ginger bread

I'll be the first to admit that I am easily distracted. This trait sometimes frustrates those around me when they require my attention. Oh, I recognize when it's necessary to focus on a task at hand–lest the cookies burn and the cakes turn out dry, but there are times when doing menial things (like separating eggs or sifting flour) that I allow my attention to wander and ask questions.

For instance: Why do we call it gingerbread, when it's actually cake?

The answer can be found in the rhizome ginger root, and its introduction to Europe.

Medieval Europeans quickly developed a passion for ginger and other spices when they proved to mask the odor and flavor of meat that was preserved without the benefit of refrigeration. Fortunes were made and lost as spice merchants, spurred by the frenzy for spice, charged exorbitant prices. Ginger was highly prized and commanded the highest price, second only to black pepper. But, as with all financial markets, what goes up, must come down.

When spices became accessible to the lower classes, cooks became more creative. The early forms of gingerbread were unbaked confections consisting of ground almonds, honey, ginger root and spices that were pressed and molded. These were called gingerbread by the English, after the Latin zingebar, meaning preserved ginger. Eventually, stale breadcrumbs were added to bind the mixture. Later, the additions of flour, eggs, and butter transformed the dense paste into the lighter and refined versions that we now know and love as lebkuchen (from Germany), pain d'epices (from France), and panforte (from Italy).

Today, in North America, gingerbread is commonly known in two forms: cookies and cake. Though both honor their origins with a blend of spices: ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, neither contain yeast or can be classified as bread.

Which leads me to ask: Why do we not flavor bread with this evocative blend of spices?

This question never crossed my mind until it first crossed my nostrils. This is what happens when you bake brioche alongside of gingerbread cookies and you allow yourself to be distracted.

ginger bread

(spice brioche)

makes 1 loaf

starter

30g (2 T) lukewarm water

39g (3 T) molasses

70g (2.5 oz) unbleached AP flour

.8g (1/4 t) dry yeast

1 egg

Blend all ingredients together in the bowl of a stand mixer until the consistency of a thick batter. In a separate bowl, mix together:

180g (6.4 oz) unbleached AP flour

4g (1 1/4 t) dry yeast

3.5g (1/2 t) salt

38g (3 T) microplaned fresh ginger root

7g (2 t) ground cinnamon

5g (1 1/2 t) freshly ground nutmeg

2g (1/2 t) ground cloves

Sprinkle this mixture on top of the sponge. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and let stand at warm room temperature for 2 hours.

With the dough hook, mix the dough briefly, then add 2 eggs, one at a time, while beating at low speed until they are incorporated. Raise the speed to medium and beat for about 5 minutes, or until the dough is smooth and shiny, but soft and sticky.

With the mixer turned back to low speed, add 113g (4 oz) unsalted, soft butter, bit by bit, waiting until each addition is incorporated into the dough, until all of the butter is added. Cover tightly and let dough rise at warm room temperature for 2 hours.

Deflate risen dough by rapping sharply against the counter. Transfer dough, tightly wrapped in the bowl to the refrigerator. Let chill for at least 6 hours or overnight.

Prepare an 8 1/2"x4 1/2" loaf pan by lightly greasing. Scrape the chilled dough out onto a floured surface and deflate by pressing with hands, while forming a rough square. Fold the dough in thirds, like an envelope, rolling into a cylinder that is about the same length as the loaf pan. Tuck the ends under and transfer the dough into the loaf pan. Grease the underside of a sheet of plastic wrap and cover the loaf pan. Set aside at warm room temperature to rise for 1 1/2-2 hours, or until it has risen to the top of the pan. Preheat the oven to 425F. Whisk together 1 egg with 1 t milk to make an egg wash and brush it lightly over the top of loaf. Place in preheated oven and bake for 30-40 minutes or until a digital thermometer, inserted into its center, reads 190F.

