Marshmallows

Never mind that I second guessed myself at every turn during this recipe. Also, never mind the fact that while I was making these I was entirely certain that if I were to spill some of the molten hot sugar syrup down myself, no one would have been around the house to hear me scream, let alone take me to a hospital.

Because frankly, all things considered, it was worth it. There aren’t many recipes that actually make you feel like a kid again, or let you so vividly recall how fun it can be to get messy.

Before embarking on the making of these marshmallows, I wasn’t entirely certain that the end product would be much different from the countless marshmallow experiences I’ve had to date. Then, when I actually ate one, I realized that I’d clearly never had a homemade marshmallow before. The texture is so much more satisfying—chewy yet airy—unlike the over-dried packaged ones. And while it was a bit unnerving working with things I generally tend to avoid (i.e., liquid glucose and cornstarch), the process itself was not inherently difficult.

Essentially, marshmallows are just an Italian meringue with gelatin added to the syrup to allow the mixture to hold its shape once it’s dried.
And if you know me at all, you know exactly what I did once they were done…

Later that day, when I had some friends over for dinner, what had previously been a perfectly polite meal turned into a competition of who could make the biggest mess of themselves when I unveiled these for dessert…

And then this happened…

Proust, you can keep your madeleines—I’ll take the marshmallow.

Marshmallows (adapted from James Martin’s Great British Winter Cookbook)
Ingredients:
650g Sugar
2 Tbsp. liquid glucose
3 Egg whites
14 Leaves of gelatin
2 tsp Vanilla extract
3 Tbsp Powdered sugar
3 Tbsp Cornstarch
Special Equipment:
Electric mixer
Candy thermometer

Directions: Sift together the powdered sugar and cornstarch. Grease a 10x10-inch baking pan with cooking spray then dust with the cornstarch mixture. Soak the gelatin leaves in 150mL cold water. Pour the sugar, liquid glucose and 200mL water into a heavy-bottomed saucepan, place over medium-high heat and insert your candy thermometer. The sugar mixture needs to come up to 127 degrees C/260 degrees F (also known as hardball stage)—this will take about 10 minutes. While the sugar is cooking, beat the egg whites in a large heat-proof bowl with an electric mixer until soft peaks form. When the sugar syrup reaches hardball stage, remove it from the heat. Very carefully, slide in the softened gelatin and its water—the mixture will bubble up, so don’t burn yourself. Stir to dissolve the gelatin. With the mixer running, slowly pour the syrup into the egg whites in a small stream, taking care not to cook the eggs. When the syrup is added, the mixture will deflate slightly, but continue mixing for about 10 minutes longer until it starts to stiffen up again. When the mixture holds a soft peak, scrape into the greased and dusted baking dish and allow to cool completely, about an hour. Dust a kitchen surface well with some of the cornstarch mixture, and then tip the marshmallow onto it. Dust a knife and cut into cubes, rolling each one individually so it is no longer sticky, but patting away excess cornstarch. Allow to dry a further hour before storing in an airtight container.

Lemon Yogurt Almond Cake

I don’t know why I waited so long between making this delicious cake and telling you all about it. It may have something to do with the fact that every time I thought about sitting down and writing about this cake, I was suddenly overcome with the desire to make it again and have some rather than just talk about it. The acidity of the lemon zest and the cool tang of the yogurt work so well together; and the combination improves once the nuttiness of the ground almonds gets involved on the back of your palate. Once again, we have here a recipe adapted from a lemon yogurt cake from Ina “start with four sticks of butter” Garten, but in this case, the moniker is undeserved since this ain’t no pound cake. It’s really light and achieves a nice balance between moist, sweet and airy. Combine that with the bright citrusy kick which I so dearly love, and you’ve got a hit on your hands.

