For some reason, this previous post was deleted from my blog...so, here it is again!
The Sweet Side of Artichoke.
Did you know that there was one?
I have made some interesting gelatos in the past, but today, I made one, probably the oddest one to date. H(my boss) was falling asleep thinking desserts the other night, and for some crazy reason, she was struck by the idea of serving Artichoke Gelato. I will admit that when she mentioned the idea to me, my response was.. “uh…. You didn’t say, Artichoke?” It turns out that she had indeed, and that it was in my best interest to come up with the perfect batch.
What I used was a cream that had been steeped with artichoke leaves. This is something that is used on the hot line somewhere, and the flavor of the artichoke really comes through. Of course, I never imagined that it would land anywhere near the dessert menu, that is…until now!
What I love about H is that she throws out some really interesting ideas, things that I would never even imagine having the guts to try on my own. It is so intriguing to me, as a Pastry Chef, to think of using something so-NOT-dessert material…and finding that if you just branch out and take a chance, it might actually taste good. I admit that we have had some ideas in the past, combinations that seemed to just scream for each other, that in fact, were quite repellent. Take for example something as tame as topping chocolate truffle cake with an Apricot Gelato. I had visions of the flavor of chocolate covered dried apricots, a treat in which the two flavors complement each other quite well. (I think..) I’ll never forget when I presented H with the freshly spun Apricot Gelato aside the sliver of chocolate cake. I grabbed each of us a spoon, and eagerly we dug in. The Apricot gelato was far too tart for the chocolate cake. In fact, it was such a flavor disaster in her mouth, that she actually spit it out! At the time, I was mortified and so embarrassed. it was at that moment that she let me in on a little secret, that she was in fact pregnant…OK, so maybe my dessert wasn’t THAT bad after all… Anyway, I remember thinking then, that I never would have known that this combo wasn’t the next award winning one, had I not tried it. And, in the case of the Artichoke gelato, the same goes…although, paired with Strawberries, a crack of black pepper, zest of lemon and some aged Balsamic, it seems to be a real seller.
I suppose, as I have been intrigued by this flavor combination, the diners seem to be as well.
What will be next?
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
For the love of Berry.
I don’t think that there is anything much better than a really red, juicy and sweet strawberry.
Or tomato, or nectarine for that matter.
I love summer.
And I love that fruit actually tastes sweet during this time of year.
Imagine that, fruit tasting sweet?
What I really hate, is living through those dark months, when all you yearn for is a little color and sweetness, and you are lured, when you scan the produce aisle, to those somewhat faded Tomatoes, Peaches and Strawberries. What a let down it is to actually take a bite, expecting the flavor to come pouring out, when in fact, it barely trickles. It almost isn’t fair that the stores even stock these items. They taunt you, tease you and NEVER please you. I think for this very reason, I love the idea of working with the season’s bounty in cooking and in pastry. Why use apples in the summer, when you can use berries…why? At the restaurant, local seasonality is something that is prided upon. When those fruits and veggies are in season here, we are getting them in at full force. Even if Strawberry season is here today and gone tomorrow. We get them in by the flat. If they aren’t featured with the Artichoke Gelato (see below..) they are spun into their own frozen delight, or served alongside a lemon tart, for added color, and you guessed it, sweetness.
Since you never do know when those NW Strawberries will be gone, I decided that I wanted to show them off, and make an open faced Strawberry Tart.
For this, I took 4 pints of Strawberries. I picked out all the best looking ones, washed and hulled them and set them aside. To the rest, I also washed and hulled them and then cut them into halves and quarters. I threw them in a saucepan and added ¼ cup of sugar, zest from one half of a lemon, a heaping Tablespoon cornstarch, a teaspoon of vanilla, a pinch of salt…and something that I didn’t add, but wish I had, a little dash of Vin Santo. (I love adding this to just about anything..) I cooked these berries until the mixture thickened, then set it aside to cool.
