I heard John Mariani, an expert on Italian-American food, interviewed by Terry Gross on NPR a while back. He was chock-full of all sorts of interesting information on the history of Italian cuisine in America. I learned why, until recently, our notion of Italian food involves a lot of pizza and heavy pasta and meatballs (most Italian immigrants were poor folks from Naples).
In the middle of all this great food history, Mariani suddenly dropped the simplest recipe. He said this was the marinara sauce he grew up on, still his favorite. I didn't even have to go digging on the internet to make sure I had all the ingredients and proportions right. Here's why:
Chop 3-4 cloves of garlic. Brown in a heavy saute pan for 3-4 minutes. Remove garlic bits, add 1 can peeled Italian tomatoes. Cook on low 20-30 minutes, smashing tomatoes as they cook. Add salt/pepper to taste, and basil.
That's it. It tastes so rich and the tomato flavor just sings. With all the sugar and other ingredients meant to pump up the flavor in every jar of pasta sauce on the grocery store shelves, mass-produced marinara just can't hold a candle to this simple concoction, which, by the way, is less expensive as well, even if you use the pricier San Marzano tomatoes he recommends. They are worth it, but the first time I made this sauce all I had on hand was Stater Bros store brand tomatoes, and it still knocked my socks off. I also made it with a can of Trader Joe's peeled tomatoes with basil, and it was intensely yummy.
Tonight I added a couple of ingredients, although I didn't want to mess too much with perfection. Instead of removing the browned garlic bits from the pan, I sauteed chopped onion and mushroom before adding the tomato and sprinkling in dried oregano, finishing again with basil. Sooo simple, why am I even blogging about it?
Because it's seductively, intensely good.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Easy as pie Berry Pie
So now that I have this pie crust thing down cold (and I really do. Exact same results every single time!) I've been playing with fillings. As you can see from the previous post, the apple thing is good to go. However, I also love berry pie, which is a lot more challenging. It's either too tart or too sweet. Too runny or too gelatinous. And so on. This weekend I set myself to work on the problem.
It seems to me that the biggest problem with berry pie is that it's too much of a good thing. All that flavor comes with a lot of tartness; all that juice requires too much thickener. A lot of fruit juices are mixed into a foundation of apple juice, which supports the main flavor without diluting it too much. So I chopped up a bunch of apples into blueberry-sized chunks, threw them into a saucepan with lemon juice, and started them cooking. I mixed together flour, cornstarch, white and brown sugar, a dash of salt, and spices--cinnamon and nutmeg--and stirred that into the cooking apples. It started to get too thick to cook the fruit properly, so I added some frozen berries to increase the liquid content. I didn't want to add them all since they'd cook down and lose their shape, and I wanted to preserve as much berry texture as possible. Once the apples were nicely soft, I removed them from the heat, let them cool just a bit, stirred in the rest of the frozen berries (1/2 bag blueberries and 1/2 bag mixed berries--blueberry/raspberry/strawberry/blackberry), and set the filling aside.
I rolled out the crust and assembled the pie, dotting the filling with butter before adding the top crust. Since the berries are so juicy I crimped the crust as carefully as possible to keep juice from leaking out the edges (I should have still put a pan or sheet of foil beneath the pie in the oven since it found a crack to flow through). After slashing a starburst pattern in the top I pulled out my cookie cutters and with the leftover bits of crust dough I made a dragonfly and applied it with a little milk to the center of the starburst. Since I still had a lot of dough I cut out some strawberries, dusted them with milk and sugar and scattered them around the top. I decided they looked dorky but left them there.
I baked the pie until golden. It took a loooong time to cool. Finally we got hungry and went ahead and sliced into it--yum yum yum. It was still a bit runny but the strawberry decorations helped soak up the juice.
The next morning, the pie was oh so perfect. The filling had properly set, and offered everything you'd want in a berry pie--lots of rich flavor, not too sweet or tart. Nice texture, stable and silky but not at all gooey. The berries held up well enough to be recognizable, and the apple chunks had soaked up so much purple juice they blended right in. I'd never had berry pie quite that satisfying.
