Restaurant Widow

Dairy, Dairy, Dairy

As we speak, I have just made salted butter and ricotta.  I have some cream culturing for cultured butter and buttermilk, and I have creme fraiche brewing with some of the buttermilk I have.

All of my whole milk and cream came from Snowville - they are going to be at the Clintonville market tomorrow, so there's not excuse not to try it out yourself! 

Anyone have any ideas for using up a few quarts of whey?  As it turns out, ricotta has a pretty low yield.

I will share my processes as soon as I have a chance to taste everything and write it up.  I was specifically asked not to share these recipes by the chef who gave them to me, but I will google and try to find something very similar.

After this, I'm going on a much-needed diet . . .

In Which Lisa Continues Discovering Dairy, by Making Cultured Butter

Cultured Cream, ready to be whipped into butter

So, I was heady from experience making butter for the first time out of delicious Snowville Creamery Heavy Cream.  And then someone asked if I soured the cream first, and someone else led me to another blog where the writer has cultured the cream before making butter.

Hm.  I thought.  I can do that.  I have plenty of hot places in my house, and I love making yogurt - this is almost the same thing.

So, I put about 2 cups of cream in a jar and stirred in big dollop of Fage Greek Yogurt (I think 2%).  I shook it up a little bit and left it on the desk in my office on the third floor of our house, where it is is around 90 degrees.  And the I just let it sit there.  For 24 hours.  And I got this, the most fattening yogurt ever (can you believe how yellow and pretty it is?!):

And then I whipped it up.  I noticed that the yeild seemed a little higher with this technique; possibly because the cultures bind some of the fats? I really have no idea, but this butter was lighter in color than the standard butter, with a much creamier texture and an interesting, slightly sweet and complex flavor.  I think the next time, I think I will let the butter culture just a little longer, maybe up to 48 hours, just to develop a really complete and interesting - and maybe funky - flavor.  Yum!  I will, of course, keep you posted.  The buttermilk which comes from this process is really, really great.  If you were at my dinner, you had both - the cultured butter was served at the beginning, with the radish crostini, and the buttermilk (cultured and fresh) was in the salad dressing.

The finished product:

In Which Lisa Sees the Endless Possibilities of Dairy

If you are standing near my mother (the saint), you might want to have some smelling salts nearby.  MOM, guess what I did?!  I MADE BUTTER!! 

"Where did this interest in food come from?" my mother was asking me a week or so ago, when she was in town for my grandmother's 90th birthday (happy birthday!).  I've decided that it stemmed from the moment I decided to make cream puffs, and I did.  They were tasty.

If, when I was a 16-year-old grunge goddess who hated everyone and everything (feelings which were, for the most part, reciprocated), you would have told my mother that I would one day turn into someone who, in one week, would put something into a dehydrator, seriously consider purchasing a sewing machine, make butter, record a rhubarb-related short for community radio, continue the hunt for the much-loved raw milk (Jersey, please) of my childhood and plan an educational, all-local dinner, it might have caused her to fall either into fits of hysterical laughter or perhaps some sort of shock-related coma.

Nonetheless, the other day I had a dinner-planning meeting at the North Market, and I stopped by the Greener Grocer for some heavy cream.  The Greener Grocer sells the very tasty Snowville Creamery milk in many forms, including heavy cream.  It only comes in 1/2 gallon cartons, which is a little daunting if you aren't planning to make ice cream or eat a lot of strawberries with whipped cream (all of which are good ideas, by the way).  Partially inspired by Lorence's post a few months ago (minus the shaking bit), I had this idea that I would make butter.