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.

kimchi brown butter

Winter is kimchi-making time. In the past, I've made batches with cabbage, bok choy, and thinly sliced cauliflower. This year, I'm back to the traditional Chinese cabbage variety.

Although kimchi is not in my culinary heritage, it holds an inextricable position in my family of deliciousness. Another esteemed member, brown butter–though seemingly disparate, has an affinity for kimchi. Linked by dimethyl sulfide, their symbiotic relationship feels like a toasty warm blanket on a cold winters night.

romanesco steak. buckwheat. lamb bacon. kimchi. brown butter.

serves 4

kimchi stock

If your kimchi has plenty of liquid, you can decrease the amount of vegetable stock. Adjust the finished stock with salt and additional spice and acid to make it vibrant.

500g (18 oz) kimchi

125g (4.5 oz) vegetable stock

Puree the kimchi with the stock in a blender. Strain through a chinoise. Reduce the stock by half.

romanesco steak

Cooking a thick cut of romanesco cauliflower in brown butter and kimchi infuses it with a nutty, meaty flavor with a kick of fiery spice.

2 1" thick crosscut slices of romanesco cauliflower, each cut in half

40g brown butter

100g kimchi stock

salt

Season the cauliflower with salt and place in sous vide bag with the brown butter and stock. Vacuum and seal bag. Sous vide at 85C for 20 minutes. keep warm.

lamb bacon

At the restaurant, we get saddles of lamb from Colorado. After they're broken down, we're left with sheets of creamy fat, striated with meat, from the backs. Because the sheets are thin, I glue 2-3 layers together and cure them to make bacon.

4 1/4" thick slices lamb bacon

Bake in a 300F oven until golden and crisp. Chop finely.

buckwheat groats

Buckwheat groats, also known as kasha, are a psuedocereal as they do not grow from a grass. The cooked seeds have a nutty, mild mushroom flavor.

1 1/2 cups buckwheat groats

3 cups vegetable stock

1 tsp salt

In a medium saucepan, bring the water to a boil. Add buckwheat and salt. Stir well, cover, and turn heat down to low. Cook for 15-20 minutes or until tender. Reserve half of the cooked groats to make puffed buckwheat.

puffed buckwheat

reserved cooked buckwheat

2 cups canola oil

Drain buckwheat well and spread out in a single layer on dehydrator tray or on a baking sheet. Dehydrate or bake in a 150F oven until groats are hard, dry, and shriveled. Place the oil in a deep pan and heat to 375F. Drop dehydrated groats into hot oil in small batches. They will puff immediately. Scoop out with a fine mesh spoon and transfer to paper towels to dry. Repeat with remaining groats.

kimchi and brown butter emulsion

Glycerine flakes are a fatty acid ester that is soluble in fat. It has the ability to thicken oils and form

emulsions from fat and water-based mediums.

70g (2.5 oz) brown butter

11g (.40 oz) glycerine flakes

60g (2.10 oz) kimchi stock

salt

Place brown butter and glycerine flakes in a saucepan and heat over medium heat just until flakes melt. Place the stock in a bowl and gently heat over simmering water until lukewarm. Very slowly drizzle the oil into the stock while whisking vigorously. When all of the oil is incorporated, the mixture may look as if it is separating. Set the bowl into a larger bowl of cold water and whisk vigorously until mixture is smooth and stable. Season with salt. The emulsion can now be gently warmed by whisking over warm water.

to finish

Blackened garlic is made by roasting whole, unpeeled garlic cloves in a 325F oven until they are hard, dry

and black. Grated over a finished dish, they act as an earthy and mildly bitter seasoning. Store fragrant tubers such as ginger root, galangal, and tumeric in the freezer and microplane over a dish just before serving to brighten its aroma and flavor.

