Workbook

Blocked

 

One of our recent favorites pairs fresh cherries with pistachio. Like so many summer fruits, I find the more minimal the treatment, the better the results will be. Here, the cherries are merely halved and kissed with a pinch of sugar and a pass with the blowtorch.

The pistachio enters as a block of an airy parfait into which we've inserted a cylinder of our old friend, caramelized white chocolate. Rounding out the composition are cubes of pistachio pain de genes, lemon cream and confit, and chopped caramelized pistachio nuts.

 

As with almost all of our mousse preparations, this parfait begins with our low-sugar pate a bombe. We initially had problems adding this directly to our pistachio paste (we use the Fabri product, sweet enough on its own to flavor the parfait without additional sugar). The mixture would inevitably sieze or contain innumerable un-incorporated lumps. The solution was to first produce a more stable emulsion with cream; this is great on its own as well, either as a plating component or even as a bonbon filling.

It also seemed logical to dissolve our gelatin in the warm pate a bombe mixture before whipping, but the final volume was reduced, and in the event it whipped too long and too cool, it would also sieze in the folding process. We simply try to keep all the components at or just above room temperature- the pate a bombe, pistachio base, and whipped cream- to avoid those little nuggets of gelatin from forming while mixing into the base.

Download: Pistachio Cream-Workbook 25.7.09

Download: Pistachio Parfait-Workbook 25.7.09

Effervescent

 

This bubbly bit came from a random sift of files that tend to pile up. I was delighted to find the notes from well over a year back, when I attended a demo by Ramon Morato, promoting Chocovic and his new (at the time) book, a mammoth tome I still haven't managed to get myself. Ramon embodies all the qualities of a great chef: he's a generous teacher, a skilled technician, a creative spirit, occasionally expressing himself with a sense of humor.

Presented by Morato and intended as a digestive mignardise, the memory of this little tablet came back to me at just the right time, while planning out a big presentation I'm working on later this month. It's simply white chocolate encapsulating sugar, powdered fruit, baking soda, and citric acid. The mixture is piped and pressed between acetate or stamped out, obviously remaining inert until the cocoa butter melts in the mouth, allowing the acid and base to react with each other in fizzy fun.

 

 

It's not something I ever see hitting the tables in our restaurant- it can be a bit jarring if the proportions are off- but it's a great, simple to tool to use in explaining how baking soda or other leaveners actually work in doughs. It can also push the idea of how we can explore other mixtures of acitve/inactive ingredients and reactions, how the forms and functions of components might become kinetic rather than just static food on the plate.

Download: Effervescent White Chocolate-Workbook 2.5.09

 

Separation Anxiety

 

It's safe to say my goals for this second blog were ambitious. A year's worth of daily posts- what would amount to a couple of books' worth of material- might require a discipline just outside my reach. I almost made it 100 days, but after a few bits of computer-less travel, the backlog began to mount, and keeping up seemed futile. Obviously the work and the documentation continue, I just don't want the focus to shift to the presentation of it, away from the 'doing' of it. It's important to remind myself that the blog is just the vehicle, not the primary catalyst nor a substitute for real work.

But, oh, have we been busy.

One of the many new developments and projects has been my ongoing collaboration and dialog with a noted food scientist. In addition to other discussions I'm engaged in and things I'm reading, this cook-scientist relationship has begun to affect my overall approach to cooking over the last few weeks, and not necessarily in the obvious way. It's a complex thing that I can't quite verbalize yet.

I feel a subtle shift not only in my perception- of looking at cooking methods and ingredients in a more holistic sense- but also of intention. So much of what we do represents a rote means designed to take us to a specific end. I'm now beginning to understand how to work from the other end: 'Here's something cool, what can I do with it?', rather than, 'This is what I want, how do I make it?' The former requires more time, thought, and attention. The latter simply relies on a solution that doesn't necessarily translate to knowledge; it's an intellectual band-aid of sorts. It's the difference between writing a recipe and following one. It's pushing yourself to answer every question with yet another question. I don't know, I'm still figuring it out. But it's a fun process.