I came home and poured a little cream into my mixer and whipped.  For some reason, I was a little afraid this cream wouldn't whip very well.  Silly waitress.  First of all, the cream whipped to soft peaks in about 23 seconds flat (on medium speed with the whip attachment).  At this point, I stopped the mixer to add a good, soft dollop of the cream to my coffee (seriously good), and then I kept going.  And going.  In about 3-4 minutes, I had butter!  The butter solids naturally separate from the buttermilk, which I strained through a fine mesh sieve and then I returned the butter to the mixing bowl.  Then I added lots and lots of expensive, crunchy Murray River Salt Flakes.  Because when you make your own butter, you can add all the expensive crunchy salt to it you want.  The cream itself is slightly yellow, but the butter is insanely yellow.  it's very interesting.  Unfortunately, we've eaten all of the butter, so there's nothing to photograph.

I even - wait for it - made herby buttermilk dressing with the buttermilky byproduct.  Seriously.  Home schooling is next.  Wait, I don't have any kids.  Does litter training count?

So I made butter, and then proceeded to eat pretty much nothing but homemade butter on toast for the next 24 hours.

All of that to say, you should make some butter.  It's really easy.  It's so easy that I started thinking of all the other things I could do - I'll make cheese!  If I can make butter, and I've already made yogurt and ice cream, I can make cheese, right?  Husband patted my knee and said "well, one day, when we have a farm, you can make the butter and cheese and I'll make the cider and the calvados."  Don't worry, that will be after our restaurant.  In our restaurant, I've decided, I will make my own butter.  And, if you are coming to my dinner this weekend, you can have homemade, complete with crunchy salt (or not).

And now you have my entire past, present, and future, as seen through butter.

Cranberry Quince Preserve

Where can I buy those cute jars?

Okay, I realize probably all of you are either finished cooking for Thanksgiving or close, but I think this recipe would also go well with other Holiday meals - I think it would go really well with pork, as well as turkey, cheese, and cured meats - and it's been awhile since I've shared a recipe, and it's super easy, although time-consuming (mostly unattended).

So, this past week I had dinner at Alana's, and she gave me some housemade quince preserve for dessert, and was also nice enough to give me four quince(s?) of my own for experimentation.  Until that moment, I wasn't really aware that quince grew all over Ohio, or that it was so amazingly fragrant.  It had never really occurred to me to try to find or cook them, knowing that they required a long cooking time to become something even remotely edible.

Quinces are hard fruits which look like a cross between an apple and a pear.  They are yellow and rock hard (don't wait for them to soften; I don't think it will ever happen); they have very high levels of natural pectin, making them the perfect choice for preserve-making.  They are also nearly inedible raw - they are extremely astringent.

So, I was planning to simply cook the quince down for a preserve, and I was also making my cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving, when I had a stroke of genius.  I think it should be obvious where this is going by now.  Because you are working with natural pectin here, you don't have to worry about sugar levels being equal to your fruit (typically in preserve making, you would match your sugar to your fruit, by weight).  Because I like my preserves to be far less sweet than everyone else seems to, I always use half the sugar called for, throwing caution to the wind.  Of course, you can adjust the sweetness as your heart desires.

For the Cranberries

1 12 ounce bag fresh cranberries
1 12 ounce bottle ginger ale, preferably something with a little kick to it, such as Blenheim or Stewart's, or at least Vernor's - NOT diet!
1/2 cup sugar
Juice of 2 large oranges

Place the ingredients in a medium-sized saucepan and bring to a simmer.  Simmer for about half an hour to 45 minutes, mashing the cranberries with a potato masher as they begin to soften - they will start to make little popping sounds as they heat up; it's pretty cool.   When all of the cranberries are totally soft and mashed, remove from the heat.  Allow to cool slightly and then pour through a fine mesh strainer.  Press lightly to remove as much juice as possible and set aside.

For the Quince

4 fresh quinces, peeled, cored, and cut into 1/2" pieces
3/4 cup sugar
1 12 ounce bottle ginger ale, see above
2 tbsp lemon juice

Place these ingredients in a medium-sized saucepan (I used the cranberry one without washing it and it was fine) and bring to a simmer.  Reduce the heat and cook over low to medium-low heat forever, or about 2 - 3 hours, or until the quince pieces are soft to falling apart and have taken on a perky blush color.  Puree the mixture with a stick blender.  I did separate some of the quince out in a jar so I could have a plain, tart quince preserve (about 3 ounces or so), and mixed the rest of it as described below.

