Workbook

Conquered

Concord grapes always tend to sneak up on us. A first signal of autumn, it’s not uncommon to begin seeing them as early as late August. I love them, but for some reason I usually get stuck for ideas. Because of their seeds, they have to processed, and in the end, they just seem to lose a little something along the way. And simply turning them into coulis or sorbet seems boring.

 

Undeterred, we've set about blending and straining several cases since their arrival, incorporating them into a few different applications this season.

 

  

We're still exploring complimentary flavors via pate de fruit. Here, concord grape is teamed up with pear:

 

Though we haven't ever introduced gelatin clarification into a regular production or menu item, we play around with the method from time to time. It's a great way to transform a muddy-looking grape puree into a more refined end result. A dosage of 0.5% gelatin is dissolved into the puree, and then its frozen. The solid block is then allowed to slowly thaw through a chinois, producing a translucent to clear juice; the nasty bits get caught up in the protein network provided by the gelatin. Knowing that tannins can sometimes affect certain hydrocolloids, we haven't played around with this enough to notice.

   

Cheese has found its way back into some of our pre-dessert work; most recently, chevre has been given the spherification treatment. We using the 'reverse' method, of course, and a 0.8% alginate/water bath The natural calcium present in the goat cheese mixture is sufficient for the skin to form. Heavy production of this and a couple other spheres has taught us how a holding bath can help us control the end result. Storing the finished orbs in syrup make sense in a sweet application. A weak syrup actually helps to nicely 'tighten' their shape, though we learned the hard way that the syrup itself can suck away too much internal moisture, shrinking the spheres down to half their original size.

 

The grapes enter the dish in the form of cold oil/agar agar pearls, and the whole is finished with candied walnut and a half-grind of black pepper.

 

Concord season has also afforded us the perfect opportunity to work on a technique that's been on my to-do list for months. Borrowing a concept from the El Bulli camp, the goal is to create a stable liquid that can be baked into the center of a cake. I've seen a few minor variations, but the basic idea is to gel a fruit mixture with aglinate and calcium gluconate, followed by blending, molding, and freezing. The frozen center is then inserted into a batter. I've seen a similar effect achieved by Stupak, using gellan to  give his carameilzed brioche pudding a liquid caramel interior.

   

Here, the soft grape is baked into a standard financier. Perhaps I see a peanut butter and grape variation in our future.

Download: Concord Grape Pâte de Fruit- Workbook 01.11.09

Download: Concord Grape Pearls- Workbook 01.11.09

Download: Chèvre Spherification- Workbook 01.11.09

 

 

 
 
 

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

 

 

From Memory

 

I recently found myself the proud owner of an old bottle of Sauternes. And though this would be something to hold onto for a special occasion, I began to think not just of pairing wines with desserts, but incorporating them as a component.

 

As I sifted through the catalog in my head, I remembered something in a book that I haven't really looked at, well, since it came out. But I vividly recalled a Sauternes gelee with apple and coconut, a trio that for some reason stuck in with me all these years. I set out making a gelee from a sweet wine we pour by the glass and then an apple foam; coconut sorbet is still in our rotation.

The funny thing is, after the fact, while checking the book- Tetsuya Wakuda's- I realized he hadn't included coconut at all. My memory had somehow linked what must have been two different ideas to the same source of inspiration. I admit that I likely forget just as many things as I remember these days, but it still has me stumped as to why I always attached that phantom flavor to his dish.

At any rate, the foam was adapted from an old friend, Patrice Demers up in Montreal. He shared this recipe, some 7 or 8 years ago now, as part of another interesting trio of flavors: apple, yogurt, and butternut squash.

 

Download: Green Apple Foam-Workbook 27.3.09

 

Purple Drink

 

So I've had this purple corn sitting around for some time now. It was a gift from Giuliana, my Peruvian pastry chef running the show down in Grand Cayman. Often with something new and weird and special, you almost hate to play with it in fear that if you do find something useful, you'll never be able to source it again. After noticing this corn tucked in to a corner at Kalustyan's recently, I finally decided to get into it.

As with the falooda, just a little bit of research reveals that what first appears an oddity to some of us is everyday fare for many others. This is why I'm attracted to such things; by confronting new (to me) ingredients I not only grow as a chef but I also learn a thing or two about other cultures. What I discover may not fit into the context of what I do right here/right now, but at least my frame of reference expands ever so slightly. And it's humbling as well, to be reminded that what we do is just a tiny drop in a very big bucket.

