Author Archives: Sarah

Homemade Chocolate Hazelnut Ice Cream

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I think I have mentioned this before, but I could live on ice cream alone. And ever since I was a little kid, I have wanted to make my own, so last summer I invested in an ice cream maker. Best. Decision. Ever.

There is a serious element of patience and forethought involved in making ice cream. I have to know that I will want it a day before I can eat it, which is both a good and bad thing. It is certainly an exercise in restraint – at lease until its time to reap the rewards. Then, it’s no holds barred.

I’ve enjoyed following many recipes that have led me to some amazing flavor combinations – from Greek frozen yogurt to salted caramel – but I am getting ever more confident in my ability to forge my own personal creations. Inspired by the same August 2009 Gourmet issue, I decided I wanted to try to make my own version of a chocolate hazelnut ice cream.

Ingredients:

  • 2 cups hazelnuts (8 ounces), toasted, cooled, and skins rubbed off
  • 1 cup sugar, divided
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 2 1/2 cups heavy cream, divided
  • 2 cup skim milk
  • 3 large eggs
  • 1 bar 60%+ dark chocolate, such as Green & Black’s, finely chopped

equipment: ice cream maker!

Toast hazelnuts and let them cool. Once you can handle them without roasting your fingertips, rub off the skins as much as possible and place into a food processor. Pulse hazelnuts with 3/4 c sugar and salt until finely ground. Transfer to a heavy medium saucepan with 1 c skim milk and  1 1/2 c heavy cream and bring just to a boil, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and let steep, covered, 20 minutes or more, depending on how deep you want the hazelnut flavor to be. Strain mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, then return to cleaned saucepan.

Return to saucepan, then boil over medium heat 2 minutes, whisking often (mixture will be thick). Remove from heat and add chocolate, stirring until melted and incorporated.

Meanwhile, bring remaining milk, cream, and remaining 1/4 cup sugar just to a boil in a small heavy saucepan, stirring occasionally. Lightly whisk eggs in a medium bowl, then add half of hot milk mixture in a slow stream, whisking constantly. Pour back into saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until custard almost coats back of spoon. Do not let it boil, or your eggs will cook through.

Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl, then stir in cooled chocolate-hazelnut mixture. Chill custard, stirring occasionally, until very cold, 3 to 6 hours. Freeze custard in ice cream maker for 20 minutes. Make sure to scrape any of the hardened chocolate into the machine, as it will form little chocolate chip nugglets as the cream is churned. Transfer to an airtight container and put in freezer to firm up.

 Then, DIG IN!

Adapted from the August 2009 Gourmet recipes for Salted Caramel Ice Cream and Gianduia Gelato

Celebrations: Vegetarian Birthday Dinner at Dirt Candy

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Yesterday was my friend Noa’s birthday, so I decided I wanted to take her to dinner. In the four years we’ve known each other, I have set a precedent of thinking way too hard about how to feed her, either at restaurants or at home. Noa keeps kosher, so she tends to eat like a vegetarian in the restaurants that us laymen frequent. Although she is perfectly capable of taking care of her own food intake, I like to mother-hen her (perhaps a bit too much) by always making sure there’s something on the menu that she can eat.

Enter Dirt Candy. This vegetarian restaurant opened in the East Village in 2008, and I’d been wanting to try it for awhile – then repeatedly forgetting about it. While racking my brain for fun places to take Noa, the memory lightbulb went off. Take her to Dirt Candy! She can eat everything on the menu! 

The premise of the tiny 12-seater on 9th street is simple: vegetables are delicious nuggets that come from the earth. They are “dirt candy.” Chef and owner Amanda Cohen is right there to greet you when you walk in; she seated us herself when we arrived. And apparently we were lucky – they don’t usually have room for walk-ins.


The menu is small and quirky. There was one “snack,” four starters, and four entrees to choose from. All seasonal produce, and every item was named for its key ingredient.

Noa and I ordered the Jalapeno Hush Puppies to start – the soft, fried cornmeal was served with maple butter, which melted right off and onto our fingers. My only complaint is that there were five of them for two of us. Then we decided to split two entrees. Noa wanted the Corn and the Eggplant, so that’s what we ordered. And we were delighted with her choices.

