Workbook

Minor Revelations

 

It's true, we don't typically start out on something with expectations that it will fail. But nor do we assume we'll knock it out of the park on the first swing. This corn custard, however, began as a simple exercise yet yielded a beautiful, near-perfect result.

It’s just such a minor revelation that can turn a dull, normal day into a great one.

 

 

     
 

The original idea was actually a voluntary act of kindness, troubleshooting for someone else- a similar approach that lacked refinement. Now I hope I can find a place for it myself.

 

The goal was to create a heat-stable, yet soft, corn custard. Corn was briefly simmered in milk, then drained. Agar agar and locust bean gum were hydrated into the milk, while the corn was puréed and strained. Iliked the idea of adding some richness via a bit of egg yolk- its function was less about thickening and more about flavor. The two mixtures were put back together and seasoned before dispensing into molds.

 

 

To balance the salty/savory aspect, I sprinkled the custard with sugar and applied the torch. Pictured here is a plating scheme with some other components we normally within arm’s reach: hazelnut praline cream, popcorn, orange peel, and piment d’espelette.  

Download Corn Custard- Workbook 22.10.09

 

 

 

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

Corn

 

It's been fun to see the consulting projects slowly shift toward more collaborative efforts; rather than my dictating every dish and menu change, the pastry point persons onsite are increasingly bringing their own ideas to the table. At the end of the day, it also saves me a little bit work!

On a recent visit to DC in hopes of fully pushing the menu into Spring/Summer, I happily discovered a new pre-dessert already in play, combining corn madeleines and blueberries. We all thought it would be a fine idea to blow it up into a full plated dessert. My contribution came in the form of corn sorbet. We used this a few seasons back paired with chocolate, but it's development goes back even further, to my first Iron Chef battle, nearly five years ago now. Though we didn't use it in the final menu, my co-conspirator/sous chef Heather Carlucci brought the recipe to the table, and I've been tweaking it ever since.

 

Download Corn Sorbet-Workbook 3.5.09

 

Pushing It

 

We're fleshing out another old exercise from these pages, that combo of balsamic ice cream and strawberry. It would make me really happy to include an olive oil component, a little more overt than the financier. I don't know, I like the whole 'vinegar and oil' idea.

There were a few initial thoughts on how to inventively approach this: sugar encapsulation, maltodextrin powder, a tableside application... But these were either logistically impractical, 'boring', or take some element of control out of our hands. Most fun would be to incorporate it into a mousse component.

 

So at this point, we're still adjusting, still pushing it to the point where the mousse still 'works' yet the oil flavor comes through. Perhaps I'm still sticking too much to the idea of a conventional 'mousse'. What about a sweet approach to aioli or mayonaisse? Or perhaps there are new directions which I'm just learning about as I write: 'whipped' oils and oil gelation. Hopefully there will be more to report on that end... 

Download: Vanilla-Olive Oil Parfait-Workbook 30.3.09

Final Touches

 

The great thing about all of these daily exercises is that I'm certainly not wanting for lack of ideas and launching points. The downside is that it sometimes takes awhile to see these initial sparks through to a completed dish. It might be time or a matter of logistics, or I might just be waiting for that final component to unify a composition.

I've finally circled back to a yogurt-based dessertthat is now ready for prime time. Once we nailed the micro-sponge for a la minute service, I needed that one extra element to round it out: basil ice cream.

 

The final dish now consists of the yogurt parfait, rhubarb marmelade, yogurt micro-sponge, grated freeze-dried bluberry, micro-basil, the ice cream, and rhubarb chips.

 

Download: Basil Ice Cream-Workbook 28.3.09

 

 

Using Your Noodle

 

This exercise had a dual purpose. For starters, in planning my second class at ICE- Asian Flavors in Contemporary Desserts- I wanted to include central Asia in addition to what we normally perceive as 'Asian' (we usually stop at China and southeast Asia). But I've always been interested in those dishes from other cultures that closely resemble some of our own, too. In this case, it's falooda, which is little more than an ice cream sundae, or perhaps better described as a milkshake with texture. Versions exist from India and Pakistan into Iran and further west, the constant being these vermicelli-like noodles (as far as I can tell, most often made from corn or arrowroot), but also basil seeds and rose.

