Workbook

Sweetness, Developed

 

 

Among our recent menu changes is the welcome return of sweet potato, and our vanilla infused sorbet. I think I first became hip to the notion of refined sweet potato desserts from an early appearance by Joachim Splichal in Art Culinaire, almost twenty years ago now (yes, I'm getting old). The key to success is the slow roasting and development of the sweet potato's natural sugars, which need such coaxing; boiling doesn't even come close in ternms of flavor. We roast them whole, and when they've wrinkled and begun to ooze a caramel goodness onto the sheet pan, the sweet potatoes are ready. Peeled, and run through a tamis, the puree is then combined with the vanilla syrup and processed.

 

The new tasting menu dish finds the sweet potato simply paired with a dark chocolate cremeux (Cluizel's 'Los Ancones' estate, which I visited earlier in the year) and a bourbon caramel. I still find myself streamlining, slowly moving away from too many flourishes. I still have the urge to throw something else on this plate, but I think we've captured the essential.

 

Download: Sweet Potato Sorbet-Workbook 19.10.10

 

 

Spaghetti Day

 

I recently dusted off the 'spaghetti kit' I got from Koerner way back. Basically, the kit consists of coiled surgical tubing, a squeeze bottle, and an attachment for the iSi canister allowing removal of the noodle with a blast of gas.

Of course, I'm rarely, if ever a first-adopter: it's been a solid decade since El Bulli shocked the world with its consomme noodles, rendered heat stable with the use of agar agar. My pal Johnny Iuzzini even went light years further with the idea, running carrageenan-gelled mixtures through a peristalic pump to ramp-up production. And one of my favorite pastry chefs, Patrice Demers of Montreal's Newtown, featured a composed dish incorporating a clementine noodle in his last book. I'd been thinking about it a long time, too, but despite others being able to pull it off well, I never quite settled on how best to employ the technique to fit what we do, rather than just riff off of someone else.

 

 

A noodle- conventional or otherwise- is a challenging texture in a dessert context, something I realized many years ago while attempting several variations on sweet ravioli. It's tough, in that you either have to go all the way, or not at all, and I don't see us doing bowlfuls of faux pasta at LB anytime soon. But shrinking it down to a pre-dessert bite seemed to preserve the novelty without beating anyone over the head.

Here we extracted strawberry water, clarified it, and set it with agar and locust bean gum (I think to create a longer, chewier texture, I'll substitute the LBG for gelatin next time or try Johnny's carrageenan blend; it also threw off a lot of water through syneresis after the fact). I coiled one long single noodle onto a demitasse spoon and imbedded tiny,tiny cubes of strawberry pate de fruit, a thin slice of semi-candied celery and leaf, fresh strawberry, and orange zest.

 

 Download Strawberry Noodle- Workbook 14.6.09

As a base for the noodle, I used this strawberry consomme (further clarified with 0.5% gelatin) that I wrote about a couple years ago in this Notes From the Kitchen post. A puree would work just fine, but wouldn't offer the same translucence.

Download Strawberry Consomme

 

 

 

Just Yolks

 

In the process of taking a closer look at the composition and structure of our everyday ingredients, the hopeful goal is that we’ll arrive at a better understanding of their functionality, both on their own and in concert with others. A fringe benefit of this research is when such information aids the chef in thinking outside of the box, linking functionality with an actual application.

 

It was through my friend Cesar that I discovered a novel approach to pasta being explored by Carlo Cracco in Milan. In essence, Cracco’s innovation was to subtract from the already short list of pasta’s traditional ingredients; but what he decided to take away may come as a surprise. If we were to take away the flour (or rather, the proteins and starch it contains), what’s left? Eggs? Water? How can that alone give us a reasonable facsimile of a noodle?

 

Cracco’s  egg pasta is the result of whole egg yolks that are individually packed into a ‘crust’ of salt, sugar, and a bulking agent, such as a bean purée. As the yolk ‘cures’, a good deal of the yolk’s water is extracted (remember, water makes up 50% of an egg yolk), passing through its permeable membrane. The liquid yolk has suddenly transformed into a workable dough-like consistency, behaving much like pasta- it can be rolled, shaped, dried further, if desired, and finally cooked. The method allows us to bypass the potential drawbacks a flour-based dough may present.

 

 

Such a realization affords us an opportunity to immediately make connections to similar techniques we’ve already seen, or to think outside the box altogether. That’s where constant reading and research pays off too; Cracco’s pasta instantly led me to take another look at Alinea’s butter-poached egg drops, dried egg sheets, and egg yolk truffles. And sometimes chance and luck have a way of bringing ideas together even if they experienced separately.

