eggbeater

Food52 Hones In On Custard Making, with me, at Peels {Pastrylandia}

A long standing aversion to being inside fast whizzing frames, aka TV & film, has recently been challenged, in the best possible way.

Amanda Hesser & Merrill Stubbs, the incredibly energetic, lively, smart, generous, silly, gorgeous women behind & inside Food52 entered the Peels pastry kitchen [aka Pastrylandia] and made a video of me making Butterscotch Pot de Creme.

But instead of airing one video of it all, they've broken it up into 5 parts!

Part 1 is all about Vanilla Sugar and in Part 2 I address how to achieve silky smooth voluptuous soft silken delicate custard. For Parts 3-5, keep connected to Food52's Video link.

 

Pie Off Winter X Games 2010, Bay Area, CA

you might remember when I was a Pielebrity, aka a Pie Contest Judge for this fantastic fellow in 2008... Just in case you can make it to 2010~

friends,

in these final weeks of fine-tuning our recipes for the upcoming gala, it becomes necessary that we review some of the basic event parameters.  in so doing, we provide competitors and spectators alike the appropriate amount of time to compose complaint letters, construct picket signs and so on. 

as many of you know already, pie off adheres to a strict discipline of rules and regulations.  we are nothing as a pie society if not civilized.  and we gladly accept the rigid guidelines that govern us.  for example, we understand that pies are made in a round pie plate, at least nine inches in diameter.  we too recognize that pies, by definition, have a bottom homemade crust.

these are not matters for debate.  as a civilized pie society, we revel in the celebration of a well-crafted, baked good.  what is subject for reflection and clarification this year is the appropriate ingredients for pie filling.  a bedrock principle of pie offs past has been fruit-based dessert pies only.  no exceptions.  ohhhhh, many a baker has fallen prey to these strictures in years past.  wielders of rhubarb, chocolate, and sweet potato alike have all met the swift, uncompromising hand of disqualification.

but friends, it is a new day.  and with the advent of pie off 2010 - winter x games we have reached a watershed moment in the event's evolution.  and so, it is not without some reluctance that i announce, on behalf of the pie off steering committee, and its intercontinental advisory board, that this year, ALL manner of dessert pies may enter the pie off hall of champions.

...as you may imagine, the writing of this email has been as exhausting and boring as i am sure the reading of it has been.  so i retire now to the kitchen, where many variations of crust and filling await my consideration.  in time, more event details shall be revealed -- time, place, entry fee, security measures.  but for now, we must rest.  and plan.

and dream.


dr. rainbow (for the pie off steering committee, p.o.s.c.)

pie off winter x games
december 4, 2010
bay area

~

Dear Pie Off Community,

 Our chairperson Dr. Rainbow has asked us to release this year’s RFJ – Request for Judges.  If you or someone you know would like to judge Pie Off Winter X Games, please take a moment to complete our brief Pie Judge Personality Inventory.  Rate your answers on a scale of 1 (strongly agree) to 5 (strongly disagree).

 A Pie Off Steering Committee representative will be in touch with you regarding your answers. Thank you.

 

THE PIE OFF CORPORATION

Division of Pie Engineering

Personality Inventory

 

1. I have often had a friendly relationship with pie.

2. I like to read pie cookbooks.

3. Sometimes I dream about filling.

4. I believe I was a rolling pin in a past life.

5. My stomach hurts.

6. Cake makes me nervous.

7. I once ate an entire pie by myself.

8. Store-bought crust is delicious.

9. Sometimes strange men follow me.

10. I have never made a pie.

~ THE GATA

Croissants & Danish: Bakery Production by Vincent Talleu

This is amazing! If you want to see more by Vincent Talleu he has a vlog for bread baking on YouTube.

Butterscotch Pot de Creme, Dulce de Leche & Brown Sugar-Cumin Roasted Pecans

Butterscotch Pot de Creme, Dulce de Leche & Brown Sugar-Cumin Roasted Pecans

You could say I know Butterscotch. I know it well. And more than most people, I know what Butterscotch is not, never was and, if it's up to me, which of course it's not; because I need the help of all pastry chefs worldwide, not to mention the massive corporations who decide what you eat, in what form, and, {did you know?!} with what flavorings... But I digress.