Combine the two mixtures, mixing them with the stick blender to ensure complete incorporation.  Cool to room temperature and then place in a jar.  This will last about 3 weeks in the fridge.  The mixture is thickly spreadable but can also be sliced and placed atop cheese or sandwiches, served along with the turkey, smeared on toast, etc.  Enjoy!

Makes about 2 cups.

Tomato Sauce!

Tuesday at the Pearl Alley Market, I bought 12 pounds of tomato "seconds," (aka not pretty enough for selling as slicers) half paste tomatoes and half plain old round tomatoes, for the purpose of making tomato sauce.  Husband, being the kind man that he is, did the peeling and seeding, and I did the onion dicing and stirring.  Making tomato sauce is really easy, although time-consuming.  It's also really rewarding.  Although, apparently tomato sauce isn't acidic enough for water-process canning, and has to be pressure canned.  Have I even told you that a pressure cooker exploded on my mother when I was a child?  That was pretty horrifying, and I still haven't worked up the nerve to use a pressure cooker of any sort myself.  And it is for this reason that my tomato sauce will go into my trusty freezer.  I suppose that means it won't last as long as canned, but we use so much tomato sauce in this household that I could probably put it in the fridge and use it up in the next week.

The only bad thing about making tomato sauce, if it can be called that, is that a lot of tomatoes only make a little bit of tomato sauce - if you cook it down nice and proper, that is.  It makes me respect our foremothers who slaved away over hundreds of pounds of tomatoes at a time to make enough tomato sauce to last the year. 

This sauce was so good, I might have to buy another 20 pounds or so this weekend and make more. 

Basic Tomato Sauce - makes about 4 quarts

10-12 pounds tomatoes - a blend of slicing and pasted tomatoes works well, because the paste tomatoes hold their shape a little bit, making for an interesting texture.
olive oil
4 medium onions, cut into small dice
2 heads garlic, cloves peeled and roughly chopped
Italian spice blend, or lots of fresh basil - I can't grow anything, and forgot to buy a bag at the market, so it was all dried for me
salt & pepper
2 cups red wine
Parmesan rinds, or rinds of any hard cheese, optional
2 cups pasta water

Okay, so here's what you do: bring a large pot of water to a boil.  Cut an X on the non-stem end of each tomato.  Have read a large bowl of ice water, a cutting board, a sharp serrated knife, a bowl, and a strainer sitting over another bowl.  Dip each tomato into the boiling water for no more than 30 seconds, then plunge into the ice water.  Peel each tomato.  Cut off the stem end, then cut again, horizontally.  Squeeze the seeds into the strainer and put the tomato into the waiting bowl.  There's no reason to chop the tomatoes as they will cook down.  Repeat, ad nauseum, until all tomatoes are skinned and seedless.  If, like me, you have sensitive skin, you might want to wear latex gloves for this process.  I would have hivey hands if I tried to handle this many tomatoes.

If you were really organized, you would start with the onion, get them sweating, and add the seeded tomatoes directly to your stock pot. 

Heat a large stock pot over medium heat and cover the bottom lightly with olive oil.  Add the onions and sweat, slowly, for about 5 minutes or until translucent.  Add the garlic and stir.  Add about 1 tbsp Italian seasoning, and a little salt and pepper.  Continue cooking until the garlic begins to soften, about 5 minutes.  Deglaze the pan with red wine and allow to reduce by half.  Add the tomatoes, breaking them up with a wooden spoon.  Add the juice sitting in the bowl under the strainer.  Add the Parmesan rinds. Cook over medium heat forever, stirring occasionally, until the sauce has reduced by 3/4ths and has a nice thick consistency.  Remove the Parm rinds.  At this point, you can puree the sauce with a stick blender if you so choose, but I like this chunky variety of sauce, so sometimes you get a pasta strand just coated with sauce, and sometimes you get a nice chunk of tomato.

