravation, but I have to concur with William Blake, who said "Great things are done when men and mountains meet"

This is not a mountain…its just a grape.

My intention here was to recreate the flavor and balance of the grapes, without the obstacles of seeds and skin. With my father's grapes no longer available, I turned to the the Concord (Vitis labrusca). The pulp was separated from the skins and each juiced separately. The pulp was set with agar and gelatin and molded. After a few trials, I found the best ratio was .85% agar to .35% gelatin. When the gelled pulp was unmolded, the grapes were marinated in the juice from the skin. Adria applies this technique in Gelatina Cru by vacuum sealing. I found that I had better control over the penetration and ultimate proportions of skin/pulp by simply allowing it to sit in the marinade for a few hours.

For the first time, I am able to enjoy the flavor and texture of old world grapes with none of the distractions. This technique also opens up possibilities for other whimsies…grapes made of white wine, marinated in red. Or, other manipulations of flavor contrasts between pulp and peel…sweet orange gel, marinated in bitter orange.

Have I outwitted Mother Nature? Just maybe on this one…but she is still legions ahead.

For a philosophical take on Man vs. Nature in the context of food, read "Cooking: The Quintessential Art" by Herve This and Pierre Gagnaire, a book that I forgot to include in my previous post. Chadzilla quotes from the book in a recent post, sparking an insightful conversation.

(I can't put up this post without a shout out to my friend, Uwe, who embraces the nicknames Uva and Queso [grape and cheese]. Check out his blog Gratifood. His food will make you drool. His language will make you smile.)

black forest

bacon egg pineapple

Y'all must be tired of this croquant thing by now. I've had fun exploring the versatility of crispy ground fat melded with isomalt. And I haven't even delved into pork crackling territory, but with the changing season comes a new palette of flavors and inspiration. It's time to move on…

I thought that I would be moving on after the last post, but as I worked with the hot, pliable croquant, I realized it's structural potential. There was that, and the unfullfillment of the obvious bacon and eggs.

bacon croquant

frozen egg custard

pineapple caramel

hollow sea salt

Years ago, I made miniature ice cream cones for a catered event. En route to the venue, I realized that I had not anticipated a way to pass or present them. A detour to Home depot provided a solution. As the first guests were arriving, I was on a stoop outside of the kitchen drilling holes into a sheet of plexiglass. The lesson learned: always be prepared, and when you're not–improvise.

That's exactly what I did when I found myself holding this cone and facing the same problem. The ice cream was melting and there was no plexiglass in sight. In the time that it took to bake a new cone, I had fashioned a stand out of 12 gauge wire.

I doubt that it would meet Grant Achatz's standards for service ware, but I think that Martha would approve.

sea bean cardamom oyster

Seeing that so many of you are familiar with sea beans, I'll keep the description brief.

The genus Salicornia is a salt-tolerant herb that grows along beaches in the US (where they are known as sea beans), Europe (known as samphire), South Africa and South Asia. Other common names include glasswort and pickleweed.

I was introduced to sea beans while baking at a restaurant, where they made a brief appearance on the savory side. Their succulent salinity (and a dare) challenged me to find a sweet application. Using the flavor of salted caramel as inspiration, I coated them with burnt caramelized sugar. The results were addictive. The sweet crust cracked, giving way to a snappy crunch, followed by a hit of refreshing salinity.

My introduction to cardamom preceded sea beans by at least a decade and was far more dramatic. Opening a jar and inhaling deeply, I was met by a hot breeze that had traveled across hundreds of miles of ocean and sand. Another whiff confirmed the scent of saltwater drying on hot skin, seaweed and sand baking under an unrelenting sun, ground-up sea shells. Clean, bracing, and unambiguously masculine, I fancied it a cologne created by a deep-sea alchemist for Poseidon himself. I still refer to cardamom as beach-in-a-bottle.

A Virtual Day at the Beach

Contents:

Sea bean: nam pla sugar crust.
Salt water taffy meets umami-o-the-sea.

Cardamom sable sand: Toasted rice flour, butter, poncillo, cardamom, lime, sea salt.
A game of beach volleyball; sweet vs. salty.

Pearl: A burst of briny oyster liquor kissed by passion fruit.
Hot sex on a tropical beach.

Directions:

Smell. Taste. Chew. Swallow. Savor. Enjoy. Listen to the squalling seagulls and lapping waves.

(seashell and iPod not included)