ingredient spotlight: freekeh

Things are crazy lately and I haven’t been able to post full-on recipes as regularly as I would like, so I had the idea to do some shorter posts focusing on single ingredients that you may or may not be familiar with.  First up: freekeh- also spelled farik, frik, freka, and probably a handful of other ways depending on who you ask.  The reason this ingredient doesn’t have an established anglicized spelling is because it is fairly uncommon in the U.S. (although a pre-cooked version has recently made an appearance on the shelves at Trader Joe’s).

So what exactly is freekeh? According to May S. Bsisu in her book The Arab Table, it is “…the roasted grains of green wheat stalks.  There are two types: whole green kernels and shelled kernels.  Whole green freka can be purchased in Middle Eastern stores… As with bulgur, freka should be soaked in cold water for 10 minutes before cooking…”  The Wikipedia entry on freekeh gives more detailed information as to how it’s produced. (Personally though, I love the succinct description on the package I bought: “Roasted Baby Wheat”- sounds a bit diabolical!)  The freekeh I purchased was the cracked or “shelled” variety, and it cooked up very quickly.  I think if you were using whole freekeh it would take 2-3 x as long.

Roasting gives freekeh a delightfully smoky flavor, which makes it really stand out in comparison to its cousin, bulghur.  If you enjoy smoked foods, you’ll really like freekeh- its scent reminds me of campfires and fall.  You can use it in soup, or cook it on its own as a side dish.  According to Bsisu, the finished texture should have a slight crunch or “pop” to it, like when you bite into sweet corn.  As you can see in the photo below, since it is not fully mature, freekeh has a slight greenish tint to it.

I first heard about this grain a few months ago from Warda of 64 Sq Ft Kitchen.  It’s a pretty obscure item, at least around here- I’ve shopped at several grocery stores specializing in Mid-East foods and had never seen or heard of it.  I finally came across some when the band took a trip out to Grand Rapids and we stopped to get sandwiches in a small Middle Eastern deli/grocery (The Pita House).  Once I found the freekeh, though, I still had trouble finding recipes- I looked in several Middle Eastern cookbooks and found only two or three mentions.*  I’m guessing this is because it’s more common in Palestine, Jordan and Syria, whereas many Middle Eastern cookbooks published for Westerners tend to focus on foods from Lebanon, Turkey, or Morocco.  I did find a recipe for Beef & Freekeh Soup (Shorbat Freka) in The Arab Table, which I will post about very soon!

*Note: I have since come across this website, which offers off-the-beaten-track recipes such as “Freekeh Yogurt and Zucchini Loaf” and “Crisp Freekeh Crab Cakes with Aioli”.  If anyone is brave, you can try them and let me know how they turn out.

cheese class at dancing goat creamery

Anyone who knows me is aware that I love to try new recipes and have a very curious mind when it comes to anything food-related.  Lately my curiosity has prompted me to go beyond the kitchen proper and to explore things like charcuterie and cheesemaking.  I decided that reading about it wasn’t enough; I wanted to take a cheesemaking class to really see what it was all about.  Not much was being offered in my area, but I did find a class on the west side of the state near Grand Rapids, at DogWood Farms.  A bit of a drive, but luckily Marvin was into coming with me and making a weekend out of it, so on a rainy late October Friday, we got in the car and headed west.

The class was scheduled for Saturday at 8:00 AM.  Marvin and I are not what you would call “morning people”, but we groggily dragged ourselves out of bed at 6:45 and suffered through some terrible hotel coffee, then got in the car for a drizzly half-hour drive in the dim early-morning light.  I had no idea what to expect as we drove towards the farm.  The website didn’t offer much clue as to the size and scope of cheesemaker Barb Jenness’s operation, and having never visited a dairy or creamery, our minds were a blank slate.

Leaving the freeway far behind, we wound our way down country roads towards the farm.  After a bit of a Mapquest snafu, we pulled up the drive and were greeted by Barb’s husband Jim, who informed us that Barb had gone to get some cow’s milk from a farm up the road for the day’s cheesemaking.  Barb has a herd of Alpine goats and primarily makes chèvre, but it was too late in the season and the goats were in their drying-off period.

Barb showed up shortly after, and sat down with us for a few minutes to chat.  She was very hospitable and had a sampling of cheeses out for us, as well as thick slices of a delicious banana-coconut bread, a welcome sight after the nasty factory muffins on offer at the hotel buffet.  We talked to her about why we were there, what we hoped to get out of the class, and discussed the little we did know about cheesemaking.  It turned out that we were the only two students that day, which was perfect as it gave us the opportunity to ask any and all questions that came to mind, and gave Marvin the chance to take lots of photos!

Barb’s creamery turned out to be about as tiny as they come, but it was perfect for learning, and for getting an idea of what’s possible on a small scale.  Barb had converted a room that was once her laundry room (probably no more than 40-50 square feet) into her cheesemaking room; another space that was little more than a hallway accommodated her packaging area and her “aging cave” (a couple of wine refrigerators rigged to the proper temperature and humidity).  Even with just three of us in the cheese room, it was a little tight, and I was glad we were the only students that day.

