Toast

Goatscape

Reader/friend Lynn D. told me about some things she was making with goat's milk that sounded pretty amazing. There was a creme caramel from Elizabeth David's posthumous essay collection, and a leek gratin with a goat's milk bechamel..I just had to try something. I'd had goat's milk only a few times in the past-to drink, but not as an ingredient. I remembered that I'd liked it, but not exactly what it tasted like. "An extra tang", was how Lynn described it.

When I had a chance to stop in Whole Foods, I picked up a quart of Albert's Choice Goat's Milk. In choosing between the two available brands, I was influenced by the fact that Albert's was not "ultrapasteurized." I was also swayed by the picture of the nubian goat on the label. Several years ago, I feel in love with some baby nubian goats at a county fair, and have harboured an entirely unlikely yen for a few goats of my own ever since.

The nubians have these very appealing, rather vulnerable looking floppy ears. Since the fair, I have wavered somewhat in my choice of imaginary goats, having encountered a couple of exceptionally delightful, very fuzzy pygmy goats. Anyhow, since I am otherwise entirely urban, it seems unlikely that this particular hankering is going to be satisfied in the near future.

In the meantime, there's nothing to stop me from cooking with goat's milk, except, of course, my absentmindness and distractibility. After some daydreaming and indecision, I realized that the goat's milk was nearing its expiry date. Not only had I failed to decide, but it was Sunday -there wasn't alot else in the house, and I had a minor case of sprained ankle. No biggie, but enough to make me think a walk to the store and grocery schlep would be unwise.

Well, the bottom line is , I probably didn't make the best use of this quart. Half of it is making me some yogurt. The other half is part of a bechamel in a noodle gratin composed of foodstuff that was around here. The gratin is, though not awfully pretty, actually, really good. It has some rather strongly flavored components, which are probably stiffling the goat's milk taste a little. But maybe not. This is really surprisingly delicious and very rich. Maybe it's my imagination, but the goat's milk seems to go a bit caramelly with the heat.

The gratin, unmeasured except for the 12 oz pkg of little, square, wavy Hungarian noodles cooked al dente, also contains a few peas, soaked and slivered dried morels (they are the dark bits, that look burnt, but fortunately are not), leftover cubed smoked pork chop, the bechamel, a bit of nutmeg and white pepper, grated emmenthaler mixed in, and parm on top. It took about 30 oven minutes at 350F. It tastes a bit as if it was made with creme fraiche. I will let you know how the yogurt turns out. And I will be getting more goat's milk for sure. I need to try the creme caramel, and I've been thinking maybe moussaka? Or dulce de leche from the evaporated stuff?

We'll see.

Thanks, Lynn.

Update: Yogurt very, very tasty, but a bit runny for my taste. Probably I did not mix in sufficient starter yogurt.

No Excuse for Dessert: White Chocolate Mousse with Passionfruit Gelee

This is a bit of a departure for me; there is really no excuse for this dessert. I was brought up with the firm belief that a dessert requires a rationale. If it is a holiday or birthday, you go to town, fix something decadent, have a bit, and make someone else take all the leftovers home. If you are having dinner guests, you may do the same. Otherwise, something sweet should be cookies, or other easily divisible item(s), which you can dole out in small quantities, to have with your tea.

Of late, this last category has been dominated by scourtins, the incredible french olive cookies, about which I could go on and on. I will nip this digression in the bud, except to send you to the Traveler's Lunchbox for the recipe. You won't be sorry if you make these lovelies for yourself. (Note: I have simplified things by treating them as a refrigerator cookie. I form the dough into logs, chill and cut off thin slices to bake. They are so fine, and unlike anything else. Ach, I digressed after all.)

In any event there is no occasion for this dessert. Furthermore, I am not usually a one for mousse(s) and the like. I just thought this looked interesting, pretty and, frankly, easy, because of the yogurt business. I had some leftover nice white Callebaut chocolate from the candy I made, and I was interested in trying another recipe from the New Spanish Table-having been crazy for the potato/almond soup I found there. So I made me some entirely unjustified and slightly silly-sounding White Chocolate Mousse with Passionfruit Gelee.

If you would like to make some, too, this is what you need:

plain whole milk yogurt 2 cups
white chocolate-finely chopped 7-8 oz
heavy cream 1/4 cup
unflavored gelatin 2 1/4 tsp (1 envelope)
strained passion fruit juice or frozen puree-1 cup
sugar 1/3 cup

Strain the yogurt in a colander lined with cheesecloth or a yogurt strainer to concentrate it. Leave it at least 2 hours. About 45 minutes before it is done, melt the white chocolate in the cream. Cool about 1/2 hour, stirring occasionally. Stir the chocolate into the strained yogurt until combined. Divide the mixture into 2 pretty glasses or small glass bowls,cover, and refrigerate, about 30 minutes.

