Making this meal was like opening a time capsule to myself.  I’d bought the ingredients in jars and cans about a month ago, in anticipation of one day lacking fresh ingredients, except for garlic and parsley, with which to make a meal.  So, like chicken adobo, it’s another delicous meal that can be made quickly with a minimum of ingredients (especially fresh ones), and is a step up from, say, frozen dinners.  This recipe, too, can be customized however you’d like, adding more or less garlic, capers, anchovies, or olives… or anything else that you may want to add.  My only point of confusion was that the original recipe insinuated that only the plum tomatoes should be used for the sauce, but after cooking down the tomatoes into a loose mass, I decided that I wanted a saucy sauce, so I added in the juices from the can and cooked it down a bit more.  I’ve never ordered this in a restaurant, so I didn’t know exactly how liquid-y the sauce was supposed to be… but I knew what I like.  I also didn’t add nearly as much olive oil as specified… probably more like 3/4 tsp.  The recipe has also been changed around a little to reflect a “mise-en-place” idea.  Rather than chopping tomatoes as you’re sauteing the garlic for such a short time, I think it’s better to have everything ready to go before you start.
Pasta Puttanesca 
adapted from Mark Bittman, NYTimes
3 to 6 servings.

We finished our Pastry Techniques block last week, with Breakfast Pastries and Desserts as our last two subjects; we had focused on Cookies first. It was a survey of working with different doughs, batters, and fillings.

So, here’s the round up of what my three person team made:

Clockwise, Paris Brest, Eclair, Cream Puff, and a Swan. These were all made out of pate a choux, which is started on the stove top and finished in a mixer. We used all milk in our recipe, but half milk/half water or all water would make it a lighter, crispier. Ours were relatively tender and yellow. The Paris Brest was created to commemorate a bike race btw Paris and Brest, and it is meant to resemble a bicycle wheel. It was filled with pastry cream flavored with praline paste.

Our Eclairs had a chocolate pastry cream and a topping made out of melted chocolate, fondant, and simple syrup. The fondant was probably brought above 110 degrees, so the finish is more matted than shiny. It could have also used more melted chocolate to make it darker. We had to eyeball the amounts, which is tricky with melted chocolate and fondant. The double chocolate is a bit too much for me, and my favorite part of eclairs is usually the contrast of the vanilla pastry cream and chocolate top.
The Cream Puff had berries in the bottom and a raspberry whipped cream.

The Swan was made by piping the neck into a shape resembling a “2″ and high, oblong body shape. After baking it, we cut off the top of the body and cut it in half for wings, filled it with whipped cream, and stuck the neck in. We later learned that the “2″ should sit flat in the body, so ours shouldn’t have had that Adam’s apple effect.

This was our Dutch Apple Pie, which we made on the same day as our exploding cherry pies. The filling was a traditional cinnamon apple, but the streusel on top was a bit too sandy for me. It probably needed more moisture in it.

This was my genoise (sponge cake) that was decorated with whipped cream, strawberries, sweet puffed rice for the sides, and simple syrup brushed on the layers. We put the cake on a spinning cake stand to ice it, and angled a straight spatula to smooth the sides and top. Cutting it was a challenge because of the very soft whipped cream and relatively firm strawberries. I broke from the sawing technique at one point, and just pushed the knife down fast to see what would happen… and you can see the two slightly lowered slices that resulted.

We also learned that, generally, the filling and the cake should be about the same density, or else it will disrupt the balance of the finished product. I never thought about that before, and it makes a lot of sense.

I don’t particularly like this frilly style of cake decoration, but it was interesting to see that I could do it ok, for a first try.

We made traditional tiramisu, which turned out with a great mascarpone and marsala flavor. It was one of my favorites of everything we made. The lady fingers are made with the separation foaming method, in which the yolks and whites are whipped separately with sugar, and then folded together before folding in the flour.

This was one of our three angel food cakes, and the one that I prepared 6 ways. The recipe instructed us to lightly sprinkle the sides of the pan with water to produce a more caramelized effect, but maybe I put too much, because the sides were moist for a while after baking.

For our first day of Breakfast Pastries, we made five quick breads: Fig and Cheddar, Sweet Olive Oil, Zucchini, Cumin, and Cumin/Cheddar/Jalapeno.

