Friday, July 18, 2008

Blackberry Ice Cream

Chillin' Out

Blackberry Ice Cream

I grew up on a farm named Direenfinhilid, a Gaelic word roughly meaning "pretty little oak grove." And in fact, the house my parents built was surrounded by oaks ranging from 50 to 150 years old. Behind the house was a field belonging to someone else that hadn't been maintained, as a result it had become a solid acre of wild blackberry bushes — blackberries that ripened mid-summer.

Every year my father would organize three or four berry-picking expeditions, out-fitting us with empty paint cans to collect the berries in. Each expedition would last until we were sated on berries and stained blue, our hands and arms were covered with scratches (despite long pants and long-sleeved shirts), and our complaints about the heat finally exceeded Dad's desire for more berries. Then we'd make our way back to the house where we'd sort the berries from the twigs and leaves that also ended up in the buckets.

Back in those halcyon days ice cream was easy for adults to make when they had kids to do the cranking.

Dad or Mom would make a blackberry cobbler that night and they'd freeze the rest of the berries. Often the end of the berry season would coincide with the first of the peach season and we'd have a blackberry/peach cobbler — a pairing made in heaven. But one thing I don’t recall eating as a child is blackberry ice cream.

We certainly made ice cream throughout the summer. Back in those halcyon days ice cream was easy for adults to make when they had kids to do the cranking — childless couples didn't eat homemade ice cream back then, too much work. I recall peach ice cream (a favorite of mine), strawberry ice cream, chocolate and vanilla for sure, and lemon (not a favorite of mine), but I don't recall blackberry ice cream. So, although my first thought was "cobbler" when I saw blackberries at the farmers' market, my second was ice cream.

I'm not actually an ice cream fan, but thanks to Dave Lebovitz pointing to a sale at Amazon a few weeks back I now own a Cusinart ice cream maker and I'm exploring it. So blackberry ice cream seemed like a great idea. Turns out, it was.

Blackberry Ice Cream
Makes 1 1/2 quarts.

1 pint (12 oz.) blackberries
1/4 cup plus 1/3 cup sugar, divided
1/2 cup milk
2 cups half-and-half
4 large egg yolks
1/4 tsp. ground cardamom
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

Heat milk, half-and-half, and 1/3 cup sugar in a 1 qt. sauce pan over medium heat until almost simmering (175F) stirring frequently. (A few bubbles begin to appear.)

In the meantime: Puree the berries and strain through a fine-mesh sieve, stirring and pressing with a spoon to eliminate seeds, then whisk egg yolks with 1/4 cup sugar, salt, and cardamom in a medium bowl.

When milk is hot, slowly pour half into egg mixture, whisking vigorously. Then whisk milk and egg mixture into remaining milk. Heat over medium-low heat until almost simmering (175F). At this point a few bubbles begin to appear and the mixture lightly coats the back of a spoon.

Pour custard (milk and egg mixture) through a sieve into a clean bowl and cool to room temperature. Add berry puree and chill for four hours.

Churn according the ice cream-maker directions, then scoop into a plastic container and freeze for another 2 - 4 hours before serving.

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Friday, July 11, 2008

Coffee Granita

An Italian Morning

Coffee Granita

My laptop has always had battery problems and so I've relied on the AC adapter. However, years of reliance on it has resulted in the connection to the computer loosening and so the plug often falls out.when I shift the machine on the couch (where it lives). But the battery finally reached the point where it couldn't keep the computer running long enough to go into hibernate mode when the plug fell out.

I hadn't replaced the battery because 1) batteries for this sucker are way expensive and 2) I've seldom needed the battery — there's usually an AC outlet available. Nevertheless, when it got to the point where I was losing work it was time to accede gracefully to the inevitable and buy a new battery. This morning that investment really paid off.

Cool, very light, and richly flavored, a granita is an outstanding summertime treat.

I awoke at 8:00 to beautifully clear day thanks to yesterday's thunderstorms. And, also thanks to the thunderstorms, it was neither too hot nor too muggy to sit outside on the balcony, check my email (because I now have a working battery) and eat a bite of breakfast.

It was wonderfully nostalgic and in gestalt reminded me of a morning in Italy. Partially this was because of the nature of my breakfast — coffee granita and a croissant.

Although they're a pain to make (requiring minimal, but frequent attention) I'm fond of granitas. Cool, very light, and richly flavored, a granita is an outstanding summertime treat. You can make them with wine, champagne, fruit juice, or — my favorite — coffee.

I've been planning on this post for a couple of weeks and finally made the granita a couple of days ago. The fact that this morning was perfect for really enjoying it was pure serendipity.

Coffee Granita
Serves 6.


4 cups hot, very strong, brewed coffee (a dark roast made at double strength or espresso is best)
1 cup sugar
lightly sweetened whipped cream

Dissolve sugar in hot coffee and cool to room temperature. Pour into a 9 x 13 pan and place in the freezer.

