Toast

Rat@2E

I was going to call it "Roasted Rat", but had a failure of nerve. Can't fool anyone, anyway- it's another version of the ubiquitous ratatouille. There are good reasons why you see it everywhere-especially now. This concoction is made a bit differently from the ratatouille we grew up on. Or, that I grew up on, at least, as prepared by my mother, channeling Craig Claibourne. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that stuff- it was a taste revelation for an American kid in the sixties, and I adored it, hot or lukewarm. In fact, it was such a novel treat then, that it is hard for me to realize how humdrum some people now consider it. It doesn't spoil it for me at all- I still think it's brilliant.

When I was growing up, my friends were mostly pretty interested in the non-ordinary food my mother turned out at our house. I don't think we always give children and teenagers enough credit for being willing to try something new- especially if it comes from someone who has given them goodies before. Within reason- I'm not suggesting offering strange adolescents a buffet of offal to gag over. But most will tackle their first artichoke bravely, especially when there's something obviously delicious, like melted butter, to dunk it in.

The lovely flashback in "Ratatouille", where the Cruella-esque food critic is transported to his childhood table, and his mother's fragrant ratatouille, charmed the pants off me, and 'tis the season, anyway. Over the years, my methods have become less and less traditional, as I have followed to it's logical (in my mind) extention, Julia Child's advice to cook the ingredients separately, at first, preserving the distinct flavors. My daughter makes a fine ratatouille with a similar theoretical basis, there's a gorgeous one in "Cucina Sympatica", and the artful chef-y French Laundry version modeled in the film is inspirational, too (though I do feel, with the redfox, that it would be quite the trick to plate it as suggested.)

This one-not really a ratatouille at all, I suppose- evolved in large part from my annual summer obsession with roasted vegetables. I can go a solid week, really, wanting roasted vegetables for supper every night, with maybe a little leftover chicken, or lamb or something tossed in, over a pile of salad greens- preferably with lots of arugula. Sometimes I shave a little cheese (the ricotta salata is dandy for this) over the greens first, and toss the hot veg over, so the cheese melts a bit. Fresh herbs on top, shredded thinly do not hurt, either. I know you can use any number of (or no) dressings over such a pile, but my favorite is the following:

a very finely chopped large shallot
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
juice of a large lemon
extra virgin olive oil in same quantity as lemon juice, maybe just a tad more

Mix together, and let it sit for at least 30 minutes if possible. Pour over roast veg, in reasonable quantities- it will keep a few days in the fridge-though you must bring it to room temperature, of course, if you expect to pour it. Simple, but somehow insanely good with any roasted veg. Don't substitute for the shallot, if you want to see what I mean about this.

Anyway, the following is a not-quite ratatouille variant/elaboration of the roasted veg supper:

Using a mandoline or with a knife and an extreme deftness such as I do not possess, very thinly slice zucchini and yellow summer squash, red onion, eggplant and fennel bulbs. Set out on cookie sheets sprayed with olive oil. Thinly slice several garlic cloves over all, spray with more olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper, thyme or dried basil, and a bit a lavender, if you have some.

Roast at 450F or so, until going crispy. Meanwhile, char, peel, and cut into squares a green pepper, red pepper, or one of each. Arrange veg in baking dish. Pour dressing, or a little balsamic vinegar-a decent tasting super-market type- over the veg. Pour over all, a not-drained 15 oz can of chopped tomatoes (preferably Muir Glen fire-roasted ones, which I buy by the case these days). Sprinkle with a little light brown or demarra sugar. Cover with aluminum foil and bake at 350F for 30 minutes. Uncover and cook about 10 more minutes.

Using a spatula, gently fold the veg over one another to distribute them, but not break them up too much, while adding a few extra glugs of the balsamic. Thinly slice some fresh basil, and sprinkle over. Let this sit around awhile, if you can, after it's cool, for the flavors to migrate a bit. The more balsamic vinegar you add, the more it becomes like a condiment, rather than a vegetable dish. This is good, too-you can put it on a sandwich or something-as you might a chutney. It should not be very wet, however, whichever way you do it, as that spoils it, IMHO.

Use this stuff, if you like it, in any of the myriad ways a person serves ratatouille. It is really nice with a runny poached egg on top , and some toasted rustic-type bread. Or otherwise.

