Sassy Blue Cheese Burgers

Hey all, caught up in a lot of book and wedding stuff right now, as well as recovering from a rather bad case of dehydration. I'm going to be a bit behind in posting this week and possibly next so I'm throwing up one of my first and still most favorite recipes. This was originally posted in 2006. ~Garrett

-Because blue cheese is the sassiest of all the cheeses.-

I'm not much of a griller to be honest with you. I have a tendency to burn thing rather easily, I often forget to grease the grill leaving me a clean up job I'd rather simply avoid, and more than once have I set myself on fire.

Leave me inside to prep the meat, brine the chicken breasts, or craft a sauce. I'm good with that. Let someone else stand over the flames in the withering heat. I'm all good with a pitcher of sangria and a knife in my hand, thank you.

Still, there are times when you're required to sit at the grill. Often this involves triple digit weather, beer, and a company of friends. During these times it's best to have a good game plan.

Mine involves blue cheese. Always, blue cheese.

These blue cheese burgers always get a warm reception for their creamy and spicy profile. Use a fine, piquant blue cheese that'll stand out; something creamy, but with an almost nefarious amount of veining such as Stilton, Valdeon, or Cabrales. A milder blue such as Dolcelatte or Point Reyes Original Blue won't steer you wrong either. The biggest clove of garlic you can find in a must, as is a smashing Dijon or homemade mustard.

Now, some people like to stuff blue cheese in the middle of their burgers. That's adorable. More so when you bit into the middle and molten cheese sends your tongue to the doctor for skin grafts. If you allow the burger to cool - something that seems like a rather obvious problem in an of itself - then then outer edges of the burger have no cheese and the middle is just only cheese.

Burger fail.

No, rather mix the crumbled cheese in with the meat. The cheese is distributed into every bite. The ones in the middle get warm and melty while the cheese on the outside that makes contact with the grill gets melted into cheesey, crispy bits making for a sassy salty bite.

These burgers are delightful smeared with a bit of buffalo sauce or perhaps some just-whisked-together aioli.

Sassy Blue Cheese Burgers
makes 6 burgers

1 pound ground hamburger (16%-20%)
1 tablespoon of Dijon, spicy, or homemade mustard (not yellow, for god's sake)
1 clove garlic, minced very finely
2 green onions, diced finely
2 ounces crumbled blue cheese (about 1/2 cup)
1 egg yolk
1 tablespoon water
pinch freshly cracked pepper
pinch kosher salt

1. Mix all the ingredients together in a bowl. Get your hands in there and feel the squish until it's all well mixed. Form balls of the meat into patties about 1/2 to 1-inch thick and allow to rest in the fridge for about 15 minutes. While the meat rests grease and heat the grill and allow it to come to a nice medium-high heat.

2. Give the burgers about 5 minutes on each side, or to taste. Be sure not to press on the burgers as this will forces the juices out (why do people insist on pressing them?). After the burgers are done allow them to rest for about 1-2 minutes so the meat reabsorbs those hauntingly good juices. Serve on buns and garnish as desired.

Curiosity: Fried Plantains with Coconut Caramel Sauce

-A simple, tropical dessert that's perfect for the colder months.-

For years we passed over them in the grocery store in lieu of the safer, more familiar bananas. For as long as I could remember they were always there; those other bananas. Ones that weren't yellow, but instead a deep burgundy-brown color. A color I, for whatever reason deduced by childhood logic, assumed was the de-facto lipstick color for black and white movie stars like Vivian Leigh and Tallulah Bankhead. If it wasn't those tiny red ones, then there were those ginormous bananas that were as hard as rocks and called plantains.

I would ask my mom if we could get one, but every time she said no. "Let's just get the regular bananas," and she would find the biggest, greenest bunch on the display and bag it. The discussion would be closed and I would analyze the oddly huge plantains and tiny red bananas a quick second more before moving on. Maybe next time we would get them.

Sure, there were more intriguing pineapples nearby, whose pokey shape tempted my curiosity. (I would always prick my finger on the punk-rock spines on top, as if always to make sure that, yes, they were indeed sharp.) Piles of kiwis were always scattered about in large piles; it was, after all, the nineties. Mangoes and the humid fragrance they carried with them were only just making their way to the supermarkets. Yet, these strange bananas were the real mystery. Always present.

-Twice fried, these plantains have a slightly crispy exterior with the interior being hot, sweet, and a little bit starchy.-

I think it was because these doppelgangers bordered the familiar. When something is completely foreign we simply accept that it's a mystery. Something to be figured out. The fact that it's unknown from the start is what makes it so natural and acceptable. These banana look-alikes weren't like that though. These were familiar. They had an appearance so similar to what was a regular, everyday food to me. Yet, they had characteristics that were unable to be ascertained. They were aberrations in my otherwise orderly and understood world.

I reasoned, then, that if these fruits looked like bananas then they probably tasted like bananas, but only different. I was curious what they taste like. Would they be sweeter? Bitter? Harder to eat? The plantains were always hard as potatoes. I wondered if they tasted like bananas but had the crisp texture of an apple? What if it tasted totally different, like a steak or piece of over-steamed cauliflower? The prospects were both horrifying and appetizing, but exciting all the same.

Then years went by. I grew up and began to do my own shopping. Even as a younger teen, then college student, and all the sudden an adult (still not sure when that happened) I still passed over them. "Maybe I'll buy one next time," I thought. For years, since my childhood, I passed them over for next time. Next time, when I had an extra hour or more of a budget to play around with strange tropical fruits.

-In my opinions, there aren't enough desserts out there that come with a dipping sauce.-

Finally, one day, out of nowhere, I decided to get some and cook them. As if all my childhood curiosity had been suddenly stirred I was filled with a need to play with plantains. I quickly did a google search and picked up some information. After grazing over some recipes and sites I knew the following:

• Plantains are big.
• Plantains are starchy and must be cooked.
• Black plantains are sweeter.
• Plantains are popular in Cuba, Peru, Uganda, Taiwan and the Dominican Republic. Really, anywhere not continental North America, Australia, or Europe.
• Plantains are best when fried and served with a sweet or savory dipping sauce, or when stuffed with spiced beef and baked.

Busy as hell that day I called BF and asked him if he would hop over to the store and pick some up. After a quick explanation of what a plantain was, "Look by the bananas. They're the giant looking ones you could fight crime with. Pick up the black ones." With that he was off, promising to have them sitting on the counter when I got home.

I arrived home to see that BF had failed me. There they sat; tiny and red. "Um, sweetie, these are red bananas. Not plantains."

"What? But, the sign said plantains."

"Yes, well, they would have been sitting there next to the bananas too, yes. But do these look like giant bananas you could fight crime with? You would get your ass kicked with these."