Every 30 minutes, stir the mixture with a whisk, scraping the sides, and return to freezer. When mixture is about 80 to 90 percent frozen, use a fork instead of the whisk.

Use a fork to stir the granita again just before serving. This produces mounds of loose crystals. The ultimate texture is up to you and how often and thoroughly you stir. I think the best have the mouth-feel of snow — as though flakes of coffee have formed high in the heavens and then drifted to earth. Whatever the texture, chill the serving bowls or glasses in the refrigerator to avoid having the granita melt too quickly. Serve topped with whipped cream.

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Monday, July 07, 2008

Blueberry Ice Cream

Summer Treat

Blueberry Ice Cream

You can find the recipe at Cooking for Two.

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Friday, November 16, 2007

Bourbon Cake

Marvelous Stuff!

Bourbon Cake

This article was originally posted in 2006.

Thanksgiving is America's best holiday. It's unencumbered with gifts and cards and similar commercial holiday paraphernalia. There is no long, drawn-out prelude to the holiday beginning after Labor Day. And although the point is giving thanks to whichever deity one believes in, it doesn't harp on the issue — a shared prayer at the dinner table is generally regarded as sufficient. Following that prayer is the high point and main point of the holiday — an over-the-top feast shared with family and friends. What more could one ask for? And why, if this is the way I feel, am I bringing it up a month early?

Bear with me.

Growing up, everyone in my house contributed something to the feast whether it was making cranberry relish or baking a pie. Lots of focused, shared activity and good smells. Around four in the afternoon, if it wasn't raining, my father would organize a walk. We'd tramp through the sere fields and bare woods of our farm. Often it was cold, but if it wasn't cloudy as well Dad would take pictures of us. (Something I particularly hated.) Then we'd return to a waiting fire and the last minute organization of the meal.

Click to enlarge.

Like many families, the day after Thanksgiving marked the beginning of the Christmas season. Unlike most families this didn't mean shopping. Instead Mom and Dad would begin preparing the Christmas feast. Dad made his eggnog base (which then aged for a month) and a fruit cake. Mom made her mother's (Mummo's) Bourbon Cake.

With an electric mixer, she'd beat the butter and sugar together in a large stainless steel bowl and then mix in the eggs, flour, and bourbon producing an unremarkable cake batter. Then Dad would haul down "the big bowl" for the final step.

The big bowl, cut from a single block of mahogany, was about 20" in diameter and about 7" deep. It needed to be big to accommodate the exertions required to incorporate a pound of nuts and a pound-and-a-half or raisins in a single bowl of batter. I can see Mom, in faded shirt, dark curley hair disarrayed, sweating slightly, wielding a wooden spoon to incorporate the nuts and raisins into the batter. Once mixed, the cake went into a tube pan and then baked for 3-1/2 hours, filling the house with the most wonderful odors. This cake is a serious investment in time and effort. But, oh, how the investment paid off.

When the cake had cooled it was doused with more bourbon, wrapped in aluminum foil, and sealed in a cake tin. Then, once a week until Christmas, the cake would be uncovered and doused with more bourbon. Although potent, even as kids we were permitted a thin slice of it when it was finally served. We loved it. In fact, everyone who tried it loved it. The cake was rich, moist, spicy, chewey, and pungent with bourbon. Marvelous stuff!

I've posted the recipe before, but I wanted to post it again — and do so in time, for those of you interested in a holiday cake recipe dating back to the early 1900s (or earlier), to make it. Note: a good stand mixer obviates the need for "the big bowl."

Mummo's Bourbon Cake

1 c butter — softened
2 c sugar
4 c flour — sifted
4 ea eggs
1 lb pecan pieces
1 1/2 lb white or golden raisins
1 c bourbon
1 tbsp ground cinnamon
1 tbsp ground nutmeg
1 tbsp soda
1/2 tsp salt

Heat oven to 275F. Sift 1 cup flour and mix with nuts and raisins. Sift remaining flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, and soda together. Grease a tube pan and line bottom with parchment paper.

Cream sugar and butter until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, making sure each is incorporated before adding the next one. Alternately add bourbon and flour. Add nuts and raisins.

Pour into tube pan and bake 3 1/2 hours. Remove from oven and cool thoroughly.

Sprinkle generously with additional bourbon, wrap it in aluminum foil with a couple of apple wedges to keep it moist, and place in an air-tight container. Each weekend leading up to Christmas, unwrap cake and sprinkle again with additional bourbon.
My mother no longer makes the cake, but I have her tube pan and her recipe and I'm trying to make it every year and share it with my parents and siblings. Fortunately, it's pretty much immune to spoiling so mailing it to Vermont or Virginia isn't a problem. And given that I made it almost a month early this year, it should be particularly well-seasoned.

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Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Granitas

Granita by Any Name Would Taste as Sweet

Click to enlarge.