The Cumin Bread, recipe here, was amazing; it was almost like a cumin biscuit in a loaf shape, and would have been great with chili. We had enough time to make it again, this time adding cheddar and jalapeno, but it tasted virtually the same as the first version, so maybe it’d be best just to top it with those flavorings instead of loading the batter up with so much more cheese.

The Fig and Cheddar was also fantastic, the flavors coming together so well and with a moist texture.

The Sweet Olive Oil Bread, recipe here, was a bit dry and with mundane raisin and lemon flavors. It may have needed small pans to bake it in so that it would all bake evenly and not so much that it dried out in places.

We also made a great Fennel Quiche that was researched by a team mate.

This Cheese Strata is a form of savory bread pudding that I found in Charlie Palmer’s Casual Cooking cookbook — it was fantastic, and similar to a pungent mac & cheese with bread instead of pasta. We cut up two sourdough batards (b/c that’s what we had, but most breads will work) into cubes and sauted them in butter until lightly toasted, and then mixed together 8 eggs, 1 Tbs grated onion, 3.5 c half-and-half, 1 tsp light brown sugar, 1 tsp dry mustard, 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce, 1/4 tsp paprika, dash of Tabasco sauce, and coarse salt and pepper. We then combined 3/4 lb grated cheddar cheese and 3/4 lb grated Capricious goat cheese (described here; the original recipe calls for monterey jack). We buttered a 3 qt deep casserole, and layered the bread, cheese, bread, cheese, and bread, and then poured the egg mixture in, and let it soak 15 minutes before baking it at 350 for about 40 minutes, when it was all bubbly and golden brown. And that was my lunch.

And of course, the amazing Blue Cheese and Leek Quiche.

Hot Cross Buns and Panettone. Our Hot Cross Buns had a piped paste on top flavored with lemon peel, and were glazed with thinned fondant. Eh. Fondant, paste, and dough together isn’t my favorite.

The Panettone was very nice, soft and airy. We used currants instead of raisins. They take a very long time to proof–about 1 hr 45 mins even after they’re put into the molds. It’s worth it, though. Before we baked them, we cut a cross on top and put a piece of butter in the center.

This was a Greek Easter Bread called Tsoureki that we researched. It normally has hardboiled eggs stuck into it, but we preferred to make it plain.

On Donut Day, we made yeasted donuts topped with chocolate fondant, cinnamon sugar, or powdered sugar.

We made berliners (jelly donuts) with raspberry jam, and I consider them the miracle donuts– we made a yeasted starter for them the day before, but when I tried to mix it with the rest of the ingredients for the dough, it was extremely dry and would only stay as gummy chunks. Only after a lot of high-powered mixing and fiddling around did it come together. Luckily, they didn’t turn out too tough and gluten-y, but they did taste a bit too yeasty, so maybe they could have proofed longer. To fill them, we used a piping tip that looked like a mosquito’s proboscis.

The apple fritters were the star of the day, though. Perfectly crisp on the outside and soft on the inside and in the curls, and with small diced apple pieces. They tasted great, clean and fresh. We used pate a choux to line the dough before rolling it up, which turned out nicely creamy. We should have rolled them tighter, though, because we lost bits of the apple while deep frying.

We melted shortening to deep fry them at 380-400; other groups used canola oil or similar, but they didn’t have quite the right taste for me, so the shortening seemed like a necessary evil. The shortening took about 1 hr to heat up. By putting the dough in clockwise, you can keep track of which donuts should be ready first.

The golden ones were best.

We also piped our extra pate a choux into the pot to make Funnel Cake. It was crispy on the outside and creamy on the inside, but something was missing flavor-wise. It was also hard to make them round, because the dough preferred to straighten out when piped into the oil so they had to manipulated as best we could.

Next: Cakes!

Every once in a while, I read a recipe that strikes me like a thunderbolt, and I can’t quite rest until I make it and eat it. This happened with Thomas Keller’s Roquefort and Leek Quiche; the recipe and an article are here.