-Should you prefer, these can be served as a simple snack or appetizer as well. Just squeeze some lime juice over them for a more savory snack.-

"Not if you threw them." Touche', but still, failure none the less. So, BF and I made another quick run to the store for the plantains and where he showed me the source of his confusion. The signs were skewed and not lined up with the actual fruits. In front of the the plantains was a sign for red bananas that sat close to me in front of the plantains, while the sign for the plantains sat a little to the left of the pile. Still... BF fessed up, "I wasn't paying much attention. I just kinda dashed in and dashed out." I shrugged at him and picked a few giant, seemingly ripe plantains. I guess I would get to try both mystery fruits. I assumed my inner child was appeased and left it at that.

Back home, I decided to sit down and try these fruits out. I would satisfy my curiosity once and for all.

The red banana peeled back to reveal a typical looking banana. The flesh had a slight blush to it that I found somewhat amusing. Taste-wise it - surprise - tasted like a banana. Maybe with a slight tang; the kind you would associate with a raspberry. Not the flavor of one, just the tang. Otherwise, it was like any other banana.

It was all a bit sad really. No great revelation. No more mystery. All I had was a red banana peel and a sense that it could have used a few more days to ripen.

I knew it was fruitless to try the plantain raw. Just picking it up I could tell it had all the edibility of a raw potato. I decided that I would simply give it a double fry treatment. This meant lightly frying small discs of the plantain to soften it, before squishing them and tossing them in for a final fry. A simple caramel sauce made from brown sugar and coconut milk would sauce them and make it an easy, tropical dessert that wouldn't just contrast against the dull, Autumn weather outside, but appetizingly demystify the plantain.

-Red bananas. A nifty, slightly tangy alternative to yellow bananas.-

The gently cooked plantains resulted in sweet, soft fruit with a nicely crisp skin. The sonorously rich caramel sauce complimented the starchy flavors of the plantain. The dessert was something whose simple decadence rivaled the most chocolate-heavy dishes. Unlike the tarted-up red bananas, whose outward appearance seems to promise more than the flesh can deliver, plantains have a unique flavor. Yes, they're slightly banana-esque, but they possess a custard flavor and pound cake texture that bananas don't have. Eating each piece of caramel soaked plantain reminded me of plates of warm, freshly made flan.

In the end, my curiosity was satisfied. It seemed that an inquisitive nature and desire to know new foods, even ones that are readily available, can lead to new tastes and even the quelling of childhood questions.

Next up on my foreign fruit list? The quest for fresh mangosteen.

-Sometimes you have to venture out of your comfort zone and chase curiosity to experience something truly flavorful.-

Fried Plantains
2 ripe plantains
vegetable oil for frying

1. Cut open the plantain and cut into discs about 3/4-inch thick. Set aside.

2. Place oil in a fry pan. You want the oil to be about 1/4-inch deep. Warm oil over medium heat, to about 180F if measured with a thermometer. Place the plantains in the oil being sure not to crowd them (you will probably have to do this in batches. The oil will bubble around the plantains. Fry for 2 minutes on each side, then set on a paper towel lined plate to drain.

3. Lightly squish each plantain a bit so it has more surface area. Fry the plantains a second time, about 4 minutes on both sides being careful not to burn them. Drain on a paper towel lined plate and serve hot.

Coconut Caramel Sauce
1/4 cup of brown sugar
1/2 cup of coconut milk
pinch of kosher salt

Place the brown sugar in a small but high sauce pot. Warm over medium-high heat while consistently stirring with a spoon until melted. While stirring slowly pour in the coconut milk. The mixture will bubble and froth violently, and some of the sugar may crystallize a bit. Continue to stir until the sugar and coconut milk have mixed together and the sauce has reduced a bit. About 5 minutes. Take off heat and stir in the salt. This will keep in the fridge for a few weeks.

Struggles and Simplicity

-Simple syrup made a bit more complex.-

No one ever said that life is simple. It's supposed to be a struggle. A fight to the top of the mountain. Once at the top, you barely have a chance to savor the victory before realizing there's another mountain there that doesn't give two shits about the climb you just finished. It's a never ending trial, that life of yours.

Still, that's not to say it's all bad. There's a certain pleasure to be found in these challenges that life throws our way. After all, for some, pleasure is pain. We're all a bit masochistic in our own ways and, so, time and again, we submit ourselves to these tribulations, whether they be our education, family, friends, frenemies, or hobbies. Then there's work, which is probably the one we submit ourselves to more than any other. Our high-heeled mistress whom we're all more than happy to have step on us in four-inch heels.

It may seem a bit of a high comparison, but think about it: at various times in your work life you put yourself through torture that you know will be somewhat enjoyable because the eventual payoff is worth it. Once you come to your conclusion, the prize at the end, it's all immensely satisfying and you revel in the challenge you undertook. Furthermore, you usually ensure there's some way out just in case you realize you've bitten off more then you can chew. (The safety word is "run.")

-Perfect after a hard day.-

Of course, not all challenges are quite so. My recent internship was a challenge. I cut my fingers and suffered a few small burns. I had to master skills after viewing them only once. I screwed up a few times and I had to make it work. I took this challenge knowing that there wasn't a way out and that I would happily take whatever the kitchen could dish out. And once or twice I wished I wasn't there; there's nothing fun about peeling, coring, and slicing a flat of baby-fist sized Seckel pears and nicking yourself with the peeler every few minutes. Making the entire kitchen smell due to burning a gallon of caramel turned oil slick black certainly isn't a keen experience either. Hazing is something you should expect and embrace in a kitchen each time you get it wrong.

Then you deal with it and do it once more. I marched back to the burners with a new pot and fresh ingredients knowing that I might fuck it up again, but realizing there was less chance I would. I learned from previous experiences and knew that sooner or later got the results I wanted. Success is an ego-boost to be sure, and while it was physically and mentally exhausting there are benefits to that hard work. For example, I'm quite proud of the muscles in my arm that I strengthened from whipping up so much sabayon; a task that requires a good thirty minutes of whisking at the speed of a bullet train. My bicep is now built like a butcher's dog. It's a fantastic feeling.

Still, that isn't to say the simple acts in life don't have their advantages. Simple is quick, easy, relaxed, and less likely to explode in your face or burn your wrists with a hot pan. It's tossing some spices into a pot of sugar and water and blending up a simple (See? Right there in the name.) syrup for cocktails of vodka and soda water.

So, sometimes, life isn't a cliff to scale but a hill to meander. A mistress wearing flats. You can enjoy those easy victories too, laid back joys that help push you through the tougher trials.

Sometimes, just keep it simple.


Hibiscus Simple Syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1/4 cup dried hibiscus flowers
1/2 cinnamon stick
2 strips of orange peel

Place over high heat and stir until mixture becomes clear and the sugar has dissolved. Allow to steep for thirty minutes. Pour through a sieve to remove solids. Cool to room temperature and use in ice creams, sorbets, poaching liquids, and cocktails.

-Of course, after this, I have a wedding cake for you to make. Ready?-

Reclaimed

-"Can I help you?"-

We all toss our old junk for various reasons (other than the fact that it's old junk). Spring cleaning usually gets a lot of us. Sometimes we're rummaging stuff out of the attic for our parents. Other times we're digging through boxes of our childhood belongings, turning over each gold starred assignment or beaten Christmas present from way-back-when to absorb and rekindle any old memories attached to it before sending it to the curb or to be dropped of for donation.