There is a definite southern flair to the menu. The Corn dish was essentially gussied up grits (not that I am complaining, I adore grits,especially with cheese). These were stone ground and tasted like they’d been cooking up all day. They were speckled with full corn kernels from the corn cream, microgreens, pickled shiitakes, and huitlacoche, which is a fungus that grows on corn also known as the “corn truffle.” Served on top was a tempura poached egg, cooked to perfection. 

As delicious as these dishes were, I preferred the Eggplant. The presentation is not as beautiful as that of the Corn – there is no vibrant yellow and green to perk the eye. However, if there were to be a single dish to embody the notion of “dirt candy,” I think this would be it. Eggplant – sliced, pickled, breaded, and fried – was served a top black olive fettuccine, tossed with fresh ricotta, and served within a pool of basil broth. Eggplant jam was used as a garnish. 

If this sounds like a dark, monochromatic plate of food, it’s because it was. The dirt-colored food was even further underscored by the indigo plate it was served upon. But oh my, what amazing flavor combinations. I loved that the eggplant was pickled before it was fried, because it added an element of depth and saltiness that fried eggplant tends to lack. And the basil broth mixed with the eggplant jam was to die for. 

Though stuffed, it was Noa’s birthday after all, so we visited the dessert menu. We immediately nixed the popcorn pudding since we’d just consumed several heads of corn. Instead, we concentrated on the sweet potato puffs – served with sweet potato sorbet, brown sugar ice cream, and sour cream ice cream – and the ice cream nanaimo bar – sweet pea and mint ice cream and cream served between layers of chocolate. We mentioned both to the waitress and her reaction was immediate. The Nanaimo Bar. Hands down.

She brought it out with a candle on top – she’d caught onto the fact that this was a birthday date. I snapped this shot, the only one of the night, before we dug in (unfortunately, she’d already blown out the candle before I got to it).

The sweet pea and mint ice cream was delicate and refreshing, but I wish there had been more of it. The cream was reminiscent of the kind put in ice cream cakes from Baskin Robbins (not that this stopped me from eating my share), and the chocolate cookie at the bottom was a bit mealy. We cleared the plate, however, and ended the night with a bang – sweeping hand gestures left a bit of wine on the floor, and on me. Mazel Tov!

South Africa: Wine & History

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I am gearing up for a trip to South Africa at the beginning of April to celebrate my birthday – I bought the ticket months ago and have slowly been setting up my itinerary. Everyone keeps asking me if I am planning to go on a safari and visit the lions. The answer is no. This is a wine trip.

Thus far, I am planning to spend a few days in Cape Town, hoping to wander the town, stumble upon good food, hike Table Mountain, and potentially drive down to the Cape of Good Hope to see penguins. Then, I am driving to Paarl to spend a few days visiting Backsberg, Glen Carlou, and a few others.

Paarl
Then, on my birthday, I leave the solo life behind and fly to Durban to visit a good friend of mine from college, Cheryl, who moved back this past year. That part of the trip-planning I’ve left up to her :)
 see left. ignore my outfit.

I have been brushing up on my South African history, particularly as related to the wine industry, and I thought I’d share a few interesting nugglets of information here. If you are a history buff, keep reading.

1652 – the Dutch arrive at the Cape of Good Hope and set up an outpost on the Europe-India trade route

1659 – the first grapes on record are pressed

1679 – Simon van der Stel arrives and imposes the first wine-making regulations

1685 – van der Stel acquires Constantia, South Africa’s first internationally renowned winery, producing wines that were highly favored in the courts of Europe (Vin de Costance was Napoleon’s favorite wine)

 

1688-90 – After fleeing Europe, 200 French Huguenots establish Franschoek (the French corner, in Dutch), another wine-growing area in the Western Cape

throughout much of the 18th and early 19th c – SA establishes itself as a leading exporter of port- and sherry-style fortified wines, especially benefitting from Napoleon’s Continental System, which blockaded the British

post-Napoleon – sale crisis due to the low quality of wine, whose high yields and overproduction could not compete with the leading wines of Europe

late 19th c – phylloxera and mildew epidemics reach SA and ravage vineyards

the phylloxera louse

start of the 20th c – export trade market dries up, further decreasing production