If it were solely up to me, I would make sure everyone, e v e r y  one, knew the true, real taste of Butterscotch.

At my current workplace, I appear to be doing a good job of just this sort of delicious education. Because, contrary to popular plated dessert menu logic, this Butterscotch Pot de Creme is oftentimes selling better than my chocolate dessert.

I kid you not.

The People?

They appear to want the real thing.

Take that you imposters! You pretenders! Take that artificial butterscotch chips! POW! Artificial flavors be banished!

The People have spoken. With their mouths full. 

Butterscotch, the passion. Who knew? Underdog or trendsetter, flavor or philosophy, back road or freeway, Butterscotch could very well be bipartisan. Who do you know that can cast aspersions on Butterscotch?

In some ways you could say Butterscotch is simple. It is merely the flavor of its parts. No fancy flips or one-handed emulsion tricks, no major machinery needed, no ingredients you can't get at your local regular supermarket.

Butterscotch is:

Dark Brown Sugar. Butter. Cream. Madagascar "Bourbon" Vanilla Extract. Salt.

See? Easy. Easy as a pot on a stove, whisk in hand, a dash of patience & a good, solid, belief in the seasoning & balancing power of salt.

All that said, pot de creme? It's not so easy. I worked for a pastry chef once who, after I asked nervously, "How do you know when they're done, when they're just set?" said, "You'll come to have a pot de creme sense. You'll know before the timer goes off. The oven will talk to you. Listen. The custards, and their corresponding ramekins, will teach you. You'll see."

And she was right.

But not everyone has it.

You have to be a student of the egg. You have to understand coagulation. You have to understand why. You have to be a Why Asker. You have to get quiet. Really quiet. Because when eggs talk, when eggs school, they do so quietly. Eggs are great whisperers. 

You have to understand steam. You have to know what a water-bath does. You have to understand your oven. You have to understand the physics of ratio. Ratio of ramekin weight & depth to liquid custard. 

You have to be patient. You have to have a gentle touch when checking up on your setting pot de cremes. You have to have the eye. Your eyes need to be connected to your mind, but also your heart. For an overcooked pot de creme looks a lot like an underset one.

And you have to know something about carryover cooking.

Yes, carryover cooking isn't just for meat cooks. All protein, all baked goods, experience carryover cooking.

All that warning aside. A pot de creme is worth it. Worth every worry, worth every every ramekin of wobbly, custardy joy, worth every pot de creme you have to dump immediately in the garbage bin because you waited 1 minute too long.

Pot de creme is not forgiving. Overcooked pot de creme? Scrambled eggs. Literally. Not smooth texture. Overcooked pot de creme feeds the garbage gods, who laugh in your face. But you have to stare them down, even with tears streaming into their hungry, mean mouths, and get back on the pot de creme pony.

A perfect pot de creme will evaporate in your mouth faster than cotton candy. A perfect pot de creme will keep you from sharing. A perfect pot de creme will leave you wordless. Will humble you.

I promise.

And so... the dessert at hand.

Butterscotch plays well with others. Butterscotch pairs with many other flavours sweet & savoury. Being that we're still in the thick of January & winter's brittle clutch, my dessert menu leans heavily on warm, hearty compositions. Butterscotch can still taste like itself up against some pretty powerful ingredient egos. Like cumin.

Who says cumin has no place in desserts? I seem to remember proving y'all wrong a few years ago when I made a Cumin Pot de Creme with Heirloom Apple Salad & Bee Pollen.

Cumin can be a bit frightening because of it's sharply bitter edge which is never demurely hiding against the wall waiting for Coriander or Black beans to ask it to dance. Cumin will more likely steal your car than open the door for you. So, yes, you do have to be careful with cumin.

But, up against Butterscotch, cumin checks her guns at the door. She hooks the arms of one slender, dashing, buttery pecan, stands up straight as an arrow, shows off a little leg, and lets a night of brown sugar, butter & sea salt take her away.

And if you're still not convinced, these brown sugar-salty butter-cumin roasted nuts sit on a deeply colored dulche de leche: one of the world's most voluptuous, silky, milky, caramel known to all whose tongues have come   with across it.

