Restaurant Widow

Homemade Limoncello

Well, Kitty Cats, it's just about gift-giving time.  I don't know about you, but this has been an interesting year for those of us in the finer dining sector.  Whether you are feeling the full blow of our less-than-stellar economy or you're just pinching pennies, you might want to think about giving a few homemade gifts.

Husband has been making limoncello for a few years now, and it's really delicious.  I was the lucky recipient of a homemade bottle from a friend a few years ago, and it didn't last long in our household (we keep it in the freezer, to nip at after dinner).

For the uninitiated, limoncello is an Italian liqueur made from grain spirits and lemons, with a little sugar thrown in at the end for good measure.  I think it tastes precisely like Lemon Heads and it's just wonderful.  The kind you buy in the store is okay, but usually too sweet for my tastes.  It's lemon, so I appreciate a nice little pucker.

Limoncello makes a great gift because it is inexpensive to make, keeps forever, and can be made weaker or stronger depending on the sort of person you are gifting.  It is also a great syrup for pouring over lemon cakes, so it's okay even for a teetotaler.  Although in truth, I probably would avoid giving alcohol to teetotalers. 

Limoncello takes a few days to make - only because it requires a little resting - but don't worry, you have plenty of time to do it and you can't mess it up.  I promise. 

Homemade Limoncello - makes about 2 litres of finished yumminess

1 bottle (750ml) Galens 151 Vodka - this is readily available, but you might have to ask for it. I wouldn't recommend doing shots of Galens, being that it's nearly twice the power of regular vodka (75% alcohol vs. about 40% for say Hangar One).  Galens costs about $12 here in Ohio and its high alcohol content will ensure a very rapid absorption of the lemony goodness
1 bottle plum wine (750ml) (available in Asian markets; it usually has a green ume plum at the bottom) or light syrup (instead of simple syrup, which is equal parts water and sugar, light syrup is half sugar to water, so here you will want 1 cup of sugar to 2 cups of water)
10 lemons
2 Oranges
1 one-inch pieces of cinnamon stick
1 arm of a star anise
1 green cardamom pod
8 oz water, along with juice (see below)
sugar to taste

Peel the lemons and oranges with a very sharp peeler - you only want the colored part of the fruit, not the white pith, which is bitter. Just peel the fruit very lightly.  Juice the fruits and set the juice aside.

Place the peels and spices into a large container with a leak-proof lid and pour the vodka over (so that it completely covers the peels).  Allow to steep for 2-4 days.

After the peels have steeped, it's time to dilute! Strain the peels and spices from the vodka.  Add water to the reserved juices to 8 ounces and add this to the vodka - the mixture will cloud immediately, and that's okay. 

Add the plum wine or light syrup to the vodka.  Taste this mixture.  Too alcoholy? Add more water, about one cup at a time, until it has a lighter alcohol taste.  Not sweet enough? Dissolve 1/2 cup in 1/4 cup warm water until it dissolves and add this mixture to the limoncello.  Keep tasting and adding until you have the sweetness and alcohol level you like.

Pat yourself on the back, because this was easy and delicious. 

Pour the limeoncello into nice bottles and add pretty labels.

It's Winter. You Might as Well Try a New Vegetable.

Poor Rutabaga.  Everyone thinks they loathe you, people are stumped by you in the grocery store, no one wants you as a side dish.  You're misunderstood.  Well, so am I, rutabaga.  So am I.  Let's work through it together, shall we?  I'll point out your best features, and you can point out mine.  Well, I suppose you won't have much to offer, so I'll just highlight my talent by putting you to good use.

The Rutabaga: a human invention or happy accident, actually.  A hybrid of the turnip and cabbage with many names; in British countries, it is known as a "Swede" whereas in Sweden, it is known as a Cabbage root; In Norway, it's called a kohlrabi, which we know as this also very delicious cruciferous veggie; the Scots call the rutabagas either tumshie or neep, but my favorite is the NE England "snadgie."  (take with a grain of sea salt, please - it's from Wikipedia.)

Rutabagas look very much like a large turnip; in supermarkets, they are heavily waxed to protect the cut ends of the root.  The rind on the rutabaga is a little thick.  Along with the wax, this can make it a little tricky to peel.  For this reason, I prefer to peel it with a very sharp paring knife instead of a potato peeler.  Peel through the white parts of the rutabaga until you get to the orangey flesh.  Rutabagas have a very nice clean earthy aroma.  It's very pleasant when it's winter and you've nearly forgotten what really great fresh veggies smell like.

Rutabagas contain very few calories (50 in a one-cup serving), a good deal of vitamin C, and like many cruciferous vegetables, a nice bit of potassium (13% DV) and a whopping 66% of your daily calcium intake - so if you are trying to eat a little healthier in the New Year, you might think about picking one of these up on your next shopping trip.

I am going to present two recipes for rutabagas here - nearly identical save the cooking methods - although there are many ways you could prepare them - soup, gratins, roasting, fries even.  Rutabagas make a very nice companion to pork dishes.

First up - a simple method I like to employ for lots of vegetables - potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, what have you.  The basic idea is to use a small bit of fat for browning purposes, and a large amount of liquid is used to cook the rutabagas.

Glazed Rutabaga - serves 2

2 tbsp butter
1 large rutabaga, peeled and cut into 1/2" cubes
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
1/4 cup white wine
1 tbsp brown sugar
salt and pepper

Melt half of the butter in a large nonstick pan over medium-high heat; if the butter browns slightly, it's all the better (but don't let it burn).  Add the rutabagas chunks, and toss everything to coat.  Turn the heat to high and add one cup of the chicken stock and cook until it is absorbed, then add the remaining stock and the white wine, and cook until the rutabagas chunks are soft but still present some resistance (about 15-20 minutes); you might want to taste a chunk and see how you like it; it like mine with some of the root veggie goodness still in tact, and it makes glazing easier.  The chicken stock should all be absorbed - you might have to add a little more.  Add the remaining butter, and the brown sugar, and season liberally with salt and pepper; toss everything to coat and brown the rutabaga slightly.  Serve immediately.

Mashed Rutabagas - serves 2

1 large rutabaga, peeled and cut into large chunks
salt & pepper
2 tbsp butter, or to taste
1/2 ounce half & half
freshly grated nutmeg

Place the rutabaga chunks into a steamer basket and sprinkle with salt.  Cover and place over a pot of simmering water.  Steam for about 25 minutes or until very soft (they take much longer to soften than potatoes or squash).  Drain the water from the pot and place back over high heat; add the rutabaga chunks back into the pan and toss for just a few seconds to take off any excess water.  Remove from heat.  Add the butter and half and half, and mash with a potato masher.  Season to taste with salt, pepper and nutmeg.  Yum!  If the flavor is a little too "rutabaga-ey" for your tastes, you can add equal parts of regular mashed russet potatoes; the rutabagas will give the potatoes a delightfully earthy flavor.

Come on, you know you want to try something new and delicious!