Given that the goat’s milk was done for the season, we made two cow’s milk cheeses.  One was a fresh cheese that Barb called cream cheese, but which bore very little resemblance to the gummy cream cheese in square foil packages.   It tasted like the cow equivalent of a chèvre- a mild, creamy, moist and somewhat crumbly cheese with a bit of tanginess to it.  She had milk/curd in a couple of the stages of production, and working backwards, showed us the process from the finished cheese to the curd to the milk she had started with.  We were able to participate by ladling the curd into molds to drain.  It had the same texture as yogurt, when you spoon into it and it releases liquid.

The other cheese we made was a Tomme-style cheese.  This one, an aged washed-rind cheese, had a few more steps and involved pasteurizing the milk, cutting the curd, and forming it into blocks.  She showed us some bricks of the cheese being aged and it had a ruddy rind that was the result of a paprika and olive oil wash.

Cheesemaking involves a lot of what Barb termed “hurry up and wait” time, where you’re waiting for curd to set, whey to drain, etc.  During these “breaks” she would sit us down at her dining room table and go over slides she’d prepared on different aspects of cheese and cheesemaking.  Barb was a great teacher and very well-prepared.  She had a packet for us to take home that included all of the information given in the class, as well as some recipes, a list of books and websites where cheesemaking supplies could be ordered.  She was extremely encouraging and kept asking us if we planned to open a creamery.  I certainly have thought about it, although I think Barb has a big advantage not having to own or lease a secondary property for her facility.  I’m not sure that would work with my tiny little Ferndale house!

After we were done with the day’s cheese-related activities, we headed out to the barn for a visit with the goats and chickens.  After hanging back a bit watching Marvin in the pen photographing Barb, Jim and the goats, I decided to take the plunge.  A few goats escaped, but were quickly rounded up by Alice, the resident canine goat-herd.  It was hilarious to watch this little dog corral goats twice her size, nipping and barking until they ran back into the pen.  Barb looked amused to see us city folk interacting with the livestock, and had a twinkle in her eye as she asked us whether we thought we could have goats of our own.  As much as I thought the goats were pretty cool, I doubt this city girl could get the hang of milking and breeding livestock.  But Barb assured us that it was perfectly “OK” to just have a creamery and leave the animal-tending to someone else. Phew!

We left the farm with a few of the fresh cheeses as well as some goat’s milk soap I bought from Barb- she’s been in the soapmaking business since before she got into cheese three years ago.  Barb urged us to keep in touch about our cheesemaking adventures, and told us to feel free to contact her if we had questions or issues.  I was pleasantly surprised at how encouraging she was about starting a cheesemaking business- she went out of her way to tell us about her experiences getting started, how to avoid certain pitfalls, etc.  She didn’t get into details about how much she is grossing, but she did tell us how much her cheese sells for (retail and wholesale) and that she easily sells out of everything she produces.  She gave me the impression that, while it may not be a way to get rich, you could definitely support yourself.

I plan to try my hand at a few different cheeses at home as soon as I get a chance to order some supplies and figure out a good milk source.  I’ll be sure to post about my successes and failures here as I go!

All photographs (except chicken) courtesy of Marvin Shaouni Photography

ceci n’est pas un macaron* (daring bakers)

*French for “Giant Macaron Fail!” But I figured the least I could do was pretty them up with a nice seasonal photograph.

I was so excited about this month’s challenge, really I was.  I’ve been enviously eyeing the beautiful photos of macarons all over people’s blogs for the last little while now, but not having much of a sweet tooth, I needed the Daring Bakers gauntlet to be thrown down to give me the push I needed.  I was a little apprehensive after doing a lot of reading about how difficult and temperamental they can be. But I thought that at the worst, mine might turn out a little flat, or a little browned, but otherwise reasonably resembling a macaron.

Macarons are known for their exotic flavors.  I knew the DB’ers would bring it and that I’d have to be fairly creative to stand out in the crowd.  I rummaged through my cupboards and came up with three flavor ideas: Malted Milk Ball, Ginger Green Tea, and Chai Pumpkin Spice.  Sounds good, right?  The Malted Milk Ball macarons were flavored with cocoa powder and malted milk powder and were going to be filled with a malted milk ganache.  The other two were flavored with powdered dry tea, as per a suggestion from one of the folks in the DB forums.  The Ginger Green Tea flavor was going to be filled with mascarpone with little bits of crystallized ginger, and the Chai Pumpkin Spice was going to be filled with cream cheese blended with pumpkin butter (this combo is really good on an English muffin, BTW.)

