When he returns to the kitchen for his coffee, he hears a crackling upon the stove–the whole almonds, slightly blistered from toasting in the oven and poured into the newly-oiled cast iron, are cooling.
He leans into the volume of husks cracking, and listens to almonds. they speak of their journey through fire, while he gazes across the kitchen and through the window through remembering.
He stands up and turns to his warm cup, lightened by a dash of whole and remembers today is. Whom he was is there. Here is his moment, and it’s beautiful.
After his cup empties, he’ll walk to the center, pick up his weekly vegetables; scrubbed and steamed beets and granny apples and sweet young onions will all nestle together into a dish of earthy sweet magenta for dinner. Before he washes the vegetables he’ll turn the cooled almonds around buttery cashews and wide swaths of coconut, handfuls of pebbly raisins, the last third of the medjool dates scissored carefully into pieces. the almonds
cooled beneath breezes, have quit their shouting, relaxed into their skins, let themselves be turned among the rest and doused in syrup for transformation. later a slice will reveal the sweet and salt, the nutty crunch of poems will give way beneath teeth, crisp splinters breaking down for a pause, as words unspoken, chewed, swallowed, savored.
This is my most crafted recipe this year, and it’s definitely the best homemade granola I’ve ever made. It bends to your whims and seems to want to please you, so make it your own. And it couldn’t be easier to mix up a batch while you’re putzing around the kitchen doing dishes or making dinner or whatnot.
3 cup mixture of toasted nuts and dried fruit
1 2/3 cup oats
1/3 cup oats processed into flour
scant 1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 Tablespoons melted butter
1/4 cup honey or maple syrup
2 Tablespoons light corn or rice syrup
1 Tablespoon water
Add any of these optionals to the liquids:
1/4 t. cinnamon (recommended)
1/3 cup peanut butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
Mix everything together and pour into an 8 x 8 that’s been sprayed with coconut oil and lined with parchment. Bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes, cool and sneak bites for the following week.
-Adapted from Deb Perelman’s Recipe
I’m ready to return to making pies and curling up with a new television show and soup and boozy tea. I’m excited to get back together with people to eat food and share libations and in general keep warm. Ready for fall.
September hadn’t even begun yet when I made this vegetable pie, for example:
Farmland Vegetable Pie, with Nouveau Carré
Delicious, and the cornmeal crust rolled out and baked up like a dream. Matt and I ate thick slabs of it while we sipped Nouveau Carrés as truly modern gentlemen do.
Stir 1.5 oz tequila with .75 oz Lillet Blanc, .25 oz of Benedictine and 3 dashes of Peychaud’s bitters with ice and strained into a chilled coupe. Garnish with a lemon twist.
* * * * *
A month or so ago there was the Bacon-Off at work. . . here are the Gummy Apple Bacon Strips I made, which earned me the trophy!
This was my fourth batch, the result of experimenting with various types of gelatin (I tried sheet gelatin for the first time, and even agar. The final recipe was a mixture of reduced apple juice, lemon juice, smoked brown sugar, unflavored Knox gelatin and bacon syrup by Torani.
Lately I also find myself drawn to creating cozy weekend brunches. Here’s the beginning of a peach and blueberry compote for Sunday pancakes for me and my boyfriend.
You know what else is good? A good beverage. I’ve been reading Imbibe! and enjoying the possibilities of imagining get-togethers of friends around a boozy punch bowl, hot and spicy snacks and a general mirth while the first cold rain of Seattle fall falls in constant drizzle throughout the evening.
Here’s a good pale colored drink that’s best for these last summer days: Mix equal parts gin, green chartreuse, Maraschino liqueur and lime juice in a shaker with ice and strain into a chilled glass; it really is The Last Word.
31st century (for 4 tequila drinkers)
4 ½ oz lime juice
8 oz Sparkle Donkey double distilled Silver Tequila
6 oz Crème de Cacao
2 droppers of Thai chili tincture*
¾ oz simple syrup
Small handful of mint leaves
Muddle mint in the bottom of shaker. Add ice then rest of ingredients. Shake and strain into 4 chilled absinthe-rinsed coupe glasses.
