Muffin Top

homemade cantaloupe sorbet, originally uploaded by c(h)ristine.

I’m going to talk about two things that don’t seem to go together: personal trainers and desserts. This is because I challenged myself to make my personal trainer a dessert dish. Something healthy but delicious–what could I make?

My personal trainer, predictably, chides me for eating butter and ice cream. He is just so very opposed to dairy products, but I think it has to do with his own lactose intolerance. However, he is a fan of sorbet. I would make–sorbet!

But what flavor of sorbet? I wanted to make something that Haagen Dazs wouldn’t produce, so that nixed strawberry, mango, peach, and raspberry. I thought about cherimoya, but couldn’t find any. So I began to think about fruit that was very in season–landing on cantaloupe. Doug, my trainer, LOVES cantaloupe–he’s weaned me OFF watermelon by suggesting I eat more cantalouope in its place (”it’s the WORST of the fruits, do you know how much sugar is in watermelon?” he exclaims, much to my watermelon-loving dismay. “Try cantaloupe,” he proposed).

This makes a fantastic sorbet. Unlike many sorbet recipes, this does NOT require an ice cream maker, just a blender or a food processor. In many ways, it resembles granita.   Recipe follows…

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homemade strawberry jam, originally uploaded by c(h)ristine.

This summer, I read my share of posts on jam: Tea and Cookies posted throughout her summer about various jams (ah, the travels she took to wonderful berry kingdoms!)…and here on Muffin Top, Eric posted about jamming as comfort activity and Connie posted a wonderful write up of sour cherry jam.

How could a girl resist falling in love with the idea of jamming? At first, I read with awe about jamming, something I saw as akin to alchemy. Sterilize jars, lids, make jam, boil jars in canner, seal…so many steps, so many having nothing to do with cooking! It was…MAGIC. And if it were to go wrong, it would be TRAGIC (as bad magic tricks go). I was intimidated.

But in the end, my desire for homemade jam overcame any intimidation I felt.

I wrote emails to Tea and Eric. Tips, got any tips?
1. Don’t cut down on the sugar–and Tea’s post on her sad strawberry saga was particularly insightful. Don’t double the recipes either. Pectin can be picky.
2. To pectin or not to pectin? As I conducted my research, I found that there is an “anti-pectin” camp, and another camp that sees nothing wrong with using pectin (the thing that makes your jam jell). Martha Stewart is in the no-pectin camp, because I found none of her ercipes included pectin. If you’re making jam with a low-pectin fruit, you want to go with pectin. If you’re making jam for the first time, you want to go with pectin. You may want to go with a low-sugar pectin (I did, and it turned out GREAT). You may also go with Pomona’s Universal no-sugar pectin, too, if you are adverse to sugar. I tried it. I prefer the low-sugar pectin brand.

Um, those are basically the tips.

I used the recipes for blueberry and strawberry jams on pick your own. I am in LOVE with canning!

And now I’m eyeing a bag of locally grown tomatoes, and want to can tomaotes, too. What can be better than to pop open a can of tomatoes in the middle of winter, when all the tomatoes are gone?

Canning–a combination of alchemy, crafts (yes, it’s like doing crafts) and pragmatism (after all, it is a way to preserve fresh produce for much later). The thing is, I keep eating the jam–what will I have by the time winter comes?

Because I’m a glutton for punishment (or perhaps just a glutton), I made the another recipe suggestion, lune with butter and sage, for this month’s ReadCookEat book club theme. The lune is basically homemade squash ravioli. The recipe initially calls for a pumpkin filling, but says that butternut or acorn squash are also acceptable. I chose to use butternut squash - the sugar pie pumpkins are not in season yet. When I looked at the recipe, I noticed that there was something missing - a recipe for the pasta itself. After some searching, I found it in the archives under the recipe for the asparagus ricotta ravioli. But I decided go with Buford’s suggestions in Heat instead.

I used three eggs and five yolks for one pound of flour (Buford says to use eight yolks, but I only had five) plus a little olive oil, instead of the four whole eggs suggested in the online recipe. It’s been a while, but I’ve made pasta at home before, and there are a few things that I’ve learned. I don’t have the ability yet to mix to eggs into the mound of flour on the countertop without compromising the integrity of the well. I can’t abide the idea of leaving a raw egg crust for any amount of time on my marble board, so I make the well in the flour while it’s in a bowl before turning it out to knead. It works out just fine.

When you knead, like kneading bread, put your back into it. It’ll save your arms. I know of friends who have rolled out their pasta by hand. I’m not that good - I just use a pasta roller. I mean, what can you expect? If it’s good enough for Mario, it’s good enough for me.