     

It became quickly apparent that I use the chicha morada as a starting point. Under a broad umbrella, chicha refers to drinks both fermented and unfermented- primarily derived from corn, but other grains, too- found throughout South America. In Peru, the purple corn drink is as ubiquitous as Coca Cola and Kool Aid here; in fact, though it can be made at home, it is sold in the bottle and in powdered packet form as well.

Using the recipe on the package as a general guideline, I began by simmering the dried corn, eventually adding some lemon, clove, cinnamon, and pineapple rind, followed by sugar and more lemon and lime. It didn't take long before I realized, "OK, basically this is like... it's corn sangria!"

 

   

Also obvious was to give the chilled liquid some carbonation. But then I have to ask how it all works in my context. The gut reaction was to turn the chicha morada into a gelee, with the appropriate garnish- julienne pineapple, apple granite, micro cilantro-  to create a sort of 'solid' sangria.

Download: Purple Corn Soda-Workbook 25.3.09

Download: Purple Corn Gelee-Workbook 25.3.09

 

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

Further Study

 

In addition to the oro blanco grapefruit, our stage Jeffrey also brought us some Paige mandarins last weekend. They too were from Tory Farms, who are also known for their grapes and stone fruit. Inspired by the grapefruit-granite dish from yesterday, I wanted to explore a further riff on southeast Asian flavors to pair with these little orange flavor bombs.

I started thinking about complex Thai curry, and then thought it might be fun to play along the lines of a soup, something like a sweet tom yum. Infused into coconut puree were lemongrass, palm sugar and lime, as well as some of the juice and zest from the mandarin. When I went to grab a knob of ginger I discovered we were out, so for a touch heat I snipped a off a tiny piece of Thai chili once again.

   

   

The mandarins themselves presented a conundrum: I can't remember the last time I've served citrus in its own membrane, yet the segments are quite delicate. I love their natural shape, too. I remember a couple years ago hearing that another chef in town was experimenting with a pectinase. As its name implies, this is an enzyme that 'eats' pectin, or the glue that holds cellulose together. Is this how canned mandarin segments retain their beautiful shape? I also recall a rumour that the pectinase was kind of scary to work with, but I digress...

So I chose not to peel the segments, instead slicing them in half and standing them up on end. Plated and also en verrine, the mandarins were joined by crumbled black sesame cake. The 'soup' was frothed up, and then further hit with spray-dried coconut powder, a few black sesame seeds, and ginger caramel.

Download: Coconut Lemongrass Soup-Workbook 15.03.09

     

   

A Study in White

 

A visiting stage last week was kind enough to leave us with a gift: some beautiful specimens of California oro blanco grapefruit straight from Tory Farms, 200 miles south of San Francisco. A special, limited product calls for minimal treatment to allow its own personality to shine.

   

The inspiration hit me in a flash with one glance of the walk-in. First, some background...

Ever since my trip to Thailand last year, I've been making a simple dish that I've become addicted to: pad ga prow. Finely minced chicken or pork is quickly stir-fried with garlic, Thai chili peppers, Thai basil, and nam pla. Though I've occasionally improvised with jalapeno and serrano peppers, as well as conventional basil, the results just aren't quite the same; there's something about the Thai ingredients that lend the dish its authenticity.

I've been thinking about the basil and those peppers in connection with a completely different project. With the arrival of these special grapefruit, it was by chance that I thought about pomelo, and a great spicy salad I had also eaten in Bangkok. Thus, the idea comes full circle.

   

As I've been working so much with ice cream and sorbet, I decided to change it up and infuse these flavors into a simple granite. After that, everything else fell neatly into place: the grapefruit sectioned, the juice made into a gelee, and an avocado puree. A sugar garnish rounds things off; the grapefruit remains the star.

Monochromatic compositions are tough to pull off, especially when it's all a variation of white and yellow. But I like the purity and simplicity- it belies the intensity of flavor within.

 

     

Download: Thai Basil Chili Granite-Workbook 14.03.09

Cultured

 

My general obsession with all things dairy has recently renewed my interest in yogurt. With the breakthrough of the Spanish pastry explosion a decade ago, it seemed to take hold here in only a limited fashion. Of late, I haven't paid much attention to yogurt either, outside of panna cotta or sorbet, so I've been thinking about how I might apply it in other ways.

Though I was familair with 'orbing' yogurt into an alginate bath (and had thus used it in a demo or two with regard to 'reverse' spherification- the process relying on the naturally occuring calcium in the yogurt), I was intrigued by the Ideas in Food experiments using low acyl gellan. It was a hectic evening, but I set out to revisit the notion by doing a comparison of the two methods. Needless to say, service distracted me away from the project; I lacked the sodium hexametaphosphate called for anyway. What can I say, sometimes I'm impatient.