     

Without adding too much of my own quite yet, I kind of just felt like exploring some of the classic flavor combinations to see what might inspire me further. Building upon our rose sorbet, I wanted to incorporate mango, saffron, jaggery, and pistachio, in addition to the textural play of the noodles and basil seeds. I guess the only thing missing would be cardamom. Nothing earth-shattering in its own context, I guess until you view it through the lens of conventional Western desserts.

     

The noodles themselves have always interested me. I initially assumed they would soften up nicely with just a cold water soak, although they are most often quickly boiled then shocked in ice water. It's also not uncommon to see them broken up and incorporated into an ice ceam or kulfi, though I learned the hard way that they might benefit from a soak in syrup first; mine became crunchy little filaments upon freezing. The basil seeds held up much better when folded into our sorbet. It was also a no-brainer to throw a few strands of dried noodles into the fryer; they puffed up beautifully.

Somewhere among these ingredients or their juxtaposition, there's a dish waiting for me...

Download: Falooda-Workbook 24.3.09

 

Admiration

 

I've never met Philippe Conticini, but from a handful of friends who've known him or worked with him, the same words tend to pop up when his name is mentioned: he's a technician, he has an amazing palate, he's sensitive, generous, funny, and perhaps a little crazy. In my opinion, all attributes of a great chef. He's well known, but his influence is also over-looked. He's a bit of a rebel. When he appeared on the cover of Pastry Art and Design, the caption read, "The Man Who Put Salmon in Sorbet."

The New York Times ran an eight-part series about him back in 2000, while he was at the helm of the Petrossian shop in Manhattan (and Paris). Here are a few choice quotes from the first of those articles:

...My palate lies somewhere between savory and sweet. I've never quite been able to separate the two.

I have a little problem, you see. I began as a patissier, and it has indelibly marked my work as a chef. With pastry, I was always the experimental type, inclined to use spices like cumin and pepper to make sweets that would have horrified Lenotre. But once I saw how well they worked, it was liberating. Possibilities suddenly sprang up everywhere.

... I use classic techniques, of course. But when it comes to flavor, I erase all tradition and open my mind to any seasoning.

One thing that I don't think he'll ever get enough credit for is his virtual creation of the trend that saw everyone and their mother putting things in glasses, both savory and sweet. Looking at the dominant plating style today- seemingly spacious and haphazard arrangements- I'm starting to think the concept has again reached its zenith. I'm starting to take a fresh look at Conticini's initial approach of flavors and textures in close proximity, their juxtapositions shifting. His desserts tended to say, "Eat me," rather than, "Look at me." Again, from the New York Times:

One of the early breakthroughs in my creative life came when I discovered the plated dessert. Dessert was no longer a slice of cake or an individual souffle, but a synthesis of flavors and components.

Over the years, however, this concept, too, fell short. The flavors and complexity were all there, but they seemed somehow diffuse. What creates synergy in a dish, as I slowly figured out, is not just the combination of flavors, but how they are combined. And often with a dessert, a plate simply won't do. Because it's flat, it does not allow the components to mingle as they are eaten. And it makes it hard to get the proper range of flavors in each bite.

I played around with different dishes and bowls and finally decided on a glass. In a shallow one, like a martini glass, the flavors are like neighbors in a small community. They bump into one another, they interact and they are concentrated.

It's been awhile now, but I've had the pleasure of tasting his stuff on more than one occasion: just after he took over the famed Peltier shop in Paris, and two meals at the Michelin-starred Petrossian in Paris (where he doubled as pastry chef and chef de cuisine). My copy of his book, Tentations, is well-worn. As a sort of secret admirer, the frustrating thing for me is that he tends to disappear every few years. As best as I can tell, his most recent venue, Exceptions Gourmandes- a tiny shop selling his subtle twists on classic pastry- has closed after little more than a year. And his website is no longer active.

But as I've been thinking about him recently, and about his style and philosophy, I spent an hour or so digging through all of my paper archives to see what I had. In addition to the NYT clips (here's a link where you'll find some, but not all of those 2000-2001 articles), I also have a copy of his Thuries spread from about the same time.