blackened garlic

frozen galangal

finely chopped kimchi

Arrange a half-slice of cauliflower on a plate. Next to the cauliflower, place a small mound of chopped kimchi. Cover the kimchi with the cooked buckwheat. Sprinkle with the puffed buckwheat. Make another mound of chopped lamb bacon next to the buckwheat. Place a dollop of warmed emulsion on the plate. Microplane the frozen galangal over the buckwheat. Microplane the blackened garlic over the cauliflower and emulsion.

tuna pumpernickel sunchoke yacon

salt cured tuna

pumpernickel pudding

sunchoke nuggets

pickled yacon

honey mustard pearls

white sage

pumpernickel pudding

120g egg yolks

120g sour cream

250g whole milk

150g coarse, dry pumpernickel crumbs

salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350. Butter the insides of individual molds or set them in a large baking dish.

In a large bowl, whisk together the yolks, sour cream, milk, and salt. Fold in the pumpernickel and pour into molds. Fill the baking dish with enough boiling water to come halfway up the sides of the molds. Cover the baking dish with foil. Place in oven and bake until the puddings are no longer wet in the centers.

sunchoke nuggets

250g sunchokes, peeled and cut into brunoise

50g unsalted butter

salt and pepper to taste

Heat a heavy skillet over medium high heat until hot. Add butter. When butter starts to brown, add sunchokes and toss well. Season with salt and pepper. Continue cooking, constantly tossing in browned butter until sunchokes are crispy on the outside and soft inside.

pickled yacon

150g yacon, peeled and thinly shaved

250g rice wine vinegar

5g salt

5g sugar

Bring the vinegar, sugar and salt to a boil. Allow to cool to room temperature. Pour over the yacon in a nonreactive bowl. Cover and chill for 1 hour.

honey mustard pearls

40g dijon mustard

20g honey

20g water

1g agar

1 quart cold vegetable oil

Whisk together the mustard, honey, water and agar. Bring to a boil. Fill a syringe with the mixture and squeeze out individual drops into cold oil. Let pearls stand in oil for a few minutes to gel. Scoop out pearls with a mesh strainer and rinse with cool water.

salt cured tuna

Driving through picturesque seaside villages along the western coast of Portugal, the ocean's influence on the landscape is everywhere. White-washed houses sport louvered shutters to deflect the glaring sun. Trees and vegetation lean inland as if sculpted by the wind. Sun-bleached seashells pave driveways and footpaths. And fish is found in unexpected places.

My boys, who were quite young then and restless from the ten hour road trip, giggled from the back seat. "Why does everyone wash their fish here?" one of them asked. I wasn't sure what he meant until I caught sight of a clothesline. Hanging between the socks and knickers were splayed sides of salted fish, curing in the heat of the sun and swaying in the salty breeze. The ubiquitous bacalhao (salt cod) were easy to pick out and I guessed that the smaller, dark slabs were tuna.

Arriving at our destination in the Algarve, we were weary and hungry. A restaurant was chosen based on its proximity to our hotel. With stomachs rumbling, we were led onto a terrace, perched high on the side of a cliff overlooking a coved beach, and beyond, an emerald green sea from which ancient limestone formations rose up like pillars.

Distracted by the view, I ordered a tuna dish which I assumed would be cooked. I was surprised to be served what looked like thin slices of raw tuna. The Portuguese are known for preparing fish a hundred ways, but never raw.

Tasting the tuna was revelatory–salty, silky, pungent and fishy, but clean–like the ocean itself. The accompaniments: slices of boiled, waxy potatoes, hard boiled eggs, minced onion and fruity, green olive oil were the perfect foil for the aggressive tuna.

Before leaving, I inquired about the tuna and learned that it was salt-cured and sun-dried; a traditional preparation called mochama. When I asked where I could buy it, I was told that it could not be bought, that it had to be made.

Its taken me a long time, but I finally did make it.

Eleven days ago, I buried slabs of fresh tuna loin in sea salt. Nine days ago, I soaked them in cold water. Seven days ago, I hung them to dry in a spare refrigerator. Today, I cut thin slices of mochama, and ate them, accompanied by potatoes, eggs, onion, and olive oil.

