Toast

Marmalam

It's a hybrid. You could call it a marmalade; there is a clear jelly, with citrus peel. But there are also chunks of pink grapefruit, retaining some of those jazzy little grapefruit globules that burst when you bite into them. This is my personal favorite of all new jams I've tried this season. It is adapted slightly from a Christine Ferber recipe for Pink Grapefruit Preserve With Honey.

Ms. Ferber suggests that it is excellent with a "not too sweet" creme brulee. That sounds wonderful to me, though I haven't tried it. It would be dynamite on some ice cream, but it is also very English Muffin friendly. I wish I'd made more. But maybe I will, as nice organically raised pink grapefruits are available year round, it will make a good winter project when the seasonal fruit is non-existent here.* There has been a certain amount of approval from giftees.

If you would like to make this, and I think you would, you will need:

4 large or five small pink grapefruit, well scrubbed
juice of one small lemon
3 3/4 cups sugar
1/3 cup mild honey
7 oz apple jelly

With one of those cute little zester tools, peel thin strips of zest off 2 of the grapefruits, until they are white and bald. (A zester is one of those tools I don't use much, but cannot do without. Imagine peeling these guys and making all those delicate little strips with a paring knife. Doesn't bear thinking about.) Save the zest. Now peel all the grapefruits, and over your jam pot of choice, slice them into thin strips, remove the seeds, and cut each slice into quarters. Add the sugar, zest, honey and lemon juice to the jam pot, and bring to a boil. Pour contents into a glass or ceramic bowl, cover with damp, crumpled parchment paper, and refrigerate until the next day.

Place a fine mesh strainer over the jam pot, and pour in the fruit mix. Allow all the juices to drain into the pot, and set the strainer over the bowl, with the fruit inside. Additional drippings can be added to the pot, as the fruit may exude a few more juices. Bring the liquid to a boil, and cook it down, until it reaches 220F on a properly calibrated thermometer.

Now, add theapple jelly (no reason you can't buy some if you prefer), breaking it up into small bits with your (clean) hand. Stir until it all dissolves, and then, boil away, bringing the temperature back up to 220F. Add the fruit and zest, and boil until it gels, using whatever test you favor- or to 65 on the refractometer (about which I babbled when making apple jam-see link above if interested). Divvy up into sterile canning jars- it will do seven 4oz jars, or 3 eight ouncers. Top with lids which have been boiled up sterile, and invert overnight to seal. This is not the usda way, which involves boiling water processing for 10-15 minutes. The fruit gets more cooked that way, and tastes less fresh, IMHO; however it is thought to be safer, so if you are at all worried, do that- it will still be good.

*Confession: My last summer jam also features an non-seasonal, non-local fruit. I fell for a big flat of mangoes at Costco, so there is a bit of a mango jamboree going on Chez Toast. I really couldn't help myself, the mangoes kind of jumped in my shopping cart, whilst I perused the baked goods nearby. I think that was what happened, it's all a bit hazy. That's often the way with infatuation. I will tell you all about it when I've finished, and cleaned up all the sticky counters and pits.

Maraschino Jam: Digressions and Recipe

These are not the maraschino cherries of red dye and corn syrup, for which I nonetheless retain a sneaking, if mostly imaginary fondness. As I child, with a child's sweet tooth, I thought they were heavenly. Perhaps you did too?

All my childhood friends seemed to love them. If I try one now, say, floating in my drink, the initial bite conjures some of the old pleasure. But then there is an acrid chemical follow-up that spoils the fun. No doubt it was always there, but I certainly never noticed it back in the day.

But then again, back in the day, I was also known to consume cotton candy and blue popsicles, if offered. These things had the lure of the carnival- sleazy, semi-forbidden fun.

Unlike blue popsicles, maraschino cherries were kept in the family fridge, but they were doled out sparingly, garnish only. This was not because they were bad for you, but because my mother, who was a genius at food, knew they would be utterly sickening in any sort of quantity.

There is a way, but today, I'm about some jam. If you'd like a proper, real food maraschino cherry to make a Manhattan, or to top off your sundae, that's another animal. I think I have a good method for that sort of maraschino, which involves dried cherries (mixed sour and sweet), sugar syrup, plenty of maraschino liquor, and a bit of waiting. It is just too bad that dried cherries come stemless, because a stem would add a bit of missing glamour. This jam owes something to that process, but much more to Christine Ferber's recipe for "Black Forest Jam".

So, this is what happened, if you'll forgive the to-and-fro-ing. Walking to my friend's house, I passed a little produce market, a place I don't usually shop. It is very expensive, yet often not terribly exciting, and the woman who owns it has been haughtily dismissive in the past. She is especially not charming when asked, politely, about something she chooses not to carry. (eg., lacinato kale: "Nobody eats that!" Right. I must be the proverbial chopped liver? ) But she had a sign that said "Sour Cherries, While They Last."