Place the gelatin in a small sauce pan. Sprinkle with 2 tbsps of the passion fruit, and let it stand 5 minutes. Add remaining passion fruit and stir over a medium heat until gelatin dissolves. Add sugar. Cool to room temperature. Take the mousse from the fridge. Pour a little bit of the passion fruit jelly over each mousse. Chill until it sets up-a couple of hours. If you like, top it with shaved curls of white chocolate.

Despite its mousse-hood and white chocolate, this dessert is neither cloyingly sweet nor rich to the point of queasiness. In fact it is , a little surprisingly, a keeper. Both the yogurt and the passionfruit add tang, nicely balancing the creamy, waxy sweetness of the white chocolate. And it is, after all, half jello. I adore the taste of passionfruit, and imagine this bit of frivolity would be even better made with strained fresh juice or pulp. I couldn't find any, so made do with a bottled passionfruit nectar, diluted by the bottler with water and sugar, but with nothing untoward added. Still.

I am very impressed with this cookbook, and may have to buy it. If so, I will need to buy it on line,so that it can be delivered. I cannot possibly carry it home, it weighs a ton-and we're talking about the paperback version here. I may also need Ms. Bremzen's other cookbook, Please to the Table, a pan-Russian cookbook which comes highly recommended per pyewacket. I have no Russian cookbook,whatsoever, unless you count the wonderful memoir, Katish, in the Modern Library Food Series. I can't let this situation continue, now can I?

Kabak Tatlisi

Quite honestly, if this dessert recipe did not have Paula Wolfert's name attached to it, I probably would not have gone near it, because it does seem unlikely. I have had such good luck with her carefully researched, yet personally inspired food in the past, that I decided to give it a try. And I did have a butternut squash lying around, which was beginning to worry me, age-wise. So I took a shot at this Turkish sweet, which features an unusual, but uncomplicated preparation. I fooled around with it slightly, but not enough to actually complicate matters. It's pretty good, I think. It is also one of those dishes in which the ingedients behave a little strangely, and which tastes more complicated than it is. I take considerable pleasure in this sort of food entertainment.

All you need to make this is a butternut squash, a cup of sugar, some walnuts and some butter. First, you peel and cube the squash, and put it in a ceramic baking dish-shallow, rather than deep, and mix it with the sugar. You then leave it out, and the squash begins to "sweat", while the sugar liquifies. This will take at least half an hour-possibly longer. I do not know how long mine took, as the time included an unplanned nap-which was definitely over 1/2 hour. It was ready when I woke up.

While you wait and/or nap, you preheat your oven to 300F, and set the squash seeds in it, sprinkled with a bit more sugar,and perhaps a little cinnamon, on a scrap of aluminum foil, to dry out and toast. (This business with the squash seeds is my own meddling-I can't bear to throw them out, ever since I discovered how wonderful they are, spiced and toasted, and scattered over my squash soup. I think they worked out rather well here, too-but of course you can forget about them if you like.)

Give the squash a stir,gently, with a wooden spoon, and cover it with crumpled, dampened parchment paper. Set it in the oven for about 1 1/2 hours, then turn the oven off, and let the oven and squash cool down together. It reabsorbs a good bit of it's own syrup as it cools slowly. Store it somewhere cool until ready to serve. Then, melt a tsp of butter,in a small saucepan, and toast a handful of walnuts, along with the squash seeds. Serve the squash with a glop of creme fraiche, yogurt, or sour cream, and the toasted nuts.

This tastes a bit exotic, but also a bit like pumpkin pie. (And that's before you add the seeds with cinnamon.) It makes a nice, not too heavy ending to a Middle Eastern sort of meal. The recipe would serve about 3 people, I think, with toppings.

Maraschino, Chocolate Bread Pudding, and Digression on Tableware

When I was lucky enough to receive a christmas gift of real Luxardo Maraschino liquor, I began to experiment with the making of what I hoped would be truly splendid maraschino cherries. While none of my experiments have been failures, my most recent effort was so alluring that I was afraid I would eat the lot before they reached maturity. I should never have allowed myself a nibble. I had ordered 10 ounces of mixed whole dried cherries-bing, rainiers and sour, unsulphered, from the King Arthur Baker's Catalogue- and divided them into 2 one pint jars, which I then filled with the maraschino. Oh boy. This was one good idea. Plumped over night, they were delicious.