I'd love to give an exact recipe here, but I can't swear to all the proportions. I'll have to repeat the recipe a couple of times to give reliable amounts.
What I do know is the secret to great berry pie. It's apples.
It seems to me that the biggest problem with berry pie is that it's too much of a good thing. All that flavor comes with a lot of tartness; all that juice requires too much thickener. A lot of fruit juices are mixed into a foundation of apple juice, which supports the main flavor without diluting it too much. So I chopped up a bunch of apples into blueberry-sized chunks, threw them into a saucepan with lemon juice, and started them cooking. I mixed together flour, cornstarch, white and brown sugar, a dash of salt, and spices--cinnamon and nutmeg--and stirred that into the cooking apples. It started to get too thick to cook the fruit properly, so I added some frozen berries to increase the liquid content. I didn't want to add them all since they'd cook down and lose their shape, and I wanted to preserve as much berry texture as possible. Once the apples were nicely soft, I removed them from the heat, let them cool just a bit, stirred in the rest of the frozen berries (1/2 bag blueberries and 1/2 bag mixed berries--blueberry/raspberry/strawberry/blackberry), and set the filling aside.
I rolled out the crust and assembled the pie, dotting the filling with butter before adding the top crust. Since the berries are so juicy I crimped the crust as carefully as possible to keep juice from leaking out the edges (I should have still put a pan or sheet of foil beneath the pie in the oven since it found a crack to flow through). After slashing a starburst pattern in the top I pulled out my cookie cutters and with the leftover bits of crust dough I made a dragonfly and applied it with a little milk to the center of the starburst. Since I still had a lot of dough I cut out some strawberries, dusted them with milk and sugar and scattered them around the top. I decided they looked dorky but left them there.
I baked the pie until golden. It took a loooong time to cool. Finally we got hungry and went ahead and sliced into it--yum yum yum. It was still a bit runny but the strawberry decorations helped soak up the juice.
The next morning, the pie was oh so perfect. The filling had properly set, and offered everything you'd want in a berry pie--lots of rich flavor, not too sweet or tart. Nice texture, stable and silky but not at all gooey. The berries held up well enough to be recognizable, and the apple chunks had soaked up so much purple juice they blended right in. I'd never had berry pie quite that satisfying.
I'd love to give an exact recipe here, but I can't swear to all the proportions. I'll have to repeat the recipe a couple of times to give reliable amounts.
What I do know is the secret to great berry pie. It's apples.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Now, it really is easy as pie
When I'm out working in my yard I hook my iPod to some little computer speakers and catch up on my Fresh Air podcasts. So there I am, mucking around in the dirt laying cement slab chunks to create a little patio transition from the cement stoop, when Terry Gross starts interviewing a couple of chefs from America's Test Kitchen/Cook's Illustrated. It doesn't get any better than this--an afternoon of dirt and food.
Among the various gems of culinary information these two chefs imparted, came the Answer to My Greatest Baking Deficiency: pie. Actually, pie crust. That phrase "easy as pie" has always annoyed me a bit because in Carmen World pie ain't all that easy. I'm fairly good with the filling part (sometimes my fruit pies are a little watery) but crust is nothing but a chore and most of the time either it isn't tender and flaky enough, or doesn't turn out very visually appealing, which in my mind defeats an important purpose of food--to delight the eye as well as the palate.
Apparently I'm not the only person not up to that challenge. The chefs said pie crust is notoriously inconsistent, so they set out to find the secret to a beautiful flaky crust that could be consistently produced each time. And they claimed success. So what was the big secret?
Vodka, my friend.
And while a quick hit of icy cold Ketel 1 (along with a bite of bakery bread slathered in sweet butter--the Russians know how to do it right) can improve any baking experience, it's what goes into the pastry dough, not down your throat, that makes it so so great.
Vodka, really?
