Salt-seared Ahi Tuna and Ricotta Gnocchi

This was certainly one of the most exciting meals I have made in a while. Exciting partly because everything tasted so good, but mostly because of the new toy my brother his wife gave me for Christmas. Behold, my Himalayan Pink Salt Plate:What is Himalayan salt? Himalayan salt comes from the Khewra Salt Mines in Pakistan. It is extracted by hand as the use of dynamite is prohibited in order to preserve the structure of the crystals. Today's common salt is chemically refined; all of the natural minerals are removed and reduced only to sodium and chloride. This process made the salt unhealthy. Himalayan Salt however, is pre-pollution and without environmental impact. It is identical in minerals to the ancient primal ocean with all the minerals and trace elements our body needs. These natural minerals are identical to the minerals which our bodies have evolved with (info taken from spring mountain naturals).

Himalayan Pink salt plates, bricks, slabs and chunks are an exciting way to utilize this special salt. The salt imparts a delicate salty flavor to the foods you cook or serve, but its density prevents your food from becoming overly salty. The pure taste and abundant minerals make this salt both more flavorful and healthier than processed salts. I heated mine in the oven which, I found out later, was the wrong thing to do (oops). I should have heated it directly on my gas burner over low heat for 15 minutes, then increased to medium for another 15 minutes. See atthemeadow.com for complete instructions or to order your own salt plate!



Once my salt plate was hot (like I said, I put it in the oven), I put it on a trivet and simply placed my tuna directly on top. No salt, no pepper, no oil, no nothin'. Check it out:
A couple of minutes on one side and you could see it searing (photo at right). A gentle flip, then a couple minutes more on the other side, and it was nicely seared. In all honesty I could/should have cooked it less, maybe a minute per side. I had prepared a couple of simple dipping sauces; a bagna cauda (galic, anchovy, olive oil) and a spicy tomato vinaigrette. After one bite of the tuna, though, both Lissa and agreed that it needed nothing else. High quality fresh Ahi tuna and a hot salt plate: dinner.

I didn't stop at the tuna, however. I had some ricotta cheese in the fridge left over form a calzone we made the night before, and I decided to make some pan fried ricotta gnocchi. Now, I've seen lots of recipes for ricotta gnocchi, but none of them matched the way I first encountered them in Cafe Mare. At Mare, we made a light, mostly ricotta, mixture that we piped out of a pastry bag and served them in a spinich mousse. I made something similar in that I used a pastry bag to pipe out the gnocchetti. I used about a 2 cups of ricotta, 1 beaten egg, 1/4 cup of flour, morel salt, pepper, and copped parsley. I pan fried them in a couple tablespoons of olive oil, flipping them once browned on one side, then let them drain on a wire rack. I tossed them in some black truffle olive oil and more chopped parsley. Three words for you: de, lish, us. They are so light, and have such a wonderful texture, and the flavors of the morels and truffle were just lovely.

We had to round things out with a green salad of course, and round things out it did. It really turned out to be a beautiful meal. My new salt plate is so cool! They're not too expensive, and with proper care can last for years. I'm definitely looking forward to next my salt plate session. My curiosity has also peaked with regard to salt soles (proounced so-layz).

Butternut Squash: Day 2

After I made the squash soup, I still had half of a butternut left over. We were fixin' to have a spectacular meal (post to follow), but I forget to get something sweet for dessert. Lissa suggested that I "just whip something up." So while she was on a walk with our dog Henry I did just that. I had everything I needed for a soufflé.


Yes, that's it, a butternut squash soufflé. This will be a dessert soufflé, though I found many recipes for a savory butternut squash soufflé. I used a couple of different recipes as reference, but then just created my own monster in the end. What a lovely monster, indeed.

I mashed up all of my remaining squash, first with just a fork. Then, once I added my egg yolks (3 of them) and 'bout a 1/2 cup of maple syrup, I whisked it with my handy-dandy new hand blender whisk attachment. A sprinkle of cinnamon and freshly grated nutmeg, and I was ready for my egg whites.

Now, I have successfully made quite a few soufflés in my day, and they are really not that difficult. This one turned out great and I didn't even follow a recipe. Having said that, however, there are definitely guidelines and tricks that will help you turn out the best possible soufflé. Click on this link to read a post on Heidi Swanson's fabulous blog about Madame Saint-Ange's soufflé techniques. She has another post devoted to the proper method of whisking egg whites. One simple trick that I normally apply when making soufflés is to use an extra egg white. So here for example, I employed 4 whites to my 3 yolks (save the extra yolk to make potato pancakes or a mini-meatloaf or something).