Before adding them to the prebaked and cooled tart shell, I brushed the shell with a coating of white chocolate, although I think that milk of dark might even be tasty. This adds somewhat of a barrier to the tart shell, by sealing it so that the moisture doesn’t make the shell too soggy. It also adds another dimension to the tart tasting experience…yum.
I don’t think that there is anything much better than a really red, juicy and sweet strawberry.
Or tomato, or nectarine for that matter.
I love summer.
And I love that fruit actually tastes sweet during this time of year.
Imagine that, fruit tasting sweet?
What I really hate, is living through those dark months, when all you yearn for is a little color and sweetness, and you are lured, when you scan the produce aisle, to those somewhat faded Tomatoes, Peaches and Strawberries. What a let down it is to actually take a bite, expecting the flavor to come pouring out, when in fact, it barely trickles. It almost isn’t fair that the stores even stock these items. They taunt you, tease you and NEVER please you. I think for this very reason, I love the idea of working with the season’s bounty in cooking and in pastry. Why use apples in the summer, when you can use berries…why? At the restaurant, local seasonality is something that is prided upon. When those fruits and veggies are in season here, we are getting them in at full force. Even if Strawberry season is here today and gone tomorrow. We get them in by the flat. If they aren’t featured with the Artichoke Gelato (see below..) they are spun into their own frozen delight, or served alongside a lemon tart, for added color, and you guessed it, sweetness.
Since you never do know when those NW Strawberries will be gone, I decided that I wanted to show them off, and make an open faced Strawberry Tart.
For this, I took 4 pints of Strawberries. I picked out all the best looking ones, washed and hulled them and set them aside. To the rest, I also washed and hulled them and then cut them into halves and quarters. I threw them in a saucepan and added ¼ cup of sugar, zest from one half of a lemon, a heaping Tablespoon cornstarch, a teaspoon of vanilla, a pinch of salt…and something that I didn’t add, but wish I had, a little dash of Vin Santo. (I love adding this to just about anything..) I cooked these berries until the mixture thickened, then set it aside to cool.
Before adding them to the prebaked and cooled tart shell, I brushed the shell with a coating of white chocolate, although I think that milk of dark might even be tasty. This adds somewhat of a barrier to the tart shell, by sealing it so that the moisture doesn’t make the shell too soggy. It also adds another dimension to the tart tasting experience…yum.
Friday, June 16, 2006
A bit of Traffic, A Full Bladder and A Caprihana. (in that order..)
I am not sure whether you folks from out of town are familiar with the infamous traffic issues in Seattle?? Here is a little background. Seattle is a relatively small city, but in the last several years, the city’s population has outgrown its capacity to accommodate the influx of people. The problem is, where most cities have a mass transit system, as a means of effective and quick transport, Seattle has the bus….and, only the bus. Of course, this doesn’t count the monorail, which travels a lengthy mile or so.
A major traffic corridor is also unfortunately my commute to work, across the 520 bridge. Most commuters take it all the way to Microsoft, whereas I jump off a little early, in Kirkland, just across the lake. 520 is one of my biggest headaches about working where I do, and I am not even a part of the prime traffic time commute. So in a sense, I am usually one of the lucky ones….until today.
Today….I sat in traffic for 2 hours. Yep, you heard me right…2 hours.
I left work at around 3:30, and I decided that I would pick up some groceries on my way home. I had also been alerted to the new Whole Foods in Bellevue, so I was very excited about this shopping excursion and thought, ‘Great, I can hit this and zoom home on I-90..nice and easy! ’.. (I-90 tends to be a quicker route than 520, albeit a little more out of the way.)
So, of course, I spent like an hour in the market, perusing the aisles and smiling, so by the time that I was leaving, it was close to 5 already. I had a sinking feeling as I pulled out of the parking lot and made my way towards I-405, a parking lot, too, at this particular moment. So, I bypassed and decided to take a surface street down to I-90, an idea that I thought was quite clever on my part.