My girlfriend Sheena came over the other day with a couple bottles of Sparkle Donkey tequila (The World’s Best Tequila™), distributed by Black Rock Spirits, where she works, and we endeavored to determine their best qualities by finding a couple of cocktails to try from the PDT Cocktail Book. We made the East Village Athletic Club Cocktail with Reposado (golden) Sparkle Donkey tequila, lemon juice, chartreuse and Grand Marnier, which was delicious, but made us more ready to try another cocktail. We turned next to the 21st century cocktail, whose name is actually a riff on the gin-based 20th century cocktail, named after the 20th Century Limited luxury train that traveled between New York City and Chicago from 1902 to 1967. This was accomplished by shaking Sparkle Donkey silver tequila, crème de cacao and lemon juice and pouring into an absinthe-rinsed glass.
We liked the second one better, but when we realized we were out of lemons, we made some modifications. You see, we were expected at a public viewing of Conan the Destroyer** at the park for Friday night fun with friends, so we located an empty bottle and increased the ratios for 5 people (which turned out to be best for 4) and mixed away, adding lime (better), chili tincture for some nice heat, simple syrup to take the edge off, and mint for some herbal complexity. The result is spicy, sour, sweet and effervescent.
It’s always a joyous occasion when one creates a cocktail that’s so pleasantly delicious (which is why I’m sharing it here).
I’m not sure I’ve grown fond of the name or the packaging, truth be told, but I do like the wit and cleverness of SD’s marketing, particularly the vintage magazine ads above, and the absurdist history, poking fun at the idea that the only good tequila has to be one that’s been around since times ancient. The drink’s delicious, the name is silly, and it’s worth a try.
Next, I’m thinking of trying the Nouveau Carré, an agave riff on one of my very favorite cocktails, the rye-based Vieux Carré). (”You’ll Be Without a Carré in the World”? Nah.) or the Conquistador, wherein rum sidles up to the tequila and gets frothy with some egg white. Oh, yeah.
Drink well, love well. Be well, friends.
*I realize you probably don’t have this lying around . . . this was a gift from M&D. Essentially you chop up jalapenos and soak them in vodka until the liquor’s infused with spicy goodness.
**This is the second time I’ve seen this movie this year, and let me tell you, it’s all about Grace Jones for me. Such an original.
Copper & Silver
So if a Moscow Mule & Mint Julep spill into each other, do they become a Mintcow Mulep?
Ahem. Anyway. I’ve been writing copy about the Moscow Mule’s traditional receptacle, the copper mug, and the Mint Julep’s silver tumbler, both created decades ago in the name of marketing, then abandoned after enthusiastic imbibers began stealing the mugs and tumblers. Now they are making a comeback, as the craft cocktail movement continues to pick up speed.
The Moscow Mule’s origin story isn’t all that interesting, your basic successful marketing plan, but it’s one of the best vodka cocktails I know, mainly because the ginger beer gives a nice spiciness to counteract the lime. Can’t wait to make these further into the summer, when it’s hotter.
Which happens to be how I feel about the Mint Julep as well, and its back story is fascinating. Mint leaves muddled into bourbon and chilled with crushed ice and garnished with mint. It’s that simple–one of those things so perfectly balanced that I considered purchasing a Sno-Cone machine to make liquorish mid-summer treats.
The word “julep” is traced as far back to the Middle East, and a rose-flavored water called Julab. When the drink made its way to the Mediterranean, the rose petals were replaced by mint leaves. Americans eventually mispronounced the drink and switched out the water for liquor, and a classic infusion was born. The Derby’s marketing tool of silver tumblers made a great julep even better, the frosted edges of the stainless steel tumbler rim embellish the drink with teeth-chattering cold, then you taste the smooth burn of bourbon and the brisk herbal note of mint. Delicious.
I just finished reading Relish, by Lucy Knisley. It’s delightful.
And now I’m reading Ratio, by Michael Ruhlman, after receiving a copy in a class offered by Sur La Table of a similar name, Ratios Not Recipes. I’ve taken about 5 classes at Sur La Table now, and this one was my favorite. We made crème brûlée, pie crust, shortbread cookies topped with crystalized lemon and dark chocolate drops, and a pâte à choux, which I mixed with goat cheese and chopped basil and dropped in big globs that puffed to the size of hamburger buns. Really good. The cookies were tasty too (I never miss a chance to mix lemon with chocolate) but the pie crust inspired me. I went home and straightaway made a Rhubarb Crostata.
It was delicious.