1918 – Koöperatieve Wijnbouwers Vereniging, a winemakers’ cooperative, was founded to begin establishing wine controls

1924 – KWV given legal authority to fix the price of wine used to make brandy

1925 – the Pinotage grape was created by crossing Pinot Noir and Cinsault (known as Hermitage in SA) by viticulturalist Abraham Izak Perold

1940 – SA government fully transferred the supervision of the wine sector to the KWV, allowing it to determine wine prices, permissable yields, varieties, planting rights, and production methods, as well as to control the surpluses

1948 – apartheid established in SA

1959 – first call to boycott South African goods, including wine exports, as a response to apartheid

1980s – boycott fully established internationally

1992 – KWV quota system abandoned, granting winemakers greater creativity and flexibility to create quality wines of various depth and complexities

1994 – apartheid officially ends with the multi-racial democratic elections won by the African National Congress under Nelson Mandela

Mandela wins!

1994-now – huge increase in international demand for SA wines, as an affordable, quality commodity; this is reflected in the increased plantings of international varietals throughout the winegrowing regions of the Western Cape

More South Africa-oriented info hopefully to come over the next few weeks. Test on Tuesday.

Sources: Andre Domine’s WINE; wikipedia; and various (see links)

From the Fridge: Mushroom Walnut Crostini

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Yesterday evening, I wanted to make a quick and easy dinner after my book club. Inspired by the beautiful dispaly of winter veggies at Whole Foods, I decided on a stovetop ratatouille, with eggplant, zucchini, yellow squash, and a bit of canned tomatoes (I hate buying fresh in the winter). However, I find that sauteeing eggplant is one of the more arduous processes in cooking, one that absorbs all the oil in pan, leaving precious little for the other vegetables. My alternative – a slow-cooking method that cooks the eggplant separately from the zucchini and squash, which require far less cooking time. All are brought back together when the tomotoes, oregano, thyme, and s&p is added. This in turn sits and stews in a covered pan for about 20 minutes.

In the meantime, I was a hungry girl. I didn’t get home until after 9, and dinner wasn’t getting into my belly any time soon. So, I decided I needed a little something something to snack on while I was waiting. One of my favorite combinations is mushrooms with nuts (or sausage, but that can be a bit decadent…), so I pulled the i-need-to-be-used-or-i-will-go-bad package of button mushrooms out of the fridge, chopped them up using my recently acquired knife skills, and threw them into another skillet over medium heat. As they browned, I cut my garlic into little brunois and added them to the pan – I have a hard time cooking sans garlic. I then grabbed the can of walnuts from my pantry and chopped them up coarsely. Into the mix.

As the flavors began to come together, I realized the texture wasn’t. I wasn’t looking for a crumbly mess to top my little baguette rounds, so I poked my head back into the fridge and saw a little spoonful of mascarpone (pron. mas-car-pon-ay, a personal pet peeve, if you couldn’t tell) left over from a tart I made a few weeks ago. The perfect bind, with its creamy, light consistency and slightly tart flavor. Once ready, I dumped all of the ingredients into my Cuisinart with a bit of kosher salt, deafened myself momentarily as I hit the pulse button, and then transferred the mix to a serving bowl while I waited for the toast points to toast up. It spread beautifully onto the bread, and the flavor was woodsy and nutty with a crackle of salt (I sprinkled some extra grains on top for good measure). So delicious that I ended up licking the bowl.

And with that, dinner was served.

Pizza alla Romana

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Since getting over last week’s stomach plague, I have been on Italian food kick, which for me really seems to entail a lot of pizza. When I lived in Rome, pizza was my favorite (savory) thing to eat… I won’t deny that I could live on gelato alone, but I do like to throw in a good thin crust, bufala-covered pizza for good measure.

