Tart!

Seville Oranges...a love story


Citrus season is winding down. For the next 2 months, until local strawberries are available, rhubarb will be the only gift from the earth I have to work with (and thank you for that dearest, reliable rhubarb. You are always there for me when I am antsy for summer fruit).

Around January or February, apples and pears begin to SUCK. Cranberries are gone, and if you were lucky enough to get your hands on a quince, it has long since been devoured. The next local fruit crop feels like a lifetime away.
Here comes citrus to save the day.
Oh bright, sunny citrus. I just heart you oh so much. Meyer lemons, cara cara oranges, heirloom navels, Texas grapefruit, and my hands-down absolute effing favorite: The super sexy seville orange. Grrrrrawl! They just get me all twitterpated.
Is it a coincidence that my favorite Elvis Costello song is "tart", where he paints a lyrical picture with this very orange? Or that I am literally depressed to be down to my last case of them in the walk-in, with no hope to see another one again until next winter?
No, I think I am in love. With an orange.

Here is some back story on my sad obsession: Seville oranges come from- you guessed it- Seville, Spain. They have more seeds than any citrus fruit I've ever seen, they are REALLY bitter (I would never eat one out of hand), they have a thick bright orange skin- gorgeous when candied- and are typically used for marmalade.

The bitterness of it's juice is more of a pleasant sharpness that enhances food- sort of like a lemon. I love it paired with chocolate, vanilla bean, caramel, or all three- which is how it is currently being showcased on my menu:

Bittersweet Chocolate Pate with Vanilla Bean Cream, Seville Orange Caramel, and Coco- nib Toffee

Unfortunately, I have never seen a seville orange at the grocery store. If you have a year round farmer's market in your area, you may see them there. Otherwise, you'll just have to take my word for it. These guys are worthy of poetry.

Seville Orange Caramel
2 cups sugar
1 cup water
1 tsp lemon juice

2 cups heavy cream

2 seville oranges
1/4 tsp sea salt

Zest and juice the oranges. Reserve the juice and set aside. Bring the zest and cream to a simmer. Remove from heat, cover, and let steep for 1 hour.
Return steeped cream to the heat, bring to a boil, then strain into a measuring pitcher.
Combine the lemon juice, water, and sugar in a heavy saucepan. Cook until mixture is amber-colored and is just beginning to smoke (don't burn it!...it's a fine line- you don't want to walk away from the stove when caramelizing sugar!)
Remove pan from heat and slowly whisk in the hot cream (stand back- it will hiss and spatter!)
Stir until sugar is dissolved, then stir in the reserved juice and salt.

Perfecting Butterscotch

There are few sauces in this world that I love more than butterscotch. It has the gooey richness of caramel, but with a little more moxie. Even the name butterscotch has an allure to it. "butter" and "scotch"- of course it's gonna be good.
But, this innocent little dessert condiment has been irking me since last summer when I had a burnt sugar banana split on my menu.

This was no ordinary banana split. For weeks before the restaurant opened, I had a vision in my head of this glorious dessert, and glorious it was; A banana bruleed with a blow torch, scoops of homemade chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice creams-
topped with strawberry sauce, bittersweet fudge sauce, butterscotch, chopped almond praline, sliced strawberries, and a fresh bing cherry. Each order took almost 10 minutes to assemble and to this day, it could very well be one of my finest achievements...with the exception of one thing- I could never get that damn butterscotch right.

I started with a recipe from one of my heroes, Emily Luchetti. Her butterscotch contained all of the usual suspects: brown sugar, butter, cream, salt, etc.
Right off the stove it was quite delicious. After the sauce bottle sat overnight in the fridge however, it was grainy. Still yummy- but the texture simply wouldn't do. Graininess is one of my biggest pet peeves.



Not ready to give up, I tried a recipe given to me by a fellow pastry chef. As I was cooking it, I realized her recipe was pretty much the same as Luchetti's, and I knew I was probably going to have the same problem. So, I cooked it a bit longer to see if that would help dissolve the brown sugar, then I added a shot of whiskey while it cooled. The extra cooking time did nothing for the grainy issue, but the whiskey worked wonders on it's flavor. I had one of those no-duh moments. Why would I even consider making a butterscotch with out any booze in the first place?

With the restaurant in it's infancy at this time, I obviously had a million other things on my plate. I certainly could not linger here in this quagmire. The flavor was very good, and if it were made daily, in small amounts, I could sideswipe the grainy issue. I vowed that I would pick this butterscotch thing back up when I had time to catch my breath.