It’s made in a 2 inch high ring mold. And that makes all the difference in the world. Instead of a thin, eggy custard overpowered by a mealy crust (as I’d generally pictured quiche before), the custard here has the room to develop an almost liquid silkiness while the pastry remains crisp and flaky. Even for reluctant crust-eaters like me, the crust is a marvel that balances the creaminess and strong flavors of the custard.

In Bouchon and in the linked article, Keller explains the benefits of his 2 inch quiche. Since it needs such a long time to cook (about 1.5 hours), the flavors have time to develop and distribute themselves evenly. Also, since quiche doesn’t have the protection of a water bath, it needs the volume to cook slowly and evenly. In shorter quiches, risks are high that either the custard will overcook in trying to fully bake the crust or that the crust will become soggy while trying to gently heat the custard.

His technique of using a blender for the egg mixture also encourages a lighter texture and it helps to suspend the ingredients. I was concerned by the large amount of froth when I poured the egg mixture into the crust, but it settled and turned out uniform.

Luckily, we were asked to research quiche recipes to make for culinary school earlier this week, so I was able to make this with a ring mold at school, though mine was 8 inches diameter instead of 9 inches. I’m tempted to buy one purely to make this quiche, but I might experiment with using a springform ring without the bottom, or even a cake pan.

Also, we had Point Reyes Blue Cheese instead of Roquefort, and it worked out nicely The tangy blue cheese and the mellow leeks produced an amazing flavor to match the silky texture. He also suggests other classical quiche flavorings such as bacon and onion, spinach, and wild mushroom.

Give yourself plenty of time for this. I made the dough the day before, and even though we started in the kitchen at 8am, it wasn’t quite cool enough to cut by noon. The crust needs plenty of time to rest and bake and cool, the leeks have to be blanched and cooled and squeezed dry, the milk and cream need to be scalded and then blended with the eggs and seasonings, and finally the whole thing needs to bake for about 1.5 hours, and then cooled for a while. Keller recommends serving it the day after you make it, either cold or heated at 375 for 15 mins.

It’s not hard or even continuous work, though, and the results are amazing. In fact, it’s so silky, I was endlessly confused when it came out out of the oven. I had to keep taking bites to figure out what had happened and whether it was cooked all the way through–the texture was like nothing I’d had before, except maybe something like foie gras, and the color was like ivory.

I also happen to think that the drum-like shape is beautiful.

I’ve been on a Thomas Keller kick this week, after I somehow came across this NYTimes review of Per Se in New York. When I noticed that reviewer Frank Bruni described the restaurant with the gleeful awe that I usually reserve for my favorites that I mention on my blog, I knew I had to find out more about this chef. Since I didn’t know much about how he or his food evolved or got to Napa, I searched Google, and read some informative interviews and articles.

Then, I searched for his recipes. And studied each one carefully. And ran out to buy Bouchon. I now believe that a rather wonderful culinary education can be had by reading through and making his recipes (and I’m dying to get The French Laundry Cookbook). Thorough yet concise, they each display such a respect for and understanding of food, that I feel like once prepared, the food would want to say, “Thank you. Now, you understand me.”

Much of the beauty of these recipes for classic dishes has to do with clever technique and attention to detail, and they run the gamut from simple to advanced (with part of the challenge being to find some rare ingredients and at high quality). I’m excited about the Onion Soup, Chickpea and Carrot Salad, Roquefort and Leek Quiche (which he insists should be made in a 2″ high pan to get the correct consistency and flavor out of the custard; now I understand quiche), Gnocchi with Mushrooms and Butternut Squash, Pike Barigoule, Tartine of Lamb with Pickled Red Onions, Duck with Olives and Red Rice, Duck Confit with Brussel Sprouts and Mustard Sauce, Lamb Stew with Spring Vegetables, Provencal Vegetables, Chilled Leeks with Vinaigrette and Eggs Mimosa, Chocolate Mousse Tart with a Hazelnut Crust, Vanilla Macarons…

Oh, and the pictures are beautiful, as is the commentary.

I decided to start testing out the book with two barebones recipes that are vital to French bistro fare: Roast Chicken and the House Vinaigrette.