They almost didn't last; I got the last pint.* Not enough for jam. But I thought how nice the combo of sweet and sour dried cherries had been for the maraschinos I made, and I had a nice basket of sweet black cherries at home. I checked Mes Confitures for something suitable. Ms. Ferber had a suitable suggestion, but it involved Kirsch. I decided to copy it, but substitute the Maraschino for the Kirsch. Under the circumstances, it no longer seems much to do with Black Forest anything, so here you have some Maraschino Jam:

1 1/4 lbs (net) pitted sour cherries
1 1/4 lbs (net) pitted sweet dark cherries
juice of a small lemon
3 1/2 cups sugar
7 oz. apple jelly, homemade or organic store-bought
1 oz maraschino liquor

Mix the cherries, sugar, and lemon juice in a ceramic or glass bowl. Cover with a dishtowel, and let it sit one hour. Empty contents into a good-sized jam pan, and bring to a boil. Pour back into the bowl, cover with crumpled parchment paper, and refrigerate overnight.

In the morning, strain the cherries over the jam pan , and drain all the liquid into the pot. Set the strainer and cherries aside in the bowl, and bring the liquid to a boil. Boil for five minutes, and then add the jelly, stirring until it is dissolved. Skim off any foam. Add the cherries, and bring back to a boil. Boil away until it thickens and jells, testing by your favorite method. (It will be less jelled that it seems, as the cherries continue to exude a bit of moisture as they cool).

Add the Maraschino liquor, and mix it in well. Ladle into sterilized canning jars, top with lids, and flip the jars upside down. Leave them overnight- they should be sealed and cooled in the morning. Check for boingers, and refrigerate any unsealed jars to use first.

This makes about 4 eight oz jars, though 8 four ounce jars are cute, and make nice gifts. Try to wait a week or two to let the flavors develop.

*Probably there are sour cherries to be had at one of the local farmers' markets. However, I am car-less. In any case, gas being what it is, making the rounds of all of them would not be such a bargain.

Forever Amber: Versatile Apple Jelly

Despite its curious appearance, this is not Jelly With Preserved Insects. The upper jar does, as noted by a friend, resemble amber with prehistoric inclusions (in a pretty way, IMHO). Instead, however, it is a lovely, fragrant apple jelly with vanilla bean.

I have gone on a bit about apple jelly before, in particular regarding its handy applications in the making of other preserves, providing pectin where it is lacking in other fruits and vegetables. In my FPS class, I learned a slightly simpler method for making the basic jelly, as well as the vanilla bean idea, which is just delightful. Apple jelly is the perfect almost neutral vehicle for herb and other single flavored jellies. This is a special one.

Just before you pour the hot jelly into jars, slit a vanilla bean and scrape the innards into the jelly. The shell of the bean can be cut into as many pieces as there will be jars, and one piece tucked into each just before you pour the jelly in. You can make specially flavored herb jellies this way too. Stack leaves of your fresh herb of choice, roll them into a cigar shape, and sliver them as thinly as possible: "chiffonade" it is called , I think. If you add the herb just before jarring the jelly, most of the fresh color, and all the fresh taste will be intact.

Despite its neutral, carrying qualities, the apple jelly is far from boring in its plain state. It has a good, clean, refreshing taste on its own. And it can be used to great advantage in the glazing of fruit tarts and the like. If you heat it up, and brush it on over the apples or berries, or stone fruit on top of the tart, it will dry to a shiny transparently rosy gloss, and make your fruit pastry look posh and polished.

It is best, for pectin purposes, to use unripe apples. My CSA farmers were kind enough to let me have a box of windfall apples from their orchard, which are perfect for this purpose.

Here is the somewhat simpler recipe, adapted slightly from the French Pastry School Version:

Green, preferably unripe apples 1500g
Water to cover
juice of a lemon
sugar 900g

Cut apples into 8 pieces each. Remove stems, but do not peel or core. Pour water over, bring to a boil, and simmer 1 hour. Put in a nonreactive container or bowl, and refrigerate overnight. In the morning drain through a very fine mesh strainer or chinois into a wide bottomed , heavy pan. (My copper preserving pan has proved so superior to any other I've tried, that I can actually say it has been a good buy. Also, it is very pretty. I am aware that it is slightly ridiculous to own such an object. But there you are.) Push on the apples slightly but not heavily. You want apple flavored liquid, not a cloudy puree.

If you leave the seemingly solid remains of the apple poised over a bowl, several hours later, you will have half again as much liquid collected. If you chill all the liquid in a ceramic or glass bowl overnight again, it actually seems to jell even more readily. This is not necessary, however. Add lemon and sugar, bring to a boil, and cook until it is clearly jelling- 65 brix*, or until a drop blobs, rather than runs, on a chilled pottery plate.

Pour into sterilized jars, allowing 1/4" space, top with new lids, and invert. Leave upside down overnight, check seals for boingers, and refrigerate all such deviants to use up quickly. I made eight ounce jars of plain apple jelly for multiple uses. The vanilla or herbal jellies are nicest in the bitty 4 oz. jars, I think. This makes 3 of one, and six of the other.

*Yes, I did buy an analog refractometer. You knew I would, I'll bet. It's pretty cool, and makes things way easier. But you can use the old fashioned methods too, and they have certainly always worked for me in the past. It would be a silly toy if you don't do much jam. Probably a silly toy for me anyway, but I do love it. And it takes very little storage space. Unlike the big old jam pan.