I make one final stroke. {You could say I learnt it in London.}

To offer a bit of 'refreshment,' brightness, & mystery to the dessert, I pour a thin stream of cream on the butterscotch pot de creme's surface. The taste of cold cream is one of life's rare, secreted, pleasures.

If you were a wee bit afraid of whether butterscotch were going to be too sweet for your elegant palate, the cream is there for your tempering pleasure. If the plate were slightly too wintery browns for your intelligent eye, the lid of juxtoposed white would immediately balance the plate's aesthetic dynamic.

And if you, were anything like me, you would allow me to blindfold one of your five senses, and trust me to take you on a journey filled with familiar & unfamiliar, common & uncommon, rich & deep sensations, beyond your wildest imaginings.

Cocoa Nib-Buckwheat Pannacotta, Honey Marshmallows, Cocoa Brownies, Milk Chocolate Crunch Candy & Shuna's Famous Hot Fudge Sauce

Cocoa Nib-Buckwheat Pannacotta, Honey Vanilla Bean Marshmallows, Cocoa Brownies, Milk Chocolate-Cocoa Nib-Buckwheat Crunch Candy, Fried Kasha & Shuna's Famous Hot Fudge Sauce

Chocolate.

they say it's easy.

Chocolate. Who doesn't love chocolate?

Most people love chocolate. They don't like it, they adore it. They lust it. They obsess over it. They travel thousands of miles for it like Valhalla. They write off the carbon footprint. Because, really, who can grow chocolate in their back yard?

OK, so there are people who don't like chocolate. But they don't just not like it. They hate it.

Chocolate.

See my point? Chocolate is passionate. Opinionated. Strong. Beautiful. Dark. Libraries of flavour; nuanced, swathed in translucent layers, nude underneath. Just beyond reach. All sex and no awkward in the morning. Pleasure without excuse.

Chocolate.

It's iconic. Brick solid. No, more so. Marble granite earth volcanic lava black loam river silt blood deep sea ocean black. Solid. Deep. Inexplicable. Ineffable. Chocolate has more metaphors than love & hate together.

C H O C O L A T E

Fuck you and your chocolate self. O I know you can handle it. You're chocolate for g-d's sake. No last name. Just Chocolate. See, you can't even put 'just' in front of chocolate. Won't stand for it. Won't allow it. Bounces back like rubber. Puts up one hand. Stares you down.

You melt. Into nothing. It's you who can't handle chocolate. Not the other way around.

And so. Exhausted. Beaten. Into submission or malleable, tempered, molecular-ly re-aligned, surrender you go, dragging your weary humble self to chocolate. 'hello,' you manage weakly, 'what will you let me do with you?'

And if.

if you're really lucky. if chocolate is having a good day. if chocolate thinks you're good enough. if chocolate thinks you're humble enough, she may allow you

to think you're in charge. for a minute. ha!

O Chocolate you do beguile! You do bewitch. You have led men, women and in-betweens better than I up those steep Mayan stairs... Those stairs like fish hooks-- designed to enter swiftly, designed to climb up, designed to come out tearing flesh, designed for ascent only.

Chocolate, I tip my hat to you. I curtsy. I call you Mistress. You will forever own me.

Chocolate. I will be your apprentice. Will you allow me?

You may think me dramatic. But. I'm not. Chocolate is the conundrum of a pastry chef's life, menu. For most of the public thinks there's only one recipe you should have on your menu. Warm Chocolate Cake. Molten Chocolate Cake. Liquid Center Chocolate Fondant. Whatever you want to call it, it's the same. Same as all McDonald's French Fries the world over. One recipe. Easier than hopscotch, more cliched than calling your lover 'Honey,' as boring as missionary style. One fucking recipe.

So pastry chefs like me. Completely uninterested in cliches. So over warm chocolate cake they could plotz, are faced with the dilemma. What will their chocolate dessert be?

Because you know what, dear dear readers of eggbeater? Your chocolate dessert will sell even if it's the worst plate you construct. Diners will eat salmon and tuna until even farmed fish are extinct. And they will order chocolate even if all the other components are ones they despise. They will move aside garnishes, sauces, flourishes and innovations. To get to the heart of the matter. The important bit.