For a moment, I forgot that its a cold and dreary day. In my head, I was back in a land of emerald sea and warm salty breezes, where people hang their dinner out to dry with their laundry.

salt cured tuna

Mochama (Portugal), mojama (Spain), and mosciame (Italy) should be made from very fresh tuna (sushi quality). Cut the loin lengthwise with the grain into portions that are up to 5" wide and no more than 2" thick. On a whim, I brushed half of the portions with sweet soy (equal amounts of soy sauce and brown sugar, brought to a boil) during the first three days of drying. I found that this untraditional finish enhanced the final product.

In a deep, nonreactive dish, spread out a 1/2" thick layer of sea salt. Lay tuna portions on top, leaving a space between each. Cover tuna with 1/2" thick layer of salt. Cover and refrigerate for 2 days.

After 2 days, remove tuna from salt and rinse well. Place tuna in a large bowl and cover with cold water. Set aside in the refrigerator for 2 days, changing the water 6 times during the soaking period.

After the tuna soaks for 2 days, remove from water and pat dry with paper towels. Thread a coated wire through one end of each portion and bend the end into a hook. Hang in the refrigerator to dry, allowing plenty of room between each portion for good air circulation. After 7 days, it is ready to use.

chicken biscuit

Inspiration can come from anywhere:

A scent can trigger a delicious memory.

A crackly sound can instigate a refined texture.

A neat stack of fallen leaves can rekindle a technique.

A written word can invoke comfort and pleasure.

:: Biscuit ::

Thanks John Paul and Nathan. This one is for you.

Flaky Chicken Biscuits

makes 12 2" biscuits

Save the rendered chicken fat when roasting the skin for the croquant to flavor the butter. This is a wet dough that results in a tender biscuit. Use only enough dusting flour to prevent the dough from sticking. It's supposed to be messy–have fun with it.

3 oz (85.5g) rendered chicken fat

3 oz (85.5g) unsalted butter

8 oz (228g) unbleached all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp (3.55g) salt

1 tsp (4.75g) baking powder

1/8 tsp (1.15g) baking soda

6 oz (170.5g) cold buttermilk

2 oz (57g) chicken skin croquant powder

Melt the butter with the chicken fat and pour into a small plastic container. Freeze until solid.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the flour, salt, baking powder and soda. Toss together with a fork to combine. Pop the butter/chicken fat out of the container and cut into 1/2" cubes. Add to the dry ingredients and toss to coat. With your fingers or a pastry blender, cut or rub the butter cubes to half of their size, constantly tossing and blending into the dry ingredients. Pour in the buttermilk and combine just until a rough dough has formed. Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface and pat into a rectangle. Lightly flour the top of the dough and roll out into a 1/2" thick rectangle. Fold top third of dough over, followed by the bottom third. Turn the dough 45 degrees clockwise. Repeat rolling and folding. Wrap in plastic wrap and chill for 20 minutes. Unwrap and repeat the rolling and folding 2 more times for a total of 4 turns. Re-wrap the dough and let chill for 20 minutes more.

Preheat the oven to 400F (205C). Unwrap the dough and roll out into an 8"x6" rectangle, about 3/4" thick. Cut into 12 2" square biscuits. Spread the chicken skin croquant out on a shallow dish. Place each biscuit, bottom-side-down, onto the croquant and press firmly on the top to adhere. Place each biscuit, croquant-side-up, on a baking sheet that has been lined with silpat or parchment, about 1" apart. Chill for 20 minutes.

