7 posts tagged “spices”

One really, really good thing about taking part in a weekly food challenge?
...Well, aside from guaranteeing that I'm going to eat at least one home-cooked meal a week, or getting motivated to cook more frequently...

I love that I'm near always looking for new things to do, and taking inspiration from existing recipes. After all, I took one look at the Epicurious recipe for a fresh fig tart with rosemary cornmeal crust, and then wondered how it would taste with something less sweet.

The answer? Pretty darned good.
Now, if only I could improve my "photography skills."

Fresh Tomato Tart with Cornmeal-Thyme Crust
Yield: About 3-4 servings

Crust:

¾ cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup yellow cornmeal (not stone-ground)
1½ tsp sugar
pinch to 1/8 tsp salt
¼ cup cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
¾ tbsps finely chopped fresh thyme
2 to 3 tablespoons ice water

Filling:

3-4 small to medium tomatoes, washed and sliced 1/6-inch thick
½ tsp fine-grain sea salt
2½ - 3 tbsp crème fraîche
½ cup mascarpone cheese (4 oz)
1 tbsp sugar

Glaze: (opt)

1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp honey
fresh thyme leaves, to taste

Pulse together flour, cornmeal, sugar, and salt in a food processor. Add butter and thyme and pulse until mixture resembles coarse meal with some small (roughly pea-size) butter lumps. Drizzle evenly with 2 tablespoons ice water and pulse until just incorporated.
Gently squeeze a small handful: If it doesn't hold together, add more water, ½ tablespoon at a time, pulsing after each addition and continuing to test.

Press dough evenly onto bottom and up sides of tart pan(s) with floured fingers. Smooth dough with a small spatula or the back of a spoon (floured if necessary), and roll a rolling pin over top of pan to trim dough flush with the edge (if necessary). Prick the crust bottom with a fork. Chill until it's firm, about 30 minutes or so.

While waiting on the crust to chill, prep your tomatoes: To avoid a soggy mess later on, you'll want to rid the tomatoes of some of their water. Clear a space on your counter and put down a double layer of absorbent paper towels. Slice the tomatoes into eighths or so, making very fine, thin wedges: Place the tomatoes in a single layer on the paper towels and sprinkle them with about 1 tsp (+/- accordingly) fine-grain sea salt. Cover the tomatoes with another layer of paper towels, press gently. Let them sit until you're ready to use them.

Preheat oven to 400°F. Bake crust in middle of oven until center and edges are golden, 20 to 30 minutes.

Whisk together sour cream, mascarpone, sugar, and salt in a bowl until well combined and slightly stiff. (I found that while the mascarpone and the creme fraiche were fairly stand-up on their own, they liquefied slightly when combined -- probably the addition of the salt and sugar.) Refrigerate until ready to use.

Let the crust cool to room temperature before filling: Heat balsamic, honey and thyme (if desired) in a small saucepan over moderately low heat, whisking about 4 minutes, then cool glaze slightly. Take care not to breathe in over the pan, as the scent can be a little overwhelming for the sinuses, but the results are stunning.

Remove tart shell(s) from the pan(s) and spread mascarpone cream in shell. Pat dry the tomato slices and arrange decoratively over cream. Drizzle with honey-balsamic glaze and serve.

The tart is really ridiculously good on its own -- I honestly think mascarpone and creme fraiche are now my favorite mixture of flavors ever, and even better than sweet cream ice cream  -- but a drizzled teaspoon or so of the balsamic glaze makes it to die for. Wow.

On a whim, I mentioned to a 'net friend that I wanted to re-create the porchetta rustica.
Said friend asked me why, when I could probably google the recipe.

I clearly owe said friend lunch, as Google revealed not one, two, or three versions, but a proverbial plethera of copycat recipes. There is now no need of me to re-invent the wheel, although I am annoyed that all the recipes I've looked at call for a convection oven with the wind on. What happens if we don't have a convection oven, hmm?

