Savoiardi, or Ladyfingers Italian Style

I have had a bear of a time with ladyfingers.  I'm sure it's been my fault each time, but they have just never worked out for me before now.  The first recipe I tried, from a trusted, trusted source, was a complete disaster.  But before we get all doomsday, let me reiterate that the recipe below works, and that I'm pretty sure the failures before were failures on my part.

So ladyfingers.  I'm not sure that people actually eat these by themselves.  They're delicious, don't get me wrong.  Light, and sweet and springy.  But they play better with others.  Get a little bored all on their own.  Aren't interested in sitting in a corner and just reading a good book.  So they're usually an element in something more grand, more show-stopping.  And that is exactly the case here.  And I'll reveal that show-stopper in exactly three days, because that's my posting schedule.  Like how that works?

Ladyfingers are made by separating eggs and beating the yolks until thick and then whipping the whites to peaks.  Things get sweetened, things get combined, and then the batter must be piped from a pastry bag into the familiar ladyfinger shape.  The first two times I tried this, I'm pretty sure I didn't beat my yolks sufficiently, so I ended up with a liquid that rather than being piped, was dribbled into a big puddle on my baking sheet.  But that didn't happen at all with this recipe.  The flour gives it structure, of course, by the corn starch helps as well (although Field originally called for potato starch, the two are basically interchangeable in quantities like this).

(Manhattan Bridge, by the way)

But I promised that I'd give R his due, and he'd like me to say that in order to save my first attempt at ladyfingers, he suggested using my little financier mold and spoon the batter into that rather than piping.  It worked great, and they puffed right up like they should.  So there you go.  R's really great idea, however, is not necessary here.  These will pipe, these will pipe (I'm willing it to be so for you too).  I'm not sure what makes these Italian-style, by the way, since the recipe isn't too different from French versions I've seen.  And anyway, the word 'Savoiardi' merely means 'From Savoy', so a shared cookie from a shared land.  And up next?  A decidedly French dessert with which to show off your ladyfingers.

Savoiardi or Italian-Style Ladyfingers
Adapted from Carol Field's The Italian Baker

5 eggs separated and brought to room temperature
160 grams granulated sugar
3 drops vinegar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
125 grams all-purpose flour
40 grams corn starch
Pinch of salt
Bit of confectioners' sugar for garnish

Preheat the oven to 425.  Line two large baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.

Beat the egg yolks together with 3 tablespoons of the granulated sugar in the bowl of a large mixer.  Continue to beat until it's light and foamy and has reached the ribbon stage.  This will take about 10 minutes.  Be sure not to underbeat or the mixture will be too runny.

If you're using a stand mixer and only have one bowl (like I do.  I really, really need a second mixer bowl) you're going to need to transfer the yolk mixture to another bowl and wash out your mixer bowl.  It's annoying, but be sure your bowl is completely free of any oil or fat or the egg whites won't beat up properly.  Field suggests using a warm bowl, so if you wash your mixer bowl in warm water it will be clean and warm all in one step!  So anyway, into that warm bowl, pour your egg whites and beat them on high with the whisk attachment.  Once you reach stiff peaks stage, beat in the vinegar and vanilla for a moment, then turn the machine off.

As your whites are beating, you can sift together the flour, corn starch and salt.  Once the whites are done, fold a quarter of the yolk mixture into the whites.  Then add half the flour mixture and fold that into the whites.  Add the rest of the yolks and fold in, followed by the rest of the flour.  Be gentle so your whites don't deflate too much.

Spoon the batter into a pastry bag fitted with a 1/2-inch plain tip and pipe the batter in 5" long strips onto the parchment-lined baking sheets.  The cookies should be about 1" apart, but they're not going to spread a whole lot (at least, they shouldn't).  If you're eating the cookies by themselves you can sift confectioners sugar over the top before baking.  But if they're going into another already-sweet recipe you may want to skip that step.

Bake for 5-6 minutes until slightly browned on the bottom.  Cool on racks and store in an airtight container.  When storing, use sheets of parchment paper between the layers, as ladyfingers can be quite sticky and might mush together.