Keller seemed to rhapsodize about the wonders of roast chicken in just about every article that I read. His trick is to not do anything to the chicken before roasting except to dry, truss, and salt/pepper it. It was the first time I actually trussed, so good thing I moved my unwrapped roll of kitchen string from LA to Davis to Napa. It’s very easy, and the instructions are clear. In the process of drying the chicken out with paper towels, I discovered ice crystals by the neck, so I let it sit out a little while and then went through drying again once thawed. Next, I rained down the 1 tablespoon of coarse salt onto it and sprinkled it with black pepper, so that it was bone dry and sparkling when it went into the oven in my 10″ skillet.

An hour later, it emerged sitting in its juices like a dull, matted imitation of a chicken, but once it was basted with the juices and thyme, it sprung to life in full shining gold.

It was fantastic. The best roast chicken I’ve ever had. Beyond moist and flavorful, I would rhapsodize about it in interviews, too, if given the chance. Many other recipes call for the skin to be salted, but maybe the quantity of salt here seals the moisture of the meat while keeping the skin crisp and dry until it is doused with its juices at the end. I don’t usually like skin, but I couldn’t get enough of this one. I think the large amount of coarse salt also spikes the flavors in the best way, just like the fresh thyme added at the end.

Keller recommends serving it with mustard on the side (or slathering it in fresh butter… or with a salad). I chose a salad with mustard in the dressing. I wanted to make the Bibb Salad from the link above, but I couldn’t get the ingredients, so I settled for a baby spring mix with chives and parsley. I’m not very much into dressing because I actually like the flavor of lettuce and vegetables and don’t like oily consistencies, so I usually just sprinkle in some vinegar, s&p, and maybe a little oil.

But this time, I did the dressing right: in the blender, with tons of oil. And it, too, was fantastic. It emulsifies into such a creamy consistency and smooth, piquant flavor, that I couldn’t believe that it was just Dijon mustard, red wine vinegar, and canola oil. It’s a bit heavier than what I think of as a bistro house vinaigrette that lightly coats the lettuce, but it does manage to spread rather lightly on the leaves. Old habits die hard, though, so I didn’t thoroughly coat all the leaves.

Keller is also a huge believer in the importance of sources, so I kept in mind that organic, fresh ingredients were a large part of these preparations, and I think I was rewarded for it.

By the way, whenever I hear about a roast chicken recipe, there’s always a testament to how simple it is to make… which is true, but no one ever talks about the clean up — am the only one left with a kitchen full of chicken residue? First the roasting dish gets full of juices and stuck with skin and grizzle, and then this ever so juicy bird bomb (even after resting it) has to go on my small, flat cutting board, and it’s carved one way or another, and I have to find some way to store the remains of the unruly carcass. My tiny kitchen suddenly gets tinier, and full of adhere-able surfaces. I always start out with a plan for an easy down home dinner, until I find myself rushing through eating it so that chicken substances don’t glue themselves to my kitchen. My innovation this time, though, was laying my cutting board in a baking sheet when I carved so that the parts and juices would be easily contained… One more dish to wash, but also one less counter to scour.

Whatever, it was worth it.

There are two refrains to remember for this recipe:

1. Do something… Add butter.
2. Add butter… Do something.

I embarked on the preparation with all intentions of fearlessly adding all the butter all four times, but I… I… I couldn’t do it. I used maybe a quarter of it. It was still delicious, though.

This recipe comes from Julia Child, Louisette Bertholle, and Simone Beck’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Vol 1, which lays down the statement that “real French people living in France eat hamburgers.” It is essentially a burger with finely chopped onions, thyme, and an egg added to the meat, and it is rolled in flour before being sauteed. Instead of a bun, it is finished with a sauce made from the coagulated pan juices, whose thickening is probably helped by the cooked flour in the pan.

They advise that the leanest beef makes the best burgers, which seems to be in disagreement with fatty beef advisors, but the recipe also calls for additional fat (such as… butter) to be mixed in with the meat. So, you still get your succulence.

I was very happy with the result. It has a rich flavor thanks to the onions, herbs, and butter that makes you feel like you’re eating something more complex than it is; the authors, in fact, recommend serving it as an “excellent and economical main course for an informal party.” You can serve it with red wine and vegetables you’d like with a steak. I would also recommend it as an quick dinner after a long day that gives you the chance to chop a little, mix a little, saute a little, and sauce a little.

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