So far, I haven't been able to find the non-convection variation (or, for that matter, if it makes much of a difference) -- but here's the recipe with a few (but not all) adjustments suggested by a kitchenlink reader.

The local Trader Joe's has reasonably priced blueberries and filberts, I've got capers in the fridge, and the rest are kitchen staples, as far as I'm concerned: All I need is a pork loin, and I'm ready to roll.

Or, food / semi-review post! Don't read this if you're hungry.

The other night, I went out to dinner with the co-workers: We all earned a service award, essentially, and the dinner was our thank-you from the company. When we earned the same award last year, our reward was a dinner at Claim Jumper's (and I'm still dreaming of their ginger creme brulee) -- this year, we were treated to the Kitchen Table at Buca's.

While not my first trip to Buca's, it was my first experience at the Kitchen Table -- and if you ever get the chance, I'd say, take that table at least once. It's interesting to watch everything going on in the kitchen, they'll bring dishes by your table and tell you what they are as they go out, and you get to interact directly with your chefs.

I have to say, I was really fond of ours. She had some excellent suggestions, and, er, we may have gotten to talking about unusual food combinations (like the ingredient choices made in the porchetta rustica -- more on that later). Also, she was a former California Pizza Kitchen chef, so she was listening intently when we started talking about them -- and then she and I got to talking about the Peking Duck pizza that (alas) is no longer on the CPK menu.

I had a lot of fun, and it was interesting to see how the kitchen worked. But I digress from the real reason we were there: The food.

I'm sad to report that for the first time in the years since I've been going to our local Buca's, I did not get the caprese. I'm an enormous fan of the way they make it, but there was just not enough interest at the table, it seemed -- though the day's salad special made its way onto our table, and I wasn't sorry in the least. The Bossman and I polished off most of that (and the leftovers, such as they were, made it home with me) -- he more after the spinach, and me attacking and devouring the fresh, flavorful wedges of tomato.
It was a 'warm spinach and tomato salad,' but it was also so much more than that. They touched the spinach, slivers of red onion and beefsteak tomatoes to the pan just long enough to warm them, and then added candied pecans and what I believe was a house balsamic vinaigrette -- if I'd been able to think past the goodness dancing on my tongue, I would have asked what went into it -- and then tossed with a mild, white goat cheese. The tomatoes were definitely my favorite, though chasing the onions and pecans around my plate were a very close second. -- I may very well have to call over there and ask what balsamic they use, because theirs was so much more mild than the stuff I keep at home, and managed to be sweeter without being cloying. (Time to upgrade!)
I do not know what kind of goat cheese they used, alas, but I think it needed a little more oomph to really make itself known: It didn't stand up all that well when paired with the dressing. Feta'd be all wrong, but it needed something... Guess it's time to go cheese tasting and expand my goat cheese repertoire.

Before that, though, we had bruschetta and the trio sampler -- battered shrimp, calamari, and mozzarella, only one of which I'll touch. The breaded mozzarella wasn't what I was typically used to: They appeared to be thin, breaded rounds of cheese, and tasted more baked than fried; I was so relieved to see something other than the fat, leaky fingers of fried, breaded cheese dripping with grease, that I did perhaps snitch one more than I should have. (No one complained since the shrimp and calamari were otherwise theirs.)
The bruschetta was little more than fresh chopped tomatoes and basil atop the house bread, drizzled with garlicky olive oil. I did love it, but the toppings were a little light. Maybe they needed a touch more garlic and onion, who could say?

And then we ordered the main course.

