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Archive for September, 2011

Queen of Tarts

Posted in Culinary School, Recipes, tagged , , , , on September 30, 2011 | 3 Comments »

This week, I made tarts. A lot of tarts. Eight of them, to be exact.

Our culinary class did a total one-eighty on Sunday night and dove straight into the wonderful world of Pastry – also known as the opposite end of the culinary spectrum from what we’d been doing for the past, oh, eight months. I think we all were a bit nervous; with school already more than two-thirds done, how would we fare taking two months off from aggressively cooking three nights a week to spend our nights dusted in flour? More than a few of us were unsure about this change in direction right when our culinary skills just starting to feel steady.

But then we made caramel-vanilla poached pears, and we sort of just gave in. Funny how sugar can do that willpower.

Pastry module is already so different from all of the culinary modules we’ve completed, in so many ways. For one, we’re no longer eating dinner. Months of culinary were partially characterized by hours of coaxing mouth-watering smells from ovens and saute pans and pots, only to be culminated by sampling all those delicious foods in a late evening dinner. Now, we pack quarts of frangipane, pate brisee, and pastry cream into plastic tubs, splay the date and contents across the top, and stack them in the reach-in. Our mouths water, but it’s not every night that they’re satisfied. We resist the succulent smells of vanilla-perfumed pineapple and candied pecans as we pack them away for another night’s class.

Another interesting change is the deviation from plowing through recipes and menus at a breakneck pace. By late in Module Two (a culinary, not pastry Mod), we knew technique well enough to create our assigned dishes with just a little direction. But now, our evenings are spent practicing the will-bending combination of patience and urgency, taking plenty of time to watch chef’s demos unfold, but hastening to complete the tasks ourselves within our allotted time frame.

And then, there’s the end results. Unlike cooking savory dishes, where following a recipe to the tee might give you a mediocre, good, even very good (but rarely outstanding) result, in pastry, diligence and focus in constructing a confection based on definitive instructions will nearly always result in something beautiful and delicious. Your own attention to detail, rather than culinary intuition, will make it perfect.

And when so much of the action of pastry happens behind the closed door of an oven, or inside a refrigerator, it makes the alchemical process of creating pastries that much more magical. Hard, tart pears turned to soft, caramel bliss below the shield of a parchment paper; liquid milk and eggs turn to thick cream while your blinking; crusts become golden brown under the weight of beans in the dark depths of an oven. We learned to make sweet, flaky, crumbly, and savory crusts; we grilled, poached, candied, macerated fruit; we beat eggs and sugar and flour and milk into frangipane and custard and cream.

My favorite? These tarts.

Reminiscent of the tarte aux fruits that filled windows of patisseries I passed in Paris one winter many years ago, these tarts epitomize the beauty that is possible as a pastry chef. They also emphasize the importance of simplicity, comprised of just a basic pate brisee crust, traditional pastry cream filling, and topping of scattered fresh fruits. But in simplicity can come perfection, and when care is paid to each of these components, what emerges is the freshest, most delicious, light, sweet fresh fruit tart you’ve ever tasted. I ate one standing up at a prep table, powdered sugar dusting my chin, a late sugary dessert-for-dinner that took my breath away. That cream! It was smooth, refreshing, and light with just a hint of creamy vanilla. And fruit so fresh, it burst with tartness in my mouth, cutting the sweetness of the custard just right. The crumbly pie crust provided just the right amount of contrasting texture, and I realized, this was worth waiting three days to try.

Tarte Aux Fruits – Makes 8 small tarts

Ingredients for the crust

  • 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 1/2 tsp. sugar
  • 3/4 tsp. kosher salt
  • 1 stick unsalted butter, chilled and cut into small pieces
  • 1/4 cup lard, cold
  • Small (4″ – 5″) tart tins
Ingredients for pastry cream, adapted from Epicurious
  • 2 1/4 cups whole milk
  • 5 large egg yolks
  • 1 large egg, whole
  • 2/3 cup sugar
  • 1/3 cup cornstarch
  • 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
Remaining Ingredients
  • Assorted fresh fruit: blueberries, raspberries, strawberries, bananas, kiwis
  • 1 cup of apricot nappage or jam
  • 1/2 cup of water

Method for the crust
 
Place  flour, sugar and salt into a large mixing bowl. Add the cubed butter and lard, and mix with a pastry blender or fork until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs (note, this can also be done in a KitchenAid mixer with the paddle attachment). Add 1/4-cup ice water in a stream, and work quickly to mix the dough together. On a clean floured surface, shape the dough into a flattened disk. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour. (Pie crust can be kept in the refrigerator for a few days, or in the freezer for a few months).