The problem with pastry dough is that as the water mixes into the flour it develops gluten. Undermix your dough, and it's inconsistent, too dry here, too sticky there, impossible to roll out properly. Overmix, and you have tough (glutenous) crust. Alcohol does not develop the gluten, and vodka adds no flavor so it's perfect for the job. The basic rule is replace half the water with vodka. However, I wanted what these culinary geniuses (just ask any Cook's Illustrated subscriber) thought was the perfect recipe, so when I was all done with my little yard project I went online and dug up their recipe (Cook's Illustrated doesn't hand most stuff out for free, but I'm good with the Google).
I made an apple-blueberry pie. Took it to friends' the next day and tucked it in among the others on the dessert table. Pretty soon the accolades started coming--and here's the thing: my filling was only good, definitely not great. I'd been so focused on the crust that the apples were too chunky and the whole thing a bit soupy, but the crust was so good it just didn't matter as much. I was amazed at what a difference a great crust can make! I had a slice of another pie, and made sure to dissect the filling because it was superb--that filling, my crust: truly the perfect pie.
Made another pie. Again, perfect crust (and got the filling right). Made another one. Exact same results.
I am now the Pie Queen.
Unlike Cook's Illustrated, I won't make you subscribe or resort to Google subterfuge for the recipe. Here it is, in all its turn-out-the-same-every-dang-time glory:
2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon table salt
2 tablespoons sugar
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 cup cold vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold vodka
1/4 cup cold water
Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in food processor until combined, about 2 one-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogeneous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour). Scrape bowl with rubber spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mixture is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mixture into medium bowl.
Sprinkle vodka and water over mixture. With rubber spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together [I dumped the dough back into the food processor and pulsed a few times to get it really consistent. I actually had tried just sprinkling the water/vodka through the feeder tube while pulsing, but the liquid didn't distribute as well as I wanted. It isn't much hassle to dump the mixture into a bowl, then back into the processor, and the dough comes out perfect]. Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disk. Wrap each in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes or up to 2 days.
So that's the Great Vodka Crust Recipe. Here's how I turned it into Great Apple Blueberry Pie:
While pie crust dough is chilling in the fridge, mix together and set aside:
about 3/4 cup sugar (I like to mix 1/2 cup white, 1/4 cup brown together)
about 2 Tbl flour
a pinch of salt
about 3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp allspice
Notice that the amounts are all approximate. Go with your preference and the tartness of the apples.
Core and peel 5 apples (I prefer Macintosh). Slice each apple into quarters, then slice the quarters crosswise into pieces about 1/6" thick (picky, huh? but 1/4" is too thick, 1/8" too thin and will make apple mush. It doesn't matter if some pieces are a little thinner or thicker--what you're looking for is that 1/6" average, which will deliver the perfect filling texture and consistency). Toss with a squeeze or two of fresh lemon (preferably a Meyer lemon), a few dashes of Tabasco, and most of the sugar mixture--reserve a couple of tablespoons to toss separately into a cup of fresh blueberries, so they don't crush and mush into the apples.
Roll out one of the dough disks (use lots of flour) and place into a nice deep pie dish. Pour in the apple filling and press down a bit, then sprinkle the blueberries on top.
Roll out the other disk of dough (see how easy it was to make a perfect round?) and place over the top. Fold and crimp to your heart's delight, have fun arranging little pastry cutouts around the rim or on top (I made a pie in an oval baking dish and lined the rim with pastry apple leaves. It was so pretty!) and cut a few slits in the crust. Brush the top with a little milk or cream and sprinkle sugar on it (I use either raw sugar for texture, or superfine baker's sugar for a glistening surface).
Bake according to your oven's capabilities. I have a convection oven, so I start it at 415, then turn down to about 350. It takes probably about 45 minutes, but I'm not sure because I haven't kept track. I just keep an eye on it. When the crust is nicely golden it is done and ready to delight your eyes, your mouth, and your tummy.
What's Russian for Bon Appetit?