Most people have a crust preference. Some are die-hard Neopolitans, where pizza is said to have originated, with its doughy, medium-thickness crust. Others like the pizza alta, high pizza, the thick, Sicilian-style pizza that leaves a bomb of dough in your belly. It’s been translated in the US as deep-dish pizza, but I wouldn’t dare compare the cooking styles. Pizza alta is so yeast-filled that the dough rises up on its own, leaving its edges without the pan-seared edge of an American-style deep dish.

And there’s Roman pizza. Thin, crispy crust, cooked in a wood-fire oven that leaves the edge with a bit of char that complements the goo-i-ness of the cheese, whether fior di latte or mozzarella di bufala. I am obviously a lover of pizza alla romana, with a few favorite places scattered throughout the center of Rome and even out to Ostia beach.

However, I have yet to find my satisfactory pizza in New York, although I’ve been on the hunt for quite some time. That’s not to say I haven’t had good pizza. I enjoyed the saltiness of Motorino‘s pizza, although the dough was a bit too thick for my taste (I do like to be able to polish off my personal pizza without feeling sick afterwards – another point for thin crust). And I was a great fan of Gnocco‘s Emiliana – fresh mozzarella, tomato sauce, prosciutto crudo, arugula, and parmigiano – until it left me ill one evening.

I’ve even enjoyed Farinella‘s pizza a taglio, which reminds me of my many pizza meals on the go from the local farinaio (baker) in Rome – the long, rectangular baking sheets of pizza covered with all sorts of toppings, then cut with scissors and sold by weight. I love the pizza rosso more than anything, with its thin layer of tomato sauce and oregano.

There are plenty of others to try in New York, but Atlanta’s Baraonda is still the closest thing I’ve tried to what I am looking for. Maybe they’ll open a branch up here soon. Or maybe I’ll just hop a flight to Rome for a day – I’ve done it before :)

Ginger & Greens Soup

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A few weeks ago, with leftover collards and other random bits in my fridge, I decided to pull together a version of ginger-greens soup, which I love to nosh on when I don’t feel well, or at least need some cleansing comfort. I had been trying to entice my friend Stevie to come over for dinner for the past few days, but she hadn’t been well. Armed with this soup, I tried again, inviting her for dinner. I could hear slight hesitation in her voice when she asked, well, what are you making? Oh, I don’t know, I replied, just some ginger-and-greens-soup-with-homemade-stock-and-then-a-citrus-salad-on-the-side. I relayed this quickly, hoping that both the force of my words and the actual good-for-the-soul meal would convince her to come. It worked. She came, she ate, she took some home. The next day, she called – I feel better.
 

Sick Soup, for Stevie

  • 1 large yellow onion
  • 1 large sweet potato
  • 1 bunch spinach
  • 1 bunch collard greens
  • 1 fist-sized stalk of fresh ginger, chopped*
  • 2 cups good-tasting vegetable broth**
  • fresh lemon juice
  • olive oil
  • sea salt, plus more to taste
  • freshly ground black pepper

*I learned a great trick from Gourmet.com a few months back – you use a spoon to scratch off the skin of the ginger. Its rounded edge allows you to get around the crevices of the gnarly root without losing too much of the flesh.

**As you peel and chop and gather veggie discards, throw these into a pot with about a quart of simmering water. Add salt and any other herbs, and you will soon have homemade stock! I sometimes like to throw in a bit of white wine as well, if I have any lying around. Or, you can freeze the bits until you are ready to make stock, if you already have some lying around.

Chop the onion and cook it slowly in the olive oil, stirring occasionally, over low heat until soft and golden. (Throw the skin, ends, and additional misc. pieces into the pot of water.)

Meanwhile, peel and dice the sweet potato and put it in a large soup pot with 4 cups water and a pinch of sea salt. Thoroughly wash the greens, chop them coarsely, and add them to the pot, along with the chopped ginger. (All of the discarded peels and stems can go into the stock pot.)

Bring the water to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer the soup, covered, for 30 minutes, or until the vegetables are completely tender. Add the caramelized onions when they are ready. (Back at the stock pot- After about 30 minutes of simmering, strain the veggie broth, removing the veggies pieces and floating detritus.)