Among the dozens of ideas (practical and theoretical) I've been discussing, one grabbed my attention not because it offered any solution, but rather it spawned question after question. Long story short, a discovery was struck by scientists researching ice cream: used in a very specific percentage, locust bean gum has a tendency to repel the casein in milk, resulting in phase separation. In simplistic terms, the milk will essentially split into a whey layer and a casein/fat layer (this is usually corrected with the use of carrageenan). Under 0.1% there isn't enough locust bean gum to create the separation, and over 0.15%, the mixture becomes too viscous for the split to occur. But intentionally hitting the middle was an experiment I just wanted to see for myself.

 

So the questions begin, by trying to exploit a problem that scientists have tried to fix. What, if anything, can we do with this? How do we better control the result? Can we speed up the process? What happens when we introduce other ingredients and which phase will that ingredient join? What happens with different forms of dairy? Even if it is a dead end, it's a process that taught me something new and spurred further thought. I could never have imagined this as an end result; it can only be a starting point for something else. In some small way, I think this little trick represents my own evolving thoughts about cooking, the fundamentals upon which everything rests.

So as I pick up after a month of cyber-inactivity, I'll leave you with a favorite milk related pre-dessert, a star anise-infused chocolate shot, and a few thoughts to ponder about cooking and life in general: How often do we ask ouselves questions? How do we go about finding the answers? And are we asking the right questions?

Download Milk Chocolate Shot-Workbook 1.5.09

 

 

Fade to Black

A visit down to our outpost in Washington DC had been long overdue, and one of the perceived holes that needed to filled on the menu was a chocolate cake. It didn't matter exactly what form it took, all I knew that chocolate cake would be at the top of my agenda.

 

In thinking of various options, from a simple layer cake (boring) to the old warm chocolate cake (kinda cool now in a retro way, but still tired) and beyond, I remembered always wanting to play around with black cocoa. And in the realm of cake bases, fewer are more simple, better tasting, or cocoa-centric than a flourless method. That was where I'd begin.

 

But the more I researched black cocoa, it became apparent that it wasn't this dark and secret special ingredient I had been missing all these years.  Rather, it's just treated with more alkaline to produce a darker color (think Oreo black), which doesn't ultimately add much in the flavor department, just a harsher bitterness.

 

After trying a couple of different proportions, I quickly realized that, in the end, the cake was just fine, if not better, with our conventional cocoa. I'm sure there are, however, appropriate applications for black. And the cake that eventually emerged happily exceeded expectation; it was refined enough to put our name on it, while not being too fussy for a casual bistro menu.

 

Download: Flourless Chocolate Cake- Workbook 26.3.09

Back in Black

 

I feel like I've been ignoring our old friend black sesame.

   

 

The last macaron we did contained a center of ground caramelized sugar and black sesame seeds, further mellowed out by a hit gianduja. We could never get it super-fine; I liked the texture, but I always thought it needed improvement. Then we decided to give macarons a rest, and our sesame efforts drifted elsewhere.

This is the result of trying a typical soft rocher approach: the black sesame paste with added cocoa butter and dark chocolate. It's a delicate mixture to handle, either liquid or solid, but that magic melting point makes it nice to eat. It might need a touch more sugar for some; I purposely chose a low percentage chocolate to help that balance.

Download: Black Sesame Rocher-Workbook 23.3.09

   

Roots

 

There were various odds-and-ends on my to-do list over the Winter, many of which will now have to wait until the season returns. The kitchen had been using parsnips the last few months, and every time I spied them in the walk-in my mind would start to wander.

Switching them out for the usual in a conventional carrot cake is an obvious first move, one that Sam Mason made years ago. For a more straight-forward approach, I took inspiration from Ken Oringer, and a dish I once had at Clio, which combined parsnip, cocoa, and black truffle.