Rolling out the dough takes a bit of space. My kitchen is tiny, so I do it at the table. Also, the first time I made pasta by hand, I somehow thought that you were supposed to roll it though each of the 9 thickness settings (okay, maybe I was um, a little inebrieted). You don’t have to. Now I just roll it through the odd numbered settings. Also, make sure you guide the dough into the roller, and “catch” it as it comes out so that it won’t stretch out.

If you’re using some kind of cutout to punch out shapes, punch the dough out against a wooden board. Because the dough develops plenty of gluten from all the kneading and is rolled out quite thin, it gets pretty elastic-ky, so it can be tricky to punch out. I find that the sponginess of a wooden board is easier to work with than marble. Cutting the pasta into neat squares with a pizza wheel and a ruler instead just might save you some grief.

Per the recipe’s direction, I roasted the squash for the filling at 350 degrees for 35 minutes. It didn’t seem soft enough, so I let it roast for another 15 minutes. At this point, it seemed okay, but still not as soft as squash I’ve roasted in the past. I think that next time, I’ll roast it longer at a higher heat. I mashed it with a potato masher, and briefly considered putting it through the food processor, but decided to just let it be. I mixed with the cheese, nutmeg and balsamic, then piped it onto the cutouts. I’m not sure if I didn’t use enough filling per pasta, but I piped approximately 60 lune… the recipe says it makes 40. Previous experience has taught me that when sealing the pasta, you need to push out the air. Bubbles caught within the filling will expand when heated, which make your pasta fall apart. I was also worried that the seal wouldn’t “take”; instead of using water to seal the edges together (like when I make wontons or pot stickers), I was just pressing the pasta together. Also, because the filling was so wet, I kept having to dust the pasta with flour and turn them in order to prevent sticking. Amazingly, when I slid the pasta into the boiling water, none of them split! I’m not sure how that happened, but I was pretty happy with the results. The sauce doesn’t get any simpler - I ‘ll just add that you should be careful when adding the pasta water to the butter, itt’ll sizzle and splash something fierce! Also, be careful when grating the amaretti cookie over the pasta - it’s a lot more brittle than cheese and the whole thing will implode within your fingers if you treat it as such.

When I make pasta, I usually don’t make ravioli. Making the cutouts leaves a lot of scraps, and after all that kneading and rolling, I can’t bear to waste them (agnolotti wastes less), so I froze them all. I came home late tonight with a sack of my officemate’s homegrown heirloom tomatoes, so instead of picking up takeout, I threw it all together with some basil, parsley and parmagiano reggiano in what I have called a deconstructed pasta dish. Not pretty, but you can’t beat the ingredients.

In addition to the bouef bourgignon (in keeping with September’s book club themes), I also made Bucatini All’Amatriciana this week. I was already buying beef shoulder for the bourgignon from Cafe Rouge anyways, and their guanciale always intrigued me, so I bought some. I’d never thought of any use for it before, but here was the perfect excuse, for the recipe incorporated it. You can always just use pancetta (or even bacon or salt pork, I suppose), but the first time I attempt a new recipe, I like to follow it to a tee. and experiment with it whenver I try again. If you’ve never seen guanciale before, it’s a flat white hunk of fat dusted with herbs. When sliced, it’s about the width of a slice of bacon and two-thirds the length, with a pink streak of flesh running down slightly off-center. I had assumed it was the same sort of thing as lardo or prosciutto bianco, but as I learned from Heat, there are many different cuts of pork and cured pork products. Guanciale actually comes from the jowl. My butcher sliced it into whisper thin slices, while I went next door to pick up some dry bucatini from the Pasta Shop. When I got home, I tasted a slice and felt intimidated. It was very, very salty - enough so that I would hesitate before serving it on a charcuterie platter to guests. In addition, it just seemed like the recipe called for a lot of it. But since I had already purchased, I figured I might as well continue with the recipe.

I made the tomato sauce ahead of time last weekend, measuring out what I would need and saving the rest. It’s a pretty simple recipe - the only point I would add is that it still seemed pretty loose by the end of its suggested cooking time, so I let it simmer uncovered for another 15 minutes. On Wednesday, I browned the guanciale in two batches, draining the fat in between. It smelled wonderful cooking, and very different from pancetta or bacon. It was more, well, porky smelling - like chiccharones or cracklins. I did not use “half of the fat” from the cooked guanciale to saute the vegetables - there was already an awful lot of cured pork fat in this dish, I have to draw the line somewhere. Also, I was worried that the dish was going to be too salty. I wound up using whatever remained in pan after I poured off the fat. Bucatini, by the way, looks like regular spaghetti in the photo, but really, it’s about twice the diamater of spaghetti and has a small pinhole running down the center. I never boil (add enough salt to the pasta water so it tastes like seawater) my pasta until it’s done - I “finish” cooking it in whatever sauce i’m using. When I added the tomato sauce to the vegetables and guanciale, it seemed pretty dry, so when I tossed the pasta (al dente) into the sauce, I added a ladleful of pasta water.

