playing with fire and water

poached salmon

chilled poached salmon
caviar
persian cucumber
creme fraiche
green dill seeds
leek buds
hyssop flowers

At the restaurant, we make tons of poached salmon.  Well, maybe not tons, but on the weekends we make enough to feed the masses. I'm told that it's been on the catering menu for the past 20 years and that attempts to remove it have been futile. I am not surprised by it's popularity; every time that I taste it I'm reminded of the complexity of flavor that can be achieved through simple, classic techniques.
The secret to it's success at the restaurant is that it is consistency prepared the same way. The fillets are cut off the bone and two whole sides go into a hotel pan, skin side down. Chopped onions, celery, lemons, and parsley are strewn over the top along with a liberal sprinkling of salt. Half of a magnum of white wine is poured over, followed by enough water to cover by an inch. They go into a cold convection oven at 375F. After 20 minutes, the court-bouillon just begins to steam, the vegetables begin to soften, releasing their aroma, and the oven is turned down to 325F. The salmon cooks slowly and gently until it is opaque all the way through. After the pans are removed from the oven, they cool on a rack until they are no longer hot, then they chill overnight in the walk-in. This is where the magic happens: as the salmon cools, the flesh retracts and draws in the aromatic liquid, locking in the flavor. The next day, the flesh, although cold, is soft and unctuous, and the flavor is deep and complex.
When I begin to play the what-if game with this particular preparation, I always come up short. I can think of no other techniques (short of sous-vide, which is unpractical with the quantities that we do) that would yield the same results.
If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

 hot poached salmon
salsa verde
court-bouillon

whipped buttermilk potatoes

At home, hot poached salmon with salsa verde and softly whipped buttermilk potatoes is my go-to dish when I have salmon, fresh herbs, and a good bottle of Chardonnay on hand. The ripe flavors of the wine marries well with the richness of the fish and the assertive herbs.
Because the salmon is served hot and does not benefit from the flavor-boosting overnight chill, the court-bouillon must be concentrated. Copious amounts of aromatics are simmered in white wine and water until all of their flavor is extracted. This becomes more of a stock than a court-bouillon (court, in French, means short or quick). When the temperature of the stock is at 185F, the salmon are dropped in and poached for about 8 minutes, or until a translucent core remains.
Sometimes, when I can't bear to throw out the flavorful stock, I will surround the salmon and potatoes with it in shallow bowls. Doing this transforms the dish into something else...not a soup, but not quite a sauce, either...it becomes both. The soft potatoes melt into the stock along with flecks of herbs, so that after the salmon is consumed, a delicious potato-herb soup is left in the bowl.

Here, I have taken the dish and played with the textures. The salmon has been left alone, in it's state of perfection. The salsa verde, consisting of parsley, tarragon, golden oregano, common thyme, lemon thyme, anchovies, shallots, capers, extra-virgin olive oil, and white wine vinegar, has been set with agar. The agar has a higher melting point than most gels, allowing it to be served hot, while retaining it's shape. The potato base is cooked potatoes that have been passed through a tamis, blended with olive oil, salt, and buttermilk to a pourable consistency. 1.5% Methocel SGA150 is added and the mixture is whipped to aerate and lighten. The mixture is dropped off of the end of a spoon into the hot stock to form small, leaf-shaped dumplings that are firm while hot, yet melt on the tongue.
The tips of herbs, planted in the sheet of salsa verde, is directly inspired by my new planter. After years of trekking up to the garden to pick a few sprigs of herbs to season a dish in progress, and returning to a find that it has scorched or overcooked (I am easily distracted in the garden), I have planted an assortment of my favorite herbs in a windowbox on the front porch. Such a simple solution, and now I have no excuses to not use fresh herbs when the inspiration strikes.

off-balance

All work and no play throws life off balance. The time that I spend on this blog playground gets the pendulum swinging, but sometimes complete disengagement is the only thing that will restore the equilibrium. A respite by the water with friends reminds me how it feels to float instead of paddle.

Leaving home for a spontaneous weekend is easier now that the children are no longer children. As the nest empties, this blog strangely begins to feel like a third child. Though it makes no demands and is content with whatever attention I can give to it, I recognize the need to nurture in order for it to grow and evolve.

When I left for the weekend, this 7-month-old blog had just passed a milestone: the 100,000th page load. It was a bittersweet occasion. As a parent, I celebrated my children's first steps as a natural progression and an indication that all is right with the world. On the other hand, I recognized that those tiny feet were moving away from me and my sanctum and towards an uncertain world.

I returned home yesterday to find that my husband and I were not the only ones in need of play. My oldest child was playing with friends in Montreal, my youngest child was playing on a Big Stage for the weekend, and my blog-child went playing in cyberspace. 25,000 hits in 48 hours, it had grown large, pixelated feet and went running rampant, Stumbling it's way around the world.