Saints Preserve Us

I already have a name for my semi-imaginary jam company. It's called "Wildlife Preserves." I even print it on my little labels; it's sort of like vanity publishing, only with food. But wouldn't "Saints Preserve Us" be a choice name for some church's fund raising jam sale? I hereby donate it. Hey now, stop that. (I can hear you groaning.)

This is all in aid of announcing that Putting Up With It season is officially underway here at Toast. I began this weekend with a quadruple batch of my favorite of all the delicious preserves I learned to make in my recent class- a blueberry confit with sherry vinegar and red onions. I also made a normal sized batch of apple jelly, from the class recipe, which is easier than the one I had been using. Both look to be doing well.

I definitely advise against multiplying the recipes, especially if you haven't tried them before- and still need to find out if it's True Love. They are more than exponentially hard in a larger amount, and take forever, instead of just a little while. I knew what I was getting into, but wanted a bunch of extras for gifts. Still, you can always make the smaller batch twice, it will be more exactly measured and timed, and you won't get nearly as hot. So I'm giving you the blueberry recipe, more or less as it was given to me. This is a sweet sour confit, lovely with poultry, game, meats, and cheeses. It's blueberry season- so get going if you'd like to try it out.

My rationale for making so much at once (normally, I am a small batch girl) was that I had an email from Don and Becky, my CSA farmers, saying that flats of organic blueberries were available this week. I couldn't resist, and they are yummy. D and B were also kind enough to give me a box of windfall apples-green and pectin-rich, and perfect for apple jelly. I figure that jars of the blueberry will make some nice XMas presents. Those that I don't consume before December, that is.

Here is the method I used, just slightly adapted from the French Pastry School recipe, that will make 4 or 5 in the smaller, 4 oz jars. Measurements are in grams, by weight, and I haven't converted them to pounds and ounces (easy to do yourself, if your scale doesn't do metric) or volume- it really is better to use a scale, and a proper digital kitchen scale is relatively inexpensive and worthy. Also, they take up almost no space. End sales pitch.

300g peeled red onion
200g Jerez sherry vinegar
50g balsamic vinegar
200g pinot noir
100g sugar
100g honey
300g blueberries (about 1 pint)
50g olive oil
50g good butter
salt
pepper

Heat jars in a 225F oven to sterilize. Boil new lids and a canning funnel in water for 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let them rest in the water.

Chop the onions finely. Heat the olive oil and butter in a heavy pan, and add the onions, salt and pepper. As I used slightly salted local meadow butter, I didn't add more salt. Cook over a medium heat for about 10 minutes, until transparent. Add sugar and honey, and stir in well with a non metal utensil. Add the sherry vinegar, wine and blueberries, and cook on a low to medium heat for about 40 minutes, until it is nice and thick and sticky, stirring on and off, more on than off towards the end. Add the balsamic, bring back to a boil, and ladle into the prepared jars. Screw on the clean lids, and turn the jars upside down. Leave them overnight, and press on the top of the lids to check for a seal in the morning. Refrigerate and use the boingers first.

I think you are going to love this sweet and sour touch with all that is grilled and roasted.
Had some with fried chicken, and that was nice, too.

Zucchini Revelation

Could be that the solution is all about the pectin.* It came to me while I was making this zucchini and lemon tart, a Madeleine Kamman recipe from the delightful When French Women Cook. And I will provide you with that very recipe after I have secured your attention for my zucchini idea. Which is entirely untested by me, except in the case of this lone tart. But a big advantage of blog writing (for the writer, not the reader) is that you don't need credentials, or a reliable sample of any kind to hold forth.

The season of zucchini overdose is upon us, whether we suffer from lopsided CSA boxes or gardening neighbors bearing gifts of giant, horsey squashes they cannot bring themselves to consume. Everywhere we read recipes for zucchini breads and zucchini pancakes, zucchini carpaccio-desperate to use it up.

My position on zucchini is not that I don't like it, but more that I could happily live without it, if I weren't so averse to waste.. (Except for those paper-thin, breaded, fried ribbons served with lemon wedges in neighborhood Italian-American restaurants- which I love without reserve, even if some are not so wafer thin, utterly crispy and boiling hot as one might wish..) Mostly, to my mind, zucchini is just kind of boring, and that is IMHO, because it tastes like green water. It's squash nature is diluted by its water content and it exudes slush like crazy when you cook it, so you have to use various techniques- like grating it and squeezing it, or combining it with say, eggplant, which absorbs a lot of water, or sticking it in a bread or cake, where it tastes like something else entirely..

This problem has been discussed quite a bit, and now that I think on it, perhaps the following thought has been booted about too. But I haven't seen it (except in MK's little recipe note), so I'm going to tell you about it from my own viewpoint, here in the kitchen, looking at my tart. Which is basically a dessert. Delicious, but not what a person wants to do with all of her zucchini lode. Or load. What I intend to do, is to try the method with a savory application or two, to see if it will work. I will keep you posted.