I was first to pipe up, and I requested the porchetta rustica: Herb-rubbed pork sliced into rounds, and topped with a sauce of red wine, balsamic, blueberries, capers and hazelnuts, served with a side of roasted potatoes and veggies.  (I have to admit, I've recently found a mild obsession with capers, especially when in these kind of dishes.)
The boss wrinkled his nose at the blueberries -- "Blueberries? In a wine sauce, on pork?" -- but I persisted and received backup from the rest of the group, so it made its way to our table and I was so very not sorry. (Neither, for that matter, was he -- he actually admitted it worked, in spite of the perceived weirdness.) I'm now going to have to dedicate my life to duplicating that dish. ;)

Of course, our chef was listening in while I announced to Bossman that I make it a point to try my hand at making ans tasting 'weird foods.'  It was an amusing couple minutes while I defended myself by pointing to his reaction to the blueberries and capers on pork. ;)

There were other things we ordered, though I did not touch the linguine fruitti di mare -- Again with the calamari and shrimp, only including mussels and clams, which are also not my cup of tea. Meant more for the co-workers, right?

We also ordered some pasta dishes (that were tasty, but I was way too full to truly appreciate) and a side of tuscan beans and escarole in marinara. It was my first time knowingly trying escarole, and I have to say I enjoyed it: I like it in much the same way I like cooked spinach, but it's got ... Hm. Perhaps not 'more' flavor, but that's the best term I can come up with at the moment. Cooked spinach can be a background flavor: Escarole isn't. I'm probably going to have to track it down fresh to form a better educated opinion.

I discovered something, however: While the co-worker-turned-friend at my left was squeezing his lemon onto his linguine di mare at his seat next to me, I took my first bite of the Tuscan white beans, and wow. The scent of lemon that hit me was enough to make that dish pop, and I was actively disappointed that the bites afterward lacked that citrus-y hint. I've decided that this weekend, I will be making white beans with greens (likely spinach, since I always have that on hand), olive oil, and lemon juice/zest.

Honestly, I only had enough room for a spoonful of tiramisu. In-sane.
Great food, though. I'm clearly going to have to drag people back that way to go get more of the things I really liked.

This one is for another cooking friend of mine, since I seem to have been a particularly bad influence, bringing this up the first time. ;)

While not a spice itself, it's another thing I haven't often seen as an ice cream ingredient: Thanks to Heidi at 101Cookbooks.com, I've been introduced to Honey Ice Cream.
And while this technically is not spice cream, it has a special place in my heart: Green Tea ice cream.
Back to all things spicy: Meyer Lemon and Ginger Ice Cream. (No, not sorbet.)
Interestingly: Olive Oil Gelato.
Why is the rum gone? Oh, right, someone made Rum-Brandy ice cream.

I'm just feeding the poor woman's need for an ice cream maker. (Heck, for that matter, I want one.)

And since I appear to be in a cooking mood, let me share what the fiance and I had for dinner last night.
We had the aforementioned Honey-Glazed Chicken: He fired up the grill before I made it home since he has Mondays off, and I bummed around on the computer a little while until the coals were ready and he'd put the chicken on the BBQ.
At that point, I grabbed some pre-cooked brown rice and heated it up again with some of the four-cheese blend I keep -- Parmesan, Romano, Asiago and ... I forget the last, I want to say Mozzarella, but that's not it. It'll come to me.
Anyway, stirred it all together so the cheese melted and it made an almost risotto-like side. He'd also picked up a Costco bag of fresh spinach at my request, so we had a spinach salad with sugar plum tomatoes, topped with balsamic, oil, and pepper. (Wish I still had some red onions, because man. On the other hand, I do have some sweet yellows at home, and I can certainly boil an egg to crumble, and I think I may possibly have some bleu cheese. Salads to take to work for lunch!)

I've just found a little corner of Interesting on the web, especially if you're the cooking sort: Tsp Spices, a web-shoppe for organic spices packaged 1 tsp at a time.

...What? I think it's interesting.
True, it's a little pricey at $10 for 12 tsp (or 4 tbsp, or approximately 2 oz.), and there's a lot of the spices there that I'm fortunate enough to be able to find at my local Penzey's... But there do appear to be some things I haven't spotted at Penzey's. The varieties of cinnamon, for one -- and the organic is a nice touch.