Among the various gems of culinary information these two chefs imparted, came the Answer to My Greatest Baking Deficiency: pie. Actually, pie crust. That phrase "easy as pie" has always annoyed me a bit because in Carmen World pie ain't all that easy. I'm fairly good with the filling part (sometimes my fruit pies are a little watery) but crust is nothing but a chore and most of the time either it isn't tender and flaky enough, or doesn't turn out very visually appealing, which in my mind defeats an important purpose of food--to delight the eye as well as the palate.
Apparently I'm not the only person not up to that challenge. The chefs said pie crust is notoriously inconsistent, so they set out to find the secret to a beautiful flaky crust that could be consistently produced each time. And they claimed success. So what was the big secret?
Vodka, my friend.
And while a quick hit of icy cold Ketel 1 (along with a bite of bakery bread slathered in sweet butter--the Russians know how to do it right) can improve any baking experience, it's what goes into the pastry dough, not down your throat, that makes it so so great.
Vodka, really?
The problem with pastry dough is that as the water mixes into the flour it develops gluten. Undermix your dough, and it's inconsistent, too dry here, too sticky there, impossible to roll out properly. Overmix, and you have tough (glutenous) crust. Alcohol does not develop the gluten, and vodka adds no flavor so it's perfect for the job. The basic rule is replace half the water with vodka. However, I wanted what these culinary geniuses (just ask any Cook's Illustrated subscriber) thought was the perfect recipe, so when I was all done with my little yard project I went online and dug up their recipe (Cook's Illustrated doesn't hand most stuff out for free, but I'm good with the Google).
I made an apple-blueberry pie. Took it to friends' the next day and tucked it in among the others on the dessert table. Pretty soon the accolades started coming--and here's the thing: my filling was only good, definitely not great. I'd been so focused on the crust that the apples were too chunky and the whole thing a bit soupy, but the crust was so good it just didn't matter as much. I was amazed at what a difference a great crust can make! I had a slice of another pie, and made sure to dissect the filling because it was superb--that filling, my crust: truly the perfect pie.
Made another pie. Again, perfect crust (and got the filling right). Made another one. Exact same results.
I am now the Pie Queen.
Unlike Cook's Illustrated, I won't make you subscribe or resort to Google subterfuge for the recipe. Here it is, in all its turn-out-the-same-every-dang-time glory:
2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon table salt
2 tablespoons sugar
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 cup cold vegetable shortening, cut into 4 pieces
1/4 cup cold vodka
1/4 cup cold water
Process 1 1/2 cups flour, salt, and sugar in food processor until combined, about 2 one-second pulses. Add butter and shortening and process until homogeneous dough just starts to collect in uneven clumps, about 15 seconds (dough will resemble cottage cheese curds and there should be no uncoated flour). Scrape bowl with rubber spatula and redistribute dough evenly around processor blade. Add remaining cup flour and pulse until mixture is evenly distributed around bowl and mass of dough has been broken up, 4 to 6 quick pulses. Empty mixture into medium bowl.
Sprinkle vodka and water over mixture. With rubber spatula, use folding motion to mix, pressing down on dough until dough is slightly tacky and sticks together [I dumped the dough back into the food processor and pulsed a few times to get it really consistent. I actually had tried just sprinkling the water/vodka through the feeder tube while pulsing, but the liquid didn't distribute as well as I wanted. It isn't much hassle to dump the mixture into a bowl, then back into the processor, and the dough comes out perfect]. Divide dough into two even balls and flatten each into 4-inch disk. Wrap each in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 45 minutes or up to 2 days.
So that's the Great Vodka Crust Recipe. Here's how I turned it into Great Apple Blueberry Pie:
While pie crust dough is chilling in the fridge, mix together and set aside:
about 3/4 cup sugar (I like to mix 1/2 cup white, 1/4 cup brown together)
about 2 Tbl flour
a pinch of salt
about 3/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp allspice
Notice that the amounts are all approximate. Go with your preference and the tartness of the apples.