Bake for 12-15 minutes, or until golden brown.

chicken skin croquant

Chicken skin croquant

Salting the chicken skin draws out the moisture that inhibits crispness. Isomalt is a sugar alcohol made from beets and is less sweet than granulated sugar. Tapioca Maltodextrin acts as a starch, binding the sugar with the fat and improves the texture of the croquant.

chicken skin

kosher salt

isomalt

tapioca maltodextrin

Spread a layer of salt in a shallow non-reactive dish. Lay the chicken skin over the salt in a single layer and cover with another layer of salt. Set aside in the refrigerator for 8 hours. Rinse the salt from the skin and dry well with paper towels. Lay skin out on a metal sheet pan and bake in a 350F oven until golden and crisp. Drain on paper towels, pressing to remove excess fat and allow to cool. When cooled, grind in a spice grinder.

Weigh the ground chicken skin and weigh out an equal amount of Isomalt. Place the Isomalt in a saucepan and melt over medium high heat until fluid. Pour out onto a silpat and allow to harden. Break Isomalt into small pieces and grind in a spice grinder.

Combine the ground chicken skin with the Isomalt and weigh it. Add 30% by weight of Tapioca Maltodextrin. Combine well. Sprinkle a thin layer on a silpat for a freeform shape that can be broken into shards. For more defined shapes, sprinkle evenly over a stencil. Bake at 300F just until melted and fused. Allow to cool, then peel from silpat.

fresh mozzarella

My first attempt at making mozzarella was a miserable failure. I was overly optimistic. I started with 5 gallons of milk and ended up with 5 pounds of ricotta. It was fine ricotta, but it wasn't the pasta filata that I had hoped for. My family ate lots of lasagna that week.

My second attempt produced the same results. Ditto for the third. And the fourth.

I was obviously missing a piece of the puzzle. The recipe that I used was from a reliable source, complete with detailed, step-by-step instructions, but I could not make it past the second step where rennet was added to the inoculated milk. At this point, it was supposed to coagulate into a solid mass and separate from the whey, instead it formed small curds that would not "spin" or melt together. I tried different types of inoculants from citric acid to buttermilk to yogurt. I tried varying the amount of rennet. I tried different brands of milk–all to no avail. I'm not easily discouraged, but even I know when to let sleeping dogs lie.

I decided that it was time to revisit the mozz when a unique application recently caught my interest. More on that later. After further research, I found the missing piece: raw milk. While I found many accounts of mozzarella being successfully made from homogenized and pasteurized milk, I went directly to the source: real milk, straight from the cow, unhomogenized and unpasteurized.

The real advantage of making fresh mozzarella from raw milk is that I can produce a product that is superior to anything that I can buy in terms of flavor, texture, and nutritional content. On a socioeconomic level, it allows me to lighten my carbon footprint while supporting local farms. An added perk of raw milk is that in the summer, when cows graze on fresh grass and clover, the milk is rich, buttery, and yellow…pure sunshine.

Fresh mozzarella

yields about one pound

1 gallon raw milk

3 Tblsps plain yogurt

3 Tblsps buttermilk

1/2 tablet rennet

Step 1: Inoculation

Pour the milk into a large stainless steel pan. Set over medium heat and bring to 32C (89F). While milk is warming, stir together the yogurt and buttermilk. Add about 1/4 cup of milk from pan and blend well. Cover the pan and maintain the temperature at 32C for 10 minutes to allow the live cultures and bacteria to activate.

Step 2: Coagulation

While the milk is activating, dissolve the rennet in 1/4 cup of tepid water. Stir the dissolved rennet into the milk gently, but quickly. Cover the pan and set aside, undisturbed, for 2-3 hours in a warm, protected place until it coagulates into a solid mass that will pull away from the side of the pan.

Note: I place the pan in a large bowl of warm water and monitor the temperature of the water, maintaining it at 32C. It is important to not disturb the curd while it is coagulating.

Step 3: Cutting the curd

After 2 hours, check the curd for a clean break by poking a finger into the coagulated curd and lifting. If the curd does not break cleanly, allow it to sit, undisturbed until it does. Be patient.