During my childhood, one of my father's summer specialties was pineapple-buttermilk sherbet. Put aside thoughts of a creamy, citrus dessert combining a tart tropical taste with the refreshing cool of mountain snow: This was a pan of frozen buttermilk with rock-hard chunks of pineapple embedded in it.

You can read the complete article on Kitchen Window.

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Saturday, June 16, 2007

Blood Orange Granita

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Paisano: Strawberry Shortcake

Paisano: Strawberry Shortcake

Strawberry Shortcake

There was a large patch of gravel in front of the rickety, boarded-up roadside stand, a plywood structure smaller than my closet that it seemed would fall apart if you looked at it closely. I drove by it each day going to and from work when I lived in California and never gave it much thought – just part of the landscape. Then spring arrived and one day I noticed the stand was open. There was no sign indicating what they had, but there was someone in the shadows of the hut, so I pulled in to see what they had.

Inside there was an old oriental man somewhere between 40 and 104 years old and a woman somewhere between 18 and 40. In front of them were trays of strawberries. Small berries, the size of the end of my thumb, perfectly ruby red and ripe. And now that I could look, I noticed that the field behind the stand – perhaps two acres in size – was filled with strawberry plants. I bought a container and, back in the car and headed home, ate a berry, then another, then a third. They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life. Unbelievably good. I had plain strawberries for dinner than night.

They were the sweetest, most intense strawberries I'd ever had in my life.

For a week they were open every other day and I bought a container every other day. For the next week they were open every day and I exercised great will-power and still only bought them every other day, for a final week they were again only open every other day. And then they were gone, the season over, the gravel lot deserted.

I mourned, but this is what seasonal eating is about. You get while the getting's good. And I got good.

A year later the Paisano dropped by while the stand was operating and I had the pleasure of introducing him to these glorious gems. He was suitably impressed – and impressing him isn’t easy to do. I bought two quarts and told him I was going to make him strawberry shortcake. He was horrified.

He asked me how, as someone who loved food, who understood respecting the food, as a person he had taken under his wing and taught to eat (conveniently forgetting the 40-odd years I'd been eating before meeting him) I could make that… and he lapsed into Hungarian or Romanian or whatever language it is he uses when he's cursing. (He won't tell me and I can't figure it out beyond it being Central European.)

Anyway, I finally got him calmed down and determined his experience with strawberry shortcake had involved commercial angel food cake and that nasty gloppy strawberry jelly the grocery stores sell. I told him this wasn't what I was making. I told him I was making strawberry shortcake like my momma made – but even better.

We got back to my place and capped then halved the berries. I added just enough sugar to bring out the juices, and a healthy dollop of Fra Angelica. Strawberries pair beautifully with nut flavors and the Fra Angelica (as well as Amaretto) highlights them delightfully. While I was prepping the berries, I put Paisano to work skinning a handful of hazelnuts.

We let the berries macerate for about three hours.

When I was growing up my mother made strawberry shortcake using the shortcake recipe on the back of the Bisquik box. I confess I still do that myself sometimes, but for this occasion I wanted to convince the Paisano that this was a truly worthy dish. So I used a scone recipe and, after grinding the hazelnuts into flour substituted them for part of the flour. So now I had hazelnuts in the berries and the shortcake.

I placed a warm biscuit on each plate, added berries, and then unsweetened whipped cream. Paisano, took a bite. Chewed it slowly. Then another bite. He raised his glass of wine to me and said, "Bella." This is the word he uses to say something is as beautiful as a woman, it's a special complement.

Strawberry Shortcake

Strawberries:
2 quarts strawberries – capped and halved or quartered, depending on size
2 - 4 tbsp sugar – depending on berries sweetness
3 tbsp Fra Angelica
Shortcake:
1 3/4 c all purpose flour
1/4 cup hazelnut flour
1/4 c sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
3/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 tbsp butter – melted
1 c buttermilk

Prep the strawberries at least three hours in advance and as long as six hours before eating. Taste a couple of berries to get an idea of how sweet they are, then add the Fra Angelica and as much sugar as seems necessary. (Note: You do want to add some sugar because it draws the juices out of the berries.) Cover with plastic, and allow to macerate on the counter-top (refrigerating them will slow down the maceration and dull the flavor).

When ready to eat, heat oven to 450F.

To make the shortcake, place the flour, hazelnut flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a bowl and mix thoroughly. Add the buttermilk and butter and stir in. You’ll end up with a sticky dough. Flour your hands and turn dough out onto a well-floured surface. Using your hands gently pat out into 6 by 9 inch rectangle. Using a 3 inch biscuit cutter, cut out as many rounds as you can (you should end up with six). Place rounds on an ungreased cookie sheet, shape remaining dough into a round and add it to the sheet.

Bake until well-browned on top (if you wish, you can melt some additional butter and brush the tops) – 12 - 15 minutes. Cut hot cakes in half and set on plates. Drizzle with strawberry juices then distribute strawberries and top with whipped cream. Eat immediately.
And the Paisano? He was delighted. In fact he actually made me write down the scone recipe.

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