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.

Once the dough has chilled in the fridge, roll out the dough on a floured surface to about an eighth of an inch thickness. Using a round cutter or a small bowl as a guide, cut circles that are about three-quarters of an inch bigger than the tart tins. Lift the circles and press gently into the tart tins around the edges. There should be a slight overhang around the perimeter of the tins; press this between your fingers to extend it upwards from the edge of the tin, creating a rim.

Line each mini tart with a small round of tin foil, press it down, and fill with dried beans or pie weights. Place the tart pans on a sheet pan and bake the crusts for 15 to 20 minutes until the edges begin to turn golden. Remove the parchment and beans return the crusts to the oven to continue baking for about 5  more minutes until the bottom appears to be flaky and golden. Remove from oven and set the tart pans on a  table or a wire rack  to cool. Once cool, remove tart crusts from the tin and set aside.

Method for the pastry cream

In medium bowl, whisk together egg yolks, egg, 1/3 cup sugar, and cornstarch.

Transfer the milk to heavy medium saucepan. Scrape in seeds from vanilla bean; add pod. Sprinkle remaining 1/3 cup sugar over, letting sugar sink undisturbed to bottom. Set pan over moderate heat and bring to simmer without stirring.

Once the milk mixture reaches a simmer, temper it into the egg mixture, and then gradually whisk the egg mixture back into saucepan. Return to saucepan over moderate heat and cook, whisking constantly, until pastry cream simmers and thickens, about 1 minute. Remove from heat, discard vanilla pod, and whisk cream until smooth. Transfer to bowl and press plastic wrap directly onto surface. Chill until cold, about 4 hours. (Pastry cream can be made ahead and refrigerated, wrapped well with plastic wrap on surface, up to 3 days.)

Method for assembling tarts

Prepare apricot glaze for tarts by adding one cup of apricot nappage or jam and half a cup of water to a small sauce pan. Heat, stirring, until the mixture has the thin consistency of a glaze.

To assemble tarts, fill each tart crust with pastry cream to the brim, using a spoon. Arrange the slices of fresh fruit or berries on top of the pastry cream as desired. Using a pastry brush, gently glaze the berries with a minimal amount of apricot glaze, being careful not to over do it (it will look gloopy). Serve immediately, or refrigerate for up to two days. Note that these are best when fresh.

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Sausage and Peppers Quinoa

Posted in Healthy Meal, tagged , , , on September 22, 2011 | 2 Comments »

Last night’s dinner was a total win, if I do say so myself. Better yet, it was an unexpected win, since expectations were pretty minimal and didn’t have very long to get inflated.

The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Hey, what do you have to eat in your apartment?”

Adam: “Um, Italian sausage, chicken thighs, ground meat, onions, quinoa, pasta, pasta, and more pasta”

Okay, maybe I added that “pasta” part.

But I latched on to the healthiest ingredient available – quinoa - and the one I knew would be most likely to make him happy – Italian sausage – and fed them to my favorite time waster – Google.

I got this little gem of a recipe for Sausage and Peppers Quinoa back in return, so I immediately proposed it. Adam was pretty skeptical that it would be good with quinoa, but as per the usual, cooking executive powers were relegated to me, so we decided to move forward with the plan.

One quick trip to Whole Foods later (thank god peppers are back down to normal, i.e. not $499 for ONE, prices), and we were ready to rock and roll. I set the quinoa to steam, manned Adam’s shockingly great quality IKEA saute pan, and got to chopping while he poured the wine. Drinking wine while cooking is sort of mandatory, if you ask me. Note to Culinary Schools: look into this!

