Toast

In Which She Goes to Nantucket and Not So Surprisingly, Walks, Eats and Shops

Call me crazy, but my favorite bit (apart from seeing my friend Cindy, of course) of my little New England holiday was the sperm whale skeleton at the Nantucket Whaling Museum. Is it not awesome? You can see the size of the whale, as compared to the whaling boat below it. How would you like to ride for hours in one of those, attached by a harpoon to an angry whale trying to detach you and your whaling cohorts?

We heard a talk, and saw a whaling film from 1922. Also, though you can't see this, really, in the photo, the whale is almost all head, with a curved pre-historic looking tail, but also these amazing flipper-things. The flipper bones are exactly like the skeleton of a huge human hand- all the digits, and knuckles -everything. Oh, what can I say, I am a big geek. I adored it.

The Whaling Museum, and indeed Nantucket in general, is in such quiet, pretty good taste as to set off warning bells. Cindy thought her daughter, who has very specific, somewhat spartan aesthetic standards, wouldn't like it- for being too picturesque and perfect, and I could definitely see what she meant.

We stayed in a grey shingled B and B with shining white trim, in a sweet attic room with sloping ceilings, and crisp white cotton curtains, whch was perfectly coordinated with all the rest of the surrounding pretty houses, set off by just enough really nice flowering shrubs, and brick and cobblestone streets.

I was somehow just fine with it, anyway, despite the whiff of expensive stage set- it just completely hit the spot for unboring restfulness. It was delightfully cool- as compared to the ridiculous record-breaking high temperatures at home. Also, I just really like seeing sailboats in water. Does something for me every time. I should get a toy boat for my bathtub.

We took the ferry from Hyannis, lugged out suitcases up the steps at the B and B, and basically spent the rest of the weekend wandering about lazily, looking at the museum, shops, sailboats and menus in the numerous restaurant windows, deciding what to eat later. We had some damned good food, which sort of surprised me. Not that I was expecting to be poisoned- I realize that the general moneybags summer Nantucket crowd would expect, and get a decent effort, but I hadn't hoped for actual wonderfulness. And we had some wonderfulness, plus quite a bit of very goodness. The food was a real treat.

We hadn't done much in the way of research about food ahead of time- just a wee bit of an egullet scan. This revealed a number of good candidates for serious breakfasts, and I do love breakfast out. But the B and B came with a perfectly adequate buffet breakfast, so we didn't try any of that. Our two best meals were dinners, one casual, one dress-up. At the Brotherhood of Thieves- which may be better known as a bar than restaurant, I think, we had a local not-too-pale pale ale (forget name-sorry), and shared some oysters. Cindy had a really good big dinner salad- and I had a lobster BLT which was excellent- with, inter alia, huge chunks of lobster in mayo- plus outstanding curly french fries of total fresh hotness. I would be happy to have that meal again several times over.

At The Bistro at le Languedoc (fancy but comfortable, dark, quiet-ish, plenty of space between big tables, long wine list), we each had the same entree. It was sweetbreads and pork cheeks- 2 each- in a deep red-brown madeira sauce with itty bitty onions and peas, over a soft puree of sweet potato. I kind of picked it because it was that-which-you-cannot-get-at-home, and I love sweetbreads. I had read of pork cheeks-but never had any before. Wow-they set each other and everything else off a treat. I was so not disappointed, and pretty much wound up licking the plate. There was excellent crusty bread, which looked ordinary, but was outstanding, so I went the mopping it up route-I couldn't bear to leave any. Cindy also though it was all great. By far the best food I've eaten out for a good long time.

The Bistro's menu is a little puzzling at first, but the waiter explained, when asked. Entrees seemed divided into two types-the usual and the unusual, though not so-labeled. The unusual entrees were available both in full and small sized portions. The full-sized portions (we had these) were just right- neither skimpy arty little dodads, nor giant, gotta-have-a-doggie bag opulent. Only the anoerxic would seriously want a half sized portion for dinner- but these entrees did not seem the sort of things you'd want for an appetizer, either. Per the waiter, the half sized portions were for those unsure of their reaction to the more novel items. Still, I don't see what the rest of their order would be. This was of no consequence to us, as we didn't fear any of the more creative entrees, and had a hard time choosing.