Elderflower Ice Cream and Undisciplined Digressions

Thanks to June, of the excellent Bread, Water, Salt, Oil, I schlepped out to IKEA, primarily to pick up some elderflower cordial, with which to make some wonderful ice cream. You do not see a picture of that ice cream here for reasons involving greed. I made the award winning recipe June linked to, and believe it deserved all the glory. I had hoped to make the perry and berry jelly to go with it, but am thus far unable to find pear cider here in the 'burgh. Of course, no trip to IKEA takes place without some unplanned purchase, so I now have some very nice picture frames as well, and have spent the afternoon framing a couple of rolled up David Lance Goines posters which have been sitting in my closet for over a year.*

I first tasted elderflower cordial in England a few years ago, and was smitten. I love it on ice, mixed with sparkly water and with food. especially. Elderberry bushes can be found in untended, overgrown areas everywhere around here (sadly not on the carefully "landscaped"-within-an-inch-of-its-life grounds of the building where I live, of course). But we North Americans don't make much of our elderberries, missing out on possibilities for wines, cordials, and jams, unlike the wiser-in-this-regard Europeans.

After reading June's recent directions for making the cordial, I've been scanning around for some neglected elderberry bushes, with low thoughts of trespass and pilferage. No luck so far. (I have, however, begun harvesting the burgeoning mulberry tree which stands, ignored by all but the birds, right by my bus stop. Last year, I picked enough for a mulberry ice cream, which was nice, if a bit over-subtle. I prefer to view myself as naughty, and Tom Sawyer-ish, rather than as a thief, per se.)

Anyhow, the elderflower ice cream is gorgeous, and I cannot recommend it too highly. I have become a total convert to eating food with flowers, a practice I once viewed as silly in the extreme. Quite a lot of them taste really good...squash blossoms, lavender, rose jelly...who knew?

*The reason these were unframed is that I have no current wall space for them. They will definitely have to go to work, as my office is the only place with remotely enough wall space for them. My walls at home are pretty well covered, and I recently rearranged everything to hang a favorite painting, inherited from my mother, over the dining room fireplace. There's no more room to wriggle, it's just full up around here.

As I generally take a bus to work, they may be a while getting there. Meanwhile, all this stuff takes up way more space now that it did a couple of days ago, when it was rolled up, along with an extra-giant , still unframed "Once More with Feeling" poster, which may be unsuitable for the office anyway, I suppose. The thing is, as an ex-custom picture framer (7 years worth, between college and law school), I know a bargain frame when I see one. You can't get standard sized wood frames of a similar simplicity and reasonable quality anywhere else, for anywhere near the rock bottom price. I don't seem to be able to pass them by. I do usually add my own stretched brown paper dust backing, as that is simple to do, and requires no tools beyond an exacto knife and a sponge.

The elderberry print is from Gerard's Herbal, published in 1597. Lavishly illustrated, this reference book is an interesting mix, text-wise, of early botany and fantasy. It has been a source for a number of artists and designers, including,e.g. William Morris, whose copy can be seen at his house museum in Walthamstowe, in Essex. He is said to have referred to it constantly, and I think you can see that in his fabrics and wallpapers. My partial reproduction (circa 1960), which I bought used, has mildly alarming handwritten notes from someone apparently engaged in some kind of spell-casting.

The No Control Group

I am taking off for my annual work meeting in State College, PA. I just wanted to let you know that I have begun my entirely unstructured experiment in waffles and the pros and cons of Teflon coated waffle-irons. I made the Marion Cunningham yeast raised waffles recipe that has been variously praised and questioned, using the teflon coated version of two otherwise identical, shiny, penguin-like waffle irons.

I have no point of comparison at the moment- and have not made waffles for years in any form. I will just say that these waffles were fantastic...incredibly crisp. light and flavorful- particularly when served and eaten immediately after being forked off the waffle iron. Okay, I will also say that though my memory is imperfect, I did feel, at the time, that these were the very best waffles I've ever had. There was also some buckwheat honey involved. I suspect that the non-Belgian nature of these waffles was a major contributing crispness enhancer.

I did exercise enough personal control to take this photo of one before gobbling it up. I froze some, too-to see how they do with reheating (and anyway, there is, surprisingly, actually a limit to how many waffles one person can eat.) There will be more waffling after I return late Thursday. We plan to stop at Clem's for barbecue on the way home. It is our custom.