Speaking of crostata, there’s one on the cover of this month’s Sur La Table catalog. I’ll bet you’ll easily guess which pages I worked on. You should request a copy.
Best thing I saw today was Portion Control by Christopher Boffoli, these wonderful mixtures of miniature people among huge blow-ups of food:
Rock Candy Icefall
….including this awesome photo of Fran’s Grey Salt Caramels, attended to by the Salt Harvesters
M and I are off to San Francisco for a week. So I need to finish up this blog and get back to my research. I’ll leave you with a shot of what I think just might be my first completely successful loaf of bread. I created a sourdough starter over the Memorial Day weekend and made this gorgeous loaf. Perfectly browned crust, soft and tender center: San Francisco Sourdough loaf. I will never forget it.
Week 1: Creme, Tart, Spring
- Make twinkies
- Make something with rhubarb
- Learn how to make spring rolls
1. Made the easiest thing first: rhubarb syrup for cocktails, or as I’m enjoying it most, over ice with seltzer water and a slice of lime for a refreshingly tart soda. A couple stalks of rhubarb, some lime juice and sugar (from past experience I’ve learned to always use less sugar than a recipe calls for; not all rhubarb is tongue-twisting sour, so it’s better to start with less and build as needed). Also good mixed in gin & tonics.
2. Made the second-easiest thing next, vegetarian spring rolls, an item M & I order nearly every time we see ‘em on a menu and so frequently that we have restaurants rated by spring roll. (Best ones in Seattle that we’ve discovered so far are at the Tamarind Tree . . . they have a ridiculously too-long menu, but if you bring us beers, and spring rolls [and keep 'em coming], we’ll be perfectly content.
So it finally occurred to me that since M & I also like lounging around in the park or beach on sunny days as well as camping, wouldn’t it be economical and tasty to just wrap up our favorite veggies and get on with our tans? I’m almost embarrassed to discover how easy spring rolls are to create. Once I found the wrappers (they’re not near the egg roll, wonton or pot sticker wrappers in the refrigerator section; just go directly to the Asian section of your grocery store and find them all stiff and shrink-wrapped like dinner plate-sized communion wafers). So you do all your veggie prep, fill a shallow bowl (I used a 9 x 13 pan) with hot water, dip a wafer in for 15 seconds, then carefully lift the transparent and flexible wrapper out to drain for a couple of seconds, then place on a towel. Dab the top to remove any excess water. Arrange your fillings in the center, avoiding the urge to overfill. We used microgreens, cilantro, julienned carrots and cucumbers, and sliced avocado. Fold the bottom up and over, turn in the sides, roll up all the way and set aside to proceed with the rest of the rolls. Dip in spicy peanut sauce and crack open a Rainier beer or two and toast your good life. They were so good I forgot to photograph them, but I’ll save that honor for future rolls.
3. The Twinkie experiments begin!
I first tried a white sponge cake that was intended to be paired with strawberries and whipped cream. Result: nice and light and spongy, but bland. Then I tried a recipe that claimed it was a Twinkie recipe. Got the color right, but so dense and heavy there’s not room for a cream filling . . . not moist enough. But the batter itself? Significantly lightened with whipped egg whites, it was delicious. I had more than a couple spoon fulls. I’m not normally a cake batter lover, but this was so yummy that I was surprised the cake was so drab.
Recall that idea I had a couple posts back for whipped cream flavored with banana? I went ahead and pulverized some freeze-dried bananas and folded them into whipped cream that I’d stabilized with gelatin. The result? I was slathering thick servings of it on top of the twinkie cakes, then finally dismissing the cake for the cream exclusively. Real banana flavor, and so creamy. This is a keeper that will make a return in other desserts.
Went to work and got a hot tip from our resident chef; Barbara will be sending me a Twinkie recipe that should closely approximate actual Twinkie flavor and texture and I’ll be trying it out with a strawberry-banana cream filling.
Week 2: Ice, Smoke, Scotch
This week I discovered Sur La Table sells an item called Smoked Brown Sugar. I got a whiff before I left work today and it’s followed me everywhere. Amazing, sharp, tangy wood on top of molasses and caramel. Perfect for baked beans, or roasted with apricots and peaches on the grill . . .in a fruit crisp. The blurb online recommends barbecue ribs, crème brûlée, grilled salmon, pulled pork, acorn squash. I’m thinking the salted caramel ice cream trend could use an update, honestly. Smoked butterscotch ice cream, anyone?