Also at the Bistro, there was a super good classic creme brulee for dessert. Someone once said that the true test of a restaurant, or chef, or something- was the quality of the simple roast chicken and the creme brulee. Despite the ring of affectation..I think it's probably true. Cindy had a sort of deconstructed tart tatin- she seemed to think it was nice, but wasn't moved to tears or anything. I did taste it, but was by then so stuffed that I don't really remember it. I sure would like to eat there again some time.

I'm kind of winding down with the yakking here, though I probably should mention some expensive, but really good homemade icecream- at a place the name of which I forget, but it's just right by the ferry. There was blackberry-so good, and there was green tea/ginger- also so good.

Oh, and there was shopping of the sort to induce dawdling, including a shop called Majolica, filled with an incredible selection of the same, with many eccentric individual pieces. There were antique shops of several kinds. I bought a couple of things, one at a Tibetan shop. There I got me a warm, pretty winter hat of black velvet, lined in silk with a satin ribbon and a border of fake fur (per the proprietor, whose father made the hat, the D.Lama suggests the use of the fake fur whenever reasonably possible, instead of the real article!). I have a giant head, like an extra large man's hat size- so it was both unusual and cheering to find a nice hat that neither sits atop my skull like a clown's derby nor looks as if it was meant to be worn by a lumberjack. I almost wish I'd bought two- there was another very nice one which also fit.

I also found some slippers to take to my two year old relative (first cousin twice removed -ha- sort of a grandcousin) Ella, when I go to England in February. These are like tiny multi-colored bear feet, beautifully made and lined, and with 3 golden fabric claws on each foot. I think they will make her look like she is from Where the Wild Things Are. Which, judging from her pictures, she already rather does- a Sendak-ish lovely little face.

Ah well, I am a bit wistful about being back to home and work. I liked those gray clouds and sailboats..I do believe the salt air and gray skies are therapeutic, and that ocean breezes blow the cobwebs out. Also, islands are cool. I think I'd better go cook something. In honor of the (at last) cool weather, I'm going to make Arlette's pea soup.

Ricotta Salata

I am still finding it amazing that an ordinary person can make actual cheese. I was going to try mozzarella next, but I fell in love with the ricotta, and have made it several times over. It is so good that it seems almost a shame to use it for cannoli cream, where its mild virtues are overwhelmed by all that chocolate and orange marmalade goodness. Well drained, it is firm enough to cut; and I think it is a treat, on a piece of multigrained bread, with salt and pepper and a few sliced radishes.

The lure of firmness and slice-ibility, led me to ricotta salata. The only additional thing I needed was a little basket ricotta mold. Though the traditional wicker version is very appealing, I went with cheapo plastic to start. I got mine from the Cheese Queen, but I'm certain that, as you look at it, possible substitute items, gleaned from supermarket shopping (think berries) will come to mind.

Since I haven't any sheep, for milk or otherwise, I made this cow's milk version, and I think it's pretty cool. "Salata" by the way, just means that it is salted, but a ricotta salata is also drained, pressed and aged (a little). You can slice it with a cheese slicer, shave it with a vegetable peeler, or even grate it. And there are some outstanding salads to make, to show it off.

First, you make some ricotta-from about a gallon of milk, which makes about half a pound. Then, you keep yourself from eating it. Instead, you take it from the draining butter muslin, add another teaspoon of salt, and pack it into a little basket. You can see mine here. Set it atop a small upside down bowl, inside a bigger bowl or pot (so it can drain), and weight the top. I used a Tupperware bowl that just fit on top, and filled it with water, for weight. I'm sure there are any number of brillant alternatives to this makeshift set-up.

Let it sit an hour, and then turn it out. You will probably need to loosen it by running a knife around the outside. Put it back in the basket, upside down, and let it sit for twelve hours. Take it out, and turn it over again, and rub the outside with some salt, gently. Put it back in the basket, and into some sort of container to catch further drippage, and refrigerate.

You do the turning and salting thing every 12 hours for a week, and then let your cute little cheese, with its basket-weave imprint, age for 2 or 3 weeks, drying it off with a clean cloth if its looking damp, trimming any sign of mold, and re-salting the exterior from time to time. Mine cracked quite a bit as it dried out, so that it is now- a couple of weeks later, marginally less cute. But seriously delicious-sharp, but creamy.

