Semolina Pudding

Yeah. Sorry about that. A two week lull after what was a phoned in post to begin with is kind of a harsh toke. A brief early spring funk set in, leaving me with the overwhelming urge to do nothing but go through the motions.

And watch a lot of bad movies. Like, Bruce Campbell bad.

I did manage too eek out something interesting a few weeks ago- A semolina pudding. This was inspired by Heather of Gild the (voodoo)lily. Last February, she was in Seattle and met my sister and I for drinks. Over wine and blog gossip, she told me about her upcoming Foodbuzz 24, 24, 24 feast that focused on African cuisine (Heather's 24's are always insane. She has another one up featuring nettles. It's so springy and delightful I could just wet myself). Anyway, she mentioned the hominy grits pudding she was planning to end the meal with. Which is where I realized that in nearly ten years of baking for a living, I had never once made a cooked cereal like that for dessert.



After Heather's post, I began tinkering. So as to not completely rip her off, I explored the flavors of Spain and Morocco. Sweet spices like cardamom, star anise, and cinnamon; the pulp of a vanilla bean, orange zest, and saffron. I opted for semolina over hominy, as it is what I had on hand and seemed to snuggle up with the flavors I was working with.

The warmly scented semolina is cooked, egg is added. Then it's baked in a water bath until it's just set. I baked mine in individual ramekins, because thats usually how I roll- but you could make a big one. You'll have to adjust the baking time.

To garnish, I gave it a drizzle of the clear seville orange caramel I had in the fridge, fresh blood oranges (because they're pretty), fresh mint, crushed salty marcona almonds, and a naughty little dollop of rose scented whipped cream. It made for a lovely weekend dessert special.



I will leave you with the recipe for my version, but the method is a canvas.
I encourage you to play.

Semolina Pudding
serves 7

2 cups whole milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 cardamom pods, crushed
1/2 of a cinnamon stick
1/4 of a vanilla bean, split open
1 star anise
pinch saffron
1/4 cup + 2 Tb semolina
2 oz. butter
1/2 tsp grated orange zest
pinch sea salt
3 eggs
1 egg yolk

Bring the milk, sugar, spices, vanilla bean, and saffron to a boil. Cover, remove from heat, and let steep for one hour.

Cut parchment paper into circles the same size as your ramekins.
spray 7 3" ramekins with pan spray. Line the bottoms with parchment paper circles and spray again. Place ramekins in a roasting pan that has been lined with a tea towel (prevents sliding).

Whisk eggs, yolk, and salt together in a bowl
Return the infused milk to a boil. Strain into a clean pot and bring back to a boil. Slowly whisk in the semolina. Continue whisking over medium heat until mixture has thickened- about 4 or 5 minutes.

Pour a small amount of cooked pudding into the eggs and whisk well. Then, whisk the tempered eggs into the pot. Add the butter and orange zest, then spoon pudding into prepared ramekins. Pour very hot water into the roasting pan until the ramekins are at least 3/4 of the way submerged. Cover pan with foil.

Poke holes in the foil and bake at 325 degrees for 20 minutes. Lift the corner of the foil to release steam (Be Careful!!), then recover and bake about 20-30 minutes longer, or until puddings are set. Cool to room temperature- at least an hour, then invert onto plates. Don't forget to peel off the parchment paper!
Serve with your preferred accompaniments

Seville Orange Flan

My annual obsession with seville oranges continues, this installment being a perfectly textured flan. Yeah, you heard me. Perfect.

It's heavy on the eggs, but doesn't taste too eggy... I personally like it to be a touch on the eggy side, though. Some people get all freaked out by the eggy flan thing, and they should just go eat some creme brulee and get over it.



I don't use any cream in this one because it inhibits the sharp, clean flavor of the sevilles. Whole milk lends just enough richness, but still keeps the flan silky and light.
I cook my caramel for the bottom of the ramekins a hair darker than usual, for some bitter twang.
Lots of vanilla beans and a little drizzle of creme fraiche are the only other players in the dish, providing the equipment for a jooshed up creamsicle.
If you can get your hands on seville oranges, do two things with them. Make the cuban roast pork shoulder from the Dean and Deluca cookbook, and serve this flan for dessert.



Seville Orange Flan
yield: 5 (or more if using smaller ramekins)

Caramel:
3 oz water
1 1/2 cups sugar

Custard:
3 cups whole milk
zest of 1 large (or 2 small) seville oranges
2 vanilla beans
3/4 cup sugar
pinch salt
4 eggs
7 egg yolks
1 Tb grand marnier

1. Infuse the milk: split open the vanilla beans and scrape the seeds into a sauce pot. Add the pods to the pot. Add the orange zest and milk. Bring to a full boil, then cover, remove from heat, and let steep on the counter for 2 full hours.