I mostly donate out of laziness and to pad my tax return a bit. Not the most philanthropic motivation but the good is done. I never donate clothes with holes in them and certainly never give them anything broken. I only donate what might actually make the Salvation Army a buck (a buck probably being on the high side). Still, whenever I donate I do hope that whoever ends up with it will find some use and pleasure in it.

Argue all you want that things don't bring happiness. They do. And since these things we part with often have offered some modicum of happiness in our lives it's reasonable enough to want them to do the same for others.

That's where I introduce this guy:

-"I bring good luck! Feed me a peanut!"-

BF and I spotted him sitting by the dumpster on top of an abandoned desk that would have looked pretty jaunty had it not been missing its middle drawer. A little, ceramic elephant statue about a foot and a half high. Ugly, but good lines and a certain charm. I stopped in my tracks to investigate it and, after a few oh-my-gods upon realizing he was in perfect condition, I decided to adopt him right then and there.

He's the perfect kind of ugly, like one of those pets you see at an adoption kennel that looks like it was run over by the Fugly Parade. You can't help but just fall in love with its lazy eye and freakish overbite. So it was with the statue. Kitschy. Awkward. An offense to good taste, but damn it if he wouldn't look perfect in my poorly kept excuse of a vegetable garden.

Cleaned up a bit and propped next to the screen door he's the new good luck charm of the garden. He's has Many Names: I call him Ganesh; BF named it Jubo; Roommate calls him an unfortunate decision, but what does he know?

As it is with horrid ceramics, so is it also with ingredients. Recently, a neighbor gave me a small basket of figs. They were almost overripe and she wasn't going to get around to them. Later, Roommate uncovered a forgotten bag of still-good hazelnuts - an impulse purchase - that he wanted to throw away as he doubted he would find a use for them.

Where they saw a burden I found opportunity! "No! Don't toss those! I can use them!" I cried. These are ingredients that just need a bit of love and attention. A bit of re-purposing to spruce them up a bit.

The resulting pasta is just such a thing. The hazelnuts are toasted and thrown into some brown butter along with figs and a quick chiffonde of basil. Tossed with spaghetti it becomes a modern, intriguing dish that utilizes the best of late summer produce. Toss with a bit of Parmesan (surely, most good food lovers have a block or an old rind with some meat still on it somewhere) and you have a meal that's guaranteed to impress. And, maybe, goad you into reassessing all that stuff you passed off as junk.


Spaghetti with Brown Butter, Figs, Hazelnuts, and Basil
Adapted from Pasta Sfoglia
Serves 2

1/2 lb. spaghetti
1/2 cup hazelnuts
8 oz unsalted butter
10 ripe figs, quartered
6 basil leaves
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
ground black pepper
1/2 cup pasta water
grated Parmesan for garnish (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 350F and toast the hazelnuts for about 10-15 minutes or until fragrant. Use a tea towel and rub off their skins as they're a bit bitter. Roughly chop the hazelnuts and set aside.

2. Bring well salted water to a boil and stir in the spaghetti. In a 10-inch skillet over medium high heat place butter, hazelnuts, figs, basil, salt and pepper and leave undisturbed so the butter can brown and the figs can become tender.

3. When the spaghetti is almost done take it out of the water and place it in the skillet along with the 1/2 cup of pasta water. Cook for two more minutes. Serve immediately and garnish with freshly grated Parmesan.

White Chocolate Caramel Sauce

-Pictured: Crazy Tastiness.-

I have a weird thing about baking that I've learned is actually pretty common. After you spend an hour or so getting your ingredients together and you've move on to the mixing, baking, dredging, ganaching, torching, freezing and so on you get a little tired of your project. By the time you finally have the final product, you're kinda done with it. For the moment, at least.

I know when I bake a huge batch of cookies I usually eat half of one and then box the rest up for later. Make no mistake, I will go back and demolish those cookies so fast you'd think the last one would grant a wish. Seriously, baked goods are not safe in my house. However, at the moment of completion all I want is a taste to ensure that everything went well.

This experience is compounded ten-fold over at my externship. In one day I'll whip up a batch of flatbread, 200 peanut butter cookies for the cookie plate, a few dozen butterscotch puddings, dice up a billion or so figs, and whip up four flats of individual cheesecakes. That's nothing to say of what the other two people I'm working with are cranking out as well. We keep busy with our baking projects and, as responsible bakers, we taste as we go. We taste a lot. So much so that you get just sick of it all.

Honestly, my consumption of sweets has plummeted since I started this internship.

One of the few exceptions to this rule is our recipe for white chocolate caramel sauce. There's not much to describe as it's exactly what it sounds like: caramel poured over and mixed with white chocolate. It is outstanding. Make it thin for a super syrupy sauce or cook the sugar down to achieve a more spreading consistency. If this sauce were a slutty friend I would totally sneak out of work and have sex with it in my car. Seriously. It is awesome.


White Chocolate Caramel Sauce
Makes 1 pint

100 grams sugar
200 grams cream
2.5 grams kosher salt
250 grams white chocolate (buy the good stuff)
25 grams unsalted butter, diced and room temperature

1. Place the chocolate and butter in a bowl and place a strainer over it. Set it aside. Warm the cream and salt in a pot over medium heat making sure not to scald it. In another pot set over medium-high heat place the sugar and begin to whisk it. Eventually the sugar will begin to crystalize, then melt before turning an amber color (this is called a dry caramel).

2. Add some of the cream to the sugar. It will froth and bubble violently. Continue to stir constantly while adding the cream. Once it subsides a bit add the rest of the cream. Let it cook for about 30 seconds more.

3. Once the froth has simmered down a bit pour through the strainer (to catch any sugar crystals) over the white chocolate and butter. Whisk together until smooth. Pour into a jar and cover. Serve over cookies, ice cream, or what have you. It should keep for a few weeks. Should you get a super thick sauce, just pop it in the microwave for a bit to soften it up before serving.

Mirabelle Plum Sauce

-It's awesome having the hookup.-

One of the best kind of friends to have are the friends who know people. Whether this means connections in your line of work, access to back stage, or getting you hooked up with the best hair stylist having a buddy in the know is always a plus. I'm happy to have many such people in my life who are able to educate me, connect me, and help me blossom in both work and play.

My food blogging buddy, Lynn of Sacatomato, recently helped me with the latter. She knows a guy who has some trees that bear too much fruit. With this connection she was able to score me 8 pounds of plums to play with. Satsumas and Mirabelles, no less.

I've talked about Mirabelle plums here before. They're hard to locate in the U.S. and unless you know someone with a tree your chances of finding them are slim to nil.

For the most part, Mirabelles are a tad too sweet for me. Sugary, flowery, and just plain intense. After eating one or two I'm usually good for the year. That's why I spun them into a delectable spiced plum sauce perfect for ice cream, cheese plates, and pancakes. It's warm, floral, spicy, and fruity - everything a good fruit sauce should be. While you can use overripe plums of any variety for this I encourage you to try Mirabelles if you can find any.

