playing with fire and water

forsythia banana birch

I can't go far these days without being distracted by the blazing yellow forsythia that dominate the landscape.

Forsythia, the harbinger of flowering shrubs and trees, belongs to Oleaceae, the olive family of plants. Though the flowers possess only a faint fragrance and mild flavor, they have the distinction of being a rare plant source of lactose (milk sugar). 

Leave it to Nature to endow a flower with mother's milk.

milk chocolate

forsythia

birch beer ice cream

banana cake

birch syrup glass

Download recipe:   Forsythia

chocolate violet carrot

Occasionally, I find fallen nests when cleaning the hedgerows. They are irresistible to me, these vestigial homes; fragile and singular as snowflakes. 

I find colonies of violets in the hedgerows, too. Their cheerful pale blue flowers and heart-shaped leaves look content in the cool, moist environment. Unfortunately, these are the common dog variety (Viola canina) and are not graced with the perfume of the sweet violet (Viola odorata)

Although sweet violets have been widely used in the fragrance industry for centuries, they have no significant culinary tradition aside from the Victorians, who were fond of garnishing sweets with the crystallized flower. Their symbolic connection to spring and haunting aroma have been venerated and romanticized throughout history by artists, poets, monarchs, and even Gods.

 

Napoleon shared a devotion to violets with the Empress Josephine. During his exile at Elba, he promised his followers that he would return in the spring with the violets. This set off a loyalist obsession with the flower, immortalizing the violet as the emblem of the Imperial party, and earning him the nickname "Corporal Violette". He is said to have been buried with a lock of Josephine's hair and violets in a locket.

In Greek Mythology, Zeus ordered the Earth to create the most beautiful of flowers in tribute to his love, Io. The result was the violet. 

Ion, the Greek word for violet, lends its name to the terpene Ionone, the defining aroma compound in violets. Ionone is a megastigmane, or a degradation of beta-carotene. Not surprisingly, carrots contain a fair amount of ionone, as do raspberries, tobacco, roses, and black tea.

chocolate nest

violet ice cream

carrot filaments

blackberries

johnny-jump-ups (Viola cornuta)

calendula

violet dust

Download Recipe:  Violet nest

clam chowder, fish sandwich

You've been driving for hours with many more to go. It's pouring rain. You're tired. And hungry.

You get off the interstate at the next town: Peripety. You like the sound of it.

You drive down Main Street looking for signs of food. Anything will do. You spot a neon OPEN sign. Above it, MOOD DINER glows with promise.

You arrive at the door soaked and famished. The first thing that you notice is the smell of food. Enticing and palpable, it becomes a separate entity.

From behind a crowded counter, a sassy waitress greets you and invites you to find a seat. You walk down the length of a communal table and slide into an open chair. 

The conversation around the table is lively.  A couple next to you are eating bowls of cereal that they say taste like fried chicken and corn on the cob.

A man across the table peers at you from behind horn-rimmed glasses. He tells you that he ordered the rice pudding last night and that it was as light and crisp as a cloud. 

You ask him what he's ordered tonight. "French fries, for starters" he says with a glint in his eyes.

As if on cue, a waitress appears and sets down a bowl of soup in front of him. "Here you go-- just the way you like 'em...lots of ketchup." He slurps a spoonful of clear liquid with clear noodles and nods in approval. "I don't even miss the crunch" he says.

The waitress asks you what you'll have. You ask to see a menu. "No menu" you're told "just order whatever you're in the mood for".

You recall a diner that you used to frequent and the meal that you looked forward to every Friday night. You order a cup of clam chowder and a fish sandwich.

Your order arrives. Your first thought is "Where's my sandwich?". Second thought: "Where's my spoon?". Somewhere in between, you notice that the potatoes appear to be floating.

You feel disoriented. You have no point of reference for food like this. Yet, you're curious.

You lift a sprig of herb and uproot a potato. You pop it in your mouth and are greeted by the scent of oregano. As you chew, you're surprised by the texture and flavor: potato, bacon, butter, clam--it's all there.

You lift another. This one with the aura of rosemary. Then the last. Thyme.

You're left with a cup of creamy broth. You bring the cup to your mouth and a sandwich magically appears on your plate. A perfectly seared scallop flanked by crisp bacon. You smile.

You eat the sandwich and drink the broth, marveling at how delicious they taste. As you empty the cup, the magic is revealed and you chuckle.

You become aware that the man with the glasses is watching you with amusement. He asks about your chowder. "Delicious" you reply. He smiles and nods knowingly.