Fast forward to December, and I have gingerbread on my menu. A dark and spicy wedge with a dollop of Meyer lemon-mascarpone whip (a pillowy blend of Meyer lemon curd, mascarpone, and heavy cream. I will post about it in the future- it's too good not to share), rose poached quince, and a glaze of the infamous butterscotch. Here was my chance to re-visit the texture.



Butterscotch is made in the same procedure as caramel- but you use brown sugar and butter instead of white sugar and water, and you don't caramelize it. Instead, they are melted together, then the cream is added and the sauce boils for a few minutes... It's like "lawyer-ball" caramel.



Brown sugar was not only was it the key to butterscotch's flavor, but it was also my roadblock. Brown sugar is basically white sugar with molasses added to it. What if I made a basic creamy caramel sauce, then added molasses, whiskey and salt while it cooled? First time was a charm. I would go so far as to call it perfect. I was pissed off that my brain didn't make that connection back in the banana split days.

The hubby and I have been enjoying homemade cinnamon stick ice cream and butterscotch sundaes for dessert over the holidays. Luckily, we polished off the last of it last night- just in time for my new years resolution to decrease the size of my bum!

Butterscotch
This sauce can be refrigerated in a sealed container for at least 2 weeks. To bring it back to it's original saucy lustre, re heat it slowly over the stove, or in the microwave.
Makes about 1 cup

1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup water

3/4 cup cream
1 oz unsalted butter, cut into cubes

2 T molasses
1/4 tsp fine sea salt
2 T whiskey (I like Yukon Jack for it's sweetness)

In a small sauce pan, combine sugar and water. Cook over high heat until it' caramelizes. This takes a while longer due to the extra amount of water.
Meanwhile, in a separate sauce pan, combine the butter and cream. Bring to a simmer and let sit until the sugar has caramelized.
Off the heat, slowly and carefully whisk in the hot cream. The pot will spatter and spit- look out!
Whisk over gentle heat until sauce is smooth and lump-free. Strain into a heat proof container, then stir in molasses, whiskey, and salt.

Happy New Year!

Improvising Pear Butter

Pear-Vanilla Bean Butter on Brioche

I picked up some bartlett pears- oh, I don't know- maybe three weeks ago! And thats just a wild guess, because truth be told, I really can't remember. Yikes. They were pretty green and crunchy when I bought them, and they had ripened to a yellow-spring green- with just the slightest give when squished- when I moved them from the counter to the refrigerator. There they sat in a little basket, lonely in the corner, and forgotten about. Yesterday when I came home from work and opened the fridge, their perfume came at me in one big sweet waft. Remember us lazy-ass? Remember your big plans for pear gingerbread? Oops...but maybe not. These pears were really yellow with brown splotches in a few spots- I wouldn't want to eat it out of hand at this point, but they were truly at their peak for flavor. The meat of the fruit was very soft, yet unblemished, and it melted on the tongue. I had to use these pears TODAY. But at 5:30 on a Tuesday night? Brilliant timing Britt. The last thing I wanted to do was put off these pears any longer. I was going to have to suck it up and come up with something.


Pear butter came immediately to mind mainly because it's cooking process involves a few minutes of light prep in the beginning, then pretty much ignoring it all night with the exception of the occasional stir. It also seemed like I had all the necessary ingredients on hand. I had just returned from the store- only an idiot would go back in the middle of rush hour.
I have made apple butter at work in the past and have never been completely thrilled with it. Years ago, my mom used to make apple butter and it's still the best I've ever had- the reason why is a mystery. When I asked for the recipe a few years ago, she said it was in some cookbook- but I never found it. Her butter was really thick and really dark, but still delicate in flavor. Apple butters I've since tasted are too saucy, too chunky, or "off" flavored. So, when I went to make pear butter, I didn't bother looking for a recipe to go by. There was no point. All the recipes I have attempted from my cookbooks and online have not blown my hair back. My Mom's has set the bar way too high. Might as well save myself time by skipping the research and just throwing the damn thing together.

Talk about dumb luck. This stuff turned out beautifully. Still not quite as good as Mom's apple butter, but not far behind it either. I used a light hand with the sugar and cooked it down with an un-filtered cider. On brioche, it was fantastic. But there is more to this butter...
It just so happens that we were roasting a pork loin with root veggies for dinner. I wish I could somehow let you all smell my kitchen last night. The pear butter was in it's third hour of cooking when we pulled the loin out of the oven. We dropped a few spoonfuls onto our plates and smeared it onto our pork. I don't think I even need to tell you how good it was. I know- You're drooling.