Now, for the pasta water.  Pasta water, as you may or may not be aware, is a miracle at doing all sorts of things in the kitchen, the best of which is turning sauce nice and thick, and turning "sauceless" pasta into a nice sauciness (because it contains lots of starch from the pasta).  It can also stretch small amounts of cheese out into a nice rich sauce, making for a lower-fat cheesy pasta (click here for an example).  So, when your sauce is almost ready, it's time to test it out.  Boil some spaghetti according to package directions.  When draining, reserve about 3 cups of pasta water.  Place 2 cups into the pasta sauce and boil rapidly until it thickens.  Toss with your spaghetti.  Here's a little trick I like to use with my pasta water: cook the pasta until it's about 1-2 minutes away from being ready, then place it, along with your pasta sauce and one cup of pasta water, in a pan and cook on high heat for 2-3 minutes (the pasta will cook more slowly in the sauce then in plain water), or until the water has evaporated and the pasta is cooked through.  I promise it makes everything super delicious.

Top pasta with freshly grated Parmesan cheese, a little balsamic if you choose, and eat immediately.  Marvel at your skills.  Pat yourself on the back, have some red wine!  Cheers!

The Lazy Girl's Guide to Jelly-Making, part 2

 
I'm really enjoying this "make one cup of jelly at a time" thing (read the first installment of The Lazy Girl's Guide to Jelly Making).  I've discovered that, despite one's love for sour cherries, choosing a fruit which has a high pectin content actually makes for a more satisfying end product.  It saves all of that having to deal with pectin nonsense.  From this past week's farm market purchases, I made this lovely deep, dark jelly.  In about half an hour.  Go Lisa!  I think I've already eaten about a third of it.

Again, I can't guarantee this will work with all sorts of fruits, but most berries have a naturally high pectin content, which means you will almost always have a pleasing outcome, and who doesn't love that?  Blueberries are especially high in pectin, so pretty much anytime you add them, you will have a nice turn out.  Blueberries have so much pectin, in fact, that you can make a dessert sauce out of them with nothing but sugar, and it will stand up on its own, no corn starch or anything required.  Just put them in a bowl and toss with sugar.  Stir and let sit for a half hour or so.  Press through a fine mesh sieve.  In about half an hour, the juice will have congealed.  Easy Peasy!

But we're here to discuss this dark berry jelly - isn't it pretty?  Place one pint of blueberries and one pint of blackberries in a medium saucepan, sprinkle with about 2 tbsp sugar, and add about 2 tbsp water.  Throw in half a lemon, just for good measure (and a little acidity).  Heat over low heat, mashing with a potato masher, for about 15 minutes, or until all of the fruit is crushed.  Pour into a fine mesh strainer (again, I like to place my chinois stand over a one-liter measuring bowl) and allow the juices to strain out for about an hour.  You can stir to encourage the juices, but be aware that pressing on the pulp might lead to cloudy jelly.  After all of the juice has been extracted, measure it.  I had about 12 ounces.  Return it to the sauce pan.

Measure out your desired amount of sugar.  I have to confess I don't like my jelly very sweet, which is why making it for myself in these little batches is perfect.  I used about 1/3 the amount of sugar to the amount of juice (4 ounces of sugar to 12 ounces juice).  Add the sugar in, along with the juice of the other half of the lemon.  Simmer over low heat for about 15 minutes, stirring and skimming frequently.  Place in a hot sterilized jar, allow to cool for 12 hours at room temperature, and then refrigerate.  This sort of non-processed jelly will last about 3 weeks in the fridge. 

The Lazy Girl's Guide to Jelly Making

So I bought some currants awhile ago at the North Market (from Comb's Herbs, the only people to sell currants so far that I've seen), and they kind of languished in the fridge for a day or two.  Every time I looked at them, I thought about how much I love red currant jelly, and thought to myself "If only I weren't so afraid of canning.  And surely there aren't enough currants to make a decent batch of jelly."  And then I decided fears were to be confronted - or avoided, rather - because I was going to make jelly!  One pint!  That was the perfect solution.  Then there would be no canning!  Nothing to be frightened of!  Just one pint for eating right away!

