To make onion caramel: Line an 8" pan with greased waxed paper or a silicone mat. Place 300g of onion syrup in a 5-qt pot (don't use a smaller pot as the syrup will form large bubbles and expand considerably). Add 200g heavy cream and set the pot over medium-high heat, stirring until mixture begins to boil. Cook to 250F/121C. Immediately pour onto prepared pan and let cool until caramel hardens. Cut into desired sizes and shapes with an oiled knife.
Judging by the comments in the previous post, the general consensus was to take the onion syrup aboard the foie gras train. A very tasty ride, no doubt, but as y'all were thinking liver and onions, I was thinking waffles with syrup.
chamomile-poached granny smith apple balls ✢ caramelized pickled allium triquetrum ✢ fried shallot oil ✢ young spruce tips
porcini-mesquite waffle ✢ delice de bourgogne triple cream cheese
onion syrup
porcini-mesquite waffles
Porcini flour is made by grinding dried porcini mushrooms in a spice grinder. Mesquite flour can be purchased at health food stores. It is made from the dried pulp of mesquite (Prosopis alba) pods and has a sweet flavor and aroma, reminiscent of toasted coconut, roasted coffee, chocolate, and cinnamon.
85g all-purpose flour
20g mesquite flour
10g porcini flour
5g sea salt
3g baking soda
2g baking powder
150g buttermilk
57g melted butter
1 egg
In a large bowl, whisk together the dry ingredients until uniform in color. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg while adding the buttermilk, then whisk in the melted butter. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the wet. Stir with a wooden spoon to combine the ingredients and form a smooth batter. Allow batter to rest for 5 minutes to hydrate flours.
While the batter hydrates, preheat waffle iron according to manufacturer's instructions.
When iron is hot, place 2 Tablespoons of batter in center of iron to make small waffles, or up to 1/4 cup to make full-sized waffles. Lower lid and cook until steam subsides and waffle pulls away easily from iron.
Makes 8-10 small waffles or 4 large.
sweet
tart
spicy
savory
salty
oniony
you know you want some
onion syrup
300g sugar
100g Vidalia onion juice (about 1 large onion, put through a juicer)
200g dry red wine
150g red wine vinegar
50g balsamic vinegar
50g extra-virgin olive oil
5g fleur de sel
1.5g sichuan pepper, coarsely ground
1 medium Vidalia onion, cut lengthwise into 8 wedges and separated into petals.
Place sugar and onion juice in a large saucepan. Stir until sugar is evenly wet. Cover pan and set over medium heat. Cook for 3 minutes, then remove cover and turn heat up to medium high. Cook syrup to 360F/182C, or until medium golden and smells like toasted onions.
Immediately remove pan from heat and carefully add the wine to the pan. The hot syrup will sputter and boil, add the wine slowly until it calms down. Return pan to stove and continue cooking on medium high heat. When the syrup has dissolved in the wine, add all of the remaining ingredients. Adjust the heat to maintain a full rolling boil and cook the syrup until it reduces and thickens to the consistency of maple syrup. This can take up to 10 minutes.
Allow syrup to cool slightly and strain out the onion pieces. Store syrup in refrigerator for up to one month.
There are times when I buy asparagus only for the tips and am left with several inches of tender stalk. That is never a problem for me, they quickly become a base for my favorite springtime sauce.
I don't remember when I first started making asparagus sauce; it's one of those seasonal staples that I pull out of my culinary closet like a favorite pair of sandals. Like the sandals, the sauce goes with everything and puts a 'spring in the step' of anything it's paired with.
The sauce varies every time I make it, adapting to what I have on hand. Basically, it consists of asparagus, leafy greens, and herbs; quickly pureed in a blender and emulsified with extra virgin olive oil. The asparagus can be whole stalks or trimmings, cooked until tender. The leafy greens can be arugula, spinach, sorrel, or even lettuce leaves. Herbs can be anything you like, although I avoid basil because of oxidation. Invariably, I include a form of raw allium to lift the flavors: scallions, ramps, spring onions, shallots are all good.
I urge you to try it for its versatility. It's fantastic with eggs, grilled or poached fish, and even makes chicken breast taste exciting. Its a delicious dip for raw vegetables, dressing for potato or pasta salad and makes the best risotto when stirred in at the final stage of cooking. It's so good that even these tiny fried spearings are falling all over themselves to get a taste.
asparagus sauce
3 cups cold water
1 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups of roughly chopped asparagus
1 1/2 cups of leafy greens (spinach, arugula, sorrel, lettuce), loosely packed
1/2 cup of fresh herbs (parsley, chervil, tarragon, cilantro), loosely packed
1 medium shallot, scallion, small spring onion, or small bunch of chives, roughly chopped
1 tsp salt
20 grinds black pepper
1/4 cup water from cooked asparagus
1 tsp lemon juice or vinegar
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Bring water and salt to a boil. Add asparagus and cook until tender. Place leafy greens, herbs, shallot, salt and pepper in a blender. Drain hot asparagus, reserving 1/4 cup of cooking water, add both to blender along with lemon juice. Blend on high speed, slowly drizzling in the olive oil until it is all incorporated and the sauce is smooth. Adjust seasoning to taste.