The verdict? It came out pretty well. Zack loves spicy food and bacon, so he loved this dish. The acid from the tomato sauce really worked to balance out the salt. When you’re adding the pepper flakes to this dish, it smells and tastes like it’ll be very spicy, but as they cook, the pepper flakes mellow, and also balance out the salt. I think I’ll be making this dish again - maybe I’ll try it with pancetta next time.

Next up: The lune!

Inspired by this month’s book club selections, Heat and The Nasty Bits, Eric posted recipe selections from Babbo and Les Halles last Saturday. One of the recipes I chose to make last weekend was boeuf bourgignon because I already had most of the ingredients on hand (also, the moules mariniere recipe is basically the same as Reichl’s). I picked up a 2 pound shoulder roast from Cafe Rouge - they’re accustomed to my bizarre requests. A tip about any decent butcher: if what you want is not displayed, ask. They often have it in the back, or they’ll order it for you. As I was cutting up the roast into 1.5 inch cubes, I realized that this recipe was different than any of the other bourgignon recipes I’d used before (my French coworker’s mom’s, MTAFC, Bouchon). Most of them required an entire bottle of wine and only one onion; this one required four onions and only one cup of wine. also, the recipes I’d used before incorporated bacon and mushrooms. But Julia says that there’s more than one way to to arrive at a good boeuf bourgignon, so I figured I’d follow Tony’s recipe. Besides, I reasoned, as I measured out the one cup of wine, I can just drink the rest while I cook! How Julia is that?

A few of the major points I’ve learned from Judy Rodgers in the Zuni Cafe Cookbook is to dry the surfaces and salt your meat generously and early, and also to bring it somewhat close to room temperature before you start cooking. After thoroughly blotting the moisture from the cubes and seasoning them, I let them stand for about an hour. I might have even considering salting the entire roast (before cutting it up) a few days ahead of time if I was planning to make it later. The cubes browned beautifully in two batches in my Le Creuset dutch oven. I realized, though, as I was sauteeing the onions, that I might have miscalculated. I did use four, but two of them were huge. We’re talking grapefruit sized onions. And instead of waiting until the onions browned, I added the flour about two minutes into the saute. When I added the cup of wine, it seemed like a pitiful amount of liquid in comparison to the amount of onions. Oh well, I thought to myself. The vegetables will probably release more liquid, but what doesn’t need more wine, as I poured myself a third glass. (Perhaps *that* had something to do with my miscalculations). Though I couldn’t resist tossing in a couple slices of pancetta, I followed the rest of the recipe, adding carrots and a bouquet garni, water to cover plus a few spoonfuls of demiglace, then skimming, scraping and stirring over the next couple of hours. Despite my level of intoxication by the time the recipe was done, it tasted pretty damn good, though it looks nothing like the picture. It looked (and tasted) more like an onion stew with beef. The onion flavor was pretty assertive - very sweet, and the wine flavor was just a whisper. I can see why this recipe remains popular - you can drink the rest of the bottle (after browning the beef, that is) and it’ll still turn out tasty!

How do you like our new place? I’m still making some changes to the look (for one, I have to take some pictures of muffin tops that would be image header friendly–for now, we have…scallions!), and adding things to the blogroll. And in the migration, all the posts of my peers were attributed to me (really I did not write many of these wonderful posts), but hopefully that is the only glitch.

vanilla salt cookies
Originally uploaded by c(h)ristine.

I received a birthday gift of various vanillas and a jar of pink himalayan salt last month. “Ah, sweet and savory!” I exclaimed, happy for the staples. A cook cannot be without vanilla and salt for sure. I imagined the wonderful cookies and cakes i would make with the vanilla, and the various savory dishes I would sprinkle with the salt.

It did not occur for me to COMBINE the two.

But as I riffled through my RSS feed to Slashfood, I discovered this recipe for vanilla salt cookies aptly categorized under “food porn.”

Wait, you say? Vanilla AND salt cookies? Yup. I did a doubletake, too. The recipe is a basic vanilla sugar icebox cookie–lots of butter, some flour, egg and sugar and vanilla, rolled into a log and then chilled until time for baking. The unique variation was sprinkling the cookies with pink himalayan rock crystals.