Between the wine drinking, the chit-chatting, and the subconscious decision to cook this all super-slowly, I wasn’t paying the closest attention to what we were doing, so it truly took me by surprise when this dish turned out off the charts delicious! Seriously, I almost dropped my fork after the first bite, because deep down (I’ll admit it), I sort of doubted that an Italian classic like Sausage and Peppers could really taste that good mixed with quinoa. But, it did. You live and you learn, folks! The sausages were super crispy on the outside, moist and juicy on the inside, and lent an incredible amount of flavor, smoothness, and a bit of heat to the quinoa. The peppers and onions were cooked to tender-crisp perfection, and the quinoa provided the perfect fluffy base for soaking up all those juices and a little carby resistance, sort of the way bread does in a Sausage-and-Peppers sandwich, but without all that weight.

And the best part? We didn’t even lapse into food coma afterwards! In fact, we both felt pretty great – full and satisfied, but not on the road to an early bedtime since the quinoa packed more protein than carb overload. Such a pleasant surprise :)

Italian Sausage and Pepper Quinoa – Serves 2

Adapted from WAHM.com 

Ingredients

  • 1 cup of quinoa
  • 1 1/2 cups of chicken broth, or water
  • 1/2 teaspoon of cumin
  • Pinch of red pepper flakes
  • 1/4 teaspoon of dried oregano
  • Salt and pepper
  • 1 large onion, minced
  • 2 large green peppers, seeded and cut into 1 inch strips
  • 1 large red bell pepper, seeded and cut into 1 inch strips
  • 2 tablespoons of olive oil, divided
  • 1/2 cup of beef broth, divided
  • 4 medium Italian sausages, uncooked
Method
 
In a medium saucepan, add quinoa, chicken broth (or water), cumin, red pepper flakes, oregano, salt and pepper. Uncovered, bring to a boil and then reduce to a very low simmer, cover, and cook covered for 15 to 20 minutes, or until all liquid is absorbed and quinoa is tender with a slight crunch. Turn off the heat and leave quinoa covered.
 
Meanwhile, in a large saute pan, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium  heat. Add onion and sweat for about 3 minutes, until softened. Add peppers and saute for a minute or two, then cover the pan and lower the heat slightly. Allow peppers and onions to cook covered for about five minutes. Then, remove the cover, add 1/4 cup of beef broth, and simmer until nearly all the liquid has evaporated. Add cooked peppers and onions to the saucepan full of quinoa, and add salt and pepper if needed.
 
Add the remaining olive oil to the saute pan and heat over medium high heat. Add sausages and brown on each side, about 1 to 2 minutes. Once sausages are brown, lower the heat, add the remaining beef broth, and cover the pan. Cook covered for an additional 1 – 2 minutes. Then, add the quinoa-peppers mixture to the saute pan with the sausages, and cook until all the beef broth has been absorbed by the quinoa, which should be moist and fluffy. Serve hot in large bowls, with two sausages per serving.
 

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imPractical: A Tale of Souffles

Posted in Culinary School, tagged , , , , on September 21, 2011 | Leave a Comment »

Learned: Never attempt a soufflé for your culinary school practical examination.

Click Image for Source

Last night was our grand finale to Module 3 – a timed practical under which we had 90 minutes to prepare, plate and present a sautéed supreme of chicken, pan sauce, a potato dish of our choice, and a vegetable side. The catch? We’d be drawing one of six vegetables out of a hat at the very beginning of the practical, and would have to create our vegetable side on the fly.

Like a true type-A, I showed up for the practical armed with six different recipes – one for each of the six vegetables we could potentially be assigned. My recipes for a lemon-thyme pan sauce and Pommes Mousseline (a fluffy potato soufflé) were also on hand, but since I’d made several pan sauces and the soufflés before, I figured these were in the bag. The vegetable was the perceived wild card, as it was pretty impossible to plan out my use of those 90 minutes without knowing whether I’d be roasting, frying, or sauteing one veggie or another.