I think my real favorite part about this new find is their Spice Cream recipes. (I mean. Spice cream.  I once made an excursion into odd ice cream flavors like Avocado-Clove, so weird flavors just catch my imagination.) They have some other recipes that also look really nice (under the Uses section, if you're curious), like an ancho chili, orange and coriander rub, used on pork tenderloins in the recipe section. It's worth a look, though I find some things under the recipe section disorganized: Some are cited in English measure, others in Metric, and some don't bother with measurements at all -- but it's an interesting place to start thinking about other uses for spice.

I know I don't always use 'exotic' spice in my cooking as much as I feel I should, so this will give me ideas. :)
And end mental commercial/review/what have you... But I had to share. Read a note from the Food Network that had this little link almost as an afterthought, and I found I really found the place interesting. You may not, and I won't be hurt -- but I wanted to scribble myself some journal notes before I let my excitement get away from me and wane. ;)

I'm also wanting to try something different, food-wise. I do tend toward cooking Asian- or Italian-influenced when left to my own devices, and I know there's more out there. I've never tried Ethiopian food, for one -- all 'food?' jokes aside, that is -- and I'm sure there are other tastes just waiting to be discovered. My Thai experience is very limited, though I've loved what I have eaten. Indian food is still largely a mystery, but I will about do anything for a good, crisp samosa. Korean, Japanese, Chinese -- Those are the more familiar Asian cooking, the tastes I'm familiar with and
comfortable enough to experiment in. This may cause some wrinkled noses, but you know what? Scandinavian food is sorely underrated. I did have my fill of continental breakfasts when I was lucky enough to visit Norway as a child (and still to this day cringe whenever cold cuts, crudites and cold eggs on bread get passed my way with the label 'breakfast'), but the rest of the food I was served was fabulous. I still sometimes dream of the meatballs I used to have for Sunday dinner, and I'm unsure if they were pork or beef or both, their creamy inner texture only made better by the crisp left on either side by the pan.
German food: I'm half Czech and a quarter German. I love the sauerbratens and hassenpfeffer and saurkraut and other traditional foods. I love the knedliky, karbonitek, and bramborak of my childhood (thanks to my Babi). I'm used to traditional German and Eastern-block European cooking -- It's what I grew up with, but it didn't seem to often use spices outside of vinegar, or garlic, or caraway seeds. Poppy seeds too, now that I think about it -- but those were largely breads and desserts.
I've had Mexican food (which does not agree with me, no matter how much I like it), but I've never had Spanish fare.
I've eaten a goodly amount of French cuisine.
I don't think I could identify Irish food outside of colcannon, corned beef & cabbage, and soda bread -- and that makes me a little sad, since that's the last piece of my heritage, there.
English food has always been described to me as bland, tasteless stuff -- but then, I've had the
requisite pub food of fish & chips on a regular basis. And there's the Faire food of toad in a hole, and bangers, and others -- so I'm sure I'm missing something.
I've never had good from any culture further south than Mexico. That's half the world I'm missing, there.
I can't think of anything immediately off the top of my head that's, say, exclusively Australian... Unless you count vegemite, which I must sadly admit to never wanting to touch with so much as a ten foot pole, let alone try.

I hunger to broaden my horizons.
... And my waistline, apparently. ;)

Seemed I was in a cooking mood today: After a fabulous day of hanging out with a friend, dim sum, and driving around with the top down on my convertible, I summoned up the desire to actively make something for dinner.

A lot of what I ended up doing was improvisation: After all, rosemary roasties aren't a big deal to make, and I have plenty of potatoes in the pantry.
I've been having this craving for a dish I was fortunate enough to try as a child -- Steak in cognac-peppercorn sauce.
Since I only had tuna steaks and my cognac (which I do remember unpacking from the move many months ago) has mysteriously vanished, an improvisation was as close as I was going to get.
I had some red sweet vermouth in the cupboard, though, and that seemed to fit the bill when I smelled it.