Download: Yogurt Spheres (Alginate)-Workbook 21.2.09

This is the 'traditional' method. I've used an addition of heavy cream in the past, but the only yogurt I had at hand was drained and full fat. A little skim milk thinned it out and added a higher dose of calcium, just for good luck.

 

But then I hit a common roadblock. Having harnessed and perfected a technique, what do I do with it? It's a self-imposed dilemma, perhaps. Some things, no matter how cool and exciting, don't easily lend themselves to the refinement we seek. Something like this doesn't really work in a plated composition very well. I could certainly present it on it's own, say, on a spoon. But at the end of the day, it's still just a spoonful of yogurt.

The important thing is that we keep asking the questions, and seeking out the answers...

 

 

Synergy

 

There's one important aspect of the job that I've regrettably let slip the last few years: wine tasting. I used to taste stuff all the time, keeping up-to-date with the trends, the vintages, and the producers. And like anything, understanding wine and really appreciating its synergy with food requires practice. I approached my wine education much like I did cooking: systematically, yet with total immersion.

When I set out to learn about wine, I followed some great advice, picking a region for white wine and one for red, thus limiting my range of exposure. Especially when you know next to nothing, such focus helps in simply learning the lingo, the varietals, the meaning of terroir and importance of geography; it's much easier to grasp the mechanics of wine with fewer reference points. I picked the Loire valley in France for white and the Rhone for red. By then opening myself up to as much information as possible, you'd be surprised how much was absorbed, which I was able to call upon when I eventually began to explore wine from other regions, different varietals and styles. Such basic wine training not only enriches the experience of one of life's great pleasures, but it also makes one a more informed and versatile cook.

I have begun tasting more recently, thanks to Aldo Sohm, our sommelier. He's an encyclopedia of knowledge and takes our wine pairings quite seriously, yet with an enthusiasm that's contagious. Tasting a new dessert with Aldo, alongside six or eight potential matches can be intimidating- last year he was named Best Sommelier in the world. Even so, the process is a fun and challenging collaboration.

 

As we plan next week's Valentine's Day menu, we've been testing dishes and nailing down their wine pairings. Our pre-dessert is shaping up to be a version of the vacherin we've been working on: vanilla parfait, basil meringue, and rose sorbet. As we set out to taste,  Aldo hit it out of the park with his first pour; he picked a fairly obscure, lightly sweet sparkling wine from Argentina.

Download: Rose Sorbet-Workbook 4.2.09

 

 

Early Inspiration

  

In my formative years as a cook, I did my best to read everything I could get my hands on. It wasn't always easy, as this was in the early to mid 90s when there was no internet to surf. Through various books and magazines I began to pay closer attention to the pinnacle of haute cuisine; apart from keeping tabs on a handful of American chefs, I focused more and more on what was happening in Europe. I began to memorize the short list of Michelin three stars (and the notable two's) and seek out as much information about them as I could.

One interesting constant that stuck out, was the prevalence of fruit-based terrines: usually little more than fruit held together with gelatin. It seems to have been some sort of transition between the old-fashioned pastry cart and a nouvelle cuisine/plated approach to dessert. Even my boss, who was in the thick of it with Robuchon in the late 80s, admits that "everybody was doing that terrine thing". But one version that piqued my interest was from Guy Savoy (whose Paris restaurant is, ironically, housed in the same space that was home to an earlier incarnation of Le Bernardin). His was comprised of grapefruit bound in Earl Grey infused grapefruit juice (and as far as I know, it's still on the menu there). It's a simple yet complex combination of flavors, and one that I've called upon many times over the years.

As an homage to that original terrine, we started out the day before by creating a cold infusion of the tea in grapefruit juice. And because segmented citrus releases so much juice when cut and allowed to stand, I thought it best to give the fruit some time in the dehydrator to reduce the excess moisture, about three or four hours.

The next day I employed a mix of agar agar and gelatin, in hope of getting a more refined texture and more versatile application. The set was perfect, not too short a texture, nor too rubbery; the semi-dried fruit also worked well. With the leftover gelee, I played around with films and a few other molds, but using un-dried grapefruit; sure enough, those quickly fell apart due to the excess moisture.

While I like the clean simplicity of the fruit terrine- and we played around with half a dozen possible presentations- my favorite was actually a thin sheet of gelee with no fruit, wrapped around a cylinder of our yogurt panna cotta...

   

Download: Earl Grey - Grapefruit Gelee-Workbook 2.2.09