I, of course, drew the vegetable I dreaded the most: Broccoli. With zucchini, carrots, and the best – mixed mushrooms, all up for grabs, broccoli seemed like such a chore, a bitter green that has few redeeming preparations. I decided to keep it simple by blanching the broccoli to cook it halfway, and then sauteing it in a garlic-infused olive oil with red pepper flakes and sea salt, tossing with toasted pine nuts at the last-minute.

My goal for the practical was, aside from cooking everything well and putting up an attractive hot plate at the end of 90 minutes, to cook a meal that was true to my own style of cooking (and eating) – fresh, clean flavors that aren’t weighted down by too much grease or dairy, allowing the natural elements of the food to shine through. This dish, with just a touch of olive oil and the slightest richness from the pine nuts, happily accomplished this goal.

Click image for source

Beyond that, though, broccoli proved to be a blessing in disguise when I needed it most. While I had loathed the thought of these tree-shaped greens in the mix for the practical, I had failed to foresee the benefits of broccoli – it’s incredibly sturdy, retains its color, and reheats well without overcooking. In the final few minutes of the practical, when life becomes a blur of screaming-hot sizzle plates, oozing pan sauces, speckled plate rims and burnt finger tips, having a vegetable that is sitting happily warm in a covered pan on the back burner, requiring no attention save a last sprinkle of salt, is a god-send. Such was the case last night.

Click image for source

Because while I was feeling pleasantly surprised about the broccoli, secure in the citrusy tang to my pan sauce, and relieved that my chicken suprémes had achieved the ideal crispy exterior that ensures a moist inside, a growing part of my mind was locked in panic mode. The oven below my stove, labeled clearly with a large piece of masking tape that read “KEEP AT 300 F,” registered at barely the heat of a mid-August New York City heat wave… and my soufflé cups, bobbing slightly in a water-filled bain-marie, were pure liquid.

It was at this point that I felt as though I’d been transported into some alternate-Televised-Cooking-Competition-reality. There’s always that moment on, be it Top Chef, Chopped, Iron Chef America, where the cook realizes that the elaborate, sure-to-win dish he’d been betting it all on is flat-out failing. It might be burning, or have spilt, but more often than not in a timed competition, it just isn’t cooking fast enough. And here I was, experiencing this first hand.

My mind sprung into reaction mode, and I whipped the steaming bain-marie from the oven, running it across the kitchen to a much hotter 450 degree oven. I still had fifteen minutes on the clock, a pan sauce to make, chicken to rest, and broccoli to finish. On one hand, I said a prayer that the soufflés would finish in this time, and on the other, I knew my chances weren’t great. So I grabbed one of the four soufflé cups from the oven, a saute pan, and improvised.

My idea was to make a sort of pan-fried “potato crisp,” by sauteing a few thin layers of the soufflé mixture in hot oil. But my batter merely sputtered and burned in the oil, popping all over the pan and singing on the bottom while remaining liquid on the top. Dejected, I had no choice but to dump the pans burnt contents in the trash and press onward, mopping the sweat from my brow.

In the end, I set a beautiful plate with a swipe of honey-colored lemon-thyme sauce, topped with two golden-brown, crispy chicken breasts, and a small heap of jade-green broccoli florets studded with pearly pine nuts. But along the side, the goopy mess of the under cooked potato soufflé sucked the sauce off the plate like a sponge, and oozed its way through the broccoli like a volcanic flow.

Thankfully, chef saw in my dish what many of us see in the chefs who flounder in those television competitions – that attempting to make a potato soufflé in just 90 minutes (with three other components) was a huge risk, and just because these risks don’t always work out as planned doesn’t mean the vision and effort were for naught. Every failed attempt is a learning experience,  if you use it as one, and twenty minutes later, when I removed the two remaining, finally cooked soufflés from the oven, the lesson was complete. I plated on in the center of a large, white “ICE” emblazoned plate, garnished it with two sprigs of thyme, and marched it over to chef, though my time for presentation had passed, refusing to accept defeat. And when he smiled, and said, “Much, much better,” I knew the lesson had been learned: finish, not just for the grade or the accolades, but for yourself.