     

     

As I set out to fashion a parsnip custard or panna cotta, I began to consider what form or shape it might take, and in turn, how I might pair a chocolate component. I kept coming back to the simplest yet most effective presentation. I first dropped a mound of dark chocolate ganache in to a bowl, letting it set before pouring in the parsnip cream. Here we maintain a playful element of surprise, and the guest will invariably experience both flavors and textures at once, even if in ever-shifting proportion. Most of all, there's nothing superfluous to distract from the dessert's intended purpose.

   

I did two versions: one in a small bowl, above, and the other in a glass. I definitely prefer the former. And though I may file it away for later in the year, I'll likely be thinking of similar variations, perhaps cauliflower or celery root...

Download: Parsnip Panna Cotta-Workbook 22.3.09

The Best Thing Since

 

Although we've pretty much been a Valrhona house for years, I'm always tasting other chocolates, often bringing them in for very specific uses. We've done this with Amedei, Weiss, and most recently Michel Cluizel. I'm actually beginning to lean heavier on the Cluizel line; my favorite at the moment is their Maralumi Lait. As more and more consumers have become aware of cocoa percentages, I think milk chocolate has gotten a bad rap over the years, scoffed at for being 'pedestrian'. It definitely has its place, and sometimes offers certain subtleties that darker chocolates can't. In addition to the warm caramel and malt flavors, the Maralumi in particular (a whopping 47% cocoa content) has notes of licorice, spice, wood, and toasted bread. A perfect compliment for bread ice cream, of course.

   

I've seen a dozen or so variations on this idea over the years. Perhaps my first encounter was a pain d'epice ice cream by Bernard Loiseau, from the amazing, but short-lived publication Opt Art (if you ever stumble upon one of the six issues they published, buy it). There have been countless other variations bouncing around for sure, even one where milk is inoculated with yeast to provide fermentation and that 'bread' flavor- I never got around to trying that method, but it has always intrigued me.

I like to start with a whole wheat bread, and to provide optimum flavor, I toast the slices until the color has developed and the bread is completely dry. Then it's an overnight soak in whole milk. The resulting milk is a beautiful tan color; we press as much moisture from the bread as possible, but there's still a significant loss- more on that later. The milk also takes on a slight saltiness, which makes sense, as salt would be one of the primary soluble materials left in the bread.

   

The base is made in the normal manner with one exception. If I'm going to go through the process of making a bread, or better put, toast ice cream, why not a cinnamon toast ice cream? Using a trick that I picked up from Bajard, I fold a cinnamon-sugar mixture into the finished ice cream after it comes out of the machine. The result is a brighter and more intense flavor than infusion can ever offer. And as a bonus, the sugar gives it a texture that is not unlike a slice of actual cinnamon toast. We simply reserve half the sugar from the otherwise conventional base for this purpose.

Download: Cinnamon Toast Ice Cream-Workbook 13.03.09

     

To capitalize on the affinity I assumed the Maralumi Lait might have for the ice cream, we fashioned a simple cremeux. We had saved the spent bread, which would have made a nice puffed garnish (using the tapioca starch method mentioned here), but opted to go with super-thin slices of bread brushed with olive oil and toasted. A small amount of the soaked bread did get incorporated into an anglaise, which was then further lightened with whipped cream.

Download: Maralumi Cream-Workbook 13.03.09

   

Casual Elegance

 

It's that time of year when I find myself shuffling a deck of ideas, dealing them out simultaneously among four different dessert menus. Sometimes the difficulty in such a task isn't the lack of ideas, but the need to shift gears in my head from the 'LB' level, to a slightly more casual approach necessary for our satellite concepts.

But then there can be a gray area or even a sense of role reversal. And in the right context, some things are just universally good, regardless of refinement, technical prowess, quantity (or quality) of ingredients, or whether the approach is traditional or contemporary. It's interesting to consider that I can serve the same dish in three different restaurants, yet through a slight change in context, it takes on a different role within each menu and perhaps appeals to each client base in a different way.