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.

More Waffling, and a Note of Caution

After I posted about my new/vintage waffle iron, I had a little email exchange with Michael Sheafe, he who is Toaster Central. Turns out (he deduced this, not I) that they sent me, mistakenly, the teflon-coated version of my waffle iron. He suggested that they send me the non-teflon version, and that I conduct comparative waffling experiments. The idea is that I am going to try several recipes on both of these otherwise identical models, see which I prefer, and report on the results here. (I then return the less favored waffle iron.) This struck me as an excellent and entertaining plan. So, we're on.

The second waffle iron arrived today, and I am all ready to go-except that I am loaded up with less festive duties in the near future. (In fact, I have not yet had time to open the parcel. Yet, I find time to visit you here. See how I tend to you?) So, it will be a little while. But I think we're gonna have some fun. By the way, I understand from M.S. that it has been discovered that teflon is seriously Bad For Birds. So, if you have a pet bird, you need to ditch those nonstick pans. I'm just sayin'.

Photo of Monte Python's "This parrot is no more...", courtesy of Wikipedia

Waffling

I am pleased as Punch with my new purchase, which is fairly the height of extravagance..a single-use electric kitchen appliance. Not only is it uni-purpose, but it is so adorable that I feel compelled to find some way to leave it out, permanently displayed, though of course, there is absolutely no room to do so. Frivolity is my middle name these days. I happened upon this little darling while browsing among the delightful restored vintage toasters at Toaster Central.

I often visit these excellent toasters, and have felt for some time that I should really buy one. After all, I am so fond of toast that I named my blog in its honor. I have tried to choose a toaster from the many, as a sort of mascot ...I thought a picture of my chosen toaster would be nice as a permanent fixture here... maybe in the upper left hand corner of the front page? My problem with this is two-fold (it's really unifold, I guess, as on second thought the 2 problems are the pretty much same)- namely, 1) I can't decide, because there are so many great toasters and 2) the ones I want the most are really too expensive for me.

Recently, while checking out the toasters, after a bit of inconclusive internet waffle iron shopping, I found I had an easier time settling on a reasonably affordable vintage waffle iron of great beauty, in mint condition. (Julie praised the vintage waffle-makers in a comment on the Wednesday Chef- it hadn't occurred to me to check them out before.) Is it not the cutest thing? It is a Dominion brand iron from the fifties or early sixties, with a deco-y look and a perfect mirror chrome finish. The latter, sadly, is probably destined to be ruined in use. The shape of the bakelite handles (note the tilt) earned this model the nickname of "the penguin".

This purchase does not solve my toaster problem, but makes me very happy-except for the time I continue to spend sighing over the restored toasters, of course. (If only everyone had only problems of this sort.) The waffle iron came with instructions for curing the plates before using, and a myriad of recipes- many of the sort that the original manufacturers furnished with a purchase. After reading of Luisa's problems
with the acclaimed Marion Cunningham recipe, I am conflicted about which to try first.

Russ Parsons, of the LA Times, par-bakes his waffles and finishes them off in the oven, for crispness. His article has the Cunningham yeast-raised waffle recipe, and one for cake-like waffles, made with sour cream.

From Toaster Central comes this recipe, from a Toastmaster manual of the 50s--cut by one egg:

1 3/4 Cups flour 2 egg yolks, beaten
2 tsp. baking powder 1/3 Cup oil
3 tsp. sugar 1 1/2 Cups milk
1/2 tsp. salt 2 egg whites, stiffened
Combine the dry ingredients. Stir in the milk, egg yolks, and oil. Gently fold in the stiffened whites. Pour approx. 2/3 cup batter onto the oiled and pre-heated grid. Close and bake.

I am tempted to try it, possibly adding the third egg back in, as it is of the approximate vintage of my waffle-iron. Dunno. As you can see, digression is really still my middle name. I guess I have two middle names. And one day, there will be a toaster.

The black and white photo is taken from the Toaster Central website. I took some on my own, but had trouble managing the reflections off the polished chrome, and the details didn't show up properly. So.