Chilled Cucumber and Avocado Soup

This started out as Louisa Shafia's Chilled Cucumber and Avocado Soup from her (relatively) new book Lucid Food.  But there were other ingredients to be used, things I didn't have, and things I really wanted to throw in.  As a result, you've got the addition of lemons, the substitution of hazelnuts (because yum, hazelnuts), the further substitution of basil, and a shallot thrown in for good measure.  But the cucumber avocado combination spiked with jalapeño and cumin?  That was all Shafia.

I know I'd been craving chilled soups all summer, and even now, into the fall.  So if you're tired of them, I'm sorry.  This is the last one, I promise.  And anyway,  I think we're still on the cusp where a chilled soup might be suitable for a light lunch or afternoon snack.  I mean, some people eat ice cream well into winter. 

Chilled Cucumber and Avocado Soup
Inspired by Louisa Shafia's Lucid Food

4 large unwaxed cucumbers
1 ripe avocado
1/2 cup toasted hazelnuts, skins removed, plus more for garnish, chopped
Juice of 1 lime
Juice of 1/2 - 1 lemon
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/2 jalapeño, seeded and ribs removed
1 shallot, chopped
1 handful fresh basil
2 1/2 cups cold water
Salt to taste

Cut the cucumber in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds.  Then cut into chunks.  Scoop the fruit out of the avocado.  Place all of the ingredients except the salt into a blender and blend.  You may need to do this in batches.  Pour into a bowl and season to taste with salt.  Place in the refrigerator for a few hours until well chilled.  Garnish with chopped hazelnuts before serving.

Caramelized Figs and Fromage Blanc

Figs seem to be everywhere in Paris, and I don't just mean the fresh kind. They don't seem to be as exotic here, or as ignored. As evinced by the fact that you can find them as the fruit in the bottom of yogurts that don't even bill themselves as gourmet and in jams that you might stumble on in any old store. Of course, nothing really compares to a fresh fig, and the season is fleeting.

I found this recipe on The Kitchn and it met all of my Paris apartment requirements: healthy, fresh, easy, requiring only a pan and a burner and not much else. I substituted out nearly every ingredient, but still kept very much to the spirit of the recipe. Thyme in for rosemary, fromage blanc for yogurt (more on fromage blanc later), chopped and toasted almonds in for the pistachios. But the figs are what's important.

And speaking of toasting nuts, you can do that right on a stove top as well, no oven required. Just warm a dry pan and toss the chopped nuts right in, no oil necessary. It's called, predictably, dry toasting. You have to watch them and stir occasionally because they can go from raw to burnt quickly.

After caramelizing for a bit in the honey, the figs get layered on the fromage blanc, with the extra honey drizzled over the top along with a little olive oil. A sprinkling of chopped nuts and sea salt finishes it off. And there you have it, breakfast or a quick snack.

Fromage Blanc with Caramelized Figs
Adapted from this recipe on The Kitchn

2 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
6 figs, stems trimmed and then cut in half
8 ounces fromage blanc (or use plain or lightly sweetened yogurt if you can't get fromage blanc)
Handful of chopped almonds, dry toasted (see above)
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling
Sea salt to taste

Heat the honey and thyme in a skillet over medium-low heat. When warm and getting runny, add the figs cut-side down. Cook the figs for about 3 minutes, then flip and cook for another 2.

Scoop the yogurt into two bowls, place the fig halves on top, then drizzle the remaining honey from the pan over the figs, along with a little olive oil. Sprinkle the almonds and sea salt over the top and serve.

Risotto from the Oven with Sausage and Bell Pepper

I made this oven risotto the day before hurricane Irene was supposed to hit New York City.  I was all prepared for it to be our last warm meal before the Armageddon that Irene was supposed to visit on the city.  The last real meal before we were reduced to drinking water out of our bathtub and subsisting on saltine crackers and the stash of ginger candy that I'd bought for my flight to France.