I think this dessert is just such a switch hitter, simple enough for a basic bistro, yet with a precision worthy of fine dining. My variation of a croque monsieur- chocolate, banana, and peanuts- was born as a spin on the signature that Chef Ripert created with smoked salmon, preserved lemon, gruyere, and caviar.

I bring it out every once in a while, subtly adjusting it. Last night, it hit me that it needed a chewy component, something to fill the role that cheese plays in the original. By luck I still had some peanut caramel on the rack from the other day. This addition takes it to the next level, again in both directions, simple and elegant: you say gooey, I say texturally complex.

     

     

It's a simple construction, really. Bread, spread with ganache (feel free to download this recipe), layered with sliced banana, stuffed with the caramel, then grilled. Quickly frying in a non-stick pan will yield a crispier result, but I'm a sucker for well executed grill marks. To achieve both, I quickly mark the sandwich on a smoking-hot grill and then finish it in the pan.

   

Download: Croque Monsieur-Workbook 12.3.09

Spice

 

Back when I was in Thailand last September, I was able to get a brief market tour from an expat writer who was (and still is) spending time traveling through Southeast Asia. We had discussed a special peppercorn grown in neighboring Cambodia, which I had never heard of, and which I had promptly forgotten about. That is until a tiny package arrived the other day, from Mari, through a mutual friend: securely encased in bubble wrap was my first taste of Kampot pepper.

    

 

There have been recent efforts to revive the cultivation and export of this once highly regarded peppercorn, grown in the southern province nestled between Thailand and Vietnam. Though it thrived under French colonialism, it stands to reason that this industry was all but wiped out as result of the civil turmoil within Cambodia that began in the 1970s. And as inferior pepper is often falsely sold under the name, Kampot pepper farmers are now working to achieve a government sponsored geographic appellation status.

    

Apart from the occasional garnish, it's been awhile since I've used peppercorn as a flavor. I'd like to play around with infusing different amounts for longer or shorter periods, at higher or lower temperatures. Gently infused into an ice cream base, I was surprised how little of the heat came through, but rather a sweet fruitiness that I didn't expect.

The ginger-candied raspberries came from an idea I'd seen several years ago in a dish by Jean-Phillipe Maury: fresh raspberries are macerated in sugar, lemon and sliced ginger, then heated slightly. The fruit maintains it's integrity while taking on the subtle heat of the ginger.

And most chefs seem to be rigidly split over the idea of raspberry paired with chocolate. I can't say that I claim a passionate opinion either way; it makes sense, however, with the spice involved, that it would work here in both a complimentary and contrasting way.

Download: Kampot Peppercorn Ice Cream-Workbook 10.3.09

Download: Ginger Candied Raspberries-Workbook 10.3.09

   

Working For Peanuts

 

Or as a friend and fellow chef-blogger mentioned recently: peanuts need a little love these days.

Once I checked into our sources, I actually kind of forgot the hysteria. At any rate, I've been looking through the archives and found a chewy peanut caramel I haven't used in years. The funny thing is, this confection was the means toward an introduction to my current boss. Seven years ago he was part of guest chef dinner we were hosting in Michigan and, as is the case today, he kept showing up in the pastry kitchen chatting and asking questions, but mostly looking for snacks. We were cutting and dipping this peanut caramel for the evening's petit four. Needless to say, Mr. Ripert made sure we didn't have any waste.

The possible applications are many. The cocoa butter in the formula stabilizes the caramel, and increasing or decreasing the amount can firm it up or soften it down. In fact, depending on the environment, I usually bump up the chocolate in the humid summer months.

Also from deep within the files is a bacon and peanut brittle I came up with for a consulting job.

Download: Peanut Caramel-Workbook 5.3.09

Download: Bacon Brittle-Workbook 6.3.09