Perhaps in future attempts (and there will be several I am sure), I might make this look a little sexier with a powdered sugar-based glaze on top rather than the syrupy version I did on this one. And it would certainly be possible to play around with pan shapes and sizes, or even get crazy and use other types of citrus like lime, blood orange or even grapefruit. Or I could just stop tinkering and make it again already…

Lemon Almond Yogurt Cake
Ingredients:
1 cup flour
1 cup finely ground almonds
2 tsp baking powder
Pinch salt
1 cup plain yogurt (Ina said to use whole, but I used low fat—you be the judge)
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
Zest of two lemons
1 teaspoon almond extract
½ cup vegetable oil.
For the syrup:
Juice of two lemons
¾ cup sugar

Directions: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F/ 180 degrees C. Butter and flour an 8x8 baking tin and line the bottom with parchment. In a medium sized bowl, combine the flour, ground almonds, baking powder and salt and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs and sugar until yolks are lightened, just about a minute or two. Add the yogurt, vegetable oil, lemon zest and almond extract and whisk again to combine. Add the dry ingredients and stir until just incorporated. Pour batter into prepared pan and bake 18-20 minutes or until a tester toothpick comes out clean.
While the cake is baking, pour the lemon juice and sugar into a small saucepan and place over low heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. When the cake is out of the oven and has cooled for about 4-5 minutes, carefully pour the hot syrup over the cake, allowing it to soak in. Cool in pan before removing and slicing.

Ode to a Mushroom...

So, I watched Il Postino the other night. Just like every other time I’ve watched it, the film left me a) wanting to move to a remote island off the Italian peninsula, b) even more in love with the poetry of Pablo Neruda, and c) craving a nice, big bowl of pasta. Unfortunately, this blog is not the appropriate forum to discuss issues A and B.

Issue C, however, prompted me to create this nest of autumnal, mushroomy goodness. Unlike classic fettucine carbonara which I usually make with some combination of pancetta, fresh peas and mushrooms, the selection of freshly foraged fungus at the market stalls convinced me that the little guys should really be the focal point of the dish. To make this dish really knock your mushroom-loving socks off, I would suggest pushing the boat out and going for some exciting combination of chantrelles, oysters, shitakes or baby porcinis. However, I was completely satisfied with the results I got here.

The trick is to cook the mushrooms on low heat for as long as possible to allow for maximum flavor and earthiness, about 35 minutes. I also deglazed the sauté pan once or twice with some white wine I *happened* to be holding in my non-stirring hand, which coincidentally added to the overall flavor of the final product. I would also like to experiment with some other types of big pasta—I’m sure pappardelle would be amazing.

Happy fungusing.

Mushroom Carbonara

Ingredients:
3 cups mushrooms (preferably wild), sliced
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp butter
1 clove garlic, chopped
¼ cup dry white wine
Handful parsley, chopped roughly
½ lb dried pasta such as fettucine, linguine or papparedelle
1 whole egg plus 2 egg yolks
1/3 cup single cream
½ cup parmesan, grated
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions: Heat a large skillet over medium-low heat. Add the oil and butter. When bubbling, throw in the mushrooms and stir to coat. Meanwhile, set a large pot of water on to boil for the pasta.

Allow the mushrooms to sauté about 20 minutes, stirring only occasionally to allow caramelization. Add salt, a few twists of fresh ground black pepper and the chopped garlic. Deglaze with the wine. Continue to cook the mushrooms until they are browned and all the moisture is cooked off.

Add dried pasta to the boiling water and cook until al dente. Whisk together the eggs and cream and set aside. When the pasta is cooked and drained, toss it with the mushrooms. Pour in the egg and cream mixture, the parmesan and parsley. Toss well to ensure that the hot pasta cooks the eggs. Serve with a healthy shake of fresh black pepper.

The Nothing Special

The fact is: you have to eat. Unfortunately, meals can’t always be glamorous and extravagant, but they can always be delicious. This recipe for oven-roasted vegetables and couscous salad is great for when you want maximum flavor and nourishment but have minimal desire to slave away. I eat it at least once a week. Euan calls it Couscous Delight and has his drizzled with balsamic whereas I prefer a grating of parmesan and a twist of black pepper over the top. So it’s not that original. But the sheer variety of recipes out there combined with the flexibility to combine just about whatever vegetables you can get your hands on makes this one a great standby. Take comfort in simplicity. Mark Bittman would be proud of me.