And although we didn't end up losing power, water or even our internet connection, it would have been a splendid final meal.  It's also the third recipe that I'm sharing with you from Yvette van Boven's new book Home Made.  We've already talked about how there are some pretty great projects covered in this book.  Ideas for how to make things truly from scratch.  For more on the book (and a couple of great recipes), see my last two posts.

This particular recipe proves, however, that the book isn't just about kitchen projects, but includes easy ways to get dinner on the table as well.  I've never tried a risotto from the oven before, usually resigning myself to some serious stirring while standing over a hot stove.  Doing it completely in the oven makes the final product a little less creamy than your typical risotto, but certainly no less flavorful.  R would probably tell you that this was one of his favorite dinners in recent memory.  At least, I'm assuming he would since he did an admirable job of putting this away for lunch and dinner in the same day.  Truth be told, had we had more sausage on hand, and a few more bell peppers, or access to even one open grocery store, and had Mayor Bloomberg not been warning us to Stay Inside for God's Sake we'd have been all prepared to make it again the next day.

Risotto From the Oven with Sausage and Bell Pepper
Excerpted (with permission) from Yvette Van Boven's Home Made(Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011)

If you make this for an evening meal, double the quantities.

1 tbsp olive oil
4 sausages (about 8 oz)
1 red bell pepper, cubed
1 green bell pepper, cubed
1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, slivered
2-3 springs rosemary, chopped
hot-pepper sauce to taste
2/3 cup Arborio rice
2/3 cup white wine
2/3 cup passato (smooth tomato pulp)
1 cup chicken broth

Heat the oil in a heavy skillet that can also go into the oven.  Preheat the oven to 350F/Gas 4.  Cut open the skin on the sausages and crumble the meat over the hot oil in the pan.  Turn over.  Add the bell peppers, onion, and garlic.  Sprinkle with two-thirds of the rosemary and dribble with the sauce.  Pan fry the mixture while stirring for approx. 5 minutes.  Fold in the rice and fry for another minute.  Add the wine and stir in the passato and broth.  Bring the mixture to a boil while stirring.  Cover the pan with a lid and place in the oven.  Bake the risotto for 18-20 minutes until done, or until all liquid is absorbed.  Before serving sprinkle with the reserved rosemary.  Serve with a small arugula salad.

Lavender & Mint Tea

In my last post I told you about Yvette Van Boven's new cookbook Home Made.  I called the book project-oriented because Van Boven teaches you how to work such culinary magic as making your own cheese (several different cheeses, actually), making ice cream without a machine, liqueurs which begin as mere vodka and end up as flavored infusions, soups that you build from the broth up and breads that require only a tiny bit of kneading.

Each of these techniques tends to be introduced by a page of annotated color photographs.  For tea, if you plan on starting at the beginning, Van Boven suggests which leaves you should think about collecting (like plantains, dandelions, nettles, golden rods, violets, rose petals or elderberry blossoms).  You see the tea seeping in its glass pot, or being stuffed into individual teabags for later use.

After the initial technique is introduced, Van Boven suggests that we 'get going' by introducing a list of recipes that build on the same technique but vary the flavors.  So for tea, you might combine sage & lemon, or fruit juices with cranberries & spices.  Or dried lavender left-over from some baking project or another, with fresh mint.  In this case, there's no gathering required.

Fresh Lavender & Mint Tea comes together almost as an afterthought.  Yet because most of my bagged and loose teas are black and contain caffeine.  So this simple mixture of mint and lavender can be whipped up and enjoyed any time of day or night, hot or cold, sweet or straight.  I've been doing both lately, drinking it right away or leaving it in the refrigerator to chill.

Lavender & Mint Tea
Excerpted (with permission) from Yvette Van Boven's Home Made (Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011)

Lavender: Yes, you can make tea from it.  Combined with mint it is delicious.  Here's the recipe for fresh and dried lavender.