But what if I left them all to plump and absorb for weeks, and it turned out they were less wonderful than before? It would be too sad. So I decided to use one jar, in a chocolate bread pudding, and serve it to my friends, who are coming to dinner. I will let the other jar steep for some time, and report back on how those turn out later. I borrowed and heavily adapted this recipe mostly from one in Paris Sweets, by the clever Dorie Greenspan. It was not an unqualified success, though I thought the cherries a nice touch.

I had never made a chocolate bread pudding before, and I was a bit disppointed to find it so homely. I do love the way an ordinary bread pudding gets brown in some places, and golden in others, accentuating the puffiness, and contrast between the creamy inside and crisper outside.The chocolate makes the whole surface fairly uniformly dark.

I think it best to use a brioche or challah base for bread puddings. The only thing even better-if you have it, is a bag of leftover croissants. (If you can snag some day old ones from a bakery, you are in business.) I did not have them this time, but they make a luxurious bread pudding, which is rich, buttery and flaky, and often repuffs amazingly. The bread pudding you see before you, however, is a challah based one.

Digression: I baked my pudding in a 5"X14" pan, which I know is an unusual size. It is, however, perfect for the 5 of us.I have a fair quantity of matte green Frankoma pottery, all of which can go in the oven, and this pan is from that collection. Frankoma is strange stuff- I love the color and texture of the "prairie green" glaze, which is the most common. It resembles the finish on much classier arts and crafts period pottery.

Some of the pieces are ordinary (dinner plates) in shape; some (teapot, pitchers) have a very appealing design; and some-many- are just plain hideous (little scotty dog toothpick holders, plaques with praying hands and pious sentiments ).The hideous ones are too commonplace to be appealing kitsch, even. Probably because of the dubious nature of many of the designs, Frankoma remains very plentiful and affordable, as long as you are not after certain rare , early pieces, most of which are of no interest to me. I avoid the horseshoe bookends and the like, and use Frankoma for my regular dishes. It costs no more than new, medium range earthenware.

I am not a dedicated collector, and am not much interested in appreciating values. I buy pottery or glass to use and/or look at. Thus, I am thwarted, rather †han gratified, when something (like jadite) formerly cheap and fun, becomes widely admired, scarce, and unaffordable. I don't think this will happen with the ubiquitous Frankoma, and I already have all I need, anyhow. Frankoma is more plentiful in the midwest and west than the east, as it comes from Oklahoma. The pottery is still doing some business, though I believe that prairie green glaze has been discontinued. It is always relatively cheap on ebay, and the like.

In short-this is the opposite of a hot tip-if you like this sort of thing, you can be pretty sure it is not going up in value. Hence, you will be able to continue to afford it, and add to it. End digression.

If you double this recipe, it will fill an 8"X14" pan, which you probably already have. Preheat the oven to 325F, and butter your pan. Sprinkle a bit of sugar over the pan as well. You will need:

Eggs 5
sugar 3/4 cup
milk 1 1/2 cups
good quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped 5 oz
bread, day old 12 oz, pulled into 3" chunks
5 oz dried cherries soaked in liquor, maraschino or kirsch, drained and patted dry
1/2 vanilla bean, sliced, innards exposed

Mix the bread and cherries in the baking pan. Heat milk to boiling with the sugar and vanilla bean. Meantime, beat the eggs in a big bowl. When milk has boiled, add chocolate, and stir 'til melted. Cool to body temperature, then beat into eggs.Pour through a strainer over the bread and cherries. Bake until set and puffed a bit, and knife in the middle comes out clean-about 25 minutes. Eat warm, or at room temperature.

This is a rich, dressy pudding..quite a fancy dessert, in fact. So rich that it seemed overwhelming to serve it with custard or cream, though it clearly needed a little something damp. In the end, I decided to offer it with milk to pour over, which is how I ate my chocolate pudding as a kid. Not too bad. I think I prefer my bread pudding and chocolate pudding as separate entities though.

Old Fashioned Lemon Sponge

I can't stay away from those lemons very long-they are definitely a desert island food for me. This is a traditional nursery-type pudding, involving a thin-ish batter, which turns into a light cake with a layer of lemon custard below, while baking. The version here comes almost entirely from Russ Parson's How to Read a French Fry.It is closely related to Honeycomb Pudding, a Jane Grigson classic, which was a favorite of Laurie Colwin. That superior 3 layered dessert can be found in the latter's More Home Cooking. I think this version, though somewhat less fancy, is lovely, and is a bit simpler to do. It would be fun to make this with children assisting in the kitchen,as well as assisting in the eating, because the transformation is amusing. It is also delicious.