It was the perfect solution.  Too often, I think of preserving as this huge process that's going to take all day and be hot and miserable, but it doesn't have to be; you can just use whatever you have on hand.  In this case, I used up the currants and also the sugary liquid from some leftover sliced strawberries for a little sweetness.

Here's my method, which I can no way guarantee will work with all sorts of fruit, and you might want to consult your nearest preserve-making book to see what sorts of fruits might need added pectin, etc.  Here is a more reliable source for jelly-related information.  I just wanted to show how you can make small amounts of preserves without getting in over your head.  I think it should go without saying that you should not attempt to make preserves with anything except the best fruit.  If you can't do that, you may as well buy a good pre-made preserve and just let someone else do the work.

Red Currant Jelly - makes about one pint

1 pint red currants, stray leaves plucked off but stems left on
1 cup leftover juice (I had one cup of juice leftover from sliced strawberries; this is optional)
sugar
1/4 cup lemon juice

Place the currants, stems and all, in a large sauce pan and sprinkle with just a tbsp or so of sugar and about the same of the fruit juice, just to get the juices flowing.  Heat over medium heat, mashing with a pestle or potato masher until all of the currants are mushed and you have a lot of juice - about 10 minutes.  Place in a jelly bag, fine mesh sieve, or chinois set over a bowl to allow the juice to strain out.  I like to set it over a big (one liter) measuring beaker so that I don't have to measure the juice after this step.  You can gently press down on the fruit pulp to extract all the juice, but keep in mind this might make the jelly slightly cloudy.  Allow to drain until all the juice has run off (I like to leave it an hour or so).  Add in the leftover juice, if using, and measure.  I had about 2 1/4 cups. 

Place the juice back into the saucepan, add the lemon juice, and add sugar.  I think the standard on sugar adding is to add 3/4ths sugar to the amount of juice.  Some people even go up to equal parts juice and sugar, but that is way too much for me.  In this case, I added about half as much sugar as I had juice, but that was because there was already sugar in the strawberry liquid.  I like jellies made from sour fruits because I am a sour girl who likes things to maintain their sourness after processing (currants, cherries, rhubarb, Husbands, what-have-you).

Heat the juice over medium heat until it begins to simmer, and keep at a simmer (turn heat to medium low if necessary).  Simmer, stirring occasionally and skimming off any foam, for about 30 minutes and then begin to test your set.  Place a few saucers in the freezer.  Test your set by placing a spoonful of jelly onto a cold saucer and then running you finger through it.  Your jelly is ready when your finger leaves a line in the jelly and you can lick jelly off your finger.  Be careful, because there is nothing hotter than simmering sugary liquid.  Allow the jelly to sit on the plate for a few seconds before you put finger in.  There is a more technical way to do this with a candy thermometer, but this is the lazy, artistically minded guide to jelly making, not the sciency brain way of doing it.  If you want that, you'll have to convince Husband to make some jelly.  Good luck with that.

My jelly took about 45 minutes to reach a set, but you should begin checking after 30 minutes just in case.  You don't want to end up with hard candy.  When the jelly is set, place it in a hot, clean jar (such as one fresh from the dishwasher) and allow it to cool to room temperature before refrigerating.

When the jelly is cool, go to the North Market and pick up a croissant from Omega bakery, bring it home and spread on your new jelly, enjoying it bite by bite as you pat yourself on the back and commend yourself on your amazing housewifery skills.

Tune in later this week for the lazy girl's guide to sour cherry jelly making!  Will it set?  Nobody knows!