When a clean break is achieved, cut the curd with a long, thin knife into 1/2" cubes. Stir the cut curds gently, breaking up any large curds.

Set the pan over medium heat and bring the temperature up to 36C (97F) with constant, gentle stirring. The curds will continue to break up.

Step 4: Acidification.

In order for the curd to spin, or melt together and stretch, it must be acidified to a PH of about 5.3. To achieve this, cover the pan tightly and set aside in a warm place for 8-10 hours. After 8 hours, check to see if it will spin by removing a walnut-sized piece of curd and dropping it into a bowl of water at 71C (160F). When it is lifted out and pulled, it should stretch without breaking. If it breaks, allow the curds to acidify further.

Step 5: Melting

Once the curds spin, heat a half gallon of water to 71C (160F). Drain the acidified curds in a colander (reserve a quart of the whey to make a brine if you will not be consuming the mozzarella immediately). Break up the mass of curds and place into a large bowl. Pour the hot water over the curds.

Allow them to soften for a few minutes, stirring gently, until they begin to melt.

Step 6: Molding

When the curds melt and fuse together, pull off a lemon-sized piece and with two hands, pull and stretch like taffy. Fold it onto itself and continue the stretching and folding until it is smooth, glossy, and elastic. If it begins to stiffen while working, let it soften in the hot water before molding.

Roll the sheet of stretched curd upon itself, working it into a smooth ball.

If you do not intend to consume the mozzarella immediately (I recommend that you do), the balls can be stored for up to two days in brine.

To make a brine: dissolve 1/4 cup of salt in 1 cup of hot water. Mix in the reserved quart of whey. Cool.

longan

Longan (Dimocarpus Longan) is a close relative of the lychee and rambutan. Longan, literally, is dragon's eye, referring to the dark seed that shows through the translucent flesh. The hard seed, when cooked, has a nutty flavor.

The flesh of the longan has a juicy texture reminiscent of a grape, with a mildy sweet, floral flavor. It is not as sweet as the lychee, making it a popular fruit for savory preparations in the East, where it is widely grown.

The delicate flavor of longan pairs nicely with sake

sweet and salty longan

1 quart peeled and pitted longans

2 cups water

1 cup sugar

1 cup sake

1/4 cup kosher salt

Pack longans into a clean, sterilized jars. Bring the remaining ingredients to a boil and pour over longans, leaving a 1/2" headspace at top of jars. Seal, and refrigerate. Use after 2 weeks.

potato juniper

fingerling potatoes in a progression of textures and temperatures

clockwise from top right:

baked potato skin [hot/cold] juniper. creme fraiche. caviar

potato salad [cold] pickled 83˚potatoes. mustard mayo. juniper snow

raclette potato [warm] potato puree. raclette

juniper roasted potato [hot] coffee oil. balinese salt

potato soup [hot] smoked potato. maytag blue. gin foam. crispy potato spoon

Juniper is an coniferous (cone-bearing) shrub that belongs to the Cypress family. Along the east coast of the United States, the native juniper is Juniperus Virginiana
and is identified by tiny scale-like needles and small berries that are green throughout the summer and turn dusky blue in the fall. These berries are actually cones and are used in the production of gin, providing it's distinct flavor. The berries, like the needles, have a clean, bracing botanical flavor.

baked potato skin

A taste of earth, sea, pasture and forest.

fingerling potatoes
juniper oil
creme fraiche, chilled
caviar, chilled

Bake fingerling potatoes in a 350 F oven until tender. Cut each in half and scoop out most of the flesh. Rub with juniper oil and return to oven until they begin to crisp. Put a dollop of creme fraiche in each potato skin and top with caviar. Serve immediately.
To make juniper oil: Wash sprigs of juniper and pat dry with paper towels. Add to blender with enough extra virgin olive oil to cover. Blend until sprigs are finely chopped and oil turns green. Strain through a fine mesh sieve.