2-3 tbsp fresh lavender leaves or 1-2 tbsp dried ones
small sprig of fresh mint leaves

Bring water to a boil.  Pour over the herbs in a pot and allow to brew for 10 minutes.  Strain into a cup, flavor with honey or sugar, as needed.

You can also strain this tea into a pot, flavor it with honey or sugar, and leave it to fully cool.  Serve in tall glasses over ice cubes and with fresh mint leaves for show.

Rösti Fritters with Rosemary

I've got a new book to introduce you to.  I really think you're going to like this one for a couple of reasons (I'll let you know right now that I was sent a review copy, just so we're on the same page).  First, if you read Cooking Books, you probably like to make things from scratch, or at least imagine yourself making things from scratch (the latter is one of my personal favorite pass-times).  You probably like experimenting with ingredients to a point, but also go in for the idea of kitchen projects that either produce a unique result or allow you to make things that you might otherwise just buy.

(Central Park at the End of the Summer)

So if I had to describe Yvette Van Boven's new book Home Made, I'd say it's project-oriented.  I think she could use that phrase on the book's resume, it always impresses.  Let's start by talking about how the book is laid out.  The chapters are arranged chronologically in the sense that it starts with breakfast, moves through lunch, on to tea, then to chapters focused on techniques like preserving, making pasta, smoking (did you know you can build your own smoker right in your kitchen for smoking fish?), and roasting.  Finally, the book ends with chapters on cheese, ice cream (you're making all of this yourself, remember), desserts with eggs, desserts with chocolate, a chapter on after-party food for the inevitable (but we hope occasional!) hangover.  There's even a chapter on making treats for a person's best friend (your dog, if that was unclear).

(View from the Upper West Side of NYC)

For my first foray into the book, I made Van Boven's Rösti Fritters with Rosemary.  If you're worried that my characterization of this book as project-oriented meant that every recipe is an undertaking, this one should prove the opposite.  It does everything a good potato side-dish should do.  Stands up on its own, but doesn't overpower the main course.  Is amenable to helping soak up juices or gravies from the center of the plate, but doesn't rely on them.

Akin to a classic Jewish potato latka, these röstis are a bit less cake-like, in that they don't include the eggs and flower that make a potato pancake, well, a potato pancake.  Instead, they're the Swiss version of a hash brown, grated potatoes seasoned with rosemary and salt, and pan-fried to crispy perfection.  I find that red potatoes are a good choice, as the recipe calls for a waxy potato that can hold its shape during cooking.

Rösti Fritters with Rosemary
Excerpted (with permission) from Yvette Van Boven's Home Made (Stewart, Tabori & Chang; September 2011)

6 waxy medium potatoes
leaves of 6 twigs rosemary
sea salt
some light oil for frying


Cut the potatoes into a very fine julienne (very thin strips) in the food processor or use a good mandoline, or grater.  Thoroughly pat them dry.  Add the rosemary and a little salt to the grated potatoes.  Heat a thin coat of oil in a skillet and fry 3 heaps of potato mixture in the oil at a time.  Do not stir or touch!  When the edges turn golden yellow, turn and fry on the other side.  Allow to drain on paper towels.  Can be easily made in advance: Heat the fritters for 6 minutes prior to serving in an oven preheated to 350F/Gas 4.

Late Summer Salad

Cooking Books is officially in France.  I moved to Paris at the very end of August on a fellowship which is meant to force, er, facilitate the writing of my dissertation.  As excited as I am to be here, I naturally miss home, R, the dogs, my kitchen.  The 'kitchen' of my small Parisian apartment isn't what I'd call well-stocked.  Essentially it consists of Two Burners and a Pan.  (Maybe I should rename the blog for the year?)

Rather than fight it by investing in counter top ovens, or really even a toaster oven, I've decided to Embrace the Simplicity (another possible blog name?) and cook with what I have.  Which for now is easy.  Because what my version of Paris lacks in a batterie de cuisine, it makes up for by being, well, Paris.  By offering produce and cheese and yogurt that I could only dream about in NYC (although that's not completely true, but I'm in the mood to embrace the challenge rather than fight it).  And in some ways, cooking for only one person in such a set-up isn't really that hard.  All you have to do is combine said produce, cheese and yogurt and serve.