When the vegetables are soft, add the vegetable broth. Stir in the lemon juice to taste and some fresh-ground black pepper. Add some salt if needed. I also like to shave some parmigiano on top, if I’m feeling fancy.

Serves 2 hungry girls, with leftovers for the next day.

This recipe was adapted from Heidi Swanson.

Coconut Macaroons and a very big thank you

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I’ve had quite the weekend. Friday night, while in the midst of grocery shopping for a potluck at a friend’s house, I managed to lock myself out of my apartment – I left the keys on the kitchen counter, under the bag of fruit, and my door locks automatically. Shoot, I thought, then proceeded to do what the landlord recommended when the office was closed and something went wrong. I went downstairs, propping open the front door, and went across the street to the restaurant, which is owned by the same company, expecting someone to have keys to let me back in.

I walked in about 8:30 on Friday night, perhaps the busiest time of the week for a popular restaurant, let alone a well-known neighborhood institution. I went straight to the head of operations and carefully explained to the GM Tom that I needed help getting back into my apartment across the street. He looked at me like I was crazy – no keys there. He kindly sent me down the road to the Peter Luger parking lot, where he said I would be able to find the super; he cautioned me, however, that his English was limited. I thanked him and walked quickly down the street, for fear that the door to my building would be knocked shut at any moment.

I found Vladimir right away. Just not the keys to my place. He showed me his keychain – only the front door and apartment, 4, 5, he said. I reiterated and gestured – I am apartment 8, please help! He only shook his head, pointed to the office, and said, 8am Monday. Office opens. Arguing was fruitless, as he continued to shake his head and say he did not understand me, as I listed all the reasons I thought it unacceptable that there was no alternative. Before I could get too frustrated, I ran back across the street and up the stairs to try my door again. Nothing.

As I began to cry, my neighbor opened her door to let a deliveryman in. I asked her if she had any idea who I should contact, and she invited me in to give me the super’s number. Too bad it turned out to be Vlad’s. However, she kindly let me sit and take a breath, commiserating with me that life in New York is so hard and that the landlords have really got to be more responsive and…well let’s just say, she had many things to commiserate about.

I went back across the street to see Tom again and ask if he knew anyone else I could call. He stepped aside and made a few phone calls, but came up with nothing. As I was holding back tears, a locksmith finally answered – I’ll send someone within 20 minutes, he promised. I thanked Tom again and told him I hoped that I would not see him again that night. Then, I crossed the street and waited inside the entry hall to my apartment for the locksmith, who called to confirm the address and to say he was on his way. Then my phone died.

I waited patiently in the vestibule for the first 20 minutes, then began to pace, sticking my head in and out of the building, starting to cry. I feared leaving and heading over to my friend’s (the potluck, and a place to sleep, were waiting), as I did not know whether he had gotten lost or if I would even be able to get back into the building. Finally, at 10pm, I grabbed a cab and headed over to Stevie’s for a plate of pasta and some pjs.

As she poured me a glass of wine, I began to charge my phone and saw several missed calls. The locksmith! I quickly called back and asked in a desperate voice, where have you been? Missed connections – he insisted he’d been waiting for a half hour outside, and I said it was impossible, I’d been looking outside every five minutes from 9-10. We fixed a time, so that I could finish my pasta and wine and make it back in time to meet him. At 11:30 sharp, we met in front of my building, then I ran to get the front door key from Vlad, and we proceeded upstairs. I stood by and watched him try to pick the lock…which we soon realized was a high security lock that he would have to drill through and replace. 3 drill bits, 5 hours, and $582 later, I was in my apartment. Now I just have to figure out if I am able to take that out of next month’s rent.

In the meantime, I am baking coconut macaroons for all the lovely people that went out of their way to help and comfort.