So the deal, in this recipe, and according to MK, is that you cook the sliced zucchini with lemon juice and caraway seeds and a little sugar, which ingredients she says, "bring out the pectin" in the zucchini, so that the exuded water magically thickens and concentrates into a syrup. Which it does. The syrup tastes intensely of the squash, and, thanks to the lemon juice- is not really all that disturbingly sweet. And it is no way excessively damp or soggy. In this recipe, though,it is then baked into quite a sweet lemon custard tart- clearly a dessert.

But here's my idea: First, the caraway is a diversion, not involved in the chemistry of the thing, I'm sure. Lemon has its own high pectin content, sugar promotes syryp-ness, jelling, etc. So the solution to the tasteless, watery zucchini problem may be to cook the lemon and zukes with just enough sugar to make this happen, without turning the whole thing into some kind of fruit preserve. It is my belief that the answer to this is carmelized onions and/or garlic,
both of which taste great with summer squash, as does lemon. And with that in mind, I intend to work on a savory zucchini tart and/or pizza thing, which I hope will be extra flavorful, savory rather than sweet, and not the least bit soggy. Stay tuned, if you are interested.I promise to reveal all, even if it turns out to be awful.

In the interim, you might like to try this recipe from the French Alps, as marginally adapted by, well, me. I think it is really cool, and I like the caraway. It's one of those slightly odd provincial French recipes that kind of grows on you-like that pie from Provence with the chard and raisins? It seems a tad funky at first, but then you just kind of want to keep eating more, and could possibly become addicted. The custard may look like it's curdling before it's cooked, but it will be okay after baking.

You need:
A 9 inch pan (preferably a white porcelain quiche type pan), lined with a butter based pie dough of your choice
3 small or one large zucchini
1 Tbsp butter (I actually used a local seasonal "pasture" butter which is lightly salted, and skipped the salt. Because this butter is delicious, and only available in the summer.)
2 Tbsps sugar
pinch salt
1/3 tsp caraway seeds
juice 1/2 lemon
tsp grated lemon peel
lemon custard mixture

Preheat oven to 375F. Melt the butter, and slice the zucchini thinly. If using the large kind, cut it into quarters first. Add the zucchini to the melted butter,. Add the rest of the ingredients, and stir, cooking until the zucchini is not so green, and begins to look slightly transparent, and the liquid in the pan is thick and syrupy. Cool completely, then line the bottom of the tart with the cooked zucchini, and tuck it in the oven for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, make the lemon custard.

Lemon custard:
Cream 6 Tbsps butter and 2/3 cup of sugar until light. Add the juice of 2 lemons, 2 eggs, 2 yolks, a pinch of salt and a glug of rum. Mix well, then fold in 2 Tbsps of flour and the finely grated zest of one of the lemons. Even mixed well, it looks funny, but never mind.

Once the partially filled tart has cooked for 20 minutes, carefully pour in the custard and cook for about 25 minutes more, or until the custard has set, with some lovely brown spots.

Serve warm or room temperature, or even chilled, in very thin slices as it is very rich, like an eccentric lemon curd.

*It could also be that I'm a bit obsessive about pectin and sugar, having just spent a fair amount of time learning about jams and jellies in a 3 day class. Or both.

Class holiday: Chapter Three, the last

Heaven on Seven, a farmers market, and the Jam Class Buffet

By Thursday morning, I had concluded that there was no denying my unexpectedly ravenous morning appetite. I guess I'm not usually particularly hungry for breakfast, because my real job is sedentary, and I don't generally work until nine at night, either. So I took my hungry self to Heaven on Seven, described by the Slow Food Chicago guide as "New Orleans North, " where I had the above-pictured breakfast of poached eggs and andalouille sausage on cheese grits.

I'm afraid that I chuckled when I saw the plated breakfast, which looks like the Fisher Price play clock we used to teach my daughter to tell time, in the analog days of yore. The waiter seemed a mite offended, though I meant only to show my appreciation. I made sure to tell him how delicious it was, and I think I was forgiven. It really was wonderful, everything cooked perfectly, and the chopped green onions on top were just the right touch.

Heaven on Seven is located on the seventh floor (hence the name) of the Garland building at 111 N. Wabash, across from Macy's- formerly Marshall Field.* The ambiance is Early Tabasco, and they serve a variety of wonderful looking gumbos and estoufees and other cajun specialties. It was seriously crowded for lunch, by the time I left, but easy to be seated for a late breakfast.

After breakfast, I headed on over to the Daley Plaza Farmers' Market, one of many downtown and neighborhood markets sponsored by the Mayor's Office of Special Events. This one is open on Thursdays. Beautiful flowers and fruits, vegetables, baked goods, surrounded by umbrella tables, and there was a cooling fountain, too. There is a rule that all food must be identified by point of origin, which is pretty cool-pretty much everything I looked at was grown by the people selling it, and was from Illinois or Michigan.

As a traveler, I was kind of frustrated, I would have bought loads if I was at home. But I did have a fridge in my room, so I got me some homemade cheddar and a mini ciabatti for sandwiches, as well as a small box of apricots. I was really pleased with everything, especially the apricots. I had just about given up on fresh apricots- though I love the dried ones.