Core and peel 5 apples (I prefer Macintosh). Slice each apple into quarters, then slice the quarters crosswise into pieces about 1/6" thick (picky, huh? but 1/4" is too thick, 1/8" too thin and will make apple mush. It doesn't matter if some pieces are a little thinner or thicker--what you're looking for is that 1/6" average, which will deliver the perfect filling texture and consistency). Toss with a squeeze or two of fresh lemon (preferably a Meyer lemon), a few dashes of Tabasco, and most of the sugar mixture--reserve a couple of tablespoons to toss separately into a cup of fresh blueberries, so they don't crush and mush into the apples.
Roll out one of the dough disks (use lots of flour) and place into a nice deep pie dish. Pour in the apple filling and press down a bit, then sprinkle the blueberries on top.
Roll out the other disk of dough (see how easy it was to make a perfect round?) and place over the top. Fold and crimp to your heart's delight, have fun arranging little pastry cutouts around the rim or on top (I made a pie in an oval baking dish and lined the rim with pastry apple leaves. It was so pretty!) and cut a few slits in the crust. Brush the top with a little milk or cream and sprinkle sugar on it (I use either raw sugar for texture, or superfine baker's sugar for a glistening surface).
Bake according to your oven's capabilities. I have a convection oven, so I start it at 415, then turn down to about 350. It takes probably about 45 minutes, but I'm not sure because I haven't kept track. I just keep an eye on it. When the crust is nicely golden it is done and ready to delight your eyes, your mouth, and your tummy.
What's Russian for Bon Appetit?
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The problem with travel
I just spent 8 days in Vietnam. The food was heavenly. Now I'm back in the United States. Need recommendations for Vietnamese restaurants--not sure when I can go back to any other kind of restaurant food--it all seems so heavy now after the lightness of every single dish I tried there.
Also, on the hunt for Vietnamese cookbooks. This cuisine is my new obsession.
Also, on the hunt for Vietnamese cookbooks. This cuisine is my new obsession.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Lentils
I recently used an LA Times news article in class, "Meat Eater's Guide to the Environment." (http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/greenspace/2011/07/meat-eaters-guide.html)
I've known for a while that beef contributes more to global warming than cars do, but I was amazed to see the numbers spelled out on paper.
The bottom line is, eat more lentils.
Not only are lentils delicious, nutritious, and easy, but they have the smallest carbon footprint of all the foods the researchers studied--1/60th that of beef. There is no downside to this food!
Indians love red lentils in thick flavorful Masoor dal. Lebanese cooks favor the brown or green lentils in some of the yummiest Middle Eastern cooking I've ever encountered.
I love a good brown lentil because that's what I grew up on, but the back Beluga is equally my favorite, for its hearty flavor and firm shape. When Trader Joe's quit carrying them, I searched the internet and now have 10 lb sacks delivered right to my door.
There are many gourmet ways to have fun with lentils, but first let's honor their humblest and most satisfying form:
Lentil Stew.
Two basic elements--mirepoix* and lentils. That's it. Whatever else you add is icing on the cake. I don't even remember the first time I made lentils because I was so young. That's how easy this is.
In a heavy-bottomed pot, saute the mirepoix in a little olive oil. Add water or chicken stock, lentils, and a bay leaf. Cover, bring to a boil, turn flame down to lowest level, and cook until lentils are al dente, or longer until they are softer (it's hard to ruin lentils, unless you let them dry out and burn). Check on the pot from time to time, add more water if necessary. Should take about 30-45 minutes for brown lentils, 60 or so for black lentils (they're firmer, have a little more fiber than brown lentils. Red lentils cook the fastest, by the way, since they have the least fiber and can make nice mushy dal).
You can dice up potato and saute with the mirepoix. And bacon. Canned tomatoes make a nice thick base. Add other herbs along with the bay leaf. Any vegetables such as squash or peas can be added either along with the lentils or halfway through the cooking, depending on how soft you want them. Add spinach at any time, especially toward the end of cooking. Play with curry flavors, or an Ethiopian spice blend.