This is what you need:

all purpose flour 3 tbsp
sugar 3/4 cups
salt 1/2 tsp
milk 1 cup
eggs, separated 3
lemon zest, grated 2 tbsps
lemon juice 6 tbsps
butter, melted 1 tbsp
egg white one

Preheat oven to 350F. Butter a 3 cup baking/serving dish. Glass is nice; you can see the layers. Combine flour, sugar and salt. Set aside. Mix milk, lemon juice and zest, and eggs yolks. Add mixed dry ingredients, and stir til smooth. Stir in butter. Beat egg whites til stiff; fold into batter. Pour into the buttered dish, and place dish in larger pan. Set in stove, and pour very hot water into the larger pan, to 1" deep. Bake until top is set and browned (though better, perhaps, slightly less browned (i.e. burnt) than mine, seen above)-about 35-40 minutes.

Presto. Kitchen magic-I love it.

What is the Matter with Mary Jane?

My aunt and uncles gave me all the A.A. Milne books when I was small, including, besides the Pooh stories, two collections of poems for children, When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six. These had illustrations by Ernest Shepard (whose original Pooh drawings were so much nicer than the later Disney ones.) One in particular fascinated me. It pictured a very cross little girl in a highchair, scowling and kicking off her shoe. I was intrigued by the depiction of naughtiness, which was always a bit thrilling to me as a kid, but I was also puzzled . The poem that went with the picture asked, "What is the matter with Mary Jane? She's perfectly well, and she hasn't a pain, And it's lovely rice pudding for dinner again." What was the matter with her, and why did she not realize her good fortune?

I have always loved rice pudding- I'm pretty sure I've never been served one I didn't like, though some have been better than others. Before she inexplicably gave up cooking completely, my mother did a very nice party version. The rice was long cooked in milk and egg yolks, spread with jam and topped with a meringue made from the whites, which was a pretty golden brown. My friend E. makes a really good more austere one, warm and comforting, from an old edition of the Betty Crocker Cookbook. I have had some yummy rich rice puddings in Italian restuarants, too.

Recently, a lovely purple rice pudding made from special Burmese rice, appeared in the wonderful Cook's Cottage.It caught my eye, and sent me looking for different rices. ( It also convinced me that all rice puddings should be made with a few cardamom pods, which are a perfect mild mannered flavor enhancer for sweetened rice. )

So I wound up with Carolina Gold Rice from Anson Mills to try. This rice has a fascinating history, well worth reading about. Unlike some fancy basmati rices, which are aged to achieve the best flavor, Carolina Gold is expressly a "new crop" rice. This basically means that is at its best when fresh, and you must keep it in the freezer to prevent deterioration. Having already been impressed with Anson Mills cornmeal, I got some of the rice and made my current favorite rice pudding from it.

With most of my longtime favorite dishes, I have a pretty well established version that I've honed in on over the years, and make regularly, with minor variations. Not so rice pudding. I am always trying different ones, and though I may settle on one for a time, I'm always susceptible to a new, appealing rice pudding recipe.

Currently, I am favoring the following very simple pudding, which sort of crosses the Cook's Cottage one with a version from Paula Deen, of the Food Network. David Lebovitz's excellent and simple Dulce de Leche recipe encouraged me to push the condensed milk a bit, too. I like this one unmolded upside down, with a bit of fruit and syrupy stuff on. Here, I'm using my Nightingale with Prunes, but a
bit of nice loosely jelled jam would be dandy too, or whatever you like, really.

This is what I used to make 3 generous servings:
1/2 cup Carolina gold rice, rinsed
1 1/2 cups boiling water
pinch sea salt
3 cardamom pods
handful golden raisins
7 oz (1/2 14 oz can) sweetened condensed milk

Butter three 8 oz dishes. Put the rice, salt, boiling water, cardamom and raisins in the top of a double boiler over boiling water. Cover, turn heat low, and cook about 20 minutes, until almost all the water is absorbed. Add the condensed milk, and cook, stirring frequently with a fork (fluffing, really) over a really low heat (it can take a long time- 20-30minutes) until it is thickened and starting to go a little beige. Remove top of double boiler, and cover. Leave for 5 minutes. Spoon into buttered dishes. Cool on counter, then cover with plastic wrap and chill thoroughly in fridge. This will keep a couple of days. Unmold right before serving, and add something damp, sweet and fruity. This is awfully nice, I think, and has just a hint of a caramel taste. The rice is too soft to be chewy, but has not turned to mush.

I still have some Carolina Gold Rice, and plan to use it in some other ways, too. In fact, I'm impatiently waiting for a book I ordered, The Carolina Rice Kitchen:The African Connection, by the excellent Karen Hess, which is about the social history of this American cuisine, and includes a facsimile of a period rice cookbook. So you can see exactly the sort of thrill seeker I am. My idea of a good time is lying on the sofa with a cat, reading this. I can hardly wait.