Hmph.
An hour later, after a lengthy conversation with Mom, and maybe a mere 3 miles, I finally hit the freeway entrance.
Arghhh…
Then, I-90 decides to creep along, and all the water that I have consumed in the last few hours begins to catch up with me. (I drink a lot of water at work..)
Great.
I finally get to the downtown exit in Seattle, and just my luck, there is traffic backed up for the big Mariners game. By this time, my bladder has reached emergency capacity and I am nearly doubled over with cramps, tears streaming down my face…screaming expletives to myself.. (with the windows rolled up and KUBE be-bop blasting)…people in the cars next to me probably wondering what the heck did she have for lunch?..
A few more painfully drawn out eons, and I make it into our parking garage, where T is waiting to help me carry the groceries, as I limp, doubled over in pain and make my way into our apartment.
Ah……(I don’t think that I need to tell you what happened next!)
Luckily, when I was feeling fully recovered, T was there, again. He sat me down, told me to relax, peeled me an orange and concocted for me, the world’s best Caprihana.
In that moment, it was just what I needed.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Mighty 4 year old Papa..
It was interesting being back at my old place of work this last week. It is funny how things can feel so different but then again, life at CJ hasn’t changed all that much.
..A Note that I had posted on the basement freezer 3 years ago, taunting people that hell would await them if they dared leave the freezer ajar, exposing all of my precious gelatos and doughs to luke warm temparatures..
(sometimes the trays would be stacked, unsealing the door just so..)
Still there.
..A Note posted next to the power strip of plugs, warning the evil doers not to even think about unplugging the freezer to make room for a plug to the stereo.. (sometimes, they would forget to plug it back in..)
Also, still there.
When I saw these reminders of time past, I felt a little warm fuzzy, as if, ‘wow’, after all this time of my being gone, there still was a piece of me living there. In this case, it was in the form of something I had written in haste and probably in annoyance, with a sharpie on a greasy piece of parchment, after I had discovered my sludgy melted gelatos one dark and dreary winter morning…
Up until the time that I left CJ over 2 years ago, I had been baking for them numerous breads and desserts for the 2 years prior. When I first started there, I was a pantry cook; something that I did my best to convince Holly wasn’t where my full potential lay. Where it did lay, I told her, was in bread and dessert land, somewhere in the early morning, alone with my breads, doughs and batters…not at night, when my energy levels have already peaked, and certainly not amidst the crazy bustle that transpires in the kitchen come evening. During these 4 months, I would infiltrate my craft wherever I could, whenever I had time, whether it be bread for staff meals, foccacia for the line…Somehow, after 4 months of struggling and sweating it out on the line, I was able to convince her, to take a chance on me. (I think that we both knew that I was not line cook material…) To this day, she still laughs and calls it foolish, but the next day, she cancelled her bread order, I crossed my fingers.. And my pastry position was born.
I think that I must have seen my future position coming, because within the first couple months of starting my job, I had already secured the organic grapes from the wine maker next door, and I had begun my Bread Starter, or ‘Papa’.
(finally, this is where the title comes into play…)
I babied this thing for the first ten days, then, when it was at full force, I would give it some love daily, which meant nothing more than a little flour, water, and a few kind words. (some people talk to their plants… I talk to my starters..)
People at work would chuckle as they would see me leaving for the weekend, with my covered bowl of bubbling goo under my arm. I would take it home, just so that it never felt neglected or lonely and cold in the far back reaches of the walk in fridge.
So, when the time came to pack up and move to the east coast, I knew what I needed to do. Instead of just abandoning my good friend of 2 years, I decided to put him into hibernation. I dried him out by spreading him thin across some parchment. I then told him not to worry, that I was doing what was best for the both of us…
(I mean, how would you feel if all of a sudden someone took you out of your yeasty, cozy and bubbly environment, spread you out on a hard sheet tray and air dried you for two days?)