Recipe adapted from Gourmet:

  • 4 large egg whites
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1/8 teaspoon salt
  • 2 (7-ounce) packages sweetened flaked coconut, adding the first, then more as needed 
  • Ghirardelli bittersweet chocolate morsels, melted

Mix the egg whites, sugar, salt, and vanilla together in a bowl. Add the first package of coconut. Keep the rest on reserve. Fill a level tablespoon with the coconut mixture and place on parchment paper, then pop in a 325 degree oven for 20 or so minutes. Remove from the oven and flip them over on the pan to let cool, so they don’t stick.

 macaroons cooling, pre-chocolate

In a large saucepan, bring water to a boil. Place the chocolate in a smaller pan over the hot water. Stir constantly, as the chocolate melts. Once melted, turn the flame off, but leave the chocolate over the heat. Dip the macaroons halfway into the chocolate, then let set on the parchment paper. Store in the refrigerator until ready to eat – or, in this case, package and give away.

Note: I found that the moisture ran through the coconut to the bottom of the bowl, so I had to keep adding extra coconut to blend together. You do have to strike the right balance – too much extra coconut, and it becomes dry, but too little, and the egg white mixture puddles out in the oven, forming a flat, crispy edge around the cookie.

Lenten Promise

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Most people make New Year’s resolutions. I think that’s cliche…er, rather, I might have been too hung over from a decadent night of champagne and lobster rolls to think about it. Lucky for me, today is the beginning of Lent, a second go-round for promise-making, with a nearer end in site. So here goes – for Lent, I promise to write more. I spend most of my time thinking about food, preparing meals, studying menus, tasting wines, but I don’t usually get around to recording my thoughts, process, or insight. Which is a shame, as I both enjoy writing and being able to look back on what I’ve done (or in this case eaten). A big part of my phobia, as it were, is a blank canvas and a lack of chronology. That is, if I’ve skipped writing about a memorable something, I am less inclined to write about the next one, and so on. No more! These blogs might be less in depth at times, but at least they’ll be a record. And who knows, maybe this promise will turn into a habit that extends beyond the Lenten season!

For now, I am off to practice my new knife skills that I learned at the Brooklyn Kitchen (although my mamma already taught me the best way to slice an onion). Cauliflower, chicken, and kale stir fry, coming right up! I think I’ll have some leftover Cour-Cheverny with that too.

Ich liebe Gruner Veltliner

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I have fallen in love. Hard. Sometimes, something new and exciting just bursts into your life, and you walk around with blinders on, seeing, thinking, wanting only… I am obviously talking about gruner veltliner. My most current obsession, this Austrian wine is the answer to my white wine prayers—crisp, bright, acidic, minerally, peppery, thirst-quenching, and surprisingly full-bodied. Fortunately for me, this once-popular-then-cast-aside wine has become an increasingly prevalent presence on restaurant and bar menus, providing a unique alternative to the usual Sauvignon Blanc and Muscadet suspects (two of my go-tos).

Gruner is unique for several reasons. It is a sensory conundrum, making it both a delicious and intellectual endeavor to drink. I find it to be simultaneously light and full; fruity and peppery; acidic and slightly sweet. A perfect drinking wine, and even better with food—in fact, it might be the most-friendly wine in the world, giving its compatriot riesling a run for its money (especially considering it lacks riesling’s reputation of sweetness).
Austrian winemakers tend to make gruners to be drunk young, but it is also a wine that can be laid aside to age for years. This capacity for ageing is rare in whites, and I am obviously oversimplifying the possible descriptions of this amazing varietal. The younger wines might be crisp, clear, and minerally, with a touch of spiciness, but the older the wine gets, the more complex, full-flavored, and peppery—the signature of its flavor profile—it may become.

Even more importantly, at least in understanding our lack of exposure to the grape as American consumers, gruner is grown primarily in Austria. Although it is the most widely planted grape, the wines rarely leave the borders of the small country. Many of the wines we are familiar with are what are known as international varietals—wines like a Chardonnay or Cabernet that are grown in most wine-making regions. The proprietary attitude of the Austrians toward this grape goes beyond the notion of terroir (even though the minerality of the Austrian soil, in all its variations, plays a huge component in the wine’s flavor profile)—gruner is the unofficial national grape of the Osterreich. I just hope they are willing to share it with me.

A few favorites to try: Gritsch, Berger, and the amazing gruner on Bar Boulud‘s wine list!