-Star anise, cinnamon, and vanilla flavor this sauce. However, the flavors of the plums still stand out.-

Mirabelle Plum Sauce
I didn't skin these as the plums were too ripe to do so. However, Mirabelle skins are very thin and break down for the most part in cooking.

5 cups Mirabelle plums, chopped
3 cups sugar
1/2 vanilla bean, seeded
1 cinnamon stick
1 star anise
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon butter

Combine all the ingredients in a pot. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Skim off any foam that forms. Continue to stir for 30 minutes until the mixture has thickened. Pour into sterilized jars. Process for canning if you so desire or simply store in the fridge. Makes 4 1/2 - 5 cups.

-Excellent with blue cheeses as a stand-in for honey.-

A Do Nothing Day of Lemon Ricotta Gnocchi

-A perfect Late Summer - Almost Fall dish.-

I don't have to do anything today. Nothing. My errands are all done. I have no real work waiting to be finished. I actually balanced my checkbook and took care of my finances on Thursday. So, I can choose to do nothing.

It's a pleasant change not to have to bake or cook for a potluck, dress up for a party or dancing, or drive all over town. As I write this the clock says 5:22 PM and I have yet to take a shower, and the back of my hair is still standing tall and fanned like a rooster's tail, the same as it was when I woke up around ten this morning.

It's fabulous really. Having a day to do nothing rarely ever happens to me anymore. Often I have far too much on my plate and recently I've been heaping on a few extra helpings. As much as others point this out to me my usual response isn't that I have too much on my plate but rather my plate is simply too small.

-After a few minutes I already have the dough resting in its first log form.-

After I loafed out of bed I wrapped myself in a blanket and took some green tea and toast smeared with homemade jam on the patio. The bees were humming around the tomatillo plants whose vines had begun to reach across the entire garden gaily livening the space up with hundreds of green and purple paper lanterns. There was a small, slightly chilly wind that made the blanket and tea all the more enjoyable. It was like a San Francisco summer morning; evidence that Summer was soon about to end and Fall about to begin. I made a mental note to pick up some figs at the Farmer's Market the next day, the brisk air being the sign they were now ready.

The chill air and empty schedule gave me energy and I was still a bit peckish. I decided I would make some gnocchi. Generally a food I consider perfect for colder months the weather seemed to be an auspicious sign that today was a day for making gnocchi. Of course, not all gnocchi has to be starchy and heavy (well, heavy for gnocchi). Ricotta gnocchi is the lighter cousin of potato gnocchi, not to mention far easier and faster to prepare. The task usually occupying only 20 minutes or so.

-Cutting the ropes of dough into pillows of gnocchi.-

I dug out the leftover ricotta from the fridge that we had kept around for when we made jam earlier in the week and set it aside to come to room temperature. (Whenever I make jam I take the foam skimmed off from the cooking jam and pour it over small bowl of ricotta or cottage cheese as a sweet treat, a little trick I picked up from my grandmother's old cookbook.) The cheese, plus the zest from an extra lemon that hadn't been used in yesterday's plum sauce, would form the flavor base for the gnocchi.

The gnocchi dough is simple and slightly messy but easily made even within the crowded confines of an apartment galley kitchen. Once set they cook up in about two to three minutes. Poofy, light and sweet, tasting of lemon and cheese they best imbue the tastes and textures of two seasons on your tongue.

-A bench scraper is a godsend for cutting up gnocchi and makes cleaning afterwards a breeze.-

I ended up serving these as simply as I made them: with a quick pesto made from a bit of garlic and some basil from the garden whizzed together with lemon juice and olive oil in the food processor. It was then topped with a bit of grated ricotta salata, a form of ricotta cheese that's pressed, salted, and dried making it perfect for finishing off any pasta dish.

After the gnocchi was ready I took a small plate of it to the couch and buried myself under the blanket again. I had kept the windows open to let the same refreshingly cold air circulate the room to invigorate it a bit. I popped on an episode of Weeds and let the cats conquer my lap in the name of naps while I ate my meal. My day was over, and, aside from gnocchi, I had no other plans. It would be a satisfying Saturday.

-The results of my do nothing day.-

Lemon Ricotta Gnocchi
Recipe adapted from Pasta Sfoglia

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 pounds whole milk ricotta cheese
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 egg
2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest

1. Spread the flour out on a clean, dry work surface. Place the ricotta, salt, black pepper, egg, and zest on top of the flour and lightly knead it with your hands bringing together all the ingredients. Gently knead the dough into an 10-inch log and allow it to rest a few minutes.

2. Lightly dust a clean, dry work surface with flour. Cut the log into four equal pieces. Gingerly, lightly, roll each piece into a 1-inch thick piece of rope. (You may have to cut the rope once or twice to keep in manageable.) Cut the gnocchi into 1/2-inch pillows. Lightly dust with flour.

To Cook: Place gnocchi in boiling salted water. When the gnocchi have floated to the top, allow them to cook for another two minutes, then remove with a slotted spoon and serve.

To Store: Place gnocchi on a baking sheet in a single layer and place in the freezer. Once frozen place in an air tight container. Thaw an hour before cooking. Stores for 2 weeks.

To Serve: These are best served simply. A basic tomato sauce tossed with some white wine, capers and garlic is a wonderful way to dress these. Alternatively, a simple basil pesto is also perfect. Top with a bit of grated ricotta salata, Parmesan, or even Pecorino Romano for a bit of bite. An extra dash of lemon zest will go a long way as well.

-The recipe makes enough for multiple servings. So a short amount of work lets you feed many or gives you plenty of gnocchi for future meals.-

-Feel free to not use the lemon zest, or if you want to mix it up use orange zest instead.-

Related Post: Sweet Potato Gnocchi Recipe

Converted to the Church of Cheesecake

-How I resisted so long is a mystery.-

Every time BF mentioned that his favorite dessert in the world was cheesecake I rolled my eyes and replied in a quiescent voice that yes, I understood the hint. He wanted me to make him cheesecake. I, in response, said nothing and usually swept the matter under the conversation like hiding dust beneath the area rug in hopes we could move on. I had no interest in making cheesecake or learning how to make cheesecake.

It was then my sad mistake to ask BF when he was away at training what he wanted me to make for dinner the night he got back. I planned to make something fun and somewhat extravagant and in my alimentary daydream I forgot to mind my filter. "I'll cook whatever dessert you want," I said without hesitation.

"Cheesecake," BF replied. He didn't miss a beat and his tone didn't belie any smile or humor. It was an honest response that was impossible to ignore or push aside.

"Oh... okay," a pause, "Cheesecake it is." I knew he couldn't see my trying to smile over the phone but he didn't need to to know that my good humor was a lie.

So the stars had aligned and karma had struck me down. I would now have to learn to make a cheesecake.