I love all these variations, but more than anything I love the most basic one--lentils, onions, celery, carrots, and bay leaf. It's so easy, so nourishing, and such an anchor to my childhood.
*Mirepoix: the French term for the aromatic foundation of any savory dish: equal parts chopped onion, celery, and carrot.
I've known for a while that beef contributes more to global warming than cars do, but I was amazed to see the numbers spelled out on paper.
The bottom line is, eat more lentils.
Not only are lentils delicious, nutritious, and easy, but they have the smallest carbon footprint of all the foods the researchers studied--1/60th that of beef. There is no downside to this food!
Indians love red lentils in thick flavorful Masoor dal. Lebanese cooks favor the brown or green lentils in some of the yummiest Middle Eastern cooking I've ever encountered.
I love a good brown lentil because that's what I grew up on, but the back Beluga is equally my favorite, for its hearty flavor and firm shape. When Trader Joe's quit carrying them, I searched the internet and now have 10 lb sacks delivered right to my door.
There are many gourmet ways to have fun with lentils, but first let's honor their humblest and most satisfying form:
Lentil Stew.
Two basic elements--mirepoix* and lentils. That's it. Whatever else you add is icing on the cake. I don't even remember the first time I made lentils because I was so young. That's how easy this is.
In a heavy-bottomed pot, saute the mirepoix in a little olive oil. Add water or chicken stock, lentils, and a bay leaf. Cover, bring to a boil, turn flame down to lowest level, and cook until lentils are al dente, or longer until they are softer (it's hard to ruin lentils, unless you let them dry out and burn). Check on the pot from time to time, add more water if necessary. Should take about 30-45 minutes for brown lentils, 60 or so for black lentils (they're firmer, have a little more fiber than brown lentils. Red lentils cook the fastest, by the way, since they have the least fiber and can make nice mushy dal).
You can dice up potato and saute with the mirepoix. And bacon. Canned tomatoes make a nice thick base. Add other herbs along with the bay leaf. Any vegetables such as squash or peas can be added either along with the lentils or halfway through the cooking, depending on how soft you want them. Add spinach at any time, especially toward the end of cooking. Play with curry flavors, or an Ethiopian spice blend.
I love all these variations, but more than anything I love the most basic one--lentils, onions, celery, carrots, and bay leaf. It's so easy, so nourishing, and such an anchor to my childhood.
*Mirepoix: the French term for the aromatic foundation of any savory dish: equal parts chopped onion, celery, and carrot.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
So, here's the thing about lavender...
On the agenda for today was a lot more work on that bathroom project, so of course when my friend Kathleen posted a question about quiche on my facebook page, I had to spend a fair amount of time pondering and researching the topic. Installing that vanity cabinet could wait!!
Anyway, the time spent exploring the concept of eggs and cheese and herbs brought back to my mind yesterday's topic of lavender. It's such a lovely herb--spicy, floral, and so pleasing to the eye. One of my basic cookbooks offers a great quick-bread recipe with a few variations like apricot/hazelnut or chile-cheese. It's the recipe that started me incorporating lavender into my cooking, when I wanted to make it with herbs, but wasn't in the mood for the oregano the recipe called for. Looking out my kitchen window, I saw all these sprays of lavender. I've refined the recipe since then, and here's what it is at this point:
Lavender Bread
Heat oven to 350. Butter or spray 1 large or 5 small loaf pans.
3 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tbl baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp soda
Several tsps lavender (fresh buds and minced leaves, or dried lavender)
1 beaten egg
1 2/3 cup milk (I use nonfat)
1/4 cup oil
1 cup shredded cheese (sharp cheddar, or swiss/gruyere)
Zest of about 1/2 lemon
Combine dry ingredients. Whisk together wet ingredients and add to dry. Stir until just combined, adding cheese and lemon zest toward the end of ingredients coming together.