Why “going to be filled”, you ask?  Well, all three of my batches of macarons were complete and utter failures.  None of them even came CLOSE to resembling the beautiful macarons on my computer screen. (Did I mention I made THREE batches?  I’m nothing if not persistent! But apparently I had some subconscious need to make good on my “I am not a baker” statement from last month.)  I think I just don’t have that attention to precision and detail (or obsessiveness?) that one needs to attempt a recipe like this. My macarons were all pathetic, flat, dense little creatures, none of them rose or developed “feet”, nor did any of them have that characteristically shiny shell.  Duncan of Syrup & Tang did a 5-part series on the macaron, which I read diligently (twice!), but it did not unlock any secrets as to why I failed (other than mentioning that the type of recipe chosen by DB had a 50% failure rate).  I have made flourless cake and soufflés before, so I’m familiar with the “folding” technique. I know one batch was definitely overmixed, but with the others I really made an effort to thoroughly combine it without going overboard. (I have to say, though, as I was mixing, I couldn’t help thinking that I didn’t understand how 5 egg whites could possibly hold 2 cups of almond flour & 2 1/4 cups of sugar without collapsing… that’s almost a full pound of solids!)  I thought my last batch (the chocolate ones) actually stood a chance; the batter looked similar to Duncan’s photo of correctly mixed batter and seemed to have the same properties.  But alas, they were just as flat as the rest, if not more so.

I really wish I could have had time to try again and get it right, but I just don’t have the resources (time OR money- that almond meal was $10 a bag!).  I don’t think I’ll ever attempt to make macarons again unless I can get a tutor to come to my house.  Any volunteers?

The 2009 October Daring Bakers’ challenge was brought to us by Ami S.  She chose macarons from Claudia Fleming’s The Last Course: The Desserts of Gramercy Tavern as the challenge recipe.

P.S. I gave the ginger-green tea flavor a second life as a batch of cupcakes.  I don’t even love cupcakes but I felt I had to redeem myself after the total failure of the macarons!  I took a standard yellow cake recipe, added two teabags of Tazo Ginger Green Tea that had been ground to powder in a coffee mill, and topped them with a lightly sweetened whipped cream/ mascarpone and chopped candied ginger.  I don’t have much of a sweet tooth so these were perfect for my taste- an ever-so-slight bitter edge from the tea and a warm kick from the ginger.

summer’s last hurrah: roasted vegetable ratatouille

All of my food friends have been all atwitter the last couple weeks about pumpkins, apples and other fruits of fall, but I’ve been having a harder time letting go of summer flavors.  It occurred to me a couple weeks ago that the whole summer had gone by and I hadn’t made any ratatouille- how did that happen?!  Luckily the folks at the farmers’ market still had tomatoes, peppers and eggplant [NB: this was 2 weeks ago, on Oct. 3]- I just had to go to the store for squash, but happily it was locally grown too.

I realize this recipe isn’t very timely*, but it takes me a while to get a blog post up these days.   I bought the vegetables and didn’t get to make the ratatouille until the following weekend.  (That’s one of the perks of the farmers’ market though- it’s so fresh that even if it sits around for a week, it’s still probably fresher than what’s at the store.) Tack another week on there to edit photos and write up a post and before you know it, it’s already mid-October! I’m trying to be Zenlike about the fact that I have almost no free time these days, and just make sure to fully take advantage of any little scrap that I do have, but it’s hard not to be a little bummed out.  For example, I really wanted to make the pho recipe for this month’s Daring Cooks, and the date rushed up on me before I could plan it out.  (Sadly, all of my cooking has to be planned with near-military precision these days, or it just can’t fit in…)

But on to our ratatouille!  I’ve made ratatouille lots of times and had pretty good results, but this time I was after something specific: I wanted the vegetables to have that melting quality, but to keep their shape and flavor rather than be cooked down into an indistinguishable mush.  The solution?  Roasting.  Not only does roasting help them retain their “integrity”, but you get the additional element of caramelization that you wouldn’t get from cooking them all together on the stove.  Plus, you remove moisture and concentrate the flavor.  My guinea pigs, aka Marvin & Amanda, said they could definitely taste the difference.  I think this one’s a keeper!  I served it with creamy polenta with Parmigiano and some kale that I’d sautéed with olive oil, garlic and pepper flakes.  Along with a green salad, some bread and cheeses, and a couple bottles of red, it was the perfect goodbye-to-summer vegetarian feast.

*I know this is borderline heretical, but if you’re in need of a summer food fix in the middle of winter, all of the ingredients for this can be found year-round at the grocery store, and I am hard-pressed to tell the difference between squash & eggplant from a greenhouse or from a garden once they’re cooked.  The tomatoes won’t be quite as good, but Romas are fairly dependable, and roasting definitely goes a long way towards improving them.  Or you could always substitute a can of good-quality San Marzanos.

Roasted Vegetable Ratatouille
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This is a very loose ”recipe” because ultimately I think this is a dish that has a lot of flexibility, and however you prepare it, it’s unlikely to be bad as long as you have good ingredients.  But here’s what I used and how I  went about it; use it as a guideline and go for it!

2 pints Roma tomatoes
3 bell peppers- red, yellow or orange
2 zucchini
2 yellow summer squash
1 eggplant
2-3 onions
3-4 cloves garlic
fresh herbs- I grabbed some marjoram, thyme, and a little rosemary from my garden, although basil is good too
sea salt
olive oil

Wash and pat dry the peppers, and place them in the broiler, turning occasionally and checking on them often, until they’re blackened on all sides.  Place in a paper grocery bag and roll the top shut; set aside.  Reduce oven to 300°.