-Can I get an Amen? Or at least other good cheesecake recipes suggestions?-

It's not that I necessarily have anything against cheesecake. I don't. It's just that it's never been at the top of my list of favorite things to eat. Most cheesecakes I try are far too rich, or loaded with so much chocolate fudge, caramel swirled, pistachio dusted, Butterfinger crust hoohaw that it goes against my general preference for dessert with focused simplicity.

Still, I ended up putting it off after he arrived. We went out instead. It wasn't a planned diversion, it was just that we both had had a long day and after amusing ourselves for a while after his return neither of us had the energy to cook. So out we went for Mexican food. I had escaped my commitment.

A few days later BF reminded me of my promise and having committed to the task - I had given my word after all - we went (me begrudgingly) to the market to gather ingredients for a simple chocolate chunk cheesecake. Yes, it may not be a paragon of simplicity, but there's something to be said for the combination of cream cheese and chocolate and it was what BF wanted. I did dress it up with a vanilla bean too. How could I not?

The prep was easy though time consuming; each stage of the preparation required the cheesecake to sit and cool for a length of time, the longest being five hours. Still, as they say, patience is a virtue.

The next day we tasted the result.

Readers, consider me a convert to the church of cheesecake.

-Chocolate and cheese? Oh, hell yes.-

Vanilla Bean Chocolate Chunk Cheesecake
Adapted from The Essence of Chocolate

2 1/2 cups of graham cracker crumbs
4 oz of butter (one stick)
3 8-ounce packages of cream cheese, room temperature
1 cup of sugar
1/4 teaspoon of salt
2 large eggs, room temperature
2 cups of sour cream, room temperature
1 vanilla bean (or 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract)
10 ounces of chocolate chopped into pieces

Special Equipment
8-inch spring form pan

For the crust:
Preheat oven to 375F. Melt the butter and mix with the graham cracker crumbs. Press into the bottom and at least halfway up the sides of the springform pan. Refrigerate for 20 minutes, then bake the crust for 10 minutes. Remove from the oven and set on a rack to cool. Lower the heat to 350F.

For the filling:
1. In a standing mixer with a paddle attachment or with a large bowl and a hand mixer beat the cream cheese, sugar, salt for 2 minutes on medium until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl.

2. Add the eggs and beat for 2 minutes. Split open the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds. Add the sour cream and vanilla seeds to the batter and beat again for 3 minutes, stopping halfway through to scrape down the sides. Turn off the mixer and fold in the chocolate.

3. Pour the batter into the prepared springform pan; even the batter out and then mound it up in the middle a bit. The batter will be at the very rim of the pan and you will think that it will rise and spill over. It won't. Bake for 50-60 minutes or until lightly browned and set. Turn off the heat and prop the oven door open with a wooden spoon and let the cheesecake rest in the oven for 30 minutes.

4. Remove the cheesecake from the oven and cool on a rack for 30 minutes, then refrigerate for five hours or overnight.

5. Run a knife around the edge of the pan to loosen the crust and cheesecake. Remove the springform ring and carefully move the cake to a serving platter. Serve or cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until serving.

Breakfast for One

-Eating alone doesn't have to be depressing.-

For the past few weeks BF has been out of town for some of his medical training (which is one of the reasons we compliment each other so well, I having predisposition to accidentally harming myself, and he having to bandage me up). Roommate is usually away for work and his frequent weekend adventures in San Francisco make him so absent I sometimes forget I even have a roommate. I'm only reminded when he comes back in at some random hour on a Tuesday and he regales me with stories that are too scandalous for this blog.

And, so, I've had a lot of alone time. Most of my life has been surrounded by people and while a little alone time is great large amounts of it unnerve me. The cats only listen to me for so long before walking away to catch some reflected sunlight on the wall. I have a strict rule not to drink alone (who would I dance with?). I usually end up watching some horror movie late into the night. I subsequently spend the rest of it in bed rationalizing that the picture frame that fell off the wall at one in the morning was a random occurrence and not the manifestation of some angry ghost who wants to brutalize me.

However, there are plenty of positive aspects to having a long period of uninterrupted personal space. It's amazing how much reading I've been able to catch up with. No one is playing World of Warcraft at three in the morning (nothing, apparently, is noisier than a Death Knight at three in the morning). I can sprawl out in the bed all I want and the covers are all mine.

Cooking seems to be the real problem I have. Suddenly reducing my menus from meals for three to meals for one is difficult. I buy too much at the market and end up struggling to use it all. The sheer volume of leftovers I have in the fridge and freezer is enough to open my own food bank.

-I prefer white nectarines to yellow ones. Plus, I enjoy them tight and tart, not squishy and too sweet.-

Of course, the reason some of it goes unused is because I can eat without reprobation. Ice cream and a side of peanut butter toast is perfectly acceptable for dinner. I can break out a jar of Nutella and a spoon and simply watch repeats of Xena or Airbender without anyone complaining. A simple salad of bok choi with sesame oil and Chinkiang vinegar can be the most relaxing thing ever and I don't have to hold a conversation. I can simply, rudely, bury my nose in a magazine and not give a damn about the world. And, once in a while, I'll go grab a quick Taco Bell taco.

Not all of my meals are so irresponsible. A simple single serving of cooked fruit can be quite relaxing and indulgent. I don't even have to share!

A few cubed up nectarines and berries tossed with a bit of thyme and honey is a particular summer treat that I enjoy making for myself on a lazy Sunday. This morning the necatrines at the Farmer's market were tight and tart the way I like them and begged to be roasted just a little to sweeten them. A little flurry of ground almonds gave the dish a faux crumble crust. I decided to really make it richer with a small pour of heavy cream. A trick my cousin's wife, Cio, taught me that enhances any crumble or cobbler.

This little serving for one with a tall glass of iced oolong tea made for a beautiful breakfast for me, myself, and I which is nice because - between being amongst all the people I love - we needed to catch up a bit.


Baked Summer Fruit
There's no real recipe for this, just a method. Preheat the oven to 350F and lightly butter a baking dish or a few ramekins. In a bowl toss some chopped nectarines or peaches and a handful of berries (your choice on what kind) with a spoonful of honey and 1/2 teaspoon of thyme. Place into the baking dish or ramekins. Dust with some almond meal (though any well chopped nut will do). Bake for 15 minutes. Pour a few tablespoons of heavy cream or milk over the fruit. Serve.

Blackberry Jam

-Jamming season has begun.-

When the dreaded fire started back in the old apartment the very first thing to go were all the jams, syrups, pickles, and preserves I had made during the Spring and Summer. The fire, starting at the stove in the apartment next door, quickly ate through the kitchen wall and into my kitchen cabinets; right into the four flats of homemade canned goods. They did not survive.

The cabinet was apparently one of the few things that was sturdily built because even though the walls and pipes were consumed by the ravenous flame the cabinet stayed up leaving behind the evidence of what ate through the wall. The jars had literally exploded from the heat, black shrapnel scattered across the cabinet floor and even embedded itself into the walls. The jams had splattered and boiled down to a dull pitch crisp as if every surface has been caked with muddy obsidian.