2. Make the caramel: Spray 5 ramekins with pan release. Place ramekins in a roasting pan lined with a tea towel (this keeps the ramekins from sliding around). Combine the sugar and water in a pot. Stir very gently with your finger until the sugar is absorbed. Place pot over high heat and cook, brushing down the sides of the pot with a pastry bag dipped in water (OR- this is what I do: Cover the pot with a lid and allow the condensation to wash down the sides of the pot for you. Just stay close so you can occasionally peek to see how your caramel is coming along)
Once the sugar is reaching an amber color, remove pot from the heat. Tilt pot around gently to encourage even caramelizing. Ladle the caramel into the ramekins. Set aside while you make the custard.

3. Custard: In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, yolks, sugar, and salt. Have a heatproof container and a fine sieve or chinois at the ready. Remove cover from pot of infused milk and bring to a full boil. Gradually whisk the hot milk into the eggs. Strain custard, then stir in the grand marnier. The custard base can be made ahead of time.

4. Bake: Pour custard base into the prepared ramekins. Fill the roasting pan with
very hot water so that the ramekins are about 3/4 of the way submerged. Cover pan with foil and bake in a 325 degree oven for 60-90 minutes, until flans are set but not wobbly. Once ramekins are cool enough to handle, remove from the water bath and let sit at room temp for about 10 minutes (putting hot flans right in the fridge causes the custard to crack). Refrigerate overnight for best results.

5. Serve: Run the tip of a knife around the edge of ramekin. Place a dessert plate on top of the ramekin. Invert flan onto the plate (you may need to shake it a little until you hear the flan separate from the ramekin). Drizzle with a little creme fraiche a la Jackson Pollack.

Grapefruit Campari Sorbet

As you can probably tell my the blinding girlishness of my blog, I unapologetically love pink.

The thing is, I in no way fit the personality profile of a stereotypical pink-lover.
My ipod and cellphone are not bedazzled with swarovski crystals.
I stopped wearing tiaras after grammar school.
If for some reason I am wearing a skirt, I can assure you that I will provide no opportunity for accidental peeping at my lady parts.
See? I'm totally 'one of the guys'.

But yeah. I admit that pink sort of puts me in my happy place. As does this pink grapefruit sorbet. I look forward to making it all year. Right about now, when the gargantuan Florida grapefruit are available is the best time to make it, but the Texas rio stars are also quite good. The Campari is key. While it may taste as bitter and evil as Slayer lyrics by itself- the oompf a little splash of it in citrus cocktails will deliver makes it a worthy investment. Plus you'll look totally suave with it sitting on your bar.



Do yourself a favor and candy the zest of the grapefruit before juicing them. Not only is it less wasteful in trying economic times like these, but it makes a tasty garnish as well.



This sorbet always does well at the restaurant. It's rare when a sorbet will outsell anything with chocolate in it, but this one will.
I love to imagine some alpha male on a first date accidentally ordering it.
While he is desperately hoping to appear manly- thus increasing the odds of mating, this pretty pink dessert on a doily sits before him.
It probably never happens, but I can always fantasize.



Grapefruit Campari Sorbet

5 1/2 cups freshly squeezed ruby red grapefruit juice (usually takes about 8 medium grapefruit)
1 quart grapefruit simple syrup*
6 oz. champagne, prosecco, or cremant (anything bubbly)
1 oz campari

Combine and churn in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions

*Grapefruit simple syrup:
1 quart water
4 cups sugar
grated zest of 2 ruby red grapefruit

Rub the zest into the sugar with your hands until the mixture resembles wet sand. Combine with the water and bring to a full boil. Remove from heat and strain. Chill overnight or in an ice bath.

Humble little citrus bars

There is nothing fancy about these bars. I am completely aware of the fact that none of my readers will be wowed or have their hair blown back.

But they are so, SO good.

I made these for the first time last summer to bring to a BBQ, using just the zest and juice of key limes and garnishing with toasted coconut.
I had also brought strawberry shortcake- made in the height of local strawberry season, with a mascarpone whipped filling. I was expecting that to be the crowd pleaser, but everyone kept going back for the lime bars.
I knew I would need to revisit the recipe when citrus season rolled around.