While the peppers are roasting, cut the squash and eggplant into large-ish chunks (see photos; they’ll shrink a bit as they roast).  Generously salt the eggplant and place in a strainer while you prep everything else.  Cut the tomatoes in half lengthwise and remove the little stemmy bit; put cut side up on a baking sheet.  Sprinkle with a little salt and brush or drizzle with olive oil.  Cut the onions- I like to do wedge-shaped slices rather than rings.  Mince any herbs you’ll be using.

Place the squash & zucchini in a large bowl, salt lightly, and drizzle with olive oil.  Shake the bowl around so the oil gets distributed all over, then dump it onto a baking sheet.  Put the eggplant on some paper towel and press lightly to remove excess moisture and salt, then toss with olive oil, putting it on a separate baking sheet.  Place all three baking sheets in the oven.

When the peppers are cool enough to handle, remove the skins, stems and seeds, and cut into approx 1″ squares; set aside in a bowl.

In a dutch oven or other large heavy pot, heat a generous amount of olive oil (a few Tbs) over medium heat.  Sauté the onions and garlic until the onions begin to soften.  Add any minced herbs you’re using (except basil- add that at the end) and hold, covered, over low heat.

Check on the vegetables in the oven periodically- they’ll be ready at slightly different times.  I kept the tomatoes in about 10 minutes longer than the squash. Ultimately your cooking time will depend on how big you cut everything.  As the eggplant and squash are ready, add them to the pot with the onions and keep warm over low heat.  Add the peppers and any juices that have collected.  When the tomatoes are ready, let them cool enough to handle, and cut each half into quarters, adding to the pot.  Make sure to scrape any of the juice that collects on the cutting board into the pot as well!

Raise the heat slightly (to medium low) and cook the vegetables just until the flavors combine- remember, we’re going for distinguishable pieces rather than stew.  Taste for salt (although you shouldn’t need any, since the vegetables were already salted).  If you’re using basil, cut it into a chiffonade and stir it in at the end.  Serve with polenta or couscous for a vegetarian meal, or as a side dish to roasted chicken or lamb.  Leftovers can be used as filling for an omelette or put it in a baguette with some goat cheese… lots of possibilities with this one!

an open letter to christopher kimball

Christopher Kimball is the publisher of Cook’s Illustrated magazine.  He recently wrote an op-ed piece in the New York Times which suggested that the demise of Gourmet magazine was related to the groundswell of (inferior) content on the internet.  He also just threw down a challenge on his blog that proposes pitting a recipe developed in the test kitchen to a recipe developed “Wiki-style”, with lots of contributors.  The following is my reaction and response to his comments and to the debate of what I’ll call ”experience vs. access”.

Dear Mr. Kimball,

As you may know, many food bloggers and other users of the internet are indignant about your recent article on the demise of Gourmet, because of remarks you made suggesting that the general public on the web (bloggers et al.) is unqualified to be acting as any kind of “authority” on cooking or recipe publication. 

Although I am an amateur food blogger, you may be surprised to hear that I agree with you up to a point.  Certain things are better than others because people have taken time or had training to get them right.  I personally do not often search randomly on the internet for a recipe; I prefer, if at all possible, to get my recipes from cookbooks or sources with whose authors I’m familiar, to ensure a degree of success.

I also take issue with bloggers who assume a position of “instructor” when it is not warranted.  I recently read an online article on how to be a better food writer.  When I looked at the author’s own blog, the writing was completely banal, with sentences such as “The [food items] were very good”.  (Incidentally, this person was one of the folks expressing their outrage about your article… oh, the irony!) This is certainly one of the drawbacks of the free-for-all that is the internet.  On the flip side of that coin, though, the internet gives access to others’ experience that can be extremely useful.  When I wanted to make chicken sausage this summer, for example, I did a web search and came across a blog called Saucisson Mac.  I found a recipe as well as a lot of helpful information, and got a great result.  The author is not a professional charcutier, just someone who’s made lots of sausage at home and knows the ropes.

Your remarks also fail to acknowledge that many food blogs, perhaps even the majority, are written for a different reason other than to give instruction.  The primary focus of my blog, like many food blogs I read, is meant to share and chronicle my personal experiences in the kitchen.  I do know a bit more than the average person, not through formal training but through lots of cooking and reading cookbooks and recipes, so I do include “tips” when applicable (some learned from the pages of Cook’s Illustrated!).  But I don’t claim to be an expert on cooking techniques, and my posts make it very clear (I hope!) that “this is the way I prefer to do it, but it’s not the only way”. 

Another problem with your focus on professional expertise is that it implies that a home cook can’t spontaneously (i.e. without a tested recipe) create something fantastic.  I think people with training/ experience like to think they will always create a superior result, because it validates the time and hard work they’ve put into something.  But I’ve made lots of wonderful dishes just riffing on a recipe, or with no recipe at all.  It’s elitist to suggest one needs specialized training (or to follow a recipe to the tee) to produce good food.