I tried a simple pasta thing adapted from Epicurious, to make with Ricotta Salata:

6 oz. penne or similar shape pasta
1 cup frozen peas, defrosted
handful fresh basil leaves, torn
3 oz. ricotta salata, broken into chunks
a lemon
1 1/2 Tbsps extra virgin olive oil
1 Tbsp fresh tarragon leaves.

Grate the lemon peel into a bowl, and squeeze in the juice. Add everything but the pasta and tarragon, and toss. Grate some fresh black pepper over- but wait until it's done to see if you need salt- as the cheese is very salty. Cook and drain pasta. Add to bowl, and toss. Sprinkle with tarragon, and correct seasoning. Share with one other person. Consume.

Not bad- a little dry-think I'll add a bit of hot pasta cooking water to it next time. Very summery and refreshingly sharp. To come: salads with ricotta salata. Also, I think I saw something about baking it- to "carmelize the flavors." That sounds nice, too.

Say Cheese

I was going to try my hand at mozzarella, but I actually need some ricotta for a cake, so I gave ricotta a try first. I noted earlier that Barbara Kingsolver's Animal. Vegetable, Miracle seemed to be jazzing me up in several directions at once. One of those directions was my hitherto dormant, apparently unconscious, mad desire to make cheese.

Most of the things I have wanted to do desperately had been with me, more or less inchoate for a very long time. I was, for example, the frustrated child of two non-gardeners. My parents were heavily into easy care landscape for the front yard, and equally into forgetting entirely about the backyard, with the exception of annually picking our two inherited, unpruned damson plum trees. I wanted to grow flowers and vegetables. From about age five-I kid you not-I would spend a large percentage of my allowance on packets of seeds, which I would plant in thinly scraped areas of packed-clay dirt, sighing over their failure to grow. Eventually, I figured out what I was doing wrong.

Since I was a kid I have always wanted to bake bread. I wanted to learn how to do calligraphy properly and to go to Spain, and I wanted to learn how to do stage sword-fighting (not done yet, that). There are several more. Until quite recently, I did not especially want to make cheese. (Although I have longed unreasonably for a dairy goat from childhood-a sign, perhaps?) Suddenly, making cheese seems both very important and doable. Who knew?

If, as Barbara Kingsolver suggests, you google "cheese queen" you will find the website of Ricky Carroll, who conducts cheesemaking workshops, sells supplies and equipment and has written a book about cheesemaking. I ordered the stuff I used from her, as well as her book. I am sure it is all available elsewhere, but her business and her instructions fit together nicely, and she inspires confidence in the novice.

This is what you need:

1 gallon whole milk -NOT ultrapasturized
1 tsp cheese salt
1 tsp citric acid

Pour milk into a stainless pot, add citric acid and salt, and stir to mix thoroughly. Heat until about 190F, stirring often to prevent sticking or burning; do not boil. The curds will begin to separate from the whey. When all the whey looks blue-ish and very unmilky, turn off the heat, and let it set for 10 minutes, undisturbed.

Line a colander with butter muslin. This resembles cheesecloth, but has a tighter weave. You lose fewer curds with it, and it is washable, too. I bought mine from Ms. Carroll (likewise the cheese salt and citric acid-I've got some vegetable rennet waiting for the mozzarella event). If I didn't have any butter muslin, I'd use several layers of cheese cloth.

Ladle the curds into the cheesecloth, and tie it up to drain- for at least an hour, or until the ricotta is as you like.Isn't it pretty, all round and smooth? Tastes lovely too (there were a few shards that fell off, to sample.) It will keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks. Don't throw out the whey- use it in breadmaking, or for pizza. I used in my personal favorite pizza dough, and was not disappointed. I thought it added a slight, almost imperceptible tang of sourdough flavor, very nice. The peculiar chemistry of this particular pizza dough was not affected.

I'm going to get some little basket molds, and make some ricotta salata, as well as the mozzarella. The ricotta process, simple as it was, produced a highly therapeutic feeling of satisfaction similar to bread-making gloat. Can't understand why I never tried this before. If you haven't- I recommend it highly.