Supermarket apricots generally taste like potatoes. These little guys were not particularly soft, but they were a lovely dark orange, with speckles, and the little boy selling them explained that there might be a few worm holes, as they hadn't sprayed for 2 years. I was glad I took a chance on them, they were sweet/tart and spicy- just delicious.

I gave one to the elderly lady sitting next to me on the plane home, and she agreed that they were heavenly. I also bought 2 bunches of beautiful Michigan asparagus, and carried them home in my tote bag on the plane. I was a little worried that they might be a problem with the security folks, but they passed through the x-ray without comment, and I was able to serve them to my friends Friday night.

The third night of class was as busy and informative as the first two; we finished and bottled up our chutneys and jams, and made numerous bottles of garlic dills. I was able to wrap my jam bottles in my laundry, to bring home in my checked suitcase, but had no room for 4 quarts of dill pickles, so those were donated to a classmate driving home. The final photo is Chef Bob Hartwig , arranging a gorgeous buffet of his beautiful baked goods and our mutual jams, jellies, chutneys and pickles. We tried everything, then packed up our loot, our certificates(!), and our French Pastry School aprons. Much though I love this supply of goodies, my most valuable memento is my little notebook of recipes, annotated with my class notes. And you will be seeing the results here, as time goes on.

Addendum

Things we made:

Lemon jelly with sliced lemons
Apple jelly with vanilla
Strawberry Mint Preserve
Orange marmalade
Blueberry preserve with red onions and sherry vinegar
Chocolate raspberry jam
"Nutella" type chocolate and hazelnut spread
Hazelnut praline
Dill pickles
pickling spice
Shallot confit

Demonstrated (and eaten!):

Pastry cream
Brioche dough
sweet tart pastry
lemon pound cake
Scottish buttermilk and cream raisin scones

Class Holiday: Chapter Two

Tuesday class, Wednesday wanderings, and Russian Teatime

I arrived at the French Pastry School offices a little early, as requested, to be given a pre-class tour of the place, which wound up in Kitchen Three, where Chef Bob Hartwig and his assistants were all set up. And I mean all set up. Unlike the students in the certificate program, continuing education participants have all our ingredients pre-measured for us and set up at our workspaces each day. Talk about pampering. There were only ten in the class, some food professionals, some semi-pros, who cater a bit, or sell some product to the public seasonally, and rank amateurs, like yrs truly.

Our instructor was a very clever young fellow, a good teacher, and a pastry chef of note, who clearly loves what he does, and communicates his passion for his work in a low-key, low-ego style, which is charming- and helpful. If you are thinking of taking a class at the FPS, I'm sure you will like this guy . You can read his bio on the FPS website, but what it does not tell you is that for the last year, he and his fiancee, also a chef, have had their own bakeshop in Chicago. It is called "Lovely".I wasn't able to visit it, but perhaps you can; I think it must be terrific, judging by the baked goods we sampled in class.

As a bonus, besides the jams, jellies and pickles, which we made ourselves after his demonstrations, Chef Bob, demonstrated and baked fantastic pound cakes, brioche, and some insanely good scones. There were also tarts in an special sweet pastry, with our marmalade, vanilla pastry cream, and pretty berries on top. I watched it all, tasted everything, and brought home the recipes, so look out! A member of the class asked him who would have the nerve to make their wedding cake, and he said that they were having pie instead. Which is genius in my book.

The first day we made, or started, orange marmalade, apple jelly with vanilla, strawberry-mint jam, chocolate raspberry jam and "nutella", and Chef Bob made or started the best scones ever, a sweet pastry with almond meal, brioche, and beautiful little pound cakes. You see in the photo two of my classmates- each of us shared workspace with another student. The mirror above allowed us to watch the product in demonstrations, a very handy teaching tool. It was very cool to see the various caramelization stages and techniques as they happened. Thus we learned to make a hazelnut praline for our nutella-nifty.

There were chef jackets to borrow, aprons and funny hats to keep. My partner was a real chef, Tim, who has an extremely cool, and apparently very upscale restaurant, the Stonehorse Cafe in Tulsa, Oklahoma. He was very kind and tolerant of my amateur clutziness.

I learned a whole lot of stuff, and am not going to attempt to convey much in the way of that sort of information here- I hope it will be reflected, to some extent, in future posts. However, one standout bit of info, which I somehow managed to avoid learning while making jam over the years, and was totally news to me, was the concept, and existence of the measurement of Brix. Brix (abbreviated"Bx") is a measurement of the ratio of dissolved sugar to water in a liquid. It is the ratio of sugar to total of the solution- so a 25Bx solution is 25% sugar and 75% water.

Here is the cool thing- if you didn't already know- perhaps this is general knowledge and I just missed it?- is that a solution which is going be jelled will be from 61-65 Bx. And you can measure the Bx with a little hand held Refractometer! Which we did. The deal is that it is not as magic as I thought it might be, our strawberry mint jam didn't jell properly, and made a lovely thickish sauce instead.