I also decided I’m tired of buying $4 coffee every morning so I made a big–
Jug o’ Iced Coffee
1 lb ground coffee
8 qts cold water
Mix coffee with water. Cover and allow to sit at room temperature 8 hours or overnight. Line a fine mesh strainer with cheesecloth and set over a pitcher or other container. Pour coffee/water mixture through the strainer, allowing all liquid to run through. Discard grounds. Place coffee liquid in the fridge to chill. Use as needed.
I also discovered that adding chocolate to a balsamic vinaigrette is a good thing. Shaved chocolate melted into vinegar and whisked into oil. The chocolate adds a lovely depth to the vinegar.
Olive oil, balsamic, chocolate: together?
On Friday I attended a Sur La Table Bread-making Workshop where I made Raisin, Rosemary and Cinnamon Focaccia, a cute little Sourdough loaf, Pesto Rolls and an Old-Fashioned Sandwich Loaf. This has made me determine that my refrigerator is in need of a permanent new resident–a sourdough starter.
And of course, I made one more attempt at the Twinkies. This time I tried one new cake recipe and two new cream filling flavors. The cake flavor is right….texture still not there. The white shortening-based room-temp stable cream was disgusting and went entirely into the trash, sans two spoons to test. The strawberry-banana whipped cream was awesome. At this point, it’s safe to say I’m twinkied out and ready to move on.
How about I go ahead and finish off the week with Smoked Butterscotch Ice Cream!
Smoked Butterscotch Ice Cream
1 cup firmly packed Darkhorse smoked brown sugar
2 T. butter
1 T. Orlando Mexican vanilla
2 t. bourbon
1 1/2 c. whipping cream
2 c. half -n-half
6 large egg yolks
Melt brown sugar and butter over medium heat until mixture is bubbly, 3 to 5 minutes. While whisking, slowly add 1/2 cup whipping cream. Remove from heat and add vanilla and bourbon.
Combine remaining 1 cup whipping cream and half-n-half and bring to a simmer over medium heat.
Beat egg yolks. Whisk 1/2 cup of warm cream into yolks, then pour back into pan with cream. Stir constantly over low heat until mixture is slightly thickened, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat.
Pour through fine mesh strainer then whisk in butterscotch mixture. Chill and freeze. Maybe add something in for texture: chocolate chunks, broken up bits of brittle, some toasted slivers of almonds.
Mmmmmmmmm. So good.
So I made a batch of David Lebovitz’s vanilla ice cream. I’ve made several of his flavors, as you know, but never the most classic. Turns out it’s wonderful, combining an entire vanilla bean with its seeds and 3/4 teaspoon of extract (I did a combination of Madagascar Bourbon paste [magical stuff] and [my very favorite] Orlando Mexican vanilla extract). M and I had a couple of scoops the other night with macerated strawberries but the rest is to be paired with birthday cake.
Tonight I’m making Orange Syrup Cake with Candied Oranges, Lebovitz’s adaptation of Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi’s version in Jerusalem. This is the birthday cake for C & K.
The orange and lemon zest baked into the cake scent the cake over the course of a day but the Mediterranean method of pouring homemade citrus syrup over the hot cake when it is removed from the oven is what makes this cake extra special. At first, most of the syrup pooled at the edges (and certainly tested the seal of my springform), but eventually it all soaked in. Man, it was over-the-top tender, and because most of the base is ground almonds, the flavor and dense texture are slightly reminiscent of citrus-flavored marzipan.
C & K said it was delicious.
Discovered this video explaining how to create a rocher, or oval-shaped scoop of ice cream, earlier today; I tried to do it myself a few times with some of the vanilla when I got home, but . . . I’ll need more time. Nibbled some remnants of the cake from the fridge and I’ve decided I might like it best chilled. If I make it again, I might replace all the orange with lemon to create a sort of lemon bar cake.
Thanks to J, I’ve gotten my hands on a Vanilla Crème Cake pan, so spongey cakes and creamy fillings are abounding in my brain. My favorite idea is a sort of neapolitan Twinkie: one injection each of banana, chocolate and strawberry cream fillings; since a Twinkie is on average three bites, each bite is a different flavor. Hmmm. I might have to just go ahead with that one, eh?