Gently fold in the whites, taking note that your mixture need not be completely homogeneous. Little bits of white here and there will actually help your soufflé rise. The whole point of folding is to not expel all of the air bubbles you've just worked into your egg whites. Done. We've just to prepare the ramekins and then bake (which can happen later, or even in the next few days). Grease the bottom and sides of the ramekins with butter, and then coat with sugar. I got a wild hair and used brown sugar, which ended up clumping because of the moisture of the sugar, but proved to not be a problem in the end. Plus, I wanted a bit of molasses to accent all of those rich caramely flavors in the squash and the syrup. Pour the mixture into your ramekins leaving space at the top so the soufflés can rise. They will keep in the fridge until you are ready to use them (within a few days). I baked them at 350° for 30 minutes, being patient enough to not open the oven door and let all of my heat out! Carefully remove from the oven and serve immediately.

Butternut Squash: Day 1

More soup was needed. Our Christmas meal (see last post) was delicious and fulfilling, but rain continued to fall in Santa Cruz and another pot of soup was in our forecast. This time, butternut squash would be the star of the show. I decided to roast the squash, which caramelizes the sugars and really enhances the nutty flavor. Split down the middle and scoop out the seeds (save the seeds to roast too). To add some extra sweetness and depth, I peeled and cored an apple, and roasted it along with the skvash. I put them on a baking sheet and covered it with foil. Then into a 375° oven for 45 minutes to an hour, or until tender.

The seeds we reserved are going to get some oven love as well. I tossed them in olive oil, salt, pepper, chipotle powder, and minced orange peel. Turn the oven down to 300° and use the same baking sheet once you're done with the squash. The seeds only need to toast for about 5 minutes. They might start to pop on you, like they did for me, but I don't think I let the oven cool down enough before I put them in. Once nicely browned, I scattered the seeds on a paper towel and set them aside.

On to the base. I opted not for the classic mirepoix, but instead for a pile of sliced shallots. Shallots have a mild flavor, and I thought they would work nicely with the flavors in this soup.

So these sliced shallots get sauteed over medium heat in a couple tablespoons of butter and a couple tablespoons of wild sage olive oil. I bought this bottle at a farmer's market years back and every time I finish it, I simply refill it with fresh oil. The bottle says that the sage is harvested in the Mayacamas Mountains of Northern Napa Valley but doesn't specify the type. It looks and smells like Salvia clevelandii to me, but I'm not certain. It doesn't look like Big Paw is still making this flavored oil, but they do have plenty of other oils and other grub on their website. Of course, you can always make your own flavored oils at home, but you must take care to do it safely. I usually stick to purchasing flavored oils and infuse vinegars, liquors, salts, sugars and the like.

Anyways, the shallots get sauteed in butter and sage oil (which smells fabulous by the way) until translucent and then I dump in my squash, which I had peeled and diced after it cooled. I ended up using 1 and 1/2 squash, and saving the other half for...well, the next post! Next, pour in a 1/2 cup or so of brandy. This will further develop our deep caramely flavors. I grated some nutmeg, sprinkled some salt, and cracked some pepper into the pot, then poured in my stock. I think chicken or veggie stock works best here, but I happened to have the stock I made from the Christmas ham bone so I used that. I used enough stock so that the squash was just covered. I didn't want too much liquid because I wanted this soup to be thick. Once everything came up to a boil I turned the heat off and blended with my hand blender until smooth. With the blender running I added a 1/2 cup of half and half, checked the seasoning (it needed more salt) and served with an extra drizzle of sage oil and a handful of the toasted seeds. Served with a big salad on the side, it was a welcome second soup supper. Many more to come I am sure.

A Christmas Meal

A Christmas Meal. No, not a Dickens style roasted goose, nor turkey nor ham nor seven fish dinner. In fact, this Christmas meal wasn't even eaten on Christmas Day. It was soup and salad a couple days after. Doesn't sound much like a Christmas meal? The truth is this was a meal made from and with gifts I received on Christmas.

I would like to think that I am a very easy person to shop for, and judging from what I was gifted by my family and girlfriend, it seems that I am indeed. What else do you give someone who is passionate about all things culinary??

From my girlfriend: an awesome Cuisinart immersion blender and a mandoline.












From my girlfriend's parents: flavored olive oils from a mill near their home in Arizona.