He goes back to eating what looks like an ice cream sundae. "What's that?" you ask. "Just the best damned meat loaf I've ever had" he says. You both burst out laughing.

egg dandelion onion

At this time of year, I'm usually on a mission to eradicate the dandelions before their long taproots grapple the earth. This year, I've decided to let them be and to try my hand at dandelion wine. 

I never thought I'd say this-- but I'm actually hoping for a bumper crop of dandelion blossoms. [I write these words fully cognizant that they may come back to bite me] 

In the meantime, there are plenty of young tender leaves to toss into salads and to wilt down in hot bacon fat. Or to weave into a nest of grilled and dehydrated onions for a soft-boiled duck egg. Add to that: favas, lardo, and toasted almond bread and I'm wondering what I ever had against dandelions in the first place.

64°C duck egg*

crispy grilled and dried onions

young dandelion leaves

mashed fava beans

lardo**

toasted almond bread

**This silky piece of lardo is courtesy of Peter Barrett, who was kind enough to share his masterfully-cured stash. 

*Martin Lersch, of Khymos, has an in-depth post on soft-boiled eggs that illustrates the difference that a single degree makes in cooking. 

uni cinnamon rose

Is it just me or does anyone else detect cinnamaldehyde and floral notes in uni? I can't find any evidence of it (there aren't many studies on aroma compounds in uni) but I suspect they're there in some form. At any rate, they make an interesting and tasty mouthful.

uni

cinnamon-scented congee

rose pearl

lime basil

These days, I'm finding more inspired service ware in in the candle department than in tableware. I've searched for the better part of a year for an aesthetic piece that would steadily hold a spoon or fork for an amuse. This glass votive holder from IKEA does just that and at 8$/pc I can afford to invest in a number of them.

Now that I've divulged...make sure you leave some for me.

happy easter

minestra primavera

One of my clients recently returned from an extensive trip through Italy. She called this morning to discuss tonights dinner party and the foods that she sampled in her travels, particularly the minestre. When she began listing things like minestrone, zuppa di pesce, ribollita, risotto, spaghetti al pomodoro, and even lasagna, I became confused. In my ignorance, I believed that minestre were simply soups. It was sobering to learn that minestre refers to any food that is cooked in broth or a base sauce and is always served at the beginning of a meal. A liquid minestra (in brodo) is served as a first course, while a dry minestra (cooked in sauce) is served as a second course. This classification blurred the lines of what I formerly thought of as soup.

She was especially excited to tell me about a minestra di verdura that she was served in Emilia-Romagna that consisted of barely-cooked vegetables and legumes in a proscuitto and parmesan broth. Of course, this meant that the menu for the dinner party needed to be altered, which creates a domino effect. And although I have already shopped and prepped for the long-established menu, I'm up for the challenge and aim to please. I'm just gonna roll with this one.

prosciutto consomme, parmesan sponge, parmesan biscotti, young spring vegetables (new potatoes, zucchini, pattypan squash, cavolo nero, garlic shoots), legumes (haricots, green ceci, borlotto, cannellini), herbs (dandelion, basil, marjoram, chervil) 

Download recipe:  Parmesan sponge

asparagus morel fiddlehead

Did a signal go off in the night while I slept?

A silent command to egress?

Oh, the exuberance of youth...it's contagious.

What a difference a week makes.

white asparagus

green asparagus coulis

morel mushroom

fiddlehead fern

 

Word?

Have you heard?

A group of influential international chefs have sequestered since yesterday at Alicia in Catalunya, Spain. Their mission has been to find a more palatable term for the dreaded "Molecular Gastronomy". The consensus seems to be leaning towards ORGASMIC, an acronym for ORganoleptics, Gastronomy, Art, & Science Meet In Cuisine. A final vote is scheduled for tomorrow morning, followed by the unveiling at a press conference.

Can you imagine the ensuing conversations that will take place over ORGASMIC food? 

I can.

Now I can't get When Harry Met Sally out of my head.

....................................................................................................

04/02 UPDATE:  You guys--I know that many of you guessed that this was a prank. Thanks for playing along and for all the mail...I'm glad you were so amused.

Big thanks to Chad, for bouncing with me, Aidan, for a cheeky article, and co-pranksters: Uwe, Martin, Kevin, Doc, Ian, and Phillip--you guys rocked it! (I apologize in advance for all of the pervy search hits for ORGASMIC that we're bound to receive)