   

   

Browsing the lengthy Thuries piece, which includes a dozen dishes both savory and sweet, you easily get a sense of what he was trying to do presentation-wise. Each recipe, given a fanciful name, reflects a cacophony of components, but combinations that you find yourself wanting to try. His Yablock consisted of apple, carrot, and corn. Chocolate, sesame, cinnamon, mint, licorice, coffee, coconut, and pine nut all comprised his Aracaju. So much of his cooking is simultaneously sophisticated, nostalgic, and audacious. Rather than seeing him as a tortured genius, I always imagined him in the kitchen, laughing.

There have long been things of his I've wanted to try out, so I picked out a few of the most interesting. In the dish he called Angara, tomatoes cooked in reduced sangria co-mingled with citrus confit, mango, pineapple, basil, passion fruit seeds, an olive oil sorbet, and olive tuile. When it comes to olive-based desserts, I've never felt too strongly pro or con, so that seemed a good component to start with. I found the sorbet interesting as well.

The sorbet seemed to defy everything I've come to learn about the science and formulas, but I jumped in anyway. An infusion of lemon and basil went into egg yolks whipped up like a sabayon. A fairly large quantity of nonfat fromage blanc no doubt helped emulsify the addition of the olive oil. The texture is unreal; the resulting flavor is definitely shaped by the fromage blanc, yet you really taste the clean, pure olive oil. In the context of all the other components, it probably made much more sense than on its own.

We adjusted the tuile a bit, using nicoise olives rather than green, and omitting the buckwheat flour. Again, it's an odd bird, but it works. The composition I assembled, albeit not exactly in the Conticini style, consisted of the sorbet and tuile alongside a 'salad' of strawberry, blanched olive, mango, tomato, orange peel, and basil, all 'dressed' in lemon, simple syrup, and olive oil. I also knocked out some quick oven-dried slices of strawberry.

Download: Olive Oil Sorbet (Conticini)-Workbook 17.3.09

Download: Olive Tuile (Conticini)-Workbook 17.3.09

 

   

 

Perhaps slightly more conventional, but no less alluring is his cinnamon mint ice cream. One doesn't see the combination much outside of breath mints and toothpaste. But I like it.

OK, it does sort of taste like toothpaste. But then, I keep finding myself going back for yet another spoonful...

Download: Cinnamon Mint Ice Cream-Workbook 17.3.09

 

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

   

Fluff

    

It's been at least 6 years, maybe 7, since my last visit to Pierre Gagnaire. Among the flight of desserts at the end of that meal, I recall one that was perhaps the first example of a "deconstruction" I had eaten anywhere. It was simple and elegant, unlike the self-concious renditions I would undertake myself in the months that followed: "deconstructed" lemon meringue pie, or apple crisp, or tiramisu. 

In Gagnaire's dish were a mound of poached or roasted pear, a little citrus confit, and a bit of something crunchy, all neatly lined up, but separate. What grabbed me most was the fluff of meringue perched just on the edge of the bowl, urging me to sweep the spoon from one end to the other to catch a taste of each element. If anything, it seemed a vehicle for the meringue itself, the other components being simply garnish.

     

This idea still lingers in my head all these years later. Here I'm pulling together the flavors of pineapple and banana. First, the Italian meringue, followed by caramelized pineapple, a banana citrus sorbet, pineapple puree (or what the kids might call a fluid gel), some crunchy streusel, and finally freeze dried pineapple. I think I'm drifting away from such "blown out" compositions, but it's still fun to plate in that intuitive, abstract expressionist sort of way.

     

The component I most enjoy is the banana-citrus sorbet. I had gotten sick of it for awhile, but I think I'm ready to bring it back.

Download Banana Citrus Sorbet-Workbook 4.3.09

 

A Stronger Buzz

 

I think I've already stated my love of coffee. And while I don't like to put anything between it and me (like milk, sugar, or ice) I can appreciate something special like Turkish coffee: muddy and bitter, spiced with cardamom and clove (I've also heard of an interesting North African variation that incorporates coriander).

I'm still messing around with the Via; here we started with a caramelized sugar base, adding vanilla, coffee, cardamom, and butter. The caramel is poured out to cool and harden, then ground to a powder.

    

This powder forms the base of a sabayon, along with eggs, brewed coffee, and a dose of soluble coffee. The mixture is whipped until cool, set with gelatin, and lightened with whipped cream. Frozen and unmolded, it's paired with a milk foam and citrus coulis...

    

Download: Coffee Caramel Powder-Workbook 1.3.09

Download: Coffee Caramel Parfait-Workbook 1.3.09