Ironically, it wasn't supposed to have happened. Almost all of that jam had been destined to be turned into Christmas gifts but I had forgotten them back in Sacramento on my drive to Southern California, only remembering somewhere in the middle of a Central Valley drive-thru. I told my family I would mail the jams off to them when I got back. The fire was kind of the epic head-slap after a "D'oh!" moment in this regard.

So the past few weeks I have been on a jamming spree. I've churned out many batches of my apricot and Riesling jam at this point, a batch of apricot vanilla bean (those little bean specks give me such joy), and some rhubarb preserves. The windows are constantly fogged up from the steam of the cans' water baths creating a Floridian microclimate in my apartment. Still, through all the sweat and haze it's quite worth it. The jam is superb.

This last weekend I was lucky enough to have come across blackberries, bulbous and juicy, concentrated in flavor, for cheap at the Farmer's Market. Six overflowing baskets for $10 is something that demands to be jammed. I paid up and quickly took them home in a rush excited at this unique opportunity. Normally, I jam whatever fruit my friends' trees and gardens simply have an overabundance of, rarely do I buy a ton of fruit just to jam. However, this particular fruit situation demanded proactivity and I had never had the chance to jam berries.

The base recipe I used was Lindsey Shere's boysenberry jam recipe in Chez Pannise Desserts. However, I decided to play with it just a little. Blackberries seem to have two popular pairing as of late that I seem to be seeing everywhere: Bourbon and violet (the latter via actual violets, Creme de Violette, or violet extract). I decided to go with the Bourbon as the Creme de Violette was too delicate in flavor to stand up to these ballsy berries.

I measured out a shot glass of Bourbon and tossed in a bit of homemade vanilla extract into a pot of barely mashed berries and enough sugar to comatose a six year old. About a half hour later I had jam. Amazing jam. The bourbon added a subtle spice behind the fruit, and the vanilla added a slight creaminess. Just... oh lord, the best blackberry jam ever. So good you giggle to yourself when you taste it.

To you jammers and canners out there with access to black or boysenberries be sure to give this a shot. You won't be disappointed.

-Tasty trio of jam. (I ate all the rhubarb ones already. Oops.)-

Blackberry Jam (With a Hint of Bourbon)

2.5 lbs of blackberries
1 lb of sugar
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon of butter (this helps for clarity and prevents foaming)
3 tablespoons of Bourbon (or one shot glass worth)
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1. Wash the blackberries and toss them into a stainless steel or copper pot, or a enamel lined dutch oven (not an aluminum pot). Lightly mash the berries with a wooden spoon. Add the rest of the ingredients and stir. Let macerate for about 10 minutes. Place a small plate in the freezer as this will be used for testing later.

2. Turn heat to medium-high. The mixture will bubble and froth vigorously. Skim the foam off the top and discard (or save it and put it on cheese or yogurt; super tasty). The boil will subside to larger bubbles, but still bubble vigorously. Be sure to begin gently stirring the jam frequently to prevent it from sticking to the bottom.

3. After about 25 minutes begin testing the jam by placing a small amount on the cold plate. Allow 30 seconds to pass and then run your finger through it to see what the cooled consistency will be. Boil for a few minutes longer if desired for a thicker jam.

4. Ladle into hot, sterilized canning jars and seal leaving 1/4 inch of head space. Wipe the rims of the jars clean before applying the lids. Screw on the rings to finger-tight. Work quickly. Process in a water bath to ensure a good seal. If you want you can skip the water bath and just screw the lids on tight where the heating-cooling process will create a vacuum seal, but the water bath is a surefire method for a secure seal.

*To sterilize the jars, rinse out clean Mason jars, dry them, and place them, without lids, upright in a 200°F oven for 10 minutes. To sterilize the lids put them in a shallow bowl and pour boiling water over them.

Breakfast Cereal Ice Cream

-Yes, this is what you think it is. Read on and trust me that it is awesome.-

This post will split my readership into two factions: those that think this recipe is vile, and those that will think that this is the best thing ever. Allow me to explain first why I did what I did in making this ice cream. You might better understand.

A few days ago BF and I went out to one of those trendy little yogurt places. You know, the kind where you pick a soft-serve flavor and then load it up with fruit, or candy, or whatnot. Feeling the need to break away from my usual two options; pistachio with granola and strawberries, or chocolate covered with broken up Reese's; I went with a simple vanilla ice cream.

In the corner of my eye I saw prismatic flare of Fruity Pebbles cereal. The epileptic, multi-color overload seemed so whimsical and fun, and so with a jaunty little smile I took a small scoop of of cereal and tossed them in the cup. I took a whiff and recalled that sweet, sugary smell of faux-fruit flavors and the few rare days I was allowed to eat such a treat as a child.

You see, as a kid we grew up with Cheerios and oatmeal and were happy to do so. Dad would cut up bananas, sprinkle on cinnamon, or toss in a handful of raisins and make these breakfasts special. It was how my brothers and I bonded with our dad every morning. We were never left wanting for sugary cereal as we were raised knowing that a box of Lucky Charms was a treat reserved only for visits to grandma's. Still, every so often, maybe on a vacation, we were afforded the luxury of a box of Captain Crunch or, perhaps, Fruity Pebbles which would be greedily eaten in ginormous bowls as my brother and I watched Power Rangers in the morning.

It was tasting my 10 year old life in eating that ice cream when suddenly it hit me: I could make Fruity Pebbles ice cream. The most special childhood Saturday mornings frozen in time and heavy cream. I had had something similar before; the Secret Breakfast ice cream at Humphry Slocombe in San Francisco, a Corn Flake and Bourbon flavored ice cream which is stunning in its flavor and simplicity. It could be done again. I could do it.

-Looking at it too long may cause a stroke.-

So I did. I bought a box of Fruity Pebbles, soaked the cream and milk with it, and then churned that into a basic, Philadelphia-style ice cream (meaning no eggs). It tasted like the milk at the bottom of the bowl. And it was so good. SO good. It was toy commercials, waking up at 6 AM trying not to wake mom and dad, and not having to do homework on Saturdays.

You can do this with any cereal you want, whatever milk in the bowl you liked best, though I think the unhealthier the cereal the better. (BF wants me to try Cinnamon Toast Crunch.)

Yes, part of me should hate it. It's anti-Slow Food. Not sustainable. Certainly not healthy or responsible. But the memories are there. The recipe is fun and it makes me smile. That, sometimes, is reason enough.

-Garnish this ice cream with some of the cereal. It makes it all the better.-

Breakfast Cereal Ice Cream
2 cups of cream
1 1/2 cups of whole milk
3/4 cup of sugar
pinch of salt
2 cups of cereal (your choice)

Bring the cream, sugar, and salt to a simmer and stir over medium-high heat until the sugar and salt dissolve. Add the cereal and milk, stir and let sit for two hours. Strain the mixture and discard the soggy cereal. Churn in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. Place in a bowl in the freezer for 45 minutes to an hour to firm up. Serve immediately.