When we arrived in Ithaca, I unpacked him, dry and crumbly in his ziplock baggy, and let him rest in the freezer. On a few occasions, I would bring a little of him out of hibernation, but my focus was more on sweet things at Pangea, rather than breads, so I wasn’t able to justify pulling him out hibernation completely.
That is, until now.
When I first knew that I would be back at CJ, 'Papa' was the first thing I thought of…
SO, I got him out of my freezer and began feeding and hydrating him. Slowly but surely. With a little babying and some kind words, he is back.
Papa is Back.
It was interesting being back at my old place of work this last week. It is funny how things can feel so different but then again, life at CJ hasn’t changed all that much.
..A Note that I had posted on the basement freezer 3 years ago, taunting people that hell would await them if they dared leave the freezer ajar, exposing all of my precious gelatos and doughs to luke warm temparatures..
(sometimes the trays would be stacked, unsealing the door just so..)
Still there.
..A Note posted next to the power strip of plugs, warning the evil doers not to even think about unplugging the freezer to make room for a plug to the stereo.. (sometimes, they would forget to plug it back in..)
Also, still there.
When I saw these reminders of time past, I felt a little warm fuzzy, as if, ‘wow’, after all this time of my being gone, there still was a piece of me living there. In this case, it was in the form of something I had written in haste and probably in annoyance, with a sharpie on a greasy piece of parchment, after I had discovered my sludgy melted gelatos one dark and dreary winter morning…
Up until the time that I left CJ over 2 years ago, I had been baking for them numerous breads and desserts for the 2 years prior. When I first started there, I was a pantry cook; something that I did my best to convince Holly wasn’t where my full potential lay. Where it did lay, I told her, was in bread and dessert land, somewhere in the early morning, alone with my breads, doughs and batters…not at night, when my energy levels have already peaked, and certainly not amidst the crazy bustle that transpires in the kitchen come evening. During these 4 months, I would infiltrate my craft wherever I could, whenever I had time, whether it be bread for staff meals, foccacia for the line…Somehow, after 4 months of struggling and sweating it out on the line, I was able to convince her, to take a chance on me. (I think that we both knew that I was not line cook material…) To this day, she still laughs and calls it foolish, but the next day, she cancelled her bread order, I crossed my fingers.. And my pastry position was born.
I think that I must have seen my future position coming, because within the first couple months of starting my job, I had already secured the organic grapes from the wine maker next door, and I had begun my Bread Starter, or ‘Papa’.
(finally, this is where the title comes into play…)
I babied this thing for the first ten days, then, when it was at full force, I would give it some love daily, which meant nothing more than a little flour, water, and a few kind words. (some people talk to their plants… I talk to my starters..)
People at work would chuckle as they would see me leaving for the weekend, with my covered bowl of bubbling goo under my arm. I would take it home, just so that it never felt neglected or lonely and cold in the far back reaches of the walk in fridge.
So, when the time came to pack up and move to the east coast, I knew what I needed to do. Instead of just abandoning my good friend of 2 years, I decided to put him into hibernation. I dried him out by spreading him thin across some parchment. I then told him not to worry, that I was doing what was best for the both of us…
(I mean, how would you feel if all of a sudden someone took you out of your yeasty, cozy and bubbly environment, spread you out on a hard sheet tray and air dried you for two days?)
When we arrived in Ithaca, I unpacked him, dry and crumbly in his ziplock baggy, and let him rest in the freezer. On a few occasions, I would bring a little of him out of hibernation, but my focus was more on sweet things at Pangea, rather than breads, so I wasn’t able to justify pulling him out hibernation completely.
That is, until now.
When I first knew that I would be back at CJ, 'Papa' was the first thing I thought of…
SO, I got him out of my freezer and began feeding and hydrating him. Slowly but surely. With a little babying and some kind words, he is back.
Papa is Back.
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