Here we are, six months later with an abundance of cool citrus fruits to play with. This particular batch was made with the zest and juice of limes, meyer lemons, and cara cara oranges- garnished with a piece of candied grapefruit zest (leftover from my Grapefruit Campari Sorbet. Stay tuned).
I will be making these again in a few weeks using all seville oranges (my fave) for a super tart party in my mouth.

It's hard to say exactly what makes these simple little bars so addicting. I really love the animal cracker crust as a stand in for the everyday graham crackers. And the texture of the filling is nothing short of dreamy- having just enough cream cheese in them for a slight tang, but not so much that they are cheesecakey (nothing against you, cheesecake- but there is a time and a place.)

This recipe comes from a well known cooking periodical. I will not tell you which one, because the word on the street is that they are total nazis about food bloggers reprinting their recipes.
I'm going to break all kinds of laws here, and supply you with the recipe- without citing the source. Lets see if thugs wearing little red bow ties come after me brandishing rapier swords and chucking ninja stars.

Mystery Citrus Bars (as I made them)

crust:
5 oz animal crackers
3 T packed brown sugar
2 T melted butter
1/8 tsp fine sea salt

Pre heat oven to 325 degrees. Line an 8 inch square baking pan with aluminum foil, leaving excess to overhang pan sides. Spray with non-stick cooking spray.
Pulse animal crackers in a food processor until broken down. Add brown sugar and salt. Pulse until you have evenly fine crumbs. Add butter and pulse until crumbs are moistened.
Press evenly into the bottom of prepared pan (use the bottom of a drinking glass or measuring cup). Bake until golden brown. About 18-20 minutes. Cool while you make the filling.

filling:
2 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 1/2 tsp each of grated lime, meyer lemon, and orange zest (mince zest with a sharp knife after zesting)
1/8 tsp fine sea salt
14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1 egg yolk
4 T lime juice, 2 T meyer lemon juice, and 2 T cara cara* orange juice

*cara cara oranges are slightly less sweet than regular oranges. If using regular oranges, decrease juice to 1 T and increase either meyer lemon or lime juice by 1 T.


Go Oregon Ducks

Stir the cream cheese, zest, and salt with a rubber spatula until softened and creamy. Add sweetened condensed milk and whisk thoroughly until no lumps remain. Whisk in egg yolk. Add juices and whisk until incorporated.
Pour filling into crust, spread to corners, and smooth surface with a spatula. Bake until set and edges begin to pull away slightly from the sides of the pan. 15-20 minutes.
Cool to room temp, then cover with foil and refrigerate until completely chilled- at least 2 hours.
Loosen edges with a paring knife and lift bars from baking pan using foil extensions. Cut bars into 16 squares.

Flavors of a Suburban Childhood

Creamsicle Semifreddo

I've been a bit of a lazy blogger lately. I have been a very busy social networker though. In the past week or so, I have joined both twitter and foodbuzz. I think I have the whole twitter thing figured out. It's both kind of neat and pointless at the same time. I like being able to send immediate non-food related messages to fellow bloggers, but to be perfectly honest, I'm running low on witty repartee....

Why in god's name would anyone care what I'm eating for breakfast?
(Heritage Farms Flax Plus multigrain cereal. Keeps the digestive system on the regs...see what I mean?)

Foodbuzz still kind of confuses the hell out of me. The wine country blog I featured on my profile was accidentally posted twice and I can't figure out how to make one of them go away. And how do you get that nifty graphic to display on your blog? I'll get the hang of it eventually, as I usually do with these computer-related activities. I'm still kind of amazed that I keep a blog in the first place. I was born during the Carter administration, which means that growing up, Atari Pong was considered the penultimate in technological advances and mankind was just inches away from self-aware robots and hovercrafts. I realize that software techs in their forties are laughing their asses off at me, but yeah- when it comes to this interweb thingymajig, I'm on a bit of a slow learning curve.

Speaking of my youth- my dessert menu is experiencing a childhood kick lately. The fruit pies are always a big seller, mainly for their simplicity and the fact that it's hard to find a good slice o' pie in the city these days- but fruit pies, delicious and awesome as they are, are typically a favored by the "Jag" crowd.

It's time for a shout out to the young'uns- and to some of my favorite flavors as a kid. Memories of watching the Mariners lose at the now demolished Kingdome with my dad and eating chocolate malts became a malted chocolate mousse cake served with caramelized rice krispies. Mom taking us to McDonalds for an orange-vanilla swirl cone (which they don't sell anymore. Buttholes.) after going to the swimming pool has been translated to a creamsicle semifreddo.