From my brother and Audrey: a himalayan salt plate and a case of wine made from interesting white varietals, including pure wines from Roussane, and Picpoul, as well as blends like a Vinho Verde (made from grapes like Loureiro/Trajadura/Pedernã) and a Cotes du Rhone from (Viognier/Marsanne/Clairette/Bourboulanc).



From my mom and Leo: a set of collapsible measuring cups (small kitchen), subscription to Cook's Illustrated and Bon Appetit, and a grembiule (pictured at left)! Also from mom and Leo, the bones from the ham on Christmas Eve and the rib roast, which made their way into a stock (the description of the meal is coming soon).




From my dad: a gift card to Macy's, which bought (among other things) this beautiful dutch oven.

From my grandma: a check so I could buy (again, among other things) the rest of the ingredients for the meal. Love you Grams!!

And thank you everyone!! I feel so blessed. May all of your gifts to me alchemize into a million more gifts to others (except maybe for the wine).

So what did I do with all of this stuff? Cook, naturally. I also had a bag of crudites leftover from Christmas Eve (I brought a Bagna Càuda appetizer plate), so we decided to make a big pot of soup in the new dutch oven. We already had a big pot of broth, so we only needed to buy a can of beans (it hadn't occurred to us to soak dry beans the night before) and some pasta. Ecco Minestrone!

I made a creamy balsamic vinaigrette with my "handy" new blender, as well as a hot sauce (made with the chili oil from Dave and Maureen) to drizzle over the soup.

I used the mandoline to julienne veggies for the salad, and enjoyed a fantastic glass of wine courtesy of the Tracy's. The 2007 E. Guigal Cotes du Rhones Blanc is fantastic, by the way.

All of it together made for a very special "Christmas meal." Who would have thought that soup and salad could mean so much, but it did. It was a beautiful night, and the love that went into this dinner must have been what made it so delicious because it really was. Grazie tante, e Buon Anno a tutti!

Liquors & Liqueurs

The theme for this post: maceration. In the culinary world this is a term that means letting food (usually fruit) soak in a liquid to absorb and/or impart flavor (also known as soaking). Fruits are often macerated in liqueurs. In this case however, we will be macerating fruits and herbs in hard liquor. The result? Sometimes they will be sweetened, yielding a liqueur, and other times they will simply result in a flavored hard liquor. A liqueur, by the way, is an alcoholic beverage that has been flavored with fruit, herbs, nuts, spices, flowers or cream and bottled with added sugar.

I have long enjoyed drinking liqueurs, but it wasn't until about six years ago that I was introduced to creating my own. I was working at Cafe Mare and Jean-Pierre, one of the owners of the restaurant, had just returned from Italy. J.P.'s mom apparently has an arsenal of homemade liqueurs at her home in Calabria including lemon, orange, melon, mint, and licorice. Upon returning from the toe of the boot, J.P. was inspired to serve a liqueur at the restaurant. The first liqueur that was to be made...basil--that's right, basil. Basil has a strong, pungent, sweet smell and tastes like anise. If you don't believe me, just make a basil liqueur. When we made it at the restaurant, Jean-Pierre had me bring the 'basilcello' to the table after the meal and have people guess what it was. The predominant guess was licorice.

After the basil liqueur, J.P. played around a bit (strawberry & coffee were two others) before settling back down with the classic southern Italian digestivo, limoncello. To this day he serves plenty of both types of limoncello: the standard version, and the creamy version. The allure of the creamy version is certainly strong, but really the secret couldn't be more simple. When making the simple syrup, use milk instead of water and kill the heat before it boils. I have also seen creamy canteloupe melon liqueurs in Italy that are pretty darn good. A quick word about limoncello though, before we move on. The precise origin of limoncello is debatable, but most agree that it lies somewhere in the Italian region of Campania. Most people also agree that authentic limoncello must be made from a particular type of lemon, Limone di Sorrento, which are protected, not unlike Champagne, under geographical indication ( IGP in Italian which stands for Indicazione Geografica Protetta).

Once I made a batch of limoncello, I realized that you could put anything in a jar of alcohol. In fact, liqueurs date back centuries and are historical descendants of herbal medicines, often those prepared by monks, such as Chartreuse or Bénédictine. So I started to make my own herbal remedies. At some point I bought a fabulous by book Jeanine Pollak called Healing Tonics that not only outlines how to make tonics and tinctures but also has a list of commonly used eastern and western herbs and their benefits/uses.