Even if one does choose to follow recipes from prominent chefs and experts, the results are far from guaranteed.  A great illustration of this point is a blog written by Luisa Weiss, aka The Wednesday Chef.  Luisa cooks recipes culled from the New York Times and the L.A. Times, and blogs about the results.   In a recent post, she describes a disastrous coconut barley dish that was all but inedible.  This was a recipe written by a “professional”, printed in a major newspaper!  And yet, that was no guarantee of success; far from it.  This is what I love about blogs: the interaction; the feedback.  Luisa’s kitchen is a test kitchen in the truest sense, and when readers leave comments about their own experiences with the same dish, it enhances the content even further.  Lastly, I defy you to read Luisa’s latest post (about Gourmet, coincidentally) and tell me the internet lacks its share of ”thoughtful, considered editorial”.

Ultimately, I wish the curmudgeons and the upstarts could all just get along.  I feel that there’s room for everyone, and that people will ultimately seek out the type of content that is most useful or meaningful to them.  I’m tired of the sniping from both sides of the debate.  Can’t we just stop brandishing our rolling pins and get back to what we all love- making and eating good food?

Respectfully,

Noelle Lothamer

book review: “cod: a biography of the fish that changed the world” by mark kurlansky

On the surface, Cod is a history book: the history of a particular food source, the evolution of its harvest, and the tangential events that resulted from cod being such a large driving economic force.  But in a sense, the story of cod is really the larger story of humankind’s constant attempts to assert their dominion over nature.  As such, while reading about cod’s particular story was new to me, the narrative was as old and familiar as a children’s fairytale, albeit with a much more grim conclusion.

Kurlansky starts his fish tale with a vignette of some modern-day fishermen in Petty Harbor, Newfoundland, to give a feel for the current situation (dire, to say the least).  He then goes in more or less chronological order from the 10th century, circling back to the fishermen of Petty Harbor  towards the end of the book.  In between, he discusses the Basques, the Vikings, the slave trade, the American Revolution and both world wars, and many other countries and cultural groups who had their hands in the cod nets.

The book was disappointingly dry for my taste- I had expected more, since it was so highly rated (even winning a James Beard award for best single-subject cookbook).  Even though the book is short, it took me a while to get through it.  I was most compelled by the last few chapters, which described the current state of the cod stocks and fishing economies.  However, it was difficult to read without feeling powerless and frustrated at the lack of foresight and the utter disregard on the part of governments, politicians, and the fishermen themselves.  It’s the same old story, whether it be old growth forests, natural gas, or any other consumption of a natural resource- politicians don’t want to make themselves unpopular by placing limits on access and thereby stifling local economies, and workers in these fields are reluctant to give up their livelihoods even when they can see the writing on the wall.

My favorite parts of the book by far were the interludes between chapters and the section at the end of the book describing salt cod recipes from years, decades, and even centuries past.  To me, it was fascinating to read about preparations from hundreds of years ago and to try to envision what such dishes would taste like.  I’m actually tempted to try to make one of the really old recipes to see how it turns out, but the differences in language are fairly pronounced.  Although I can understand the words themselves, the directives for preparing the food seem completely opaque.  Still, I get a kick out of reading them and trying to envision their result.

Although I had a little bit of a difficult time making it through this book, I’m glad I read it.  It was definitely depressing in the sense that it ended on a pessimistic note, with world fish stocks in crisis, but I suppose that’s the fault of human history rather than the fault of the author.  If you’re interested in knowing what species are currently the most overfished, here’s a list.  The Greenpeace website also has a lot of good information about marine life and the problem of overfishing.

NB: Originally this post was supposed to be a “Book Club” post, but apparently I was the only one who read the book.  However, if you’re interested in checking out the discussion questions I came up with, go here.

vols-au-vent with custard & raspberries, or “i am not a baker!” (daring bakers)

I had a conversation last night that went something like this:

My friend S to me: “Hey, you like to cook, you should join our Cooking Club, we get together every Sunday night and make food and watch Mad Men, it’s really fun!”

S to her friend A, also a member of said club: “Noëlle’s a great cook, she makes all kinds of stuff…”

A to me (apparently trying to suss out whether I was Cooking Club material): “Oh really?  What kind of stuff do you cook?”

Me (with a touch of pride): “Well, I just made puff pastry for the first time…”

Him (interrupts): “Oh, so you’re a baker.”

Me: “No, I mean, I participate in this baking-challenge thingy to try to broaden my skills or whatever, but mostly I cook…”

Him: “No, but you’re a baker.”

Here’s where it got weird, because I then found myself getting strangely defensive, insisting that no, I’m not a baker, I don’t even really like sweets that much, I was probably going to use my remaining puff pastry to make some sort of savory tart, and that 80-90% of the time I spend in the kitchen is spent cooking, not baking.  I really have no idea why it was important to him to stress that I was a “baker” rather than a cook, or why it was important to me to correct that impression, but so it was.

My challenge results this month will back up my point.  I didn’t have too hard a time making the actual puff pastry dough, but shaping it into the vols-au-vent was an exercise in frustration.  I first made a batch that were supposed to be heart-shaped, which I was planning on taking to a bridal shower, but they were all so misshapen that I didn’t even bother.  The photo is of the best-looking ones of the bunch, and even those look pretty funky.  I put a little spoonful of honey into the hollow and topped them with raspberries and walnuts and they were tasty enough, but I wanted to do something more challenge-worthy, so I decided to attempt another batch.  This time I did square(ish) cutouts and made a pastry cream to fill them with.  I still had a terrible time handling the dough- it seems it can’t be at room temperature for more than a minute or two, and then you have to return it to the fridge lest it go all gooey on you.  It took me longer to cut the dough into shapes and assemble them than it did to to bake it and make the filling, because I had to keep stopping and re-chilling the dough.