Pour into loaf pan(s). Push the batter into the corners of the pan, making a slight dent in the center of the pan (so that it doesn’t rise too high in just the center of the loaf). Bake at 30-35 minutes for small loaves, 1 hour for large loaf, until lightly golden. Let cool a little, then turn out onto rack. Once the bread is completely cool, wrap and store in fridge for a couple of days, or put into freezer bags and store in freezer for up to 2 weeks. This bread tastes good right away, but the lavender flavor will develop further over the next few hours. Make in the early afternoon to eat in the evening.
If you have fresh lavender, you can lightly press a flower head or two into the surface of the batter—it just makes a nice decoration.
Serve plain, or with butter and/or honey (I like to mix a little lemon zest into the butter—let it sit for a few hours to develop flavor).
Now, after my conversations with Kathleen this afternoon, I'd like to try a lavender quiche. It just seems like quiche would be the perfect vehicle, especially since you have that whole surface to feature lovely sprigs of lavender. I think at first I'd keep it simple--just Gruyere cheese, the egg mixture, and a lot of fresh lavender. Maybe some lemon juice and zest in the eggs. And I'd substitute Greek yogurt for about 1/2 the milk. Lavender and yogurt complement each other so well.
Even though I indulged in a fair amount of quiche research, I did manage to get quite a bit done on my bathroom project. I think it may be time for another lavender gin & tonic. Two days in a row is a huge departure from my normal drinking routine, but it isn't every weekend that I install flooring on one day, and then a toilet and vanity cabinet on the next. Time to do a little more lavender research, fine-tune that cocktail.
Anyway, the time spent exploring the concept of eggs and cheese and herbs brought back to my mind yesterday's topic of lavender. It's such a lovely herb--spicy, floral, and so pleasing to the eye. One of my basic cookbooks offers a great quick-bread recipe with a few variations like apricot/hazelnut or chile-cheese. It's the recipe that started me incorporating lavender into my cooking, when I wanted to make it with herbs, but wasn't in the mood for the oregano the recipe called for. Looking out my kitchen window, I saw all these sprays of lavender. I've refined the recipe since then, and here's what it is at this point:
Lavender Bread
Heat oven to 350. Butter or spray 1 large or 5 small loaf pans.
3 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tbl baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp soda
Several tsps lavender (fresh buds and minced leaves, or dried lavender)
1 beaten egg
1 2/3 cup milk (I use nonfat)
1/4 cup oil
1 cup shredded cheese (sharp cheddar, or swiss/gruyere)
Zest of about 1/2 lemon
Combine dry ingredients. Whisk together wet ingredients and add to dry. Stir until just combined, adding cheese and lemon zest toward the end of ingredients coming together.
Pour into loaf pan(s). Push the batter into the corners of the pan, making a slight dent in the center of the pan (so that it doesn’t rise too high in just the center of the loaf). Bake at 30-35 minutes for small loaves, 1 hour for large loaf, until lightly golden. Let cool a little, then turn out onto rack. Once the bread is completely cool, wrap and store in fridge for a couple of days, or put into freezer bags and store in freezer for up to 2 weeks. This bread tastes good right away, but the lavender flavor will develop further over the next few hours. Make in the early afternoon to eat in the evening.
If you have fresh lavender, you can lightly press a flower head or two into the surface of the batter—it just makes a nice decoration.
Serve plain, or with butter and/or honey (I like to mix a little lemon zest into the butter—let it sit for a few hours to develop flavor).
Now, after my conversations with Kathleen this afternoon, I'd like to try a lavender quiche. It just seems like quiche would be the perfect vehicle, especially since you have that whole surface to feature lovely sprigs of lavender. I think at first I'd keep it simple--just Gruyere cheese, the egg mixture, and a lot of fresh lavender. Maybe some lemon juice and zest in the eggs. And I'd substitute Greek yogurt for about 1/2 the milk. Lavender and yogurt complement each other so well.