potato salad

83C is the optimum temperature for sous vide vegetables as explained by Chad on this post. Cooking the potatoes with vinegar and salt pickles them as they cook.
The grated juniper snow is a refreshing jolt against the warm spice of mustard and earthy potatoes.

potatoes:
fingerling potatoes, cut into 1/8" slices
white wine vinegar
salt
olive oil

Lay potato slices out on a plate and sprinkle liberally with vinegar and salt and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Pack potato slices into a vacuum bag in a single layer and add excess vinegar from plate. Vacuum and seal. Place in 83C water bath and cook for 90 minutes. Remove bag from bath and chill in refrigerator until cold.

mustard mayo:
2 parts prepared mayonnaise
1 part whole grain mustard
honey, lemon juice, and salt to taste

Combine all ingredients until well blended. Chill.

juniper snow:
200 g water
25 g juniper needles
10 g agave nectar
3 g salt

Place all ingredients in a blender and blend until juniper is finely chopped. Strain through a fine mesh sieve. Transfer to a plastic storage container and freeze until solid. Simultaneously, place an empty metal bowl into freezer. Pop block of ice out of container and grate to form snow, letting it fall loosely into chilled metal bowl. Freeze until ready to use.

raclette potato

This is a reconstructed potato, made from potato puree set with Methocel and wrapped with a melted raclette cheese skin. For recipe and step-by-step illustrations, see previous post.

juniper roasted potato

Roasting the potatoes wrapped in juniper releases it's
aromatic essential oils, perfuming the potatoes (and your kitchen) with it's scent. Alternately, they can be roasted over hot coals for a primal experience.

Lerida makes a blended oil from extra virgin olive oil and virgin coffee oil that is simply amazing. Here, it rounds out the spicy, woody tones of the juniper.

juniper sprigs

fingerling potatoes

coffee oil

balinese hollow salt

Preheat oven to 375F. Wrap juniper sprigs around potatoes and fasten in place with small gauge wire. Place on baking

sheet and roast until potatoes are tender. Unwrap while

hot, drizzle with coffee oil and sprinkle with salt.

potato soup

Creamy and comforting, earthy potatoes with the complexity of smoke, the bite of blue cheese, and a kiss of gin, delivered with a crispy potato spoon. A satisfying finish.

soup:

1 large potato, peeled and cut into 1" chunks

2 cups milk

3 Tblsps butter

3 oz Maytag blue cheese

salt and pepper

Place potato chunks into saucepan with enough salted water to cover. Cook over high heat until very tender. Drain, and pass through a ricer. Set aside to cool.

When cool, place potatoes in a smoker and lightly smoke. Or, to create your own smoker, use a pan that can be fitted with a steamer basket and a cover. Fill the pan with wood chips and a small amount of water. Cook, covered, to create the smoke. When the water has evaporated, place the potato puree in the steamer basket, quickly covering to hold in the smoke. Remove the potatoes after approximately 1 minute or when the flavor of the smoke has permeated the potatoes.

Place the milk, butter, and blue cheese into a saucepan and heat until butter and blue cheese have melted. Add the smoked potato puree and blend with an immersion blender until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Keep soup hot until ready to serve.

hot gin foam:

150 g gin

100 g water

2.5 g soy lecithin

Combine water, gin, and lecithin in a small saucepan. Heat until very hot. Quickly form foam by blending with immersion blender. Keep foam hot until ready to serve.

Crispy potato spoon:

Cut a 1/2" thick slice from a large potato. Cut a spoon shape from the slice. Carve out the underside of the handle, leaving it 1/4" thick. Scoop out the bowl of the spoon with a melon baller. Carve the underside of the bowl until it is of a uniform thickness. Rub the spoon on all of the surfaces with olive oil. Place, bowl-side-down, on a baking sheet and bake in a 250F oven until it is browned and crispy. (If the handle browns faster than the bowl, wrap it with parchment paper, then foil.)