If it is to be served hot, serve immediately, or chill to serve cold. Sauce will keep in refrigerator for up to 5 days.
Being a mom is hard work.
There are days when you want to hand in your resignation. Or, at the very least, renegotiate your contract. But you don't. You hang in there. You wring your hands. You fret. You worry. You hope. You make wishes.
But then there are days of such luminous rapture that you think your heart will burst out of your chest. And in between there are moments of quiet joy. Smiles. Laughter. Hugs. Flowers and cake.
Give your mom a hug today. If that's not possible, give someone else's mom a hug. Tell her that she's doing/done a good job. Bring her smiles and laughter. Flowers and cake are good, too.
We all need a little appreciation.
Download recipe: Cherry bombe
The birth of this dish started around the holidays, when I picked up the mingled scent of gingerbread and baked ham and thought that they made sense together. After all, we stud ham with cloves and glaze them with brown sugar— not such a big leap to gingerbread.
My first inclination was to go basic: bake a loaf of ginger bread and make a ham and cheese sandwich. Maybe grilled or toasted a la Croque-monsieur. But then citrus season got in the way and it was forgotten.
The idea popped up again when my son, who has a penchant for spice cookies, requested gingersnaps. I happened to have on hand some petit billy, a soft, tangy goat cheese from the town of Billy in the Loire Valley*. I also had reserved a nub of Pop's magic ham, not enough to slice, but just enough to microplane into a soft heap of ham filings. Together, these flavors were a fantastic combination— sweet spice, milky tang, savory smoke— and inspired a different kind of sandwich that befit the season; an ice cream sandwich.
For the ice cream, I took my base recipe and swapped out the petit billy for some of the heavy cream and cut the sugar by half. I tweaked my gingerbread cookies to render them softer and toned down the spices. The whipped rhubarb (rhubarb syrup whipped with 2% versawhip) was added for color, texture, and fruity acidity.
soft gingerbread cookies
makes about 4 dozen 3" cookies
1/2 cup (113g) unsalted butter, softened
1 cup (200g) sugar
1 egg
1/4 cup (72g) molasses
1/4 cup (72g) honey
1/2 cup (115g) heavy cream, whipped
3 cups (375g) flour
1 1/2 tsp (7g) baking soda
1 tsp (2g) cinnamon
1 tsp (2g) ground ginger
1 tsp (2g) ground cloves
1 Tblsp (7g) grated fresh gingerroot
In a mixer bowl, cream the butter with the sugar until pale and creamy. Add the egg and beat until incorporated. On low speed, beat in the molasses and the honey, followed by the whipped cream. In another bowl, combine the remaining ingredients until well blended. Add half to the butter mixture, beating well until incorporated. Repeat with remainder of dry ingredients.
Chill cookie dough until it stiffens, about 1 hour.
Preheat oven to 375F/190C. Roll out dough 1/4" thick on floured surface. Cut into desired shapes. Transfer to parchment-lined baking sheets.
Bake cookies for 6-10 minutes, depending on size, or until edges darken and crisp, but centers remain soft.
*I love the word-play of a goat cheese made in a town named Billy, and sandy cookies in Sablé-sur-Sarthe, both in the Loire Valley. Oh, those ironic French.
After working through piles of tough scales, we arrive at the tender heart of the matter.
Continuing with the artichoke-as-flower theme, rosettes of thinly sliced artichoke hearts were arranged on top of crisp olive oil-enriched dough. I've used a mayonnaise based sauce, knowing full well that it wouldn't be heat stable— unless, of course, it was held together with copious amounts of cheese.
The sauce— which is really a garlic, parmesan, and thyme flavored mayo— also makes a fantastic garlic bread when slathered on thick slices of baguette and glazed under the broiler.
Download recipe: artichoke pizette
Artichokes make me wonder about the human spirit and its unbound curiosity. I mean— who was the first person to look at the hostile thistle with its sharp thorns and leathery scales and think “hmmm… that might be good to eat“?
Most likely, that person was from North Africa, where the wild thistle is thought to have originated. While I’ll never know his/her identity, I am grateful to them and the legions of people who have cultivated it since.
The Globe artichoke (Cynara carunculus) is, in fact, a flower bud that is harvested before blooming. The immature flower is the mass of inedible fibers, known as the choke, found in the center of the bud. The edible part— the heart— is the thickened, fleshy receptacle located at the base.
To get to the meaty heart, the scales must be removed, the choke scraped out, and the fibrous exterior peeled away. This process leaves a pile of fractal scales that are often needlessly discarded. The inner pale scales are delicately-flavored and tender as flower petals when the purple papery tips are trimmed away. The dark outer scales are too tough and fibrous to eat, but they retain a nugget of the heart at their base which is delicious and fun to eat when dipped into a sauce and scraped out between the teeth.