Even though I indulged in a fair amount of quiche research, I did manage to get quite a bit done on my bathroom project. I think it may be time for another lavender gin & tonic. Two days in a row is a huge departure from my normal drinking routine, but it isn't every weekend that I install flooring on one day, and then a toilet and vanity cabinet on the next. Time to do a little more lavender research, fine-tune that cocktail.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Lovely Lavender
Last spring my friend Maryanne and I went to the lavender festival at Highland Springs Resort in Beaumont. We wandered through lavender fields, browsed lavender crafts, and feasted on lavender-laced cuisine, including kabobs with lavender yogurt sauce, and la piece de resistance--lavender ice cream. Along with lavender sachet wands and a lavender massage candle, I picked up a bottle of lavender syrup. It wasn't cheap, so I tucked it away until I had a worthy occasion.
Finally getting the VCT tile floor installed in my bathroom turned out to be such the occasion. Who'd a thunk? When I was done and cleaned up, late in the evening, I decided it was time to celebrate.
Time for a gin and tonic.
When my friend Jana and I stopped for iced tea at a little bar on our way out of Palm Springs one scorching summer afternoon, we fell into conversation with the bartender about all his infused vodkas we saw lined up against the mirrored wall. He had blood orange, basil and cucumber, jalapeno, lime, and fig. He gave me little tastes of each one, and for a finisher, he reached into the last jar and pulled out a vodka-soaked fig. Oh, heaven in a tumescent little fruit. However, what I most gained from that afternoon's conversation was his introduction to Hendrick's gin ("Here, taste this, it's my favorite").
So now I have a bottle of Hendrick's stashed up in my cupboard and every few months I pull it down, dig out the cocktail shaker, and make myself a gin and tonic. As I was pouring the ingredients into the shaker, I thought of that little bottle of lavender loveliness stashed in my pantry. I added a splash of the syrup, and ended up with the most amazing drink I've ever had. I'm not even sure yet what to call it, so I may have to return and edit that in when I come up with a name. The sweet and spicy herbal notes of the lavender complement the juniper essence of the gin so perfectly.
Here's the recipe:
Lavender gin & tonic to be named later
Over ice in a shaker, pour the following:
1 shot Hendrick's gin
2 shots tonic water
1 splash lavender syrup
Shake well and pour into a martini glass. The drink evokes late-summer Mediterranean fields, so as an aperitif, I would recommend crackers with goat cheese and olive accompaniments. As a late-night celebratory indulgence, I'd recommend a little sea-salt encrusted dark chocolate and a side of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon on the DVR.
Finally getting the VCT tile floor installed in my bathroom turned out to be such the occasion. Who'd a thunk? When I was done and cleaned up, late in the evening, I decided it was time to celebrate.
Time for a gin and tonic.
When my friend Jana and I stopped for iced tea at a little bar on our way out of Palm Springs one scorching summer afternoon, we fell into conversation with the bartender about all his infused vodkas we saw lined up against the mirrored wall. He had blood orange, basil and cucumber, jalapeno, lime, and fig. He gave me little tastes of each one, and for a finisher, he reached into the last jar and pulled out a vodka-soaked fig. Oh, heaven in a tumescent little fruit. However, what I most gained from that afternoon's conversation was his introduction to Hendrick's gin ("Here, taste this, it's my favorite").
So now I have a bottle of Hendrick's stashed up in my cupboard and every few months I pull it down, dig out the cocktail shaker, and make myself a gin and tonic. As I was pouring the ingredients into the shaker, I thought of that little bottle of lavender loveliness stashed in my pantry. I added a splash of the syrup, and ended up with the most amazing drink I've ever had. I'm not even sure yet what to call it, so I may have to return and edit that in when I come up with a name. The sweet and spicy herbal notes of the lavender complement the juniper essence of the gin so perfectly.
Here's the recipe:
Lavender gin & tonic to be named later
Over ice in a shaker, pour the following:
1 shot Hendrick's gin
2 shots tonic water
1 splash lavender syrup
Shake well and pour into a martini glass. The drink evokes late-summer Mediterranean fields, so as an aperitif, I would recommend crackers with goat cheese and olive accompaniments. As a late-night celebratory indulgence, I'd recommend a little sea-salt encrusted dark chocolate and a side of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon on the DVR.
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