You guessed it. Chocolate. uh huh.

So anyone who knows me knows this: my chocolate desserts introduce. My chocolate desserts keep you on your toes. My chocolate desserts are about the breadth of chocolate. Because I loves me some chocolate. A lot. And I, like the rest of us, loves me some warm & hot chocolate, creamy chocolate, dark and milk chocolate, cocoa nibs, Dutched and Natural cocoa. Give me chocolate and I am happy. Or happier.

This dessert is not spectacular. It doesn't shock or stand tall or do something never done before. But it's chocolate in all sorts of ways. It's chocolate as a multi-personality'd experience.

I infuse/cook buckwheat groats and cocoa nibs with cream, steep and then blend for a long long time in a mightily powerful blender. I, just barely, set this liquid into pannacotta with as little gelatin as I can get away with. The buckwheat helps by lending its thickening starchy power to the mix. This is really fun to play with, should you want to experiment with it in your own kitchen. A little can go a long way with flavor & viscosity.

The brownie recipe is miraculous. It's dark and moist and chocolatey and has not a gram of actual chocolate in it! Check out Alice Medrich's cocoa brownie recipe. Soft, pliable brown brownie brownieness. And so easy. Marshmallows are for whimsy. I slow fry buckwheat groats in canola oil until they're cooked enough to eat out-of-hand. {Be very careful-- they burn easily!} If this turns you on, try tossing them in various salts or spice mixtures. I learned about this method from Anna Hansen at the Modern Pantry in London. Then, because I love high cocoa content milk chocolate, I make a quick crunchy candy with cocoa nibs, more buckwheat crunchies & feuillitene.

And to finish, at the very last minute before plate leaves my station, 'shuna's famous hot fudge sauce' is poured on. It's the sauce that transports all the dark chocolate you might be missing from the rest of the plate. And, because it's hot, it begins melting everything it comes into contact with.

Chocolate is not impossible. Not even close. But because it's a lead singer without a last name or need for fellow musicians, it can pose a challenge. As a pastry chef you'd be hard pressed to hear a lot of negative critique about your chocolate dessert, unless it's truly god-awful or your diners hold a molten chocolate cake gun to your head.

Chocolate dominates. Chocolate is, and will always be. Chocolate. There are few flavours that can bed chocolate, and be noticed themselves.

And so. If that's the case. Play dress up. Tie a bowtie for the first time. Hook in cuff links. Wear red lipstick, go commando, let her get on top, flirt with possibility, entertain new ideas, throw That One Recipe Away and reinvent, remake, realize and never, never ever rest on your laurels, on cliches.

Chocolate deserves better. And you know it.

Spicy Gingerbread, Brown Butter-Bacon Vinaigrette, Smuttynose Stout-Honey Reduction & Whipped Lebne

Spicy Gingerbread, Warm Brown Butter-Butterscotch-Bacon Vinaigrette, Smuttynose Stout-Honey Reduction & Whipped Lebne

I hear from the waiters this dessert might be scaring the restaurant's customers. Really? Seriously? Come on now. Please. This dessert, this flavor combination is a nerdy kindergartner compared with, let's say, American Mustard ice cream. It's gingerbread for cod's sake! Gingerbread. Made spicy with organic ground ginger. (All dried spices & herbs in the USA are irradiated unless stated otherwise.) Irradiation removes much of that spice/herb's flavor, so I go to a local health food store and buy all my gingerbread spices from their bulk section.

Warm vinaigrette made with brown butter & bacon fat. Unless you're on a lowfat diet (in which case would you be ordering dessert at all?), this fat combination in a vinaigrette isn't so far off a beaten path.

Gingerbread is warm. Warm flavors, warm colors, warm spices.

When creating plated desserts, or combining different foods in general, you begin seeing patterns. Pairings, whether classical or radical, come from a point of view, of taste, that certain ingredients 'go together.' Why? Why do figs & goat cheese or fresh cheese get paired together so often? Because they're in season at the same time. Cinnamon & apples, while I consider this to be the most boring cliche in the baking world, really makes sense. Apple pie feels naked, like one of those dreams where you get to school and you're naked, without even a dash of cinnamon. In certain cultures, countries, regions, flavor pairings are law. To combine 2 foods from completely different seasons would be considered the kind of sacrilege that would get a person ostracized for life.