I couldn’t resist trying out the combination for myself–with the recent gift, it also felt like kizmet, as if I was destined to make these cookies! They were quite beautiful going into the oven as you see above, and just as beautiful once baked…

I want to say that the cookies were heavenly–but they were not. Though the cookie part was wonderfully buttery, everytime I caught a bite of the salt, I was overpowered by the saltiness. I mean REALLY overpowered by the salt. I ended up picking off all the salt bits.

But I was not discouraged! The bold idea of topping these cookies with salt emboldened me to other possibilities. So for the next batch, I tried out other toppings. I garnished some cookies with toasted sesame seeds, some with maple sugar, and some with rooibos tea leaves. Yes, they were Marco Polo Rouge Bourbon (rooibos tea tinged with vanilla). Oh, and some I made plain.

I baked the cookies and took them with me to a writing meeting with a friend–so I had the chance to share each of them and receive feedback. She gave a thumbs up on the toasted sesame seeds, and was intrigued by the rooibos topping.

The best part about this cookie adventure was that I am still thinking about variations. If someone could dare to make this with salt, what else? Next time, I’m thinking about making some sort of concentrated Mariage Freres Bourbon Rouge (rooibos) tea solution and infusing it into the cookie mixture for a stronger rooibos taste!

Here is the recipe:

250g butter ( 1 cup)
1/4 tsp salt
125g sugar (1/2 cup)
2 large egg yolks
1 tbsp vanilla extract
315g plain flour (1.25 cups)

Beat the butter, salt and sugar at medium speed untill smooth.
Add egg yolks and vanilla and beat at low speed until blended.
Add flour and mix until a dough forms.
Divide dough into three or four equal portions. Roll each portion into logs about 1.5 inches in diameter (I made them smaller, one inch in diameter). Wrap logs in plastic wrap and freeze or refrigerate till firm.

Before baking, unwrap log and cut into 1/4 inch thick slices. At this point you can op to sprinkle crystal sugar, crystal salt or chopped nuts on the surface. Bake at 180 C (350 F) for 12-15 minutes. Let the cookies cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes then transfer them to wire racks to cool completely before storing in an airtight container.

I must post this swiftly and regrettfully, with most of those regrets to Eric. Last night, the last day of August, I attempted to make the hash browns from Garlic and Sapphires. They were abysmal. I don’t know how a person could f**k up freaking hash browns, but I managed to achieve this quite easily with a spare list of ingredients (8 new potatoes, an onion, salt, pepper, butter). I think I didn’t boil them long enough. I think I used too much potato. I think I need to stick to what I’m good at, which is deep frying and pressing the button on a rice cooker.

Anyway, my bf thought they were good, although they needed more salt he said, and then he said they were like really good baked potatoes in a cake form, and then he said I’m going to put some salt and butter on these ok? And then he was throwing slabs of Plugra on it like frosting. Holy shit is it that bad, I said. And then he said, no! They’re great!, but with a mouthful of the sort-of hash browns, so it was more like Mfno, fey’re gwate! We ate them all, so they were tasty overall, but believe me - they weren’t pretty.

So no picture for now. Sorry, Eric! I’ve failed the RCE club, and think I may be forced to renounce my membership.

If the two shots on Marcus’ cameraphone end up being not so horrific, I’ll post them later…but if I don’t, just imagine the Texas Chain Saw Massacre — with potatoes.

The foodie blogosphere is all abuzz with the BBC’s list of 50 things to eat before you die.

Over at the Traveler’s Lunchbox, the list has been trimmed to 5. Here’s mine:

1. A properly ripened Camembert de Normandie.

Epoisses is my favorite, Gruyere would be my desert island choice, and nothing is as elegant as a Vacherin Mont d’Or, but there is no sensory experience quite like enjoying a genuine AOC Camembert de Normandie.

2. November/December Chef’s Degustation menu from French Laundry with the foie gras and white truffle supplements.

Hey, I know it’s cheating, but how else could I fit caviar, white truffles and foie gras on this list? I’m limited to five, and I had to bring up French Laundry somehow. Besides, if you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right.

3. The full 13 course Chinese wedding or New Year’s banquet. See above, except it’s all about shark’s fin soup and peking duck

4. Just plucked and still warm garden tomato cultivated with love, sliced and sprinkled with flaky salt.

You can get the best tomato from the San Francisco Ferry Plaza farmer’s Market, the Santa Monica Wednesday Farmer’s Market or the Union Square Greenmarket in New York, but none of them will beat a garden tomato.

5. Pierre Herme macaron, especially the Ispahan.

Oh, the Ispahan. My bane and my delight. How Pierre Herme thought to combine lychee, raspberries and rose I have no idea, but my ideas of dessert combinations hasn’t been the same since.

What are your 5 things?