Oven-Roasted Vegetable Couscous Salad
Ingredients:
1 cup couscous (I use wholewheat)
¾ cup vegetable stock, boiling hot
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 cups chopped fresh vegetables, such as carrots, onions, zucchini, eggplant, peppers, sweet potato, tomatoes, mushrooms, etc. (you get the idea…)
2 cloves fresh garlic, chopped
Pinch red pepper flakes
Salt and pepper to taste
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F/190 degrees C. Prep your vegetables, making sure they are chopped to about equal bite-sized pieces. Place in an oven-proof dish, combine with the garlic and pepper flakes. Season to taste and drizzle with the olive oil, mixing everything together with your hands. Roast for 25-30 minutes, stirring occasionally to ensure even cooking.
Take a break and watch half an hour of TV.
Place the couscous in a serving bowl and pour over the hot stock. Cover and let stand for 4-5 minutes. Combine with the roasted vegetables and toss. Serves 2 lazy but hungry people.

A Short and Sharp Shock to the System

Hello dear readers, I wonder if many of you are, like me, threatened by the recent presence of a distinctly autumnal climate. No? Oh, you saw this coming? Well, yeah I suppose coming back to London last week, I should have been prepared for the drop in temperature. Still, I brought my flip flops along in defiance.

Today, I made a dish that is wholesome and satisfying without being over-the-top hibernation food. I give you: tortellini in brodo. I decided to make the tortellini by hand but not bother with making and rolling out the pasta, which turned out to be a great timesaver. I will certainly be revisiting this recipe and incorporating different toppings as and when the mood strikes. Here, I managed to find the very last of the English peas of summer, and they decorated the broth with a nice frisson of color and intense sweet flavor. The tortellini I filled with ricotta (you know I couldn't resist) and pancetta. For those vegetarians out there, substituting the pancetta for spinach wouldn't leave this dish lacking.

This dinner is my way of capitulating to autumn with its attendant leaf kicking, the new pair of boots in place of flip flops, and another candle on the birthday cake for me. Tortellini in brodo is my way of saying "Bring it on, autumn. Bring it on."

Tortellini in Brodo

For the tortellini:

12 sheets fresh pasta (usually packaged for lasagna)

2 eggs

½ cup pancetta, diced
2 medium shallots, diced
1/3 cup ricotta
Salt and pepper to taste
For the broth:
4 cups chicken or vegetable stock

1 small white onion, sliced into ribbons
4 fresh sage leaves, julienned
1 ½ cups English peas
Directions: When working with fresh pasta, it is important not to let the sheets dry out before you have formed them, so I like to stick them in between the folds of a damp tea towel after I take them out of the fridge but before I actually use them. To make the filling, sauté the pancetta and shallots over medium heat until most of the fat is rendered; about 8 minutes. Remove from heat and cool slightly. Stir pancetta mixture into the ricotta and add one of the eggs. Add salt and pepper as needed. To fill the tortellini, cut the sheets into about 2-inch squares, lay them out and brush the edges with the other egg, beaten. Spoon about a teaspoon of mixture onto each square and fold over to form a triangle. Pinch the seams closed and bring the points together, pinching securely closed again (see pictures). Once filled, lay the tortellini on a lined baking sheet to dry out a little.

To make the broth, sauté the onions and sage in a large saucepan with a few tablespoons of olive oil, sprinkle with a pinch of salt, and allow the onions to caramelize. This should take about 20-30 minutes over medium-high heat. Once the onions are translucent and have taken on a light golden color, add the stock and let it come to a high simmer. Drop in the tortellini and the fresh peas. They should take about 3-4 minutes depending on the thickness of the pasta sheets and how long they have been drying for.

Remove from heat and serve with shaved parmesan. Rediscover your love of fall.

Apricot Bread Pudding

Bread pudding, like marmite, is just one of those things: you either love it or hate it. I belong in the first camp, along with my mom, who is a bread pudding super-enthusiast. The addition of apricots here gives a nice tartness to an otherwise very creamy dessert (as does the addition of Grand Marnier, which I think most desserts should endeavor to include), transforming a wintery dish into an undoubtedly summery one.