Since then, I make a handful of liqueurs and flavored liquors every year. They make great gifts, and they just keep getting better and better as their flavors meld and mellow over time. This season I made a spiced pear brandy, an apple/fennel-seed/cinnamon liqueur, and a pineapple guava vodka. Cocktails are enjoying a huge resurgence right now, partially driven by the ever popular "foodie" movement. Many restaurants now make their own infused alcohols, homemade mixes (like sweet and sour), homemade bitters, and fresh juices. Mixology has taken cocktails to the next level. Similar to the concept of slow food, though, the next level is more about taking a step backwards, and becoming more involved in the process. It does take some time, but if you have the passion and initiative it is worth the effort. For example, if you like Cosmopolitans, make your own orange liqueur, make a batch of cranberry infused vodka, and make your own sweet and sour mix with lemon juice and powdered sugar. I guarantee it will be far superior to any cosmo you've ordered before, unless the mixologist at the bar has done the same thing.

Above is a picture of my spiced brandy: pear, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, vanilla, black peppercorn, clove, (unsweetened). Then again pictured below after being strained, ready to gift.

Here is a picture of the pineapple guavas macerating in vodka (I left this one unsweetened as well):

For the sweetened liqueurs, it is crucial to use Everclear or other similar strength alcohol. In California, we can only legally get our hands on 151 proof (75.5% alc./vol.). This is because once you sweeten it, you'll want to keep it in the freezer but not have it freeze.




The basic recipe is this:
-Put whatever you want to macerate in a wide mouth jar.
-Add the liquor and put the lid on.
-Give it a shake every day.
-Wait. What you macerate will determine the length of time required. Leave ginger for a month or two, lemon peels a few weeks, basil or mint for a handful of days (you get the picture?).
-Strain the macerated material with cheesecloth, and squeeze out any liquor that has been absorbed by it.
-If you are just flavoring a liquor, or don't want to sweeten it, you're done. If you want to create a liqueur or a cordial then make a simple syrup (2 parts sugar to 1 part water), and mix 1 part liquor to 3 parts syrup.
-Bottle it up and stick it in the freezer.


The possibilities are endless, so go get a bottle of Everclear, Vodka or Brandy and go nuts!! Plus, it's a good excuse to go buy some cordial glasses. Before you know it, you'll be a regular mixologist! It's good for what ails ya'

(fennel-seed/apple/cinnamon liqueur pictured above)

Marrons Glacés

The year is 1999. I am studying abroad in Barcelona. I had befriended a fellow exchange student and music lover named John a few months earlier. He has invited me to a concert in Grenoble, France, where his girlfriend lives. I am to meet the two of them in Grenoble, so I board a northbound train at Sants Train Station and set out for southern France on my own. I am having a conversation with a young French guy sitting across from me. He has just taken out a bag of marrons glacés, which he explains to me, are candied chestnuts. I put one in my mouth...and I have no words. I am awestruck. It is quite possibly the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.

photo by passamanerie

10 years later I can still taste the dense, soft, crystallized chestnut heaven that is a marron glacé, though I have not actually eaten one since that day on the train to Grenoble. It has been too long. I could order some, but they are quite pricey (like $3-4.00 per chestnut pricey). So, I shall make them myself. I have found some recipes, and they do not seem too tricky.

My first attempt...was a failure. Chestnuts, I found out, are very difficult to keep whole when you peel them. They have an outer husk and an inner pellicle that should both be removed. I have since read that some the pellicles of some varieties are easier to remove than others. I must have gotten the ones with the stubborn pellicles, because it was a pain in my ^$*%@$#!

My second attempt was...less of a failure, but still not quite a success. This time around I used prepared chestnuts that were already peeled. First I found jars of steamed chestnuts and also cans of steamed chestnuts in water, but both were still quite pricey. Then I took a peek in a grocery store in San Francisco when we were up visiting some friends and found dried chestnuts for half the price of the jarred ones. So I bought a couple of pounds, and looked up how to rehydrate them. In the end though, I realized that I hadn't rehydrated them quite enough. Nonetheless, I was left with plenty of properly candied chestnuts (mostly the less dense ones, and the broken pieces) and a great experience. I think next time I am going to spring for the the jarred ones and skip the rehydration.

For now, though, I'll walk you through my process with the dehydrated chestnuts. First step was to boil them. I boiled them for about 30 minutes, but I think I probably should have done it for close to an hour. At any rate, once they are cooked through, drain them (reserve the delicious water and use it for making rice, or coffee, or...). Then fill a saucepan half full of water with 1/4 cup of sugar - bring to boil. Put the chestnuts in carefully, bring to a boil again, then turn the heat down so that the water just barely simmers. Cook the chestnuts until nearly tender. This takes 10 to 20 minutes.