¼ cup butter
¼ cup sweet vermouth
¹/₃ cup milk (or better, cream)
1 small shallot, sliced thin or minced
1 tbsp whole black peppercorns (or 1½ tsp ground black pepper, to taste)
2 tsp Dijon mustard

I melted the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Next in was the mustard, stirred briskly to combine and then the vermouth. Milk. Shallots. The pepper was last, all still over medium-low, and I stirred constantly until I could see the liquid start to boil along the saucepan's wall. Reduced heat to low, and simmered a minute before removing from the heat.

I poured a little of the sauce into a fry pan I had set up for the tuna steaks when they were flipped for the second side's (two minutes each) cooking, sending the sauce bubbling and lightly glazing the faintly browned upside of the tuna. Flipped again, and let that cook while I took the roasties out of the 300 F oven they'd spent the last 40 minutes in. Set the roasties aside to cool, served up the cooked through but still tender tuna, and drizzled with the sauce.

Mmmm.
It's a little less savory in flavor than I remember mustard sauces being, but I think that's the vermouth.

This cooking pescetarian thing has not helped me remember important details like the Complete Meat Cookbook (Aidells and Kelly, 1998).
Should have known they'd know what to do with a netted pork roast. ;)

40 Clove Roasted Pork
Yield: 6 servings

Herb and Paprika rub (below)
2½-3 lb. netted boneless pork roast¹
2 tbsp olive oil
½ cup dry white wine
½ cup chicken stock
40 cloves garlic
1 tsp chopped fresh rosemary OR ½ tsp dried rosemary
½ tsp dried sage
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Rub the herb and paprika seasonings all over the meat. Prior to cooking, let it rest 1 hour at room temperature, loosely covered.

Preheat the oven to 350° F. In a heavy skillet, heat the olive oil over high heat and brown the meat on all sides, about 5 min. Transfer it to a casserole dish just large enough to hold it. Pour off the oil from the pan and add the wine and stock. Bring to a boil, scraping any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Pour the liquid over the roast and scatter the garlic cloves and herbs in the casserole.² Cover with foil and then cover tightly with a lid.³
Place the pot in the middle of the oven and cook for about 1 hour. Check the meat, which should be tender and read 160° to 165° F on an insta-read thermometer. Remove the roast and keep it warm, loosely covered with foil. After resting for 10 min, the final temperature will be 170° to 175 ° F.
Pour the pan juices and garlic into a small saucepan. Remove any grease from the surface and taste for salt and pepper. Keep warm over low heat. Remove the netting from the roast and carve the meat into ½-inch thick slices. Spoon the sauce and garlic over the meat and serve.

¹ The roast should be from the shoulder or leg, or a veal shoulder roast. Do not use a loin roast, which will dry out with longer cooking.
² Bansidhe says: For a more pervasive garlic flavor in your pork, take 2-5 of the garlic cloves at the time you're using the rub on the meat and cut slits into the top of the roast, inserting half or whole cloves into the roast.
³ If you are using a clay pot or Römertopf, don't use foil: Seal with flour and water paste or according to the manufacturer's directions.

Herb and Paprika rub
Yield: spice for a 4 lb. roast

1 tsp dried thyme
1 tbsp chopped fresh rosemary OR 1 tsp dried rosemary
1 tbsp paprika
1 tbsp kosher or sea salt
1 tsp fresh ground black pepper

And, to compliment the pork...

Rosemary Asparagus
Yield: 4 servings

½ cup chicken broth
1-2 tsp dried rosemary
1 clove garlic, halved
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper
1 lb fresh asparagus, trimmed
¹/₃ cup onions
1 tbsp minced fresh parsley

In a skillet, combine the broth, rosemary, garlic, bay leaf, salt, and pepper.
Add asparagus and onion: Bring to a boil.
Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 3-5 minutes or until crisp-tender.
Discard bay leaf, garnish with parsley, serve.