Today, things are back to normal.
Everyone has returned home safely.
The weekend is played-out.
Work has resumed.
Balance is restored.

corn pudding

Ever since Michael Pollen's book The Omnivore's Dilemma and the indie film King Corn have exposed the prevalence of the corn products in our diets, the once-humble grain has been viewed through a lens of suspicion. While there is no denying that this versatile and ancient vegetable/grain has been grossly exploited by industrial agriculture and food producers, let us not throw out the baby with the bathwater. One of the great pleasures of summer is biting into a freshly-picked ear of sweet corn, and indulging in a creamy corn pudding.

A few summers ago, I made corn pudding for a client...
Lois (not her real name) owns several homes across the country, including her sprawling estate in the gentrified countryside of Connecticut, where she would take up residence for the warm months. Her reputation proceeded her, not from the success she has attained as a top player in her industry, but from her notoriety as a difficult and exacting client who allows no margin for error. I knew a number of chefs who never made it past the initial gig; some were dismissed, the rest just refused to return. They warned me that I was on her ever-shrinking list of chefs to audition. In my profession, dealing with difficult clients is part and parcel of the job and I was up for the challenge.
Lois did, indeed, contact me, through her personal assistant, with dates and times for the formal dinner parties that she intended to hold through the remainder of the season. Included, was a list of food preferences as well as those that should be avoided. The latter was blessedly short and reflected no strict dietary restrictions or adherence to quirky fad diets. The list of preferences included organic produce and proteins from local farms, as well as specialty items that could be brought up from weekly trips to NYC. Based solely on what she ate, I already liked Lois.
By request, the first menu was to be comprised of refined, but simple country fare in three courses: a salad, a main course, and a dessert. The salad was a breeze-- arugula selvatica from my garden, heirloom tomatoes from Waldingfield Farm, fresh chevre from Beltane Farm, and croutons made from Bantam Bread Company's kalamata and rosemary loaf. For the main course, I had decided on organic chicken breasts stuffed with truffled sweetbreads, to be served with roasted corn and wild mushrooms, all locally sourced. Dessert was peach shortcake, inspired by March Farm's fragrant peaches, and the cinnamon basil in my garden, which I used to infuse the whipped cream.
I shopped, prepped and arrived at the estate, ready for my benchmark test. I was met at the door by the housekeeper, Nora, an Eastern-European immigrant with a thick accent and stern countenance, which I instantly resolved to soften. Nora showed me around the kitchen and though she offered her assistance, she kept her distance, watching my every move. I invited her to help me shuck corn, hoping that sharing a task would break the ice and provide a gateway for conversation. As we worked, Nora asked me what the "hairs" on the corn were called. I told her that they were called corn silk, though the dried-up darker parts did resemble short, curly hair, to which she made an off-color reference and laughed. I laughed with her, delighted to have found her soft, raunchy spot. Lois walked into this scene, brusquely introduced herself, and told Nora that she was needed in another part of the house.
Left alone in the kitchen, I finished shucking the corn. As I picked up tufts of silk off of the counter top to throw in the bin, my "waste" radar went off and I took a second look at the soft, pale strands. Tasting the silk, I was surprised to find that it was pleasingly crunchy with a mild, bright corn flavor, and amazed that I had never seen it utilized before. I separated the young, tender strands and set them aside to use as a bed for the chicken.
When Nora returned, I was cutting the kernels of corn from the cobs and I inquired about Lois's food preferences. She revealed that Lois had a weakness for cheese and dairy products, particularly cream cheese, which she honored with the status of being "the only food  that I cannot live without". I made a mental note and wondered where I could incorporate it into the menu. Looking at the corn, I linked the two together into a corn pudding, knowing that the cream cheese could successfully replace most of the heavy cream in the recipe that I had committed to memory. Changing the menu at this point was risky, but I understood then that the true test was not in securing a job, but in feeling secure in my abilities as a chef.
The risk paid off...the puddings turned out flawless...the sweetness of the corn balanced by the tang of the cream cheese. Confirmation came in the form of empty plates returning to the kitchen, save for a few strands of corn silk. The server reported that the corn silk had stopped the conversation at the dinner table when someone asked if it was safe to eat. Lois, in true hostess form, had taken the first bite and pronounced it delicious.
At the end of the evening, after the guests were gone, the kitchen restored, and my car packed, Nora notified me that Lois had requested my presence in her boudoir. Upon entering the room, Lois looked up at me from her notes and very slowly and deliberately removed her glasses, folded them, and set them down.
I braced myself.
In an even voice, void of expression, she said, "Don't think that I didn't notice the corn pudding."
I held my breath.
"I am absolutely married to it and want you to prepare it in the exact same way for the remainder of the season."
I nodded.
"And the corn silk?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
I opened my mouth to explain.
She stopped me and in the same tone, replied "...brilliant"
I nodded again and exhaled.
She leaned back in her chair, softened her expression into what I interpreted as a smile, and continued, "I see that you have hit it off with Nora. She has been with me for over 20 years and I consider her my family. She can be very possessive of her kitchen and does not take kindly to intruders. But she reports that you are very competent and a hard worker. We both appreciate that."
She put her money where her mouth was by handing me a check for over double of the amount on my invoice, a practice which was gratefully repeated for the remainder of the summer.
The following spring, I received an email from Lois informing me that she would be summering in Europe that year and possibly for subsequent years, but would contact me if her plans changed. She also expressed a deep regret over her separation from my corn pudding. I replied, thanking her for her generosity, and sent the recipe. I like to think that Nora is now making it for her.