So what if my winter veggies will be sautéed rather than roasted?  So what if soups will likely replace braises.  And so what if I can't bake.  There are three patisseries in a one-block radius of my apartment.  This salad is a perfect example of what you can do with perfect ingredients and almost no equipment.  All you need is a large bowl, a fork and a knife.  Oh, and incredible pears and melons don't hurt either.  The idea for this salad started, in fact, with a charentais melon, which is a type of small French cantaloupe.  You can sometimes find them at farmers markets in the US, apparently, but you can also substitute any kind of ripe cantaloupe that you find.

The first time I made this salad I also used a head of batavia lettuce, which has a slightly bitter after note.  But the second time I made it with a mix of lettuces.  Whatever is fresh and looks good is perfect.  A high quality blue cheese finishes it all off and stands up well to a simple vinaigrette made with apple cider vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper.  Simply mix, toss and serve.

Late Summer Salad
From the Cooking Books Kitchen

2-3 ripe pears, cored and sliced into thick slices (I don't bother peeling because I discovered that my peeler basically sucks.)
1/2 ripe charentais melon, or any cantaloupe, seeded and cubed
Handful of good blue cheese, like roquefort, crumbled
1 head of lettuce or  bag of mixed greens

For the vinaigrette (I don't yet have measuring spoons or cups, so you'll have to do this by taste):
In the bottom of your salad bowl, use a fork to whisk together olive oil, apple cider vinegar, salt and pepper.

Add the lettuce leaves and toss so that the leaves are evenly coated.  Add the sliced pears and cubes of melon and gently toss again.  Sprinkle the blue cheese on top and serve right away.  Since the salad has already been dressed it won't keep, so eat it all right away.

Limoncello

In college I studied abroad in Italy.  A summer in Sorrento, a semester in Florence.  Somehow, because college kids seem to be so good at this, I'd fanangled my way into an Italian course off the Amalfi coast before heading north in the fall.  Through some kind of booking mistake, my class of 20 students, eagerly waiting to be immersed in Italian language and culture, arrived in Sorrento without a place to stay for the three months we'd arranged to spend there.  So we ended up living with nuns.  Renting out the hotel they operated for the entirety of the summer and agreeing to abide by their rules (which included closed gates by 10:00 on weekends and disapproving looks when we stumbled back just before, or if I'm being honest, just after).

They also cooked all of our meals, which I remember as not being the most culinarily enlightening experience ever.  We got sandwiches that were probably at one time very delicious, but which were reduced to soggy piles of bread when lunch rolled around.  And I don't remember a single dinner (which is not the case with the meals served to me by my host family in Florence.  I remember every one of those.)  But I do remember the limoncello.

Sorrento is famous for the lemon liqueur, and the nuns made it by the vat-full.  It was the only thing they ever served to us proudly, without rolling their eyes, and without pretending not to understand our admittedly elementary Italian.  I hadn't thought much about it until I was in Connecticut visiting family and my aunt Doreen mentioned that she had made some.  I, of course, told her I love limoncello, so she brought me a small bottle the next day.  R and I shared it with some friends, in tiny cordial glasses my mom unloaded on me when I moved to New York.  It was so good that I got you the recipe, with permission to share.

Limoncello is essentially an infusion, meaning you're infusing the flavor of lemon into already-produced liquor.  In this case, you're also adding simple syrup which is what gives limoncello its sweetness.  Doreen experimented with the sugar level through a number of batches, decreasing the amount from what some other recipes had called for, and I'd say that she got it just right.

Limoncello
From my aunt Doreen

Peels of 10 organic lemons, sliced in thin strips.
1 liter grain alcohol
Water
4 cups sugar

Put the lemon peels into a big jug containing 1 liter of grain alcohol.  Let it sit for 2-4 weeks, then strain the lemon strips out of the alcohol and put the liquid into a large jug.  Set aside.