*Note: I made this, coincidentally, on a Saturday morning and wasn't feeling the desire to make a custard base ice cream. You very well could if you wanted. The flavoring method is simple enough.

Chocolate Sorbet

-Yes, it is as rich as it looks.-

I like homemade ice cream. I enjoy creating and trying out new flavors that you might not otherwise be able to find at the store. However, I find them often to be too rich, or a bit to hectic to produce sometimes. It's why I prefer sorbet. Sorbet is easier to produce and takes so much less time. Heat up some water and sugar, add the flavor and chill. Pop in the ice cream machine and boom, 'yer done. No tempering eggs, and no trying to figure out what to do with all those egg whites. Furthermore, I find that I generally prefer the lighter and clearer taste of the ingredients you use in sorbet.

Normally, I make sorbet when I have an overabundance of fruit during the summer when turning on the stove sounds too heroic an effort for me to accomplish in my lazy summer sloth. Puree the fruit, pass it through a sieve, add a splash of brandy or vodka and add to the warmed sugar-water. Ta-da! Easy.

However, in early spring, when I eat fruit far too quickly to be able to produce a practical sorbet, I like to rely on this little chocolate sorbet recipe. I actually prefer this over chocolate ice cream as I find the chocolate is much more intense when it doesn't have to compete with yolks and cream for flavor. It utilizes ingredients I - and I assume every avid home baker - has on hand, meaning it's a simple, practical frozen treat. Furthermore, this sorbet never gives me texture problems; it never crystallizes into a rock, even after a week in the freezer as most homemade ice creams and sorbets have a tendency to do. Complimented with some chopped mint and strawberries it's a perfect sorbet for the hotter days ahead.

-If you don't have an ice cream maker, then just toss it into a shallow tray, freeze and stir up the crystals every so often until you reach a good consistency.-

Chocolate Sorbet
Adapted from Jaime Oliver

75g cocoa powder
300g sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
45g of peanut butter (organic works best)
300g chocolate (60%-70% cacao), broken into pieces

Pour 750ml water into a small saucepan with cocoa, sugar, vanilla extract and peanut butter. Bring to a boil while whisking then remove from heat. Add chocolate and a pinch of salt and leave for a minute, then stir until chocolate has melted and you have a glossy mixture. Cool in the fridge for four hours or overnight and then transfer to an ice-cream mixture per the manufacturer's instructions.

-A slight bit of peanut butter is what gives this chocolate sorbet such a creamy texture.-

Tarted Up A Bit - Strawberry and Rhubarb Tart

-A perfect tarty treat after tarting up your garden.-

The garden was a bit of a slag when we put it together. Plants placed haphazardly with little forethought, tomatoes here and tomatoes there rather than them being grouped together, the whole thing was as well laid out as the streets of Boston. Which is to say, poorly. Many of the plants that needed sun sat in the chilling shade, their growth noticeably stunted. Other plants were taking in too much water and root rot began the slow decomposition within the stalks.

With the exception of our strawberries, mints, blackberry plant, and our dwarf citrus trees the rest of our prolific garden was on the verge of ruin. The garden wasn't simply suffering, it was cluttered, unplanned, and somewhat slovenly. The garden was like a guy I used to see at my local gym, he had the body of a god, but he had the face to guard it. This garden was his equivalent; it possessed striking potential and had the ability to produce, but unless something was done to clean it up a bit it would be remain a secret garden defined by ugly struggle.

Roommate, BF, and I undertook the day long trial of reviving and turning this garden around. We picked up a few sacks of steer manure, plenty of dirt, a few new plants, and borrowed some shovels from BF's family. Toiling, slathered in sweat and sun screen, we carefully dug up every eggplant, every pepper, every everything and gingerly laying them in misted shade so the roots wouldn't wither and dry. We quickly turned the first 10 inches of soil with manure before laying the plants back in the ground in ordered rows. Each row was so clearly defined and categorized that any real farmer or librarian would be proud.

-A happy, well organized, slightly chic vegetable and fruit garden.-

All decked out the garden is vogue, Cover Girl. She's strutting her stuff. Bedazzled with berries, parading with peppers, and a few good pots of basil (which never go out of style). She's all tarted up in the most fashionable ways.

Afterwards, covered in mud and a bit tousled, we tarted ourselves, albeit in a different way. We sat down to the remnants of a made yesterday strawberry and poached rhubarb tart. The recipe came from Chez Panisse Desserts, authored by Lindsey Shere, a cookbook I had purchase but then expressed disappointment at as I had been expecting something ill-defined and vague I called "more." A few people chastised me, nudging me on in their motherly way to give the book a go.

I did and, I admit, I was wrong. The book did me well though a few more notes about the cooking process would have been appreciated. Particularly the base recipes such as the shortbread crust and pastry cream; both simple and reliable, little black dresses of the pastry world.

The tart is spectacular and always in style come Spring. The perfect accessory to hold in your dirt stained knuckles as you revel in your made-over garden.

Short Crust Pastry
(For 9-inch pastry shell)
adapted from Chez Panisse Desserts

1 cup of flour
1 tablespoon of sugar
pinch of salt
1/4 teaspoon of grated lime peel
1/2 cup unsalted butter, not too cold
1 tablespoon of water
1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1. Mix flour, sugar, salt, peel and butter and cut with your hands or a pastry knife until it resembles cornmeal sized pieces. Add water and vanilla and combine into flour-butter mixture until the pastry will hold together when you press it. Pat into a ball and wrap it with plastic wrap and pop it in the fridge for 30 minutes.

2. Press into a 9-inch tart pan, making sure you keep it even. It should be somewhat thin, but don't worry as it will puff a bit when baking and become thicker. Wrap the pan in foil and freeze for 30 minutes.

3. Preheat oven to 375F. Remove the foil and bake for 25 minutes or until golden brown. The dough will puff up a lot during the baking process. Don't worry as it will sink back down. Cool on a wire rack. When cool fill with pastry cream and top with fruit.


Pastry Cream
adapted from Chez Panisse Desserts

2 cups of milk
1/3 cup of flour
6 tablespoons of sugar
6 egg yolks
2 tablespoons of butter
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

1. Heat the milk until small bubbles appear around the side on the pot, signaling it is just about to boil. Mix the flour and sugar in a heavy saucepan. Beat egg yolks in a bowl until thick and light colored. Whisk the hot milk into the flour mixture and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture has boiled for a minute or two.

2. Whisk some of the milk mixture into the egg mixture to temper them and then stir the egg mixture back into the rest of the milk mixture. Mix well. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the pastry cream begins to hold a slight shape, about 170F. Do not boil.

3. Remove from heat and stir in butter. Allow to cool, then whisk in the vanilla and smooth out the pastry cream. Do not overmix cooled pastry cream.


Poached Rhubarb with Strawberries

2 pints of strawberries
1 cup of chopped rhubarb
1 cup of sugar

1. Core and slice strawberries. Set aside.

2. Place sugar and 2 cups of water in saucepan. Bring to a simmer. Add poache rhubarb and simmer on low for 8 minutes. Take off heat and allow to cool for an hour.