Orange and vanilla has always been one of my favorite combos. It's right up there with burgers and beer. The semifreddo (which is basically just a frozen mousse- no ice cream maker required) has just a smidgen of an ingredient that I generally abhor: white chocolate. But when cut heartily with lots of cointreau and orange zest, you can barely tell it's there. It's minuscule- a whisper really, to help play up the vanilla bean and provide a really nice texture. White chocolate haters will most likely still enjoy this dessert.

On to the recipe:
Creamsicle Semifreddo

Mousse Base (can be made a day or two in advance):
1 3/4 cups whole milk
zest of 1 orange
2 T sugar
1 vanilla bean split and scraped
6 egg yolks
1/4 tsp salt
1 T fresh squeezed orange juice
2 tsp cointreau*
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

combine the milk, zest, and vanilla bean in a sauce pot. Bring to a boil, remove from heat, cover, and let steep to 2 hours.

whisk the yolks and salt together. bring the infused milk back to a simmer and temper it into the yolks. return mixture to pot and cook, stirring constantly with a heatproof spatula over low heat until mixture thickens slightly. Strain though a sieve into a container and chill. Once cooled, stir in the vanilla extract, orange juice, and cointreau.
semifreddo:
mousse base
12 oz white chocolate, chopped
2 cups heavy cream
2 tsp sugar
2 T fresh squeezed orange juice
1 T cointreau

line a loaf pan with plastic wrap.
In the bowl of a standing mixer, whisk the cream, orange juice, sugar, and cointreau until very soft peaks form. set aside.
melt the white chocolate over a double boiler until no lumps remain. stir in the mousse base until smooth. fold in the whipped cream in 3 additions. continue folding gently until well combined. pour mousse into the prepped loaf pan and freeze over night. invert onto a frozen sheet pan and cut into 12 slices.

SHF #43- citrus therapy

I must start this post with the caveat that I am having quite the craptacular week. Nothing major or life threatening- just a lot of little annoyances that have been piling on steadily....One highlight I am willing to share includes the tearing of the seat of my pants while I was at work. Nothing like showing your ass to your male co-workers to bring you down off your high horse. Good times.
People with real problems should feel free to tell me to fuck off. Or as my dear husband says after listening to me piss and moan for a day or two- "get over yourself and quit being so pms-ey." God I love that man.

Anyway- I was going to put off my contribution to Sugar High Friday, for a few more weeks so I could focus on some recipes for work. Then I found out Helene, aka Tartlette, aka blogging superstar (I dare you to find a food blog without her included in the blog roll. Yeah, she rocks), was hosting this month and chose citrus as the theme. Citrus is so bright and cheerful. How could it not pull me out of my self-indulgent funk?

My recipe this month is definitely a little ray of sunshine. I morphed a Pierre Herme (also known as God) lemon cream into a citrus brulee tart served with caramel syrup and sugared pine nuts. Those who are unfamiliar with Pierre, or his lemon cream should be ashamed of themselves. Those who are, know that it's basically lemon curd with a pound of butter whooped into it. The final product sets up to a creamy custard-like consistency. I am almost always using it in some form on my menu. Fold in a little whipped cream and becomes a pillowy filling for strawberry shortcake. Sandwich it between layers of lemon chiffon cake, or mix it with mascarpone to dollop on top of gingerbread...It will sexify any thing. I promise.

A pound of butter will make it all okay



This version of the recipe uses the zest of lemons, limes, and grapefruit, and the juice of just lemons and limes. Including the grapefruit juice made it too sweet, so I had to reduce the sugar, but then it wouldn't set up properly....You know a recipe is good when it's been fiddled with about half a dozen times. The final product is the perfect happy medium. It's not too sweet and the three citrus flavors are well pronounced. I served mine in a lemon-cornmeal crust, and the sugared pine nuts are a nice balance to the tang.(I said tang) Now add a crackly brulee top crust, and you have attitude adjustment on a plate.