My finished shells didn’t look like much- they were irregular and had cracks in the bases- but once I got them filled with pastry cream and threw a bunch of raspberries on top, no one was much complaining. I filled the shells about an hour or two before they were eaten, and the pastry held its crunch nicely without getting soggy, so I was pleased with that.  But I’m still not calling myself a baker.

And now a word of thanks for our hostess: The September 2009 Daring Bakers’ challenge was hosted by Steph of A Whisk and a Spoon. She chose the French treat, Vols-au-Vent based on the Puff Pastry recipe by Michel Richard from the cookbook Baking With Julia by Dorie Greenspan. (Coincidentally, the recipe I used for the pastry cream was also from Dorie Greenspan, from her book Paris Sweets.)

I do want to thank Steph for throwing down the gauntlet and getting me to make something I’ve always wanted to try but have been too intimidated. Now that I know the dough is doable, perhaps I’ll make it again but just use it for preparations that don’t involve so much handling, such as a tart crust.  For a recipe and instructions on making puff pastry, just click the link to Steph’s blog.

tomatomania part III: roasted tomato tarts with cornmeal-rosemary crust

I’m just going to say this: there’s something downright sexy about roasted tomatoes.  I think it’s a combination of their concentrated intensity; their meatiness; their blood-red color; their dripping juices.  Whatever it is, they just feel somehow decadent and lusty.  So does the fact that I bound them into these neat little tarts make me a prude?

Lest you get the wrong impression, I would generally concur that the ideal way to eat roasted tomatoes is warm from the oven, with some good crusty bread and maybe a little cheese alongside.  But if you have some left over, these tarts rank a close second.  If you’ve never had slow-roasted tomatoes, I beg you to try them.  They couldn’t be easier to make, and if you’re really feeling lazy you can even buy them at some fancy grocery stores (sold at the olive bar).  I’m later than I wanted to be in getting this post up, and I know tomato season is quickly coming to a close, but in a pinch you can get decent results using grocery-store Roma tomatoes year round.

However or whenever you get your hands on some roasted tomatoes, this is a wonderful way to showcase them.  I made a cornmeal-rosemary crust, filled it with these gems, poured a simple custard over top and finished it with a little microplaned Grana Padano. Rien de plus simple. Pair with something green (a simple green salad, or some garlicky sautéed spinach) for a light supper, or some crispy bacon and a little fruit salad for brunch.

Have I convinced you yet?  If only a photo could convey aroma, texture, and of course, flavor, we’d be all set.  But while we’re waiting for Apple to pioneer the iSmell, you’ll just have to take my word that these little tarts are one of the best things to come out of my kitchen in a long time.

Little Roasted Tomato Tarts with Cornmeal-Rosemary Crust
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You can, of course, make one large tart, but for some reason I was compelled to put these in individual tart pans.  Yes, there is a “cute factor”, but also I wanted to be able to bake a couple at a time so as not to have soggy leftovers.

1/2 recipe Cornmeal-Rosemary crust (recipe follows)
about 1 1/2-2 cups roasted Roma tomatoes (recipe follows)
herbes de Provence or other herbs of your choice, if tomatoes are plain
3-4 eggs (see notes)
3/8-1/2 cup light cream (see notes)
salt & freshly gound black pepper
Grana Padano or Parmesan for grating

6 small (5-inch)tart pans or 1 10-inch tart pan

Notes: I am using the custard ratio from the book Once Upon a Tart- 1 egg to 1/8 cup cream- so if you don’t have enough, you can make more based on this formula.  The book calls for light cream, which I approximate by cutting heavy cream with a little milk.  If you make your tart in a single tart pan, or if you don’t pack the tomatoes in, you may find you need a little extra.  If your tomatoes have been kept in oil, blot them well with paper towel so you don’t end up with a greasy tart.

Directions:  Preheat the oven to 400º.  Roll out your dough and press it into the tart pan(s), putting them in the fridge as you go.  Let rest in the refrigerator for 20-30 minutes.   Prick the crust with a fork.  Set the tart shells on a cookie sheet, line them with foil and dried beans or pie weights and bake for 10 minutes.  Remove the foil and weights and bake until golden brown all over, about 10 more minutes. (If you’re using a single tart shell, you may want to take it out when it’s about 75% cooked.  For the small tarts, they cook pretty quickly, so it’s better to have the crust fully cooked first.)

Reduce the oven temp to 375º.  Fill the tart(s) with the roasted tomatoes, cut side facing up.  If your tomatoes are plain, you can sprinkle a pinch of herbes de Provence or other herbs of your choice over the top.  Whisk together the eggs, milk and cream, adding a couple dashes of salt and pepper.  I like to do this in a Pyrex measuring cup for easy pourability. Drizzle the tarts with the custard mixture, making sure to fill the gaps in between the tomatoes.  The upturned tomato halves will serve as little “cups” that will catch the custard as well.  You’ll want to stop a little shy of the crust’s rim, so your custard doesn’t overflow when baked.   Grate some cheese over the tops.