Vanilla Bean Pear Butter- A "rough" outline

8 ripe bartlett pears- peeled and diced
1 cup water
cook until pears are quite soft. Pass through a food mill and return to pot. Add:
1 1/2-2 cups unfiltered cider
1/2 vanilla bean, split and scraped
2/3- 1 cup brown sugar
2 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ground ginger
cook for several hours over very low heat, stirring occasionally, until desired
thickness is achieved. During the last 30 minutes of cooking time, add:
1 strip of lemon zest (use a vegetable peeler- strip should be about 2-3" long)
1 strip of orange zest

Remove vanilla pod and zest. Cool and refrigerate- or process and can.
PS~ food discovery: vanilla bean works with meat. I have had it with fish, and knew it was savory-friendly (thanks again, Kevin!), but had yet to try it with pork. I guess many birds were killed with one delicious stone last night.

The October Royal Foodie Joust!

My entry: White chocolate-lavender ice cream with merlot poached pears
Every month, Jenn, the lovely leftover queen hosts a Royal Food Joust over on the leftover queen forums. Whoever wins the challenge from the previous month, gets to pick the three ingredients for the next challenge. Everyone comes up with a dish including all three of these ingredients. Congrats to Meghan, who won lasts month's challenge of chipotle, buttermilk, and zucchini with her zucchini stuffed chicken breasts with buttermilk chipotle sauce. She chose white chocolate, lavender, and pears for this month's joust. Head on over to the forums to see every one's scrumptious entries and vote for your favorite!

At first, I had a hard time coming up with what I wanted to do with this. I was eager to participate because I really don't like white chocolate. Coming up with a dessert showcasing it, that I would actually eat is just the type of challenge I'm up for. I knew this could be done- when one handles the White chocolate delicately and pairs it with the right flavors, it can be pretty delicious. Lavender was a merciful addition on Meghan's behalf. It is one of those things that just belongs with white chocolate. It cuts the sweetness and adds a deeper, more complex flavor to it. Had she not included it in the ingredients, I would have thrown it in there anyway. It was the pears that were stumping me. They are a great choice this time of year, but with white chocolate? Hmmmmm......

After some head scratching, I decided on a mildly flavored white chocolate lavender ice cream served with a side of spicy merlot poached pears. I am pleased to announce that the pears work beautifully with the ice cream. The contrast of the strong flavored, peppery pears against the creamy and cooling ice cream is a winner. Great picks Meghan!

White Chocolate Lavender Ice cream- makes about 4 cups

2 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
1 tsp culinary lavender buds, crushed slightly
5 oz. white chocolate
5 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
pinch sea salt

Bring the cream, milk, and lavender to a boil. Turn off heat, cover, and let sit for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, chop up the white chocolate and place in a small bowl. In a separate, larger bowl, whisk together the sugar, salt, and egg yolks. Once 30 minutes is up, bring the lavender infused dairy back to a boil. Ladle about 6 oz. of the hot dairy over the chopped white chocolate. Pour about 6 more oz. over the eggs, whisking them constantly. Pour the now tempered eggs into the pot with the rest of the dairy, and cook over med-low heat, stirring constantly wit a heat tempered spatula. Make sure the spatula never leaves the bottom of the pot, or the eggs will curdle. Once the custard base is thickened enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon, strain it into a fine mesh sieve into a bowl. Stir the white chocolate-cream mixture until mostly smooth. Pour mixture into the custard and stir to combine. Nest the custard in a larger bowl filled with ice cubes and water. Once the custard is completely cold, churn it in an ice cream maker following the manufacturer's instructions.

Poached Pears

2 cups decent merlot. (nothing too expensive, but you want it to be something you'd be willing to drink on it's own)
3/4 cup orange juice
1/2 cup sugar
1 fresh bay leaf
3 peppercorns
1/4 of cinnamon stick, crushed
1/4 of a vanilla bean, split and scraped

2 bartlett pears, ripe but still firm

Peel and cut the pears into quarters. Place them in acidulated water while you combine the rest of the ingredients in a large pot. Bring to a full boil, then drop in the pears and turn off the heat. Use a tea towel or smaller pot lid to submerge the pears in the liquid, or they will not poach correctly. Let sit until the pears are tender to a paring knife. Transfer pears and liquid to a shallow pan and refrigerate.

To serve

Put 4 plates in the freezer. Drain pears on paper towels while reducing the poaching liquid until syrupy.
Drizzle the reduced liquid on the frozen plates. Place a big scoop of the ice cream over the liquid and fan out pear slices around it. Garnish with lavender buds (though I didn't have much! My plant is suffering in the cold!)