The recipe I found on Epicurious called for dried apricots, but having fresh ones on hand from the backyard garen, I decided to roast them to concentrate their flavor. This was uncharted territory for me. Lacking any kind of method, I just split them and put them in a 350 degree oven for about 50 minutes, completely naked, and they came out beautifully. Note to self: must try roasted apricots with greek yogurt and/or ricotta and/or crème anglaise and/or soaked in booze. Also: roast other fruits and see what happens.
For the bread pudding, I used a beautiful half loaf of brioche, but day-old croissants or even just plain white bread would work too. Examining the original recipe and imagining my arteries slamming shut, I balked at using 5 cups of cream in anything, so I immediately halved the entire recipe and replaced some of the cream with milk. Nevertheless, the result is truly decadent (if heart-stopping), with a crusty golden brulée top, and chunks of chewy sweet apricot throughout; a new and summery twist on an old favorite.

Apricot Bread Pudding

Ingredients:
½ C. Grand Marnier
3 Tbsp. water
1 ¼ C. whipping cream
¾ C. whole milk
3 eggs
½ C. sugar, plus more for sprinkling
½ tsp vanilla and ½ vanilla bean, split lengthwise
3 to 4 cups day old brioche, cubed
About 6 apricots, split, stone removed

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Place the cut apricots skin side down in a baking dish and roast for 50-60 minutes, until they are tender and starting to shrink. Allow to cool to room temperature, then cut into large dice. Next, combine the Grand Marnier and water in a small saucepan over low heat for about 8 minutes (to cook off most of the alcohol), remove from heat and allow to cool.
Whisk together the cream, milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla (extract and seeds scraped from the bean). In a large bowl, soak the cubed brioche and roasted apricots in the cream mixture, allowing to sit for about 20 minutes. Spoon the mixture into ramekins (should make about 6 or 7). Place ramekins in a roasting a dish filled with water to reach halfway up the ramekins. Sprinkle the tops if the bread pudding with 1 tsp. sugar each. Carefully place in the 350 degree oven and bake for 50-55 minutes.
Serve warm.

Plum Tatin

With over-stuffed suitcases and nerves shot from exams, I arrived home to summer in California. Jetlag gives me at least 4 hours alone in the kitchen before anyone else even bats an eyelid, and the beautiful summer produce rolling in from the backyard is currently keeping my hands pleasantly busy while watching the drama unfold.

Last year when the plums came in, I made a nice preserve that was pleasantly tart, but I felt it lacked body since the thin skins disintegrated, but the fibrous texture remained. So this time, I decided to use the structure of the fruit in a way that would improve the final product. This recipe is a nice summery twist on the classic apple tarte tatin, and the final color is really remarkable. You could certainly use a pre-made crust for this, but I thought that since the plums have quite a bite to them, that it would be better to go with a slightly sweetened pastry for the base. The flavors are uncomplicated and clean; no need to fuss.

Next up, I have my eye on the apricots…

Plum Tatin

Ingredients:
For the pastry:
1 ¼ cups flour
½ cup powdered sugar
½ cup butter, chilled and cut into cubes
Pinch salt
2-3 Tbsp. ice water
For the tatin:
2 ½ cups small red plums, pitted and quartered
6 Tbsp. butter
¾ cup granulated sugar

Directions:
To make the pastry, pulse the flour, powdered sugar, salt and butter in the work bowl of a food processor, just enough to create a dry, crumbly mixture. Add the ice water one tablespoon at a time, until the crumbs start to cohere, but short of forming a ball. Form the dough into a flattened disc, wrap in plastic and refrigerate (about an hour).

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. In a nine or ten inch oven-proof skillet over medium heat, melt the butter and sugar, stirring for about 2 minutes. Lower the heat and place the quartered plums skin side down in tight concentric circles. Cook for about 15 minutes without disturbing the plums, until the juices are released and the fruit beings to soften. Bake in the oven for about 5 minutes, then remove (remember your oven mitts!) and turn up the heat to 450 degrees F. Spoon off most of the excess juices, so the pastry won’t get soggy (mine yielded about half a cup, which I reduced to make a sauce with). As the plums cool a bit, roll out the pastry about an inch wider in circumference than the pan. Carefully place the pastry over the plums and tuck the overlapping edges underneath to form a lip. Bake for about 15-18 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown.

Remove from the oven and invert onto a serving platter once the juices have stopped bubbling and allow the tarte to cool slightly. Serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.