3. Drain rhubarb (the cooking liquid is wonderful in cocktails, so save it) and carefully toss them with strawberries.

-Yes, I worked a Madonna song into my post. It would have been wrong not to.-

Pomegranate Caramels with Toasted Almonds and Kosher Salt

-This demure bowl of candy contains striking, super sour caramel that'll make anyone swoon. Photo by Elise Bauer.-

Do you ever come across a recipe that, once you see it, you realize that you immediately have to make it right then and there. That's generally how I feel about most of Matt's recipes. Of course, it's not just the recipes themselves, but the striking photographs - portals to his kitchen studio - and his writing that, if you met Matt, can immediately recognize as his voice and personality in print.

Now, given, most of the times I don't make the recipes I fawn over. Either it's a matter of time, ingredients, cost, or sloth; but this time the stars were all aligned. Assuming that one of those stars is a bottle of pomegranate molasses. The recipe in question was for fruit flavored caramels. The fruit called for were blood oranges. Lots of them. Blood oranges I did not have.

But blood oranges are kind of like pomegranates. Sorta. Kinda. Think about it. The taste is fruity and vibrant, as scarlet as their juice. Both are bold flavors reminiscent of berries. So, yeah, they can be interchangeable. In a pinch. When you need them to be.

In this case I did. And it worked out wonderfully. The caramels are surprisingly sour. Each bite causes you to suck on your teeth both from the tartness and from the candy sticking to the roof of your mouth and between your teeth. The salt sweeps your off your feet and makes the sour more sour, the sweet more sweet. The toasted almonds give a crunchy contrast, a warm nuttiness that balances out the sweetnsour(nsalty).

Pomegranate Caramels with Toasted Almonds and Kosher Salt

1/4 cup of pomegranate molasses
1 cup of granulated sugar
1 cup of packed light brown sugar
1 stick of unsalted butter, room temperature
1/3 cup of heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup of almonds
2 teaspoons of kosher salt

Preheat oven to 350F. Place almonds on a baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes. Place in a bowl to cool.

Line the bottom of an 8-inch square baking dish with parchment paper. Butter parchment paper and set aside.

Place pomegranate molasses in a 3-quart heavy saucepan and bring to a boil over high heat.

Remove from heat and stir in sugars, butter, and cream. Return to high heat and bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Turn heat to medium and let boil until a candy thermometer reads 248 F. This only took me about 5 minutes, but my electric burner is possessed.

Remove from heat and stir in vanilla.

Scatter almonds on bottom of parchment paper. Pour caramel over almonds. Let sit until cool and firm, about 2 hours. Remove from baking dish and sprinkle salt flakes over top. Cut into 1-inch pieces. Wrap in squares of wax paper or candy wrappers.

-A good sharp knife to cut the chewy goodness.-

Cherry Blossom Marshmallows

-Marshmallows flavored with sakura blossoms. How can you possibly resist? Answer: You cannot. Lay back and accept your sugary fate.-

This afternoon was happily occupied with a delightful potluck in Northern California hosted by well known food maven and friend Peg Poswall and her husband John whose collection of friends is always eclectic and entertaining. Photographers, wine importers, lawyers, and non-profit grant writers all gather together between the citrus garden and rose garden under a blossom heavy awning overlooking acres of cattle grazing land and natural landscapes.

We were all to bring a dish and a bottle, and when you're cooking for other people who know good food it raises the stakes on your humble potluck dish. As I had been hankering to make marshmallows the last few days I decided this was the perfect time to whip up these puffy little bricks of sweetness. Shockingly easy to make, though difficult to move from bowl to pan as the fluff is easily strung into a sticky spider web of sugar, homemade marshmallows have a wow factor that endears you to people as a talented pastry chef (it'll be our little lie, as white as the marshmallows).

As we toasted our wine and toured the various gardens we worked up an appetite for a little bit of sugar. The real surprise in these marshmallows, a blank canvas for flavor, is the flavor from the sakura, or cherry blossom, extract.

After being inspired by Aran's cherry blossom doughnuts I went on a crazy hunt to find some of the now fabled sakura extract myself. My search was in vain though, it simply cannot be found in the States just yet. Maybe in a few years.

Luckily, Aran's hookup, Chika of She Who Eats, a Japanese food blog, heard my plight and sent me some right away. (I will never cease to be amazed by the kindness of food bloggers and the food community in general as a few days later on my doorstep was a carefully bundled package wrapped in Japanese newspaper.)

The marshmallows were then dredged in a bit of powdered sugar and dusted with an extra little gift Chika sent: powdered pickled cherry blossoms. Floral and salty they offered visual and flavorful counterpoints to the sugar. The marshmallows offered a quaint rosiness that complimented the sunny garden we dined in.

These cherry blossom marshmallows were a well received, flower-scented candy leaving poofs of powdered sugar on happy smiles and dotting our clothes. We brushed off the dust on the sides of our jeans, took another swig of wine, and armed with sugar soon went down to gather colorful eggs from the many resident hens. A simple highlight to a wonderful day.

-Sweet, floral goodness. Seriously, this will totally be the rockstar ingredient in the food world in a few years. Put money on it.-

Cherry Blossom Marshmallows
Adapted from Joy of Baking

1 cup cold water
3 - 1/4 ounce envelopes unflavored gelatin
2 cups sugar
1 cup light corn syrup
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 teaspoons of cherry blossom extract
extra powdered sugar for coating
dried cherry blossom flakes (optional)

1. Lightly grease a pan a 13x9x2 inch pan and then line the bottom with parchment paper. Take a few tablespoons of powdered sugar and soft across the bottom and sides of the pan.

2. Place 1/2 cup of water and the gelatin in the bowl of your electric mixer and let set for 15 minutes.

3. Place sugar, 1/2 cup of water, salt, and corn syrup in a 2 or 3 quart saucepan and set to high heat and let it come to a boil. Bring to 245 degrees without stirring, this will take about 8-10 minutes. Remove from heat.

4. With the balloon whisk attachment turn the mixer on to low and slowly pour in the sugar mixture letting it fall down the side into the gelatin (this is to prevent the hot sugar from flinging out). Gradually increase the speed to high and beat until mixture has tripled in volume and is very thick and stiff, about 10 minutes. Add the extract and beat to combine, about 30 seconds longer.

5. Transfer to the pan. This will be a nightmare as it is sticky as hell. You will get it everywhere. Accept it. Once the bulk is in the prepared ban use a slightly damp offset rubber spatula to smooth and spread out the fluff.

6. Dust the top with some more sifted powdered sugar. Allow to set for 12 hours.

7. Remove the marshmallows and cut them up (scissors are great for this) and dredge each piece in more powdered sugar and the dried cherry blossoms if using. Serve.

-Homemade marshmallows are an easy to make treat that will always wow a crowd. Colorings and flavors can be added to make them unique and personal.-