There are serious additional factors- eg. strawberries have a lot of water that leeches out over time. You are measuring the liquid while cooking it down, but it gets more water from the strawberries. Possible solutions include macerating the strawberries and sugar for a couple of days before cooking and including the exuding liquid in the measuring of the water. Or, as a classmate suggested; she lets her strawberry jam sit out and evaporate for a few days, then boils it up again before bottling up.

Nonetheless, the refractometer is a great tool, and I'm thinking about getting one. They are expensive- especially if you go for digital models. A handheld analog model, like the one we used in class is about $165. You have to make a lot of jam to warrant it, but still....Very easy to use- you smear a bit of your solution over a glass thingie like a lab slide, close it, and hold it up to the light to read.

Well, after class, I was really beat. 5 hours standing and/or perched on a stool after a major shopping day? Too old for this approach. So, I decided to take it easy on Wednesday. Basically, I ate too much breakfast again, goofed around, read my book, and visited an excellent poster shop, and had a lovely, if diminutive lunch at Russian Teatime. This restaurant, near the Art Institute, offers a variety of eastern european treats, and I wish I'd left myself the appetite for more. It is pleasantly dark and old-worldy looking, I'm a sucker for a gleaming samovar, and I dug it.

My lunch was small because I was still full from breakfast, alas. I had an appetizer portion of asparagus vareneky, a ukrainian dumpling- thin half moons of very thin noodle dough, filled with asparagus, red pepper, and feta cheese, boiled and served on a plate, drizzled with basil butter. I also had a glass of really lovely, properly hot russian tea, served with several kinds of pretty sugar cubes and lemon slices, as well as a complimentary loaf of some kind of oniony black bread, the remainder of which, I took away with me. All was delicious, and this time, I'd left myself enough time for a nap before class.

More about that, later.

First photo is from the FPS website; my camera photos of the process were too sad.

Class Holiday: Chapter One

In which she arrives, eats well, sleeps well, and shops excessively.

The idea for this trip started when I noticed, a few years ago, that Christine Ferber gave an annual class at the French Pastry School in Chicago. It was really expensive, but I thought I'd save my pennies and eventually get to see the goddess of jams and jellies in person and learn a few of her secrets. At the time I first noticed her class, it was open to "food enthusiasts" (hereinafter, as legal writers say, "FEs") and pros alike. I figured I'd stay in a hotel, and sightsee and/or shop in my off hours. When I finally had the time and money, the class had been changed to a pros-only event.

The FPS explained that after the prior class, they'd had the students fill out feedback forms. The FEs had complained that the class moved too quickly, while the pros had felt it was too slow-no doubt held back by the aforementioned FEs. So they decided to limit the class to pros and have another class that was more introductory. They assured me I'd enjoy that class, with "Chef Bob", and they were right.

The fellow you see pictured is not Chef Bob. In fact, he is entirely made of legos, and sits on a bench outside the Chicago legos store. I had a better photo of him, with his arm around an elderly (live) gentleman, who was waiting for his grandson, who was in the shop. He let me take his photo, but made me promise not to "put him on the internet", because, "My wife would kill me." Apparently she felt he might be (virtually?) kidnapped, and reappear on a porn site. So I will keep him safely ensconced on my own computer, having downloaded him from my phone. All the pictures you will see were taken on my phone- I cleverly forgot the camera.

Warning: Due to the nature of the travelogue/diary format, we don't actually get to the class itself until the next post. However, as a member of my class pointed out, Legoman is not entirely un-food-related. I'm not sure if you can tell from the phone-photo, but there is a chicken on his head, and a cracked egg on his shoulder. I'm just saying.

Somehow I have managed, once again, to begin with a digression, time-wise. So now I'm going linear: I flew into Chicago on Monday, and the plane was delayed, convincing me that my day-ahead approach was best. Despite an ETA of 1:30, and a class time of 4pm, I would have been late if the class had started Monday. Tim, my bench partner in class, flew in from Oklahoma on Tuesday morning-and sure enough, it made him a little late. It seems that all planes are now presumed delayed, unless the stars align just so. There was an unexpected bit of good luck on board, however. I was crazy, and ordered coffee. It was excellent. I mentioned my surprise and happiness to the flight attendant , who smiled slyly. "That's because it's from the pot I made for myself," she said.

I stayed at a hotel called the "Club Quarters" on West Adams, which I picked mostly because it was in very easy walking distance from the FPS, thus eliminating worries about finding my way back after class, at night. The hotel is part of a small chain, and supposed to be in some way private; but I booked it through Expedia, so how private is that? Still, you can't just call up to make a reservation; I tried that first. I recommend it highly.

What a deal! For $125 per night, in the middle of the Loop, I got a very large, ultra clean room. It had a huge desk, with reference books above and 2 ergonomic chairs, a bathroom with shower and the usual amenities, a flat tv, (which I never turned on, having a good book, and being too busy), a full kitchenette(!), a super, super comfortable bed, WIFI, and a real coffee maker with really good coffee to make. I suspect the decor is what they think businesspersons would like, very plain, dark blue and green necktie prints. I wasn't expecting Paris with a balcony, so it was more than fine with me- I prefer it to the usual mid-priced hotel idea of prettiness- I just bought a few flowers for cheer, as I was staying 4 nights.