That, of course, and never give up.

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Roasted Tomato-Rosemary Soup

Posted in Healthy Meal, Recipes, tagged , , , , , on September 16, 2011 | 3 Comments »

Have you been outside lately?

In case you haven’t noticed yet, it’s fall. Hard to believe, because when I woke up yesterday morning, it was still warm, humid, and the usual sweltering descent into the 63rd street F train was still kickin’. But at some point, a cool, light breeze must have blown in, because by the time I left work in the evening, it had become Autumn - just like that. The air was crisp and clean-smelling, the beginnings of dried leaves were blowing in swirls off the curbs, and the sky seemed to be hanging a little lower, a little closer than usual.

As I walked home from the train, I couldn’t help but relish the change in weather. Suddenly I felt revitalized, and  I just couldn’t stop thinking about everything great that would come with the fall weather: a weekend spent outside in the cool fresh air, shopping for sweaters and scarves and boots, and hot, thick homemade soup to warm you from the inside out.

It’s pretty obvious that I love soup making. What could be better than throwing whatever vegetables and random ingredients you have hanging out in your fridge into a pot, cooking it until all the wonderful flavors ooze out, and then pureeing it all into a smooth, creamy bowl of paradise? Soups provide the ultimate combination of healthy nutritional value, since everything stays in the pot and nothing is “lost” in the cooking process, while still being hearty and filling, not to mention insanely comforting. Yes, as I walked home last night I couldn’t stop thinking about how a bowl of homemade soup would be just the ticket for dinner.

Then I remembered the bag of assorted tomatoes from my mom’s garden that was still hiding out in the bottom of my fridge, and it was on.

As a non-discriminating soup lover, it’s really hard for me to pick a favorite. I love everything from carrot-ginger, to acorn squash, to French Onion and even Amy’s organic split pea (it’s green, and I like it). But there is perhaps no soup as classic or lovely as the Tomato soup. There’s a reason it’s an age-old favorite.

This soup is pure tomato – there’s no cream, which is classic and you could certainly add, but frankly I didn’t have any and the idea of simple roasted tomatoes sounded pretty divine  me. The rosemary and thyme add an extra layer of earthiness to the dish, and are quintessentially fall, though you could swap them out for basil in the summer, or tarragon basically any time of year. This soup would be fantastic topped with a large, crunchy, buttery slice of baguette topped with melty Gruyère or a crisp layer of Parmesan. I personally served mine with a handful of salty pita chips, which I alternated between crumbling over the top, or dunking right in salsa-style (who doesn’t love foods that you DIP?). One big old bowl of this left me feeling full, warmed through and through, and one-hundred-percent satisfied for the rest of the night. If that’s not soup success, I don’t know what is.

Roasted Tomato-Rosemary Soup

Adapted from Epicurious

Ingredients 

  • 10 medium or 4 very large ripe tomatoes (about 4 pounds), cored and cut into equal sizes
  • 2 tablespoons of olive oil plus extra
  • 2 shallots, coarsely chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 (28-ounce) can fire-roasted crushed tomatoes
  • 2 sprigs of thyme
  • 2 sprigs of rosemary
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine
  • 1 tablespoon kosher salt

Method

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Lay the tomatoes on a rimmed baking sheet. Drizzle with the extra olive oil and roast them until they look wrinkly, about 30 minutes. Set aside.

While the tomatoes cool, heat the 2 tablespoons olive oil in a medium sauce pan. Add the shallots, chopped garlic, thyme and rosemary sprigs, and sauté over medium-low heat until they turn golden brown and caramelized, 15 to 20 minutes. Add the wine and deglaze the pan, then reduce the wine by half at a simmer.

Add the fire roasted tomatoes and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Simmer for about ten minutes until the flavors start to develop. Add the roasted tomatoes, season with salt and pepper, and continue to simmer for another 15 minutes.

Adjust the seasoning one final time. Remove the thyme and rosemary sprigs, and puree the soup in a blender or using an immersion blender in the pot. Serve hot with a crostini, scoop of fresh ricotta, or sprinkling of herbs.

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