In my creative process I think of a flavor. A season. It's cold outside. I want to be warm. I want to eat roasted meat, roasted vegetables, roasted roasty roastedness. I want deep. I want warm. I want wool & cashmere, slow sex & hot baths, caramel & chestnuts, deep sleep & toast & espresso, the scent of porridge on the stove for an hour. Warm spices are the ones you find in pumpkin pie. laid out, they could be a painters palette for a British fox hunt. Ochre, blood & brick reds, burnt sienna, dark chocolate, wet wood, a pretzel's sheen, ink, bergundy, cassis, charcoal, gold, persimmon orange, sepia.

In comes stout. Smuttynose Imperial Stout to be exact. One sexy motherfucker, if you ask me. Stout is mystery. Deep. Like falling into someone's eyes. Like stealing a kiss. Stout is a thousand secrets, none of them false. Stout is slow. Patient. Stout is black like licorice, like leather. And when you reduce it with honey? It's stoutness never departs. It gets fucking deeper, yo. And so intense you put in on a tiny tea spoon (no squeeze bottles on my station) and take your hat off to it, when drawing your inky line on the plate. Deference. Stout is bitter, is sweet, is a library of adjectives, none of them on spot.

And now all the components on the plate are warm, spicy, fatty, salty. You need a break. You need something completely different.

With all flavors, temperatures, hues, reprieve is needed. Fat needs acid. Sugar-- salt. Sharp & crunchy gets old unless a bit of soft, plush, is added to the mix. Paintings in primary colors hurt the eyes, but once a bit of mixing takes place, everything calms. 'Makes sense.'

And so, after all the warmth of gingerbread, and the fatty warmth of bacon and brown butter; while there's acid in the vinaigrette, one needs a bit of lightness, a component with neither sugar nor salt. And so, even though lebne is a full fat yogurt, and very sour, when whipped, it takes on another persona. It's light, it's bright. It's air. A breath.

Lastly, there's a 'tie-in.' A brunoise of candied ginger hiding in the shadow's fold of larger components, flavors, textures. You pick them up absentmindedly in your fork, in your spoon. They go along for the ride, with the vinaigrette, with the whipped lebne. A nice surprise. Dense, sweet, spicy. Just a little thing. A touch, a caress, a little lace under the skirt.

Lemon Sherbet Granita, Olive Oil Relish & Honey-Orange Blossom Sabayon

Lemon Sherbet Granita, white fig-golden raisin-preserved lemon-fennel seed-roasted candied fennel-arbequina olive oil relish, honey & orange blossom sabayon.

I love lemons. Lemony lemon lemonness.

But so few lemon desserts are everything I love about lemons.

too many hide the lemon's trickier sides ~ its bitter skin oil, it's catch-you-in-the back-of-your-throat-&-attack-your-eardrums kinda sour.

its pucker.

Not me. Not mine. I love love love me some citrus. I have been known to have a not-so-secret love affair with these orbs of sunshiny autumn leaf colored palette of tight pored shiny skin and segments of closely bound pressed droplets of juice.

mmmmmmm citrus.

acid.

perfume.

wet.

juicy.

thick, waxy, smooth, dense, Irish-Green leaves.

infusable blossoms.

citrus.

need I say more?

so when I began planning a winter dessert menu. I need not have looked further than this multi-shaped family of fantastic fruits.

{hey, I'm not the only chef smitten. David Kinch does an entire many coursed menu paying homage to rare & intriguing, beguiling citrus.}

When I come up with a dessert I think of one flavor. Then I close my eyes and think about what other flavors I want to have with that one lead.

I begin thinking about textures, about temperatures.

I write lists.

I consult my foundation component recipes. They may lead me to themselves, like an unplanned walk in London, or they may lead me to another idea, at which point I write a recipe as I move through weights & methods.

But a plated dessert needs composition. Arranging. Foreground, lead singer, front flavor, primary focus, shading, burning & dodging, cropping, sanding, priming, dress rehearsal, reading the play aloud, auditioning-- these are all metaphors, tools, for creating a composed; a plated dessert.