Another reason for being glad I came the day before class started was that it gave me a chance for an evening meal, and it was a good one. I had dinner at Brasserie Jo, the "more casual bistro" of Chef John Joho of the super-posh Everest restaurant in Chicago, as well as the "Eiffel Tower" restaurant in the Paris Hotel, Las Vegas. I came to town with a copy of the Slow Food Guide to Chicago. The idea was that I would do some sight-seeing and/or shopping in the morning, find someplace neat to eat my main meal of the day at lunchtime, and then have a little rest before the 5 hour class, repeat X3, with possible light snack supper after class in my room. So this was to be my only major evening meal.

I really enjoyed my dinner at Brasserie Jo. Though I am not shy, and have had many meals out on my own, I have been a little cowed by the idea of a really special meal out, all alone. In part, this is because eating is such a social activity in my mind, but only in part. I think I was mostly nervous that the other diners and the wait staff might think it odd, or feel sorry for me, and that I would sense this, and rush- spoiling the entertainment of it all. Also, I was a little worried that it might be tricky to get a taxi afterward, in the dark.

Not a bit of it...it was great. I got a little bit dressed up, grey silk jacket, strappy sandals, and felt very woman-of-the-world the whole time. My photos of the restaurant are useless, due to dim lighting, many mirrors, and my lack of skill. You can check it out at the website.

It is a nice example of traditional brasserie decor, art deco-y, and less crowded between the tables than is the usual brasserie custom- all to the good. Personally, I am comforted by banquettes, mirrors, wood, brass and displays of magnum bottles of wine on shelves. Perhaps I was taken to such a place as an infant? The very look and feel of this sort of room makes me hungry.

Dinner was delicious, and I enjoyed being fussed over by my very young waiter, who took my salad off my bill because he was disappointed that I hadn't finished it. (The vinagrette was too salty for my taste- the only, and minor, flaw in the meal.)

Chef Joho is a native of Alsace, and the menu reflects this heritage. There was so much to choose from, many delicious things- sweetbreads with crisp macaroni, escargot, flammkuchen of several kinds, duck rilettes; I was wildly torn, until I saw my very favorite thing, skate wing with brown butter and capers. When I ordered it, the baby waiter broke suavity, and cried, "Ack! I love that! That's totally the best thing on the menu!" Which was, you know, endearing. The skate was served over some delicious, very creamy mashed potatoes, and a little fresh spinach, with small curls of very crispy, but pale-colored fried onion, or maybe leek? I absolutely cleaned my plate with the help of some of my very own small baguette, made (well) by a bakery down the street.

Dessert was creme brulee, very considerately prepared in a shallow dish, allowing for plenty of the ultra-thin, crackly top to go with each bite of the smooth custard. I took the rest of the baguette back to the hotel with me, and pretty much just crashed. I mean, you know, I was trying to read this very interesting book (about which more later), and woke to find it's form imprinted on my cheek, the book open to page twenty. Fortunately, I was in bed while reading.

Tuesday morning, I hit the hotel restaurant- a proto pub called the Elephant and Castle- for an insanely huge "English Breakfast", which involved grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, "bangers"(a/k/a fat sausages), cubes of fried potatoes, and eggs. This caused a revision of the lunch plan, as I was stuffed to the gills, and rendered unable to consider another meal of significance until the following day. Okay, really. I love to eat a big breakfast out, and walk away from all the greasy dishes, like a guest at the Mad Hatter's tea party. After a brief trip to the building across the street to stock the fridge with sandwich stuff, and buy flowers, I did me some shopping.

I started at Vosges Haut-Chocolat (520 N. Michigan) to pay my respects at the home of my very favorite chocolate treat- the Barcelona Bar-(Deep milk chocolate, almonds and sea salt). Owner chocolatier Katrina Markoff creates incredible flavor combinations in her truffles, hot chocolates and chocolate bars- kaffir lime, cardomom, wasabi, chipotle- crazy but delicious, and somehow never weird. I stocked up on candy bars, and also tried a fancy box of nine marshmallow toffee chocolate things, a new and very worthy item, which they store in the freezer. Each one is pretty much a dessert unto itself. I got four free truffles for having my own shopping bag to carry off my loot.

Other stops included the Lego Store (900 N. Michigan) and Nordstrom Rack (the discount shop for the department store, it's near Macy's-formerly Marshall Field). At the latter, they were having a sale of large sized shoes! (I'm an eleven- a size not carried at all in many shops; I was over the moon.) It took me way too long to pick out my bargain- the choices were so overwhelming, and the prices so good. I decided to go for the crazy, since they were so affordable, and now I have some silvery Taryn Rose sandals.

I gave myself a good 2 hours turnaround time for class, and headed back to the hotel, a little more footsore than was really wise, under the circumstances. But more on that, later.

Summer School

I have a plan for this summer. It developed when I noticed that Christine Ferber was giving a class at the French Pastry School in Chicago-something that she has done for the past few years. As I am an admirer- I thought I'd like to go, and write about it. However, it turns out that although many of the FPS's master classes are open to amateur enthusiasts, Ms. Ferber's is not one of them.

