Y'all must be tired of this croquant thing by now. I've had fun exploring the versatility of crispy ground fat melded with isomalt. And I haven't even delved into pork crackling territory, but with the changing season comes a new palette of flavors and inspiration. It's time to move on...
150 g clear blackberry juice
35 g sugar
3 g amidated, LM pectin
Pack yogurt into small, silicone hemisphere molds and freeze just until firm.
Combine the sugar with the pectin in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Place juice in a pan and bring to boil. Add sugar-pectin and stir vigorously 1-2 minutes while cooking to dissolve. Return to boil and remove from heat. Keep a pan of simmering water on the stove to keep the pectin warm and fluid.Drop Tablespoonfuls of hot pectin solution onto a ceramic or glass plate, forming discs, and allow to gel. Set pan in simmering water while proceeding. When discs are firm, unmold yogurt hemispheres and place one on each of the discs. Pour the remaining warm pectin evenly over the yogurt to completely encase. When gelled, cut away the excess gel with a round cutter that is slightly larger than the hemisphere. Chill.
I've been on a fruit soup kick lately. My juicer has been working OT. I promised him a break after this one.
The other night, I made a cold cherry soup infused with star anise and swirled with yogurt. I've never been to Morocco, but that soup took me there. Landed me in a souk in Marrakesh. With each spoonful, the saturated colors of silk and pottery intensified, the sounds of vendors haggling with buyers grew louder, the scent of leather and sweet spices grew stronger. By the time that I had finished, I half-expected to find my feet covered in dust and my house redecorated with exotic carpets and textiles, all purchased at the lowest possible price.
This strawberry soup, perfumed with Riesling and sweet woodruff sorbet, transports me to the Bavarian Alps, on the first day of May.
Sweet Woodruff (Galium odoratum) is a woodland herb that grows prolifically in Northern Europe. In Germany, it is known as Waldmeister (master of the woods) and is steeped in white wine with strawberries to produce May Wine, traditionally served for May Day celebrations. It's primary aroma compound is coumarin, which lends it's characteristic sweet hay and vanilla flavor. Coumarin is also found in high concentrations in tonka beans; it's moderate toxicity is the reason why they are banned in the US. Fresh leaves of sweet woodruff have only a faint odor--they need to be wilted or dried to release the essential oils. In haste, a quick blast in the microwave does the trick.
Sour cream pearls couldn't be any easier when applying reverse spherification. Dairy products already contain sufficient amounts of calcium to react with a sodium alginate solution (1 liter water + 5 g. sodium alginate). This technique produces stable spheres that remain liquid in the center and can be served hot or cold.
That's what I thought I was getting when he dropped a DVD into my hands with a grin on his face. I was nonplussed that he had handed me a romantic film by Wong Kar-wai, a Chinese director known for visually stylized films. Looking over the cast, a name jumped out at me and it all made sense...if there's one thing that he likes more than cars and guns, it's Nora Jones.
The movie, My Blueberry Nights, was almost forgettable despite the stunning melancholic atmosphere created by Wong through roving shallow lenses and lush chiaroscuro. The minor key mood was a good fit for Nora, but Jude Law never convinced me as a marathon runner wannabe who settles for running a diner where he makes blueberry pies that no one ever eats. It was the pie, and the way that Wong committed it to celluloid that I will remember: tight macro shots of ice cream salaciously melting into mounds of lurid blueberries. It was so deliciously lascivious that I wanted to avert my eyes.
In the end, it was blueberry pie that brought the characters together and endeared Wong to me as a film maker and food pornographer. And it inspired this dish.
Recently, I was asked to make a custom cake, a request that I've not accepted for a long time...too many balls in the air, not enough hands. I used to make wedding cakes on a regular basis and I enjoyed it
immensely,
until it came time to deliver them. I had a rule in which the only people that were allowed to transport these cakes were: the one who made it or the one who paid for it . Since the latter was rarely an option, it was often left to me. Gratefully, they all arrived intact at their destination, and on time, but I estimate that I've lost about 5 years off of my lifespan on the winding, hilly roads of Connecticut.
I accepted this request, mainly because the theme intrigued me; it was to reference the recipients' penchant for Gucci shoes.
I learned to sew at about the same time that I learned to cook. I never considered either of these skills as something that I could build a profession on...until I discovered haute couture; the extreme
form of fashion. It is often the extremities of things that attract me to it, then allow me to find my own ground within it. After high school, I headed to NYC to study fashion design at Parsons, long before Tim Gunn & company put it on the reality TV map. I had high expectations, perhaps unrealistic ones. I went there to explore the extreme, but found
that they were peddling moderation in the form of ready-to-wear. In the ensuing years, I have found my ground in fashion design, even when I started cooking professionally, and to this day, I maintain parallel careers in fashion and food. I have designed and made many things, from dog collars to wedding gowns, but I have never made a pair of shoes...until now. It is not without irony that my first pair would also be edible.
It was through the extremities of avant guarde cuisine that I first learned
of hydrocolloids and other chemicals. I don't deny that I was seduced by their possibilities, but I had questions. First up: "Are they safe to consume?" For answers, I turned to scientific data and independent studies and avoided all information that was tempered by agendas. Satisfied, I moved on to the next question, "What is the point?" Do they contribute to making food better, or are their applications just smoke and mirrors? I reconciled with this by examining the ingredients that I already use in making cakes. Baking powder, baking soda, cream of tartar, cornstarch, and gelatin are some of the processed additives that are commonly used in baking. The transformative effects that they produce in cake batters and other baked goods are undeniable and have stood the test of time.
The use of rolled fondant to cover cakes is something that I have struggled with. Although it is completely edible, I've never found it particularly good to eat...it brings to mind the centers of the drugstore chocolates that were abandoned after the first hopeful bite. It's only merit is that it provides a pristine and alabaster-smooth surface to apply decoration, acting like the gesso on an artists' canvas. I always point out these pros and cons to my clients when they request a fondant-covered cake. When they insist on it, I try to find the humor when the plates come back to the kitchen with peeled-away strips
of fondant, like discarded rinds.
On the occassions when I am required to use fondant, I choose to make it from scratch. My recipe is based on the one found in Rose Levy Beranbaum's "The Cake Bible" and contains gelatin, glucose and glycerine, as well as shortening and confectioners sugar. For this cake, I swapped sodium alginate for the gelatin, remembering that it is sometimes used for the commercial production of this product. While it produced a more pliable and silkier fondant to work with, it didn't make it any more palate-friendly...don't think I'll be joining a fondant fan club anytime soon.
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