 

The technique employed by Cracco is time-intensive; the curing process can take several hours. But a different approach- a shortcut, if you will- can yield similar results in mere minutes. I first saw this variation while just hanging out in someone else’s kitchen; granted, it wasn’t an ordinary service, rather they happened to be testing possible techniques to employ in an upcoming episode of Iron Chef. Here, unadulterated egg yolks were spread into a thin film and gently steamed: instant egg noodles. What emerges has the look and feel of perfectly cooked pasta. And always wanting to track such an idea back to its original source, I’ve since learned the inspiration can be traced as far as Pedro Subijana of Akelarre in San Sebastien.

 

     
 

While I haven’t exactly come to any specific sweet application (though I instantly saw it as a possible wrapper for our recent corn ‘canneloni’ custard), there is certainly enough fertile ground for this component to grow upon. And there’s no real recipe to share, though I’d concede there is still room to explore and tweak in search of a pastry-relevant outcome.

 

That said, I couldn’t help myself- pictured below is an unabashedly savory interpretation: the inner line cook in me took one recent batch of fettucine-sized noodles, simply heated and dressed them with a touch of cream, butter, Parmigianino, smoke paprika, black pepper, and chive. In my own play, I’ve used both fresh yolks and a pasteurized liquid product. No doubt, this may be a great way to showcase the color and flavor some very special farm-raised eggs, but one early conclusion I came to was that I prefer the consistency of the pasteurized yolks.

 

 

I don’t have it in front of me, but also of interest is another technique (from Cracco as well, if I recall) detailed in a recent English issue of Apicius. Treating the egg yolk much like a ready-made spherification, he extracts a fair amount of its bulk, which is then replaced by another liquid, of course, with the aid of a syringe. All the while, the contents remain encased with the yolk’s own membrane. Definitely worth a look, and a moment to reconsider and redefine the role of our ingredients in low-tech ways...

 

 

 

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 cylinder 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

 

 

 

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

 

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

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

 

Just When I Thought I Was Out...

   

So the voicemail I received from Asbel yesterday went something like this:

...so I know you mentioned that you were getting bored with the pearl/caviar thing. But we were inspired to start making textured pearls with stuff inside, like seeds and such. Just thought I'd pass along the inspiration...

So of course, I was pulled back in. I went straight back into the kitchen and immediately started scaling stuff out.

   

I'm not so much bored with the idea, I just don't want them to become a crutch. For a while I had been thinking about pearls within pearls, but then my head would start to hurt so I never pursued it further. Having never really thought about adding some kind of texture, I figured I'd give it a go.

Basil within basil seemed a logical starting point: basil seeds hydrated in a basil syrup, encased in a basil water gel. I've always done the agar/LBG thing, but Asbel and I have discussed gelatin and pectin in the past; this time I'd try it with gelatin alone.

   

The most frustrating part of the process was cooling down the basil water- cool enough that it would set faster in the oil, yet fluid enough to dispense from a bottle. It was setting quicker than expected, around 70F, so in the process of heating, cooling, and then reheating... unfortunately the color began to get a bit muddy, even with the addition of ascorbic acid.

And then, of course, it pained me to butcher one of our squeeze bottle tips to allow the seeds to pass through. We normally pride ourselves in having beautiful and clean small tips!

 

    

For a first attempt I was pretty happy, though the process could be refined quite a bit. It's interesting to see where we could go with it; raspberry and kiwi were the first that popped into my head. Or passion fruit with a poppy seed interior. Or sesame and something...

It wasn't until I decided to compose a small plate with some macerated tomato that it hit me: Jose Andres has been talking about this concept for years by way of the natural 'gelatin' and seeds inside of a tomato.

Download: Basil Seed Pearls-Workbook 8.3.09

 

Puffs

 

It must have been at least two years ago when I began to see an influx of 'puffs'. I remember seeing it firsthand while doing an event with Paul Kahan and Mike Sheerin, where they did one with an olive puree (or maybe it was some kind of chocolate, I forget). Ever since it has been on my mind, but not something we approched in earnest until a few months ago.

The process is fairly simple: a puree/liquid + tapioca starch + steaming + drying + frying = puff.

Of course, this is the same basic method for puffing all manner of grains; a year or so back, we played around with puffed amaranth, and on the savory side of our kitchen, they do a similar rice version to garnish a sashimi dish. But I think it was re-reading about Alex and Aki's kimchi puff that finally made me realize the sky was the limit.

This most recent round saw us working with bread puree (a by-product of bread ice cream, and also inspired by Mike at Blackbird), chestnut, and sweet potato. None of them have yet made it onto a completed dessert, though we did utilize them on their own, in little paper cones, as a passed item on a few cocktail parties during the holiday season. For sure, we found the flavor of the base ingredient tends to get lost through the process, but then there is also the possibility of applying flavor in powder form after the fact.

Cleaning out the files, here is a trifecta of sweet potato, all of which utilize the same roasted sweet potato base.

Download: Sweet Potato Sorbet-Workbook 25.1.09

Download: Sweet Potato Pearls-Workbook 25.1.09

Download: Sweet Potato Puffs-Workbook 25.1.09