Apparently after last year's class, the amateurs complained that the class moved too quickly, while the pros thought it was too basic. So now, only pros are admitted to her class. But there is a related class, open to "cooking enthusiasts" as well as pros, which is an introduction to jams and jellies. While I was disappointed about C. F., I did note that the class was half as expensive, looks great, and involves boxing up your work product to take home!

The teacher looks interesting, and the classes are 3 days in July, from 4pm to 9pm. I decided to go learn some techniques for a favorite activity, and write about the experience- possibly maybe a free lance magazine article (?), but certainly for Toast.

So I signed up. Anyone else want to come ? It would surely be an interesting trip for a cook into preserving, and it would be fun to meet up with some of you in class. They expect you to bring and wear a chef's jacket, but they do furnish all the equipment and supplies for the class. I'm kind of jazzed about getting the jacket, dork that I am. Also they suggest a notebook and pen, and a (still) camera. Glad about the camera, I am. (Videos not permitted).

Here's where you can find out about it. You will see that I've borrowed their photo. Other interesting "continuing education" classes are listed on the site. The ones marked with little diamonds are open to chefs and amateurs alike. I figured that if I have enough energy, I'll do some other Chicago things during the day. Dunno though, keeping up with a five hour per day cooking class might leave me spending the rest of the time resting the proverbial dogs. Old lady that I've become. sigh.

Ideally, I will do some sightseeing/museum-ing/shopping, etc. in the morning, try someplace interesting for lunch as a main meal (cheaper than dinner), take a huge nap/rest/siesta at the hotel, grab a roll or something, and head for the 4:00 class. By 9:00, when it's over, I'll probably need to crash. I hope to take lots of notes and some photos, and tell you all about what I learn. If it's really hard work, I may ditch everything but the class, sleeping, and, of course, eating-which I seldom forget to do.

What, you might ask, am I doing planning another holiday less than a month before my English trip? Well, I've been thinking about this venture for some time, but also, mostly, I need to have something else of the same sort to look forward to when I come back from a trip. So that I can, you know, get myself to get back to work and what have you, without a lot of moaning. Seems to work.

So, what do you say? Anyone interested in a class in Chicago?

Plum Crazy

I am besotted with plums, as I think I have mentioned before. When I become unexpectly wealthy, and acquire a big garden with a little house attached to it, there will be quite a variety of plum trees in the garden. There are going to be be italian prune plums, like the big, overgrown tree behind my childhood home, damsons and also mirabelles, greengages and Nancy plums. There are going to be Santa Rosa plums and my favorite, nameless yellow plums, which I discovered only last year. While I may never see my Dream Garden of Stone Fruits (there may be cherries, white and yellow peaches and nectarines, too, and probably apricots), at the risk of boring you, and everyone else in my life, to tears, my small batch preserving obsession remains, as ever, The Plum.

I have made several kinds of plum preserves and sauces in the past, and there will be links to those recipes, some of which I will be making again this year, as well as new ones, as I try them. I have this (no doubt demented) ambition to make as many different kinds of sweet and savory plum preserves and sauces as I can, from as many different kinds of plums as I can get my hands on. I am not sure if I have any real purpose here, beyond an unreasonable love of The Plum (extending to its dried epitome, the prune) and a generally compulsive nature. You are invited along for the ride, and those who live nearby (Western PA) are begged to alert me, when the season arrives, to the availability of various different kinds of plums and pluots.

It is , of course, quite a time yet until the local plums are available in late summer. I recently made a batch of tkemali, and a few jars of sweet plum preserves from some red Chilean supermarket plums with nice yellow innards. The tkemali followed the original recipe I used, which you can find following the link above. The preserve is a variation of the black plum stuff I made with the redfox. I did not include the white wine, but did add a 7oz. jar of homemade apple pectin, the vanilla beans, lemon juice, and some ground pepper, with 3 lbs of the plums. I think it is very, very good, immodest though it is to say so. I have tried, unsuccessfully, to show you how pretty this jam looks- like red stained glass, with jewel-like cubes of deeper red. This recipe produced one full wide mouth 8 oz. Ball jar, one partly full Ball jar for refrigerating and early sampling, and two half-liter Quattro Stagnoni jars.

The last are these very cute (IMO) Italian jars with one-piece sealable lids. They have them at Target, and, via various internet vendors in more varied sizes. Replacement lids are also sold. They work pretty much like a ball jar-the lids have interior bands which seal to the jar rims when hot, and a vacuum is formed- it's just that they (the lids) are in one piece, rather than 2 parts. I love the chubby shape, and they do hold a slightly greedier portion of your preserves, without going whole-hog for a pint. They are a bit more expensive than ball jars; I do wish more people would remember to hand over the old jars when they are done eating their presents-unless, of course, they are going to reuse them themselves. On the other hand, though, it is sort of nice to have an excuse to buy appealing new ones, anyhow.

BTW, I am looking for some tall sealable jars with the idea of making some asparagus pickles. Anyone know where I might find such a thing?