Next, make a syrup with 1 1/2 cups of the sugar, 3/4 cup of glucose (or light corn syrup) and the water; stir, and bring to a boil; cook for 10 minutes. Pour this syrup over the chestnuts, cover with a teacloth and leave overnight or all day. Drain off the syrup into a saucepan and add 1/4 cup sugar; stir, and bring to a boil - cook for 5 minutes. Pour onto the chestnuts and leave overnight or all day, again. Repeat this last procedure 4 more times, every morning and evening, adding 1 tsp. of vanilla the last two times. Leave the chestnuts in the syrup another half day, turning occasionally, then drain off the syrup, reserving it.

Now for the drying process. Preheat oven to 150"F cover an oven rack or baking rack with parchment paper (or waxed). Distribute the crystallized chestnuts evenly and allow to dry out with the oven door propped open a few centimeters for 2 hours or until they are firm. Spread the chestnuts out on a dish or rack to dry off. Pick out the small broken pieces, add to the reserved syrup and use as a garnish for desserts.

If kept more than a week or so, the sugar in the chestnuts may start to crystallize; in this case, it is better to preserve them in their syrup, draining them before use. E voilá! I can't wait until the next time I make these. You never know, I could be the next Clement Faugier!

Golden Lentils and Crispy Matsutakes

On the menu tonight: lentils. We first considered making dal. Then I suggested French Puy lentils. When we got to the store, however, we took a gander at some of the other exciting options available. The two legumes that caught my eye were the black beluga lentils and the petite golden lentils, both from Zürson Beans. Neither of us had ever tried either one of the little legumes. We settled on the petite golden lentils, pictured below:


Let's talk a little bit 'bout lentils... Lentils need no pre-soaking and cook relatively quickly. To cook lentils, simply pick over to remove debris or shriveled lentils, rinse, and drain. Then cover with water or broth and boil for 2 to 3 minutes (to aid in digestion). Reduce heat and simmer until tender. Depending on the variety and age, cooking time may take anywhere from 10 minutes to 1 hour. Note that salt added to the cooking water will toughen the beans. You should only add salt once the lentils are completely cooked. Also, acidic ingredients such as wine or tomatoes can lengthen cooking time. You may wish to add these ingredients after the lentils have become tender. (lentil cooking tips from about.com)

These lil' lentils were fully cooked in about 10 minutes. As they were simmering, I sauteed sliced leeks, carrots and celery in a separate pan until soft. Then I added a couple of crushed garlic cloves, turned up the heat, and poured in some white wine. Finally, I sprinkled in some chopped herbs-parsley and sage-and plenty of sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper. Then stir this in to the lentils, and add more salt, pepper and/or oil to taste. To finish the dish, once I spread a portion of the lentils on the plate, I drizzled some black truffle infused olive oil over the top. I served a simple arugula salad beside the lentils, tossed in a white wine vinaigrette with diced cucumber and sliced red onions.

I had been searching for a way to cook the matsutake mushrooms that my friend Jean-Pierre gave me, and wanted to incorporate them in to tonight's meal, too. Matsutakes (aka Pine mushrooms) are prized by Japanese chefs and have a savory and pungent flavor. They have a meaty, chewy texture. The flavor of the larger matsutake mushrooms are intense, and unless the intensity is favorable to you, use sparingly. They are not Jean-Pierre's favorite mushrooms...which is one of the reasons he wanted me to play around with them, to see what I could come up with.

As chance would have it, the day he gave them to me was the day that the Top Chef season 6 finale aired. One of the ingredients in the mystery box for the final challenge was...you guessed it, matsutake mushrooms. Michael Voltaggio, who ended up winning the competition, served a dashi-glazed rockfish topped with crispy matsutake for part of his second course. This was my inspiration; thinly sliced and pan-fried until crispy.


I decided to serve the mushrooms on a separate plate, because I didn't want their flavor to overpower those in the lentils. To a hot saute pan, I added a few tablespoons of olive oil. I added in the mushrooms, lowered the heat to medium and cooked until golden brown and crispy, occasionally giving them a toss to prevent them from burning. Once done, I placed them on paper towels to remove the excess oil and tossed them in some kosher sea salt. They were great! Crispy like a thin potato chip, but packed with that pungent, musty matsutake-ness. I did end up mixing some them into the lentils and they worked beautifully. The flavors were still balanced, and the mushrooms added complexity to the texture of the dish.