In a large pot, heat 6 1/2 cups of water along with 4 cups of sugar until the sugar is dissolved.  Let the syrup cool completely, then add it to the alcohol and enjoy!  You can serve limoncello at room temperature or, as is traditional in Southern Italy, well chilled in chilled little glasses.

Quinoa with Roasted Corn

If I had to pick one superfood for lunch, it would definitely be quinoa.  It's easy to make, easier than rice in my opinion. (Especially since I've only rarely successfully made rice without burning at least a thin layer at the bottom of the pan.)  It's healthy, and it really packs well.  Unlike a lettuce salad, you can dress it the night before and it will only get better, rather than limp.

And since it's summer, I'd also say that indulging in a little fresh corn is basically a must-do.  The inspiration for this dish came from rubbing butter on a freshly grilled ear of corn and sprinkling it with salt and Parmesan cheese.  Never tried it?  That should be next on your list.  But in this quinoa salad, it becomes more portable and complete-meal-like.

Quinoa with Roasted Corn
From the Cooking Books Kitchen

3 ears fresh corn, not shucked
2 cloves garlic, passed through a press
1 bunch scallions, about 8 scallions, white and light green parts sliced
1 cup quinoa
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese + more for serving

Roast the corn.  Preheat the oven to 350F and just throw the corn onto a rack.  Roast for 30 minutes.  Let cool and then shuck the corn.  Slice the roasted kernels from the cob, saving one cob aside.

In a medium-sized sauce-pan, cook the quinoa according to package directions.  In addition to the water, add one of the roasted corn cobs.

In the meantime, preheat a little oil in a small sauté pan and when warm, cook the garlic until fragrant, about 1 minute.  Add the scallions and cook until soft, about 6 minutes more.

Once the quinoa is cooked through, discard the corn cob.  Add the scallions and the corn kernels, along with the juice of about half a lemon.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Stir in about 1/2 cup Parmesan cheese and serve with an extra sprinkling of cheese over the top.

Trip through Norway

This post is long in coming, because R and I were traveling around and visiting his family in Norway in late June.  We flew into Oslo and met his parents there.  We spent only a day and half, walking around the city and catching up with friends.  We visited Vigeland's Park, the largest sculpture park in the world made by a single artist.  Babies throwing temper-tantrums and the huge monolith are perhaps the most famous works in the park.

The sculptures chronicle the phases of human life from birth, through raising a family, to old age.  While some of the statues are of single figures, several are made up of intertwined bodies, and the park culminates with a huge 56-foot high monolith made up of such interlaced people.

Next we drove to Trondheim to visit R's sister and her family on their real, honest-to-goodness farm.  I wish above anything else that I had made more photos of it, because the farm and the surrounding countryside were some of the most beautiful landscape I've seen.  Above is a photo of the farm's early 20th century buret, or larder, lifted off the ground on little feet to keep creatures out of the food.  The farm itself is much older, but was victim to a massive fire in the 1930s, after which the buret had to be rebuilt.

We also visited Nidaros Cathedral in the center of the city, which was built over the grave of king Olav Haraldson.  Built between 1070 and 1300, it was, during the Middle Ages, one of the four most popular pilgrimage destinations after Jerusalem, Rome and Spain's Santiago de Compostela

We walked along Trondheim's Nidelva river with those so typical Scandinavian houses painted in yellows, reds and whites.

And walked across the Old Town Bridge, or the Gamle Bybro, the Bridge of Happiness.

Not to mention hiking along the coast-line.

Where everything is so green and lush that plants grow right from the roofs.

Next we drove along the Western coast-line, punctuated by Norway's famous rugged Fjords.

And on to Bergen, built up into the hills.

Where we visited the outdoor market, filled with Norwegian delights.

And at the risk of saturating you with other people's vacation photos, I'd like to mention that by the time we made it to Haugesund, R's hometown, we'd gorged ourselves on Norwegian Waffles...

And shrimp so fresh they had been caught and boiled the very morning we ate them.