Skillet Corn Instructions

This is a truly luxurious summer weekend breakfast , and if you serve it to another person, with say, some boiling hot, fragrant coffee, steamed milk, and a large bowl of beautifully firm, sweet dark bing cherries which were on special for $1.99 per pound, and if that person does not love you forever as a result of your kindness in this matter, then you might just think "good riddance", because who needs someone like that around the house? But it won't happen. Because who do you know who doesn't love all these things to bits? A screened porch would be a nice spot for this breakfast, which is best enjoyed in a bathrobe of some kind.

So, the corn thing- you don't even have to make it correctly to win the prize. If it doesn't come out of the pan as a cake, you just scrape it out, mix in the crusty bits, and serve it in a bowl. It was created by Jean Halberstam, wife of writer David, written about some time ago in the NYTimes magazine, and inspired, JH said, by a Lee Bailey recipe. This is a recipe from a woman who deep fries peaches, so you can see it is not simple out of any sort of laziness, but rather because it is best.

This is what you do:
Preheat the oven to 450F. When the oven is hot, pour 2 tbsps of a mild-tasting vegetable oil into a 9" cast iron frying pan, and swish it around so that the sides and bottom are well coated. Put the skillet in the oven for 30 minutes. Set the table, make the coffee, wash your nice cherries, and put them in a bowl.

With a sharp knife, cut the kernels from six ears of corn, catching the kernels and the juices in a bowl. Add one tsp salt, 2 tbsps cream, and 1/4 cup of flour, and mix it up. Pour the contents of the bowl into the scalding hot skillet, flatten it judiously with a spatula, and cook until it is brown around the edges, and a little bit browned on top, too. Meanwhile, drink the coffee and eat the cherries, while this goes on- it takes about 40 minutes. Make another pot of coffee to go with the corn.

Remove the pan from the oven, and let it sit for 5 minutes. Loosen the edges of the contents with a knife, and invert the pan onto a plate. There should be a beautiful, golden corn cake there, on the plate. Cut and share. If it falls to bits, follow procedure suggested above, no problemo. Consume, in that case, with a spoon.

Total cost to feed 4 people in high style, $3.09, not including the coffee and milk.

Batter fried peaches, rolled in cinnamon sugar. Well. Yikes.

Ratatouille

A note: In case you did not see "Ratatouille" as soon as it was released, I just wanted to tell you that you need to check it out right away. Apart from the charming characters and story, I would totally watch this movie for the stupendous visuals alone. The cooking, kitchen and food scenes are beyond fantastic. I can't really review it, because I'm just not objective where this movie is concerned. I'm in love. (And the rats are so fabulously ratty.)

Marcella's Broccoli

Many thanks for all the broccoli assistance. (If you are staring at some farm fresh broccoli, and feeling a bit down about it, check these comments for suggestions-there may be hope for us yet).

I decided to give Lynn D.'s Marcella Hazan suggestion a try first, and found the recipe trolling the net on a UK site for a CSA there called "River Nene." This is what you need:

680g broccoli
225g onion, thinly sliced
60g black greek olives, pitted (important to use nice olives)
4 flat anchovy fillets, roughly cut
50g fresh parmesan, cut into thin slivers
salt
6 tbsp olive oil
225ml dry red wine

You cut the broccoli into florets, dividing the larger clusters in half. (ugh, don't usually care for that bit of the broccoli, but I did it.) Then you peel the stalks and cut them into long strips, about a 1/4 inch thick. In a sauté pan, or the like, make a thin layer of onion slices, and next a layer of broccoli stems. Dot with a few olives, some anchovy fillets and a few slivers of parmesan. Sprinkle with a bit of olive oil. Repeat, saving the broccoli florets for the last layer. Add the red wine, cover and cook for 1 hour (!) over a low heat or until all the wine has evaporated. Marcella says not to disturb it or stir, and to eat it straight away when it is done-reheating being a Bad Idea. Don't know why, and didn't try that. Ate it all up, with bread and a bit of goat cheese, for supper. (I made about 2/3 of the recipe, consistent with the amount of broccoli I had, and shared it with one other person.) I'll bet it would be just as nice at room temperature, though.

As you can see, this is not pretty. Doesn't look like a treat. But it is. I who shrink from broccoli, embrace it. Well, maybe not embrace, broccoli is not so huggable, despite the tree-like appearance. But I like it this way- a lot. Be advised, especially if you are, as I am, dubious about broccoli in general, that it is different from all prior broccoli recipes I've tried. Thank you, Lynn- a keeper.