Thanksgiving Recipes I've Known & Loved

Well, it's about that time of year again.  I realize I posted this same think last year, but, as Thanksgiving comes every year, it's that time again.  Here are a few of my tried and true recipes (they are not, of course, all original to me, I just mean I've made them all a hundred times and they never fail me):

Party Potatoes
Sweet Potato Casserole (don't let the term casserole scare you - I promise, even lifelong sweet potatoe haters will love this)
Lisa's Perfect Sprouts
Pumpkin Cheesecake
Bon Appetit's Creamed Corn Gratin
Alton Brown's Turkey
Alton Brown's Cranberry Sauce
Lisa's Green Beans with Bacon

Happy Eating!

Hot Nectarine Chutney

I suppose you could also call this a compote, if you happen to hate the word chutney.  I made this little condiment from the bounty of last week's farmer's market - nectarines from Gillogly orchard, chiles from another vendor at the Worthington Farmer's Market who I've sadly forgotten, onions from my CSA - and I served it on top of pork chops I purchased from Oink!Moo!Cluck! farm, also at the Worthington Farmer's Market.  OMC farm has the hands-down best set up at the market; I will have to take a picture of it tomorrow to show you, dear readers.  The pork chops were very tasty and they were perfectly packaged for Husband and me - there was a giant chop for Husband and a baby one for me.  I think the lady selling it to me thought I was crazy when I said that to her - she looked at me like "yes, there are 2 chops in there, good for you."  I had to point out the size difference.  I also served my green beans with bacon for green bean haters, which you can read about here.

But!  I digress!  You could, of course, substitute peaches here.  You can also add the fruit all at once, but I like to have some of the fruit soft and jammy, and some still with a little toothiness to it.  The chutney should end up sweet and fruity with a surprising hot kick.  Very nice on pork or duck, and probably on rabbit, too.

Hot Nectarine Chutney - makes about 6 ounces or so

olive oil
2 small red onions, or one small onion and one shallot
salt
1 small red chile, seeded and very finely chopped
2 white nectarines, chopped into 1/2" dice
fruity vinegar (I used Trader Joe's pomegranate vinegar, which is perfect here)
1 tbsp sugar

Heat a little olive oil in a small sauce pan over medium heat and add the onions and a pinch of salt, cooking gently for about 3 minutes, until they begin to soften, then add the chile and cook for another 5 minutes.  Add half of the nectarines and deglaze the pan with 1 tbsp of the vinegar.  Sprinkle the sugar over, lower the heat to medium-low and cook, stirring frequently, until the fruit is very soft - 10 minutes or so, adding vinegar as necessary to moisten the pan.  Taste and adjust seasoning.  Add the remaining fruit and cook until fruit is softened but not mushy, another 5 minutes or so.

Tri Pepper Preserve

One of my favorite things in Columbus is the fried chicken at G. Michael's Bistro in German Village.  The chicken, and occasionally other dishes, is always topped with a delicious candied bell pepper relish, and finally one day I got the recipe from Executive Chef David Tetzloff.  After the cutting and stirring, it is relatively simple to make; it is a little time consuming, as all preserve-making is.

1 each: red bell pepper, green bell pepper, yellow bell pepper, all seeded, ribs removed and cut to medium-small dice (1/2 cm)

1red onion, chopped to medium-small dice

1 garlic clove, mashed with knife - not pressed, as the whole clove will be fished out later

2 cups cider vinegar

2 cups sugar

a few dashes Tabasco

1 1/2 tsp salt, or to taste

Combine ingredients in a heavy saucepan and cook over medium heat, stirring frequently, until reduced to soft ball stage, about 45 minutes to an hour.  Remove garlic clove.  Put in a clean jar and refrigerate.  This recipe makes about one cup of preserve and lasts "forever," according to Chef Tetzloff. 

The preserve is a great condiment and is particularly good as a foil to cream sauces; it is also good on sandwiches, crackers, etc.  I pictured it topping a little cream cheese, just for contrast.  But I ate it and it was also good.

3 peppers in a pot, waiting to be boiled

finished product, with typically stunning fuzziness