Layering the scales with a sauce in a bowl is one way to present them. While the intention of this dish was to save them from the bin, it was directly inspired by the artichoke’s form and true nature as a flower. Amusingly, the restructured scales, or flattened artichoke, comes off looking like a water lily or lotus flower— yet another testament to the recurring designs found in nature which are never arbitrary or isolated.
Artichokes and eggs are a great marriage, especially when piqued with acid. Sweetened with black garlic and crowned with sieved egg yolks, a classic sauce gribiche fits the bill nicely.
black garlic sauce gribiche
Hard boil 3 eggs. Peel and cool the eggs, then separate the yolks from the whites. Pass the yolks and the whites through a sieve separately into 2 bowls. Add 1 raw egg yolk to the bowl with the cooked yolks along with 1 Tblsp (16g) of Dijon mustard, 1 Tblsp (14g) of white wine vinegar, 1 tsp (5g) of salt, and pepper to taste. Whisk well until mixture becomes a smooth paste. In a slow, thin stream, add 1 cup (190g) of safflower oil, whisking constantly, until mixture thickens and mayonnaise is formed. Whisk in 1 Tblsp (16g) of black garlic puree (peeled black garlic cloves pureed with a little hot water into a smooth paste). Stir in 2 Tblsp(30g) chopped capers, 2 Tblsp (30g) chopped sour pickles, 2 Tblsp (20g) chopped fines herbes (fresh parsley, chervil, chives, and tarragon), and the sieved egg whites. Adjust seasoning.
Eating is an adventure when you abandon expectations.
Separating one's head from one's body opens the door to possibilities.
But even when the eyes say one thing and the brain another, the palate doesn't lie.
I give you an innocuous plate of black olives.
Eat it if you enjoy seafood (of the tentacled kind).
And a sense of humor.
octopus olives
Separate the heads from the bodies of baby octopuses. Use the bodies for another preparation (grill, fry, braise, or just to gross out the kids). Place heads in pan with mirepoix (onions, carrots, celery), shallots, bay leaf, thyme, a strip of orange zest, salt, pepper, and enough water to cover completely. Add about 1 teaspoon of squid ink per cup of water and stir well. Simmer, covered, for one hour or until tender. Remove octopi heads with slotted spoon and set aside. Strain cooking broth and return to pan, discard solids. Reduce broth to about 2 Tablespoons. Return octopi to pan and toss to coat in reduced sauce. Cool completely. Scrape out contents of pan into a jar. Add enough brine from prepared olives to completely cover octopi heads. Cover tightly, shake gently, and refrigerate for 24 hours, shaking gently a few times to distribute the ink, which has a tendency to settle to the bottom
Serve with a drizzle of fruity virgin olive oil, a sprinkle of coarse sea salt, fresh herbs, crusty bread, a glass of sherry or lusty wine, and a smile.
Although the citrus are now long gone, they linger in my memory. I managed to preserve a few specimens— some in salt, some in sugar— to keep the memory alive.
Typically, I make fruit preserves at the peak of their season to remind me of summer on a wintry day. This may be the first time I've intentionally preserved fruit to remind me of winter.
ginger lime fennel marmalade
Ginger lime (Citrus assamensis) is thought to be a hybrid of citron (Citrus medica) and a variety of lemon from Assam, India. In India, it is known as ada jamir, in China a da ya mi, and in Japan as adajamiru. The juice is very tart and scarce. The albedo is thick, dense and bitter. The zest is pale yellow, sweet, and highly aromatic. It's fragrance is more related to a lemon than a lime, with a distinct ginger tone and a whisper of eucalyptus.
Ginger lime is not widely cultivated or commercially grown. A combination of lemon and ginger can be substituted for the ginger lime.
3 ginger limes, or 3 lemons and a 2" piece of fresh ginger root
1 medium fennel bulb
2 shallots
850g (30 oz) water
708g (25 oz) sugar
Remove zest from ginger limes or lemons with vegetable peeler and slice into thin strips. Cut away albedo (white pith) and discard. Roughly chop pulp, discarding seeds, and place in deep pan along with zest. If using lemons, peel and finely mince the ginger root and add to pan.
Trim the top and bottom of the fennel bulb. Cut into quarters and slice thinly across the grain. Add to pan.
Peel and trim the shallots. Cut in half and slice thinly across the grain. Add to pan along with the water.
Place pan over high heat and bring to a boil. Lower heat to a simmer, cover and cook until contents are soft, about 35-40 minutes. Add sugar and raise heat until mixture boils and sugar dissolves. Adjust heat to maintain a gentle boil and cook, stirring frequently until mixture reaches 220ºF/104ºC, about 45 minutes.
While marmalade cooks, sterilize 3 1-pint canning jars in boiling water. Spoon hot marmalade mixture into the jars, leaving 1/2" headspace. Seal with lids and bands and process in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes. Store in a cool, dark place. Makes 3 pints
ginger lime fennel marmalade
goat ricotta
beet blood orange relish
brioche lardo sablé
Playing with Fire and Water 