Place tarts in the oven and bake until puffed and golden, about 15-20 minutes (but peek in on them after 10).  If you’re doing a full-sized tart, it’ll probably take closer to 30 minutes.  When done, place on a cooling rack, removing from the pan as soon as they are cool enough to handle.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

Roasted Roma Tomatoes printer-friendly version

Perhaps you’ll recall that I had mentioned a few weeks ago that I was going to try these?  They didn’t disappoint. All I can say is that if I’d realized that 1 large box (1/2 a bushel,  I think) would shrink down to a mere few cups, I would have bought at least twice as many.  Live and learn, I suppose.  I made three different “flavors”- one with thyme, rosemary and marjoram from my backyard (herbes de Ferndale?), one with coriander (as per Molly’s recipe) and one with smoked paprika.  I put the latter two in some olive oil and into the freezer to enjoy later when the weather turns unfriendly and I need a reminder of the sun on my face (yes, tomatoes can do that).  The tomatoes with the herb mixture went into the aforementioned tarts.

In reading up on the tomato-roasting method, many people recommended a much longer, slower roasting time (10-12 hours as opposed to the 6 suggested by Molly & Luisa).  I decided to try this so I could do it overnight rather than heating up the house during the day.  It would have been fine except my oven didn’t get down to 200º, it was more like 250º, so a few of the tomatoes around the edges of the pan had to be pitched. However, I do think there is something to be said for the slower roast.  Judging by the photos, I think my tomatoes were a bit more concentrated than the 6-hour version; their flavor approached that of a sun-dried tomato but retained a little juiciness.  I would say, start taste-testing them after 6 hours and see what suits you.  If you’re using them in a sauce, you may choose to leave them a little juicier since they would be cooking down further in the sauce.

You’ll need:

Roma tomatoes, the more the better, as they cook down quite a bit, and you can freeze leftovers (you’ll need about one tightly-packed cookie sheet’s worth to make the tarts)
olive oil
sea salt
herb(s) or spice(s) of your choice

Slice the tomatoes in half lengthwise, removing the little stem end, and place on a rimmed cookie sheet.  Brush or lightly drizzle with olive oil.  Using your fingers, sprinkle with a little sea salt and any herbs or seasoning you wish to use.  Remember that the flavors will become very concentrated, so less is better than too much.  Place in a 200º oven for 6-10 hours according to your preferences.  To store, you can keep them in the fridge for a couple weeks covered in olive oil, or freeze until hard on the cookie sheet and then transfer to a sealable freezer bag (this will keep them from clumping together).

Cornmeal-Rosemary Tart Crust (adapted from Once Upon a Tart)
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Makes enough for two 9″ or 10″ tart shells.  Half a recipe will make 6 individual 4″ tarts.

2 1/2 cups all-purpose, unbleached flour
3 Tbs semolina flour (cornmeal)
1 tsp salt
12 Tbs (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4″ cubes (I stick it in the freezer for a few minutes after I cut it up)
3 Tbs cold solid vegetable shortening
1 Tbs chopped fresh rosemary
glass of ice water

When I made my last batch of this, I didn’t have any shortening on hand so I used all butter, to no ill effect.

Directions: Place the flour, cornmeal and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine.  Add the butter and shortening and pulse the processor in brief bursts until the mixture is sandy and there are no more visible chunks of butter.  DO NOT overprocess or your crust will be tough!

Dump the crumbly mixture into a bowl and stir in the chopped rosemary.  Sprinkle with ice water, one Tbs. at a time,  coaxing the dough with a wooden spoon until it begins to come together.  You want to add just enough water to allow this to happen; you don’t want it to be so wet that it becomes sticky or has white spots. If you’re not sure, go slow.

When the dough starts to come together, use your hands to gather it up and form it into two balls, taking care not to over-handle it.  Wrap each half in plastic and flatten them into disks with the palm of your hand.  Refrigerate at least 30 minutes before rolling out.

dosas with curried chickpeas & coconut sauce (daring cooks)

I’m sure most of you have heard of the Daring Bakers, the group of bloggers who bake a selected recipe each month and post about it on a specified day.  The group recently expanded to a new branch, the Daring Cooks.  I think this is the third month of the Daring Cooks and I decided to jump on board.  I don’t know how regular I’ll be able to be, but this recipe appealed to me so I thought I’d give it a go.

The challenge (hosted by Debyi at Healthy Vegan Kitchen) was for dosas, a type of Indian pancake which was unfamiliar to me.  (You can check out my annotated version of the recipe here.)  It’s always interesting to prepare a recipe for which you have no point of reference…  The perfectionist in me has a little bit of a hard time not knowing how something is “supposed to” turn out.