 

I've revisited the main course from that first dinner and applied some new ingredients and techniques. In the original version, the chicken was stuffed by cutting a pocket in the breast and fastening it with a skewer. Using Activa allows me to cut out the chicken altogether and use the skin to wrap the sweetbread in a tidy shape. Methocel allows me to omit the eggs in the corn pudding, leaving it extraordinarily smooth and creamy.
I can't help but wonder what Lois would think of this new version.

corn pudding
400 g. corn juice, extracted with a juicer
160 g. cream cheese
20 g. cheddar powder
8.5 g. Methocel SGA150 (1.5%)
salt, to taste

Place 1/2 of the corn juice and the cream cheese in a saucepan and heat over medium heat until cream cheese is melted. Remove from heat and add the remaining juice, the cheddar powder and Methocel. Blend well with an immersion blender, cover and chill for at least 4 hours to hydrate. When ready to bake, preheat the oven to 250 degrees F. and stir in the salt. Fill molds and bake for 10-20 minutes, depending on the capacity of molds. Unmold and serve immediately or hold in a 200 degree oven for up to 20 minutes.

eugenol

                    banana
                    greek yogurt
                    chestnut honey
                    hopfen-weisse veil
                    clove crisps
                    dianthus petals
                    rue leaves

When work takes up the bulk of the hours in a day, the consequence is that there is a trail of neglect left in it's wake. The important things, like relationships with family and friends are what eat at me. The incidentals, like sleep and food, I learn to do without.
Breakfast, however, is not optional...I rely on it to fuel these long days. Most times, I grab a container of yogurt and a banana and I'm good to go. When I'm feeling a little more decadent, I'll layer them in a fancy glass with chopped nuts and a drizzle of chestnut honey. I really like this combination...it satisfies body and soul.

I can only operate at 2 speeds when working 16 hour days: high and off. I seldom allow myself breaks simply because it throws off my momentum and I lose focus. When I'm ready to shut off at the end of the day, it's a slow unwinding; a down-shifting of gears. A glass of wine eases the transition. With the onset of seasonably hot weather, a cold beer is my decompressor of choice.
Unlike wine, I'm not too fussy about what beer I drink. I only require that it be cold and alcoholic. I get lost trying to sort through the increasing variety of artisan-crafted beers from microbreweries, and end up reaching for the familiar Corona, even though it tastes like cat piss. I'm not indifferent to beer, it's just that I haven't found the time or opportunity to educate myself on it's fine points.
Recently, an opportunity presented itself in an impromptu tasting led by an enthusiastic bartender who allowed me to steer the conversation with my observations. It turns out that I have potential as a hophead. Of the 6 craft beers that I sampled, the one that stood out was a Brooklyner-Schneider Hopfen-Weisse. I was immediately enamoured of it's banana and clove flavor. It was like drinking liquid banana bread. It made my thoughts turn to breakfast.

It's not that I'm in the habit of drinking beer for breakfast (the "hair of the dog" days are behind me, I can only hope), but the correlation between the flavor profiles of the Hopfen-Weisse and my typical morning fare made sense. Harold McGee confirms the link between the aromas of bananas and cloves in this excerpt from "On Food and Cooking":
   "Bananas develop a meltingly smooth consistency, and a distinctive aroma due primarily to amyl acetate and other esters, and green, floral, and clove (eugenol) notes".

I have a long-standing fascination with warm spices and cloves in particular, that stems from childhood memories and was later deepened from reading historical accounts of  the origins of spice trade.  One story told of an ancient Chinese Emperor whose lust for spice drove him mad. Sometimes, when I catch a whiff of  cloves, I can conjure up an image of him standing in his barge, dressed in regal robes, surrounded by his fragrant loot, his teeth stained and his breath redolent with the scent of cloves.

Dianthus, or carnations, smell like cloves because they share many of the same aroma compounds, Eugenol being the prominent one. The flavor of cloves can also be detected in rue, an esoteric herb, as well as in honey, and beer. Bananas, beer, honey and yogurt contain Butyric Acid, the aroma and flavor of cheese. Together, the flavor of these ingredients play harmoniously like the notes in a chord.

And, yes, I did eat this for breakfast...it was the ultimate indulgence.

Banana. Yogurt. Honey. Cloves. Beer. It may not be a breakfast for champions, but it is a winning combination. 

catering

Just another weekend gig

          

            

            

What I learned was that the men and women who protect our communities, country, and leaders are very cool, generous, and love to eat.