Citrus Brulee Tart
adapted from Pierre Herme

1- 12" pre baked tart shell

1# good quality butter, cut into small pieces and softened
zest of 1 grapefruit, 2 lemons, and 2 limes
1 1/3 cup sugar
4 oz lime juice
5 oz lemon juice
7 eggs
1 egg yolk


A very useful toy

Place the sugar in a bowl (large enough to fit over a pan of simmering water). Zest all citrus fruits into the sugar. Using gloved hands, rub the zest into the sugar until it is moist and fragrant. Add citrus juice to the sugar as well as the eggs. Whisk to combine.
Place mixture over a pot of simmering water and cook, whisking constantly until it reaches 180-182 degrees on a thermometer. Immediately remove from water bath and strain into a bowl (this both removes any curdled egg and zest and also cools the mixture slightly).
Transfer mixture to a food processor and add the butter, a few pieces at a time with the machine running. Once all of the butter is added, continue processing for 1-2 minutes.
Pour mixture into a bowl. Fold gently with a spatula and tap against the counter to pop air bubbles. Finally, slowly pour into the pre baked tart shell. Carefully place tart in the refrigerator and chill uncovered for several hours or over night before slicing into 14 pieces. To serve, sprinkle each slice evenly with sugar, then brulee it with a blow torch or under a broiler.

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.

East Meets West: The Daring Bakers are at it again...

And this time, I'm playing too!


Bostini Cream Pie

It's official! One of the many reasons why I started this little food blog was to get in on the action with the Daring Bakers. This is a rapidly growing community of baking enthusiasts who meet up via the blogospere to partake in a monthly baking challenge. Created in November of 2006 by Ivonne of Cream Puffs In Venice, and Lis of La Mia Cucina, these guys and gals have tackled everything from Strawberry Mirror Cake (involving components such as Bavarian cream, sponge cake, and gelatin) to the doozy of them all: Gateau St. Honore. Also known as "The Patron Saint of Bakers", this dessert in his honor involves puff dough, pate a choux, pastry cream, and caramel sugar work to boot. All of which are some of the most difficult skills to master. Especially from the home kitchen. I've watched in awe from the sidelines, amazed that the majority these talented people don't do this for a living. Last month, after drooling over the milk chocolate caramel tart they conquered, I knew I wanted to play.

I waited all month in anticipation of what our October challenge would be. The ants can now leave my pants. This month's event, hosted by Mary at Alpineberry, is a Boston classic, updated by the San Fransisco Restaurant scene. "Bostini Cream Pie" is a similar idea to the Boston Cream Pie, but sexed up a little. Rather than the standard issue vanilla sponge cake, filled with standard issue vanilla pastry cream, and finished with ganache; the bostini version is an individual dessert of orange chiffon cake nesting atop a layer of vanilla bean custard. Each portion is glazed a la minute with warm bittersweet chocolate. I knew right off the bat that this dessert and I would get along famously. Chocolate and orange is such a heavenly combination, and I love a good eggy custard.



The actual recipe required that we first make the custard and pour it into ramekins. We were then supposed to bake the chiffon cake in ramekins that were the same size as our custard cups. This way we would have an individual cake to unmold and place inside the ramekin of custard, then pour chocolate over it. It was meant to be served inside the ramekin. Confused yet? This seemed like a very silly way to go about putting this dessert together. For one thing, I don't have the 16 ramekins required for this recipe sitting in my cupboard. I was convinced the procedure could be tweaked and I was right. The custard is basically a pastry cream, which will hold up on it's own if it's properly cooked. And why not just bake the chiffon cake in a sheet pan and use cookie cutters to punch out the desired size? This was a recipe from a very well reputed San Fransisco restaurant, but sometimes the way things are done in professional kitchens are not prudent for the home.

Armed with ring molds, parchment paper strips, and refrigerator space, I went about making the custard. The recipe for this is pretty straight forward. I ladled the cooked pastry cream into the parchment lined ring molds and refrigerated them overnight. The chiffon cake was also easy to put together, and delicious! Once the cake was cooled, I cut out adequately sized rounds and placed them over the chilled pastry cream. Once the glaze was cooked (no problems there either), it was time to unmold. I slipped off the ring, peeled away the parchment and poured the warm chocolate over the whole thing (side note: the sight of warm chocolate cascading down a piece of cake is the hottest thing ever. It kind of turns me on).

The verdict? Pretty darn good. The custard itself was just too rich for me. I'm used to pastry cream made with all milk. This was mostly cream. A few bites were all the hubby and I could get through with out feeling sick. The chiffon was my favorite. It has lots of orange juice and zest, adding tons of flavor to a normally somewhat dull cake. And the chocolate? You just can't go wrong with good bittersweet chocolate (I used Scharffenberger- a San Fransisco treat) and butter. It was as good as it sounds. I would make this again, but for the sake of my ever growing bum, I would make an all milk pastry cream. Other daring bakers have substituted the orange in the cake for things like coconut milk and raspberry puree, which also sound delicious. speaking of other daring bakers, check out their versions of the bostini, you will be impressed, I promise...these people have chops!


For the recipe for Bostini Cream Pie, head over to Mary's blog