Don't squeeze the jelly bag! The Ballard farmer's market and jam to follow

Have I mentioned that the Ballard Farmer's market is my new favorite thing ever? I will always love the University market, mainly for it's being open all year, but there is something about that Ballard market that makes you feel like you have been swept away from it all. After four or five hours there, I feel like I've been on vacation. Last Sunday, my pal Lesa and I spent the day there wondering around, meeting new people, and tasting all sorts of goodies. We were, however, on a mission. Jam. A while back, Lesa and I were chatting over a bottle of wine, when we revealed to each other that neither of us had ever canned or preserved anything in our lives. My mother made apple butter, freezer jam, and jalapeno jelly when I was a kid. My Mamo has always made strawberry jam (and will always remind me of the flat of freshly picked strawberries she was JUST about to turn into jam, when my mom went into labor with me and she had to drop everything and head for the hospital. Needless to say, they sat on the counter in the hot July sun, never to become the row of ruby red jars that she had hoped for!) The point being, it's ludicrous that I was never tutored in the art of preserving! I love jams, jellies, butters, pickles, and chutneys, but until now, I have always had to rely on the ridiculously over priced jars I would pick up at the grocery store, or the gifts of friends. Those pathetic days are now over.

We began our market trip with a few ideas in mind. Neither of us wanted to do pickles or chutneys just yet. We'll save that for canning/preserving part two. I have been wanting to do the Plum jelly featured in Greg Atkinson's book "Northwest Essentials" for a while now, for one thing it sounded delicious and EASY! Lesa was thinking about preserved peaches. We picked up about 4 pounds of Italian prune plums, as Greg calls for, and some gorgeous red haven peaches. Then, we walked by the "Foraged and Found" stand. HUCKLEBERRIES!!! How could I have forgotten about huckleberries?! Of course, something would need to be done with these. I am a Seattle native. Naturally my love for these northwest berries runs deep. There is no commercial licence for huckleberries, so you will not see them at Safeway. But for the brief late summer months, they are available at farmer's markets, and worth every penny. We picked up a few pounds of them, and headed over to my berry lady. Jessie's Berries is one of my favorite farmer's market stops. She is usually at all the markets. Even the brand new, teeny Queen Anne market. Her black raspberries were the star of a dessert special I ran back in July that people are still talking about. Jessie had some 2nd crop strawberries and this would be essentially the last chance I'd have to savor the washington strawberry. A flat was purchased. I am not sorry. This years second pick of strawberries (also known as the everbearing strawberry) has been better than the first. Next, we stopped for a light lunch and glass of wine at divino, loaded up the car, and headed to Lesa's kitchen. Let the canning games begin!

We started with plum jelly, which takes the longest. Italian plums are split in half, cooked down, placed in a jelly bag (or pillow case-see photograph), juices reduced with sugar and lemon juice, then canned. While the plums cooked down, we tackled the strawberries and huckleberries. Both of us wanted to make freezer jam with these berries, which isn't really canning, but who cares? We both love freezer jam, and I hate to cook strawberries. Something about it depresses me. The huckleberries and strawberries were squished gently with a potato masher, then combined with sugar and pectin. That's all you have to do to create beautiful, delicious jam. Make sure you use plastic containers, and most pectin boxes come with instructions for freezer jam. Next it was time to deal with the peaches. Until we tasted one. It was just too perfectly succulent to peel and can. They needed to be eaten as they were, right then. So, we'll do preserved peaches next time. Meanwhile, our plum juice was dripping from it's pillow case into a bowl....very very slowly. "Don't squeeze the jelly bag!" Lesa would yelp at me everytime I went over to fiddle with it. Greg states very clearly in his recipe...do NOT squeeze the jelly bag. Otherwise the jam will get cloudy. It had been several hours at this point, and we were getting ANTSY! ....We squooze the jelly bag. Naughty, impatient girls. You know what? The jelly turned out to be stunning and not at all cloudy. It was a sparkling garnet color and I think it's my favorite product of the day. The plum flavor is highly pronounced and it has a marvelous texture. I will be making it again this month and saving it for Christmas gifts. Here's a link to Greg Atkinson's homepage, where you'll find his recipe for plum jelly. Spending a beautiful Sunday morning at the market and the afternoon in the kitchen is church for me. I came home that evening feeling high from mastering a new skill. I blabbed to Trevor, who listened politely about all I had learned and the people I had met. Then, we had toast with jam. As he took a bite of buttery white bread, smeared with strawberry jam (something he's usually not a huge fan of), he smiled, then hungrily took another bite. Then, devoured the entire thing. Later that night, he snuck into the kitchen for a PB n J made with the huckleberry. Lesa, I think we done good.