Because a film has to have a leading actor, because a band a signature style, because a company needs a vision, because a community-- a heart, because a structure needs walls before a roof, a plated dessert needs a thought process.

sometimes it takes plating it a few dozen, or hundred times, to get it just right.

sometimes a plated dessert will lead you, with its ingredients, its parts, to a shape, a vessel, a molding tool.
sometimes I have to ask for help. lay out all my mis en place, like paragraphs, and re-arrange them to fit the narrative.

and then you have to think about portioning. how much of this component leads you to eat that component? what overpowers what? who speaks first, who waits their turn, who interrupts, who acts like a cowboy, who is the wallflower, who can't whisper low enough?

and the crazy thing?

you'll never get it right.

Just Right.

you will always be tweaking. in your head. you will move the couch, centimeter by centimeter, and still feel like the Princess & The Pea.

This dessert may sound familiar to you. Yeah, I like these flavors together. I find I need to keep working on a dessert, job after job, kitchen after kitchen, menu after menu, season after season, in order to get it there. or get it out of my system. like the person you continue to sleep with long after the break up. or the wine you continue to drink long past the point of pleasure into drunkenness. or the record you wear out because you love it. to death.

or

you wear that sweater until it falls apart, and then you start wearing it to bed.

it's not about judgment. it's about attraction.

and then you might move on. or take it out when winter comes around again.

This is my favorite dessert on the menu. I know it's a little esoteric for the average person, but out of 3 desserts on offer for New Year's Eve, it sold neck in neck with the chocolate offering. If you make it in while it's on the menu, I'd love to know your thoughts.

dessert poems. V {winter in nyc

apple cider ice cream
fried apple pie
rosemary caramel
Macintosh apple salad with warmed brown butter vinaigrette

frozen honey nougat
grapefruit supremes
kalamansi lime gelee
butter-toasted brioche croutons

bay leaf cream-carnaroli risotto
juniper berry & cocoa nib shortbread
comice pears
pine nut brittle dust

butterscotch pot de creme
pile of brown sugar-cumin-buttered pecans
vanilla egg cream, chantilly

panzanella of devil's food cake & sour cherries
chocolate chocolate twig ice cream
chicory cream
hot milk chocolate sauce
vanilla salt

warm persimmon pudding
persimmon-roasted shallot-walnut-dried white fig salad
labne sabayon

membrillo filled sheeps milk cheese doughnuts
rose petal tea sugar
earl grey cream

parfait of ~
various peppercorn & jaggery roasted pineapple
black sesame-amaranth jaconde
spicy coconut sorbet
tahini-toasted coconut jelly cubes
coconut caramel
black sesame-almond milk foam

semolina "custard"
fennel seed-broken almond-golden raisin-preserved lemon-candied orange peel-honeycomb-olive oil relish
burnt orange caramel ice cream & frozen honey mousse creamsicle
poppy seed lavosh

thyme & buckwheat crepes
cream of pear & parsnip soup
orange flower water roasted pears
sizzling buckwheat groats
white coffee chantilly

fudgesicle granita
grilled pound cake
marshmallow-milk chocolate-sourdough pretzel lumps
shuna's famous hot fudge sauce

previous dessert poems  ~

I  II  III IV

plated dessert IV - chocolate_licorice

 

chocolate-licorice delice {pot de creme}, caramel sauteed plums, almond cocoa chili wafer {pectin based tuile}, chantilly, chocolate granita.

plated dessert III - tropical_meringue

 

hazelnut meringue, coconut-guava-vanilla bean sorbet, tropical fruit salsa of mango, pomegranate seeds, pineapple, lime leaf, ginger, fresh coriander {cilantro}, palm sugar, mint, galangal and lemongrass.

plated dessert II - pumpkin_pomegranate

 

pomegranate & brown butter vinaigrette, toasted kataifi, warm spice butternut squash custard, amchur sugar-salt dusted pumpkin & sesame seed crunch, feta & goat's curd sorbet.

plated dessert I - miso_fennel

bonsoy jelly. moromi & white miso, amaranth financiere. honey fennel caramel ice milk. amaranth-fennel lavosh dusted with sumac & maldon salt. honey, slow toasted cashew, fennel, cocoa nib & cumquat marmalade florentine.