The recipe for the dosas was fairly similar to that of French crêpes, without the egg.  However, some of the South Asians posting in the forums said dosa batter is typically made of soaked, fermented lentils and rice, which sounded great- similar to the bread in Ethiopian restaurants.  Unfortunately I didn’t plan ahead enough to accommodate the 12-hour fermentation period, so I had to make the flour-based recipe.  I chose a combination of whole wheat and buckwheat flours, and added a touch of cider vinegar to try to emulate the sourness of the fermented version.  I have lots of leftover filling and sauce though, so I’m hoping to get a chance to try the more traditional recipe for the dosa pancakes later this week.

Marvin was off eating curry of a different sort (curried goat!) in Jamaica last weekend, so I invited a girlfriend over Sunday night to partake in the dosas with me.  I did have a couple small issues with the recipe instructions, but the overall outcome was good (my guest had a second helping- never a bad sign!).  I was happy to break bread with a friend, try something new, and especially to have leftovers for the week.  Cheers to Debyi for hosting an interesting and delicious challenge!

herbed potato salad with sherry-walnut vinaigrette

I’m not usually the type to make a recipe more than once or twice, even if it’s really great, because there are so many new things to try and I always have a backlog of recipes I want to make.  It’s kind of like reading the same book twice…  I’ve done it before, but I’d much rather take a chance and read something new! 

This potato salad, however, is one of the few recipes which has made it into my permanent repertoire.  I think every cook should have a good potato salad up their sleeve, and this is mine (well, one of the permutations of it, anyway).  I originally got the recipe from Cook’s Illustrated, and have only made a couple tiny modifications.  This version calls for walnut oil and Sherry vinegar, mostly because I had recently bought some walnut oil and wanted to use it.  Walnut oil is a real treat if you can find it, and pairs very nicely with Sherry vinegar.  Once you have the basic method down, the recipe lends itself well to any flavors and variations you’d want to foist upon it.  I often play around with the oil and vinegar combos-  I’ve made this many times with olive oil & red wine vinegar (which is what the original recipe stipulates), but white wine or champagne vinegar would be good too.  Or you could make an autumnal version using walnut oil and apple cider vinegar and put little bits of walnut and apple in the salad (maybe leave out the herbs for that version).    I embellished this version of the salad with some walnut pieces, crumbled blue cheese, and bacon on top.  It’s also great served on a bed of arugula.  (Note: If you do use walnuts, don’t add them until just before serving- if they sit, their skins will stain the potatoes most unattractively.)

Herbed Potato Salad with Sherry-Walnut Vinaigrette (adapted from Cook’s Illustrated) printer-friendly version

2  lbs small thin-skinned potatoes (redskin or yellow will both work), unpeeled, scrubbed, and cut into 1/4″ thick slices
2 tbs salt
1 medium garlic clove, peeled 
1 1/2 tbs sherry vinegar
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/4 cup walnut oil
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 small shallot, minced
1 tbs minced fresh parsley
1 tbs minced fresh tarragon 
1 tbs minced fresh chives (see notes)
1 tbs minced fresh chervil (see notes)
optional garnishes: walnut pieces, crumbled blue cheese or gorgonzola, bacon…

Notes:  When I made this, I only used the tarragon and parsley.  For those of you who have herb gardens or unlimited grocery budgets, by all means use the chives and chervil; however, where I live, fresh herbs run at least $2 a package and I’m certainly not suggesting they’re crucial enough to justify that expense.  If you’re leaving them out, I would up the parsley and tarragon to 1 1/2 tbs each, though.   Spreading the potatoes on the baking sheet may seem like an extra unneccesary step, but it really helps get the dressing much more evenly distributed than just stirring, so you don’t get bland bites of potato with no sauce. Last but not least, in the photo, those are scallions you see… I couldn’t locate the shallot I *knew* was hanging out somewhere in the kitchen, so I improvised.   But shallots would definitely be my preference. 

Directons: Place the potatoes in a large saucepan with 6 cups cold tap water and the 2 tbs. salt; bring to boil over high heat, then reduce to medium.  Lower garlic into the simmering water via a skewer or slotted spoon, and blanch for about 45 seconds.  Run the garlic under cold tap water to stop the cooking, and set aside.  Continue to simmer potatoes, uncovered, until tender but still firm, about 5 minutes. Drain potatoes, reserving 1/4 cup of their cooking water.  Arrange hot potatoes on one or two rimmed baking sheets close together in a single layer.

Mince the garlic or put through a garlic press.  In a small bowl, whisk together the oil, vinegar, reserved potato cooking water, garlic, and a few generous grinds of pepper.  Taste both potatoes and dressing for salt, adding a little to the dressing if it seems bland.  Drizzle the dressing evenly over the warm potatoes and let stand for 10 minutes.  You can use this time to mince your shallots and herbs.

Sprinkle the shallots & herbs over the potatoes. Transfer to a serving dish.  Mix gently with a rubber spatula to combine.  Serve immediately.  (The salad is best served slightly warm or at room temperature. If your schedule prohibits serving it right away, remove the salad from the fridge long enough in advance to allow it to come to room temp, and wait to add the herbs until just before serving.)  According to Cook’s Illustrated, the salad is safe to sit out unrefrigerated for 2 hours.