Valentine's Day Dessert: Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Peppered Berry Coulis

Though pretty much ready to burst after all of that duck and cauliflower, dessert remained.  We lingered over our dinner plates for a long while and continued to enjoy our wine to allow ourselves to digest a bit in the name of stuffing ourselves further.  Thankfully, my menu planning was done under the assumption that we'd be in a state of near (or over-) satiety after the entree, so dessert was light.  

One of the benefits of preparing your own food, as opposed to eating out, is that you are in control of what goes into it. Which is all well and good when you're cooking healthfully.  Obviously the flip side is that you know precisely what has gone into your food, and sometimes a rich chocolate dessert does not seem like the very best idea after your kale caesar, or your butter and wine-sauced duck.  This is all to say that I eschewed chocolate on Valentine's day.  Better to leave a romantic meal feeling rejuvenated by a bright dessert than stuffed and comatose after caloric overload.  Besides, Robbie loves panna cotta, and there is something almost sensual about its smooth, delicate, velvety nature.

Of course, let's be clear, this isn't exactly health food either - things with heavy cream rarely are, unfortunately.  But this panna cotta is tangy, bright, delicious, and shockingly easy to make.  The buttermilk lends an almost yogurt-like quality, which was played up by the vanilla and the berries on top - like your breakfast parfait snuck under the bleachers and took up with the Skanks.  

Though I've yet to try, I imagine this recipe takes well to adaptation; as a coffee yogurt lover (of both the frozen and non-frozen varieties), I already know where I'll be taking it next.

Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Peppered Berry Sauce

Panna Cotta recipe from Bon Appetit

Makes 6 servings

The original recipe from Bon Appetit makes enough for six ramekins.  Since we were only two, I halved the recipe and since I have but a single ramekin, I poured the mixture into big mugs, which worked just fine.  Since I'm no panna cotta expert, I decided not to futz around with the recipe otherwise, so it's merely copied below from Epicurious.    

• 2 tablespoons water
• 1 1/2 teaspoons unflavored gelatin
• Nonstick vegetable oil spray

• 1 cup whipping cream
• 1 teaspoon finely grated lemon peel
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 2 cups buttermilk
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Pour 2 tablespoons water into small bowl; sprinkle gelatin over. Let stand until gelatin softens, about 10 minutes. Lightly spray six 3/4-cup ramekins or custard cups with nonstick spray.

Heat cream, lemon peel, and sugar in medium saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring constantly until sugar dissolves. Increase heat and bring just to low boil, stirring occasionally. Add gelatin mixture; remove from heat. Stir until gelatin dissolves. Cool mixture to lukewarm, stirring often. Stir in buttermilk and vanilla; divide mixture among prepared ramekins. Refrigerate panna cotta until set, about 4 hours. DO AHEAD: Can be made 2 days ahead. Cover and keep chilled.

Using small sharp knife, cut around panna cotta in each ramekin. Place plate atop each ramekin and invert, allowing panna cotta to settle onto plate.

Peppered Berry Sauce

Makes 3 servings

The Bon Appetit recipe suggests a simple thawed frozen berry topping for the panna cotta.  I took it a bit further and cooked the berries on the stovetop for a little while to add some extra oomph.  I didn't quite measure what I added to that pot, but what follows is an approximation. Note that these are the amounts I used to top the halved panna cotta recipe.  While we had leftover sauce (which, as predicted, were awesome in yogurt), you may wish to double this recipe if making the full batch. Also, don't do what I did and top the cold panna cotta with hot berries - I suggest waiting just a couple of minutes for them to cool down just a tad.

1/2 package frozen mixed berries, or approximately 6 ounces, thawed 

pinch of salt

2 tablespoons sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper (or more, depending on your tastes)

Place the berries in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, add the salt, sugar and two tablespoons of water.  Cook until the sugar is dissolved and the berries are warmed through and starting to break down a bit.  Add the lemon juice and black pepper and stir to combine.  Adjust pepper to taste.  Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly before spooning atop panna cotta.

Valentine’s Day Dinner: Duck Breast with Red Wine Sauce and Cauliflower Two Ways

Lest you think I cooked my devoutly carnivorous boyfriend a mere salad for valentine's dinner, there was much more in store.  Admittedly, despite my affection for kale, a kale salad does not a valentine’s meal make. Though I'd told him a few times that I was planning on an entirely vegan valentine's feast (which he had, in fact, assured me he would devour without question), my plan was to cook something out of the ordinary. 

Yes, that is a little heart drawn in red wine sauce. Yes, I am a dork.

 I wracked my brain a couple of weeks ago, trying to remember the last time I cooked a piece of meat at home (bacon, soup and random meats cooked in the homes of others excepted).  From my recollection, it had been about four years.  Yes, seriously, four fucking years.  I am not a big meat eater - this we know - but this still shocked me.  Sure, I’ve cooked a few pieces of fish here and there, but even those were few and far between.  Valentine’s Day seemed as good a reason as any to test my meat-cooking chops again and see just how rusty I’d become.  This is not to say that, prior to the last four years, I’d been a huge meat eater / cooker – I never really have been, and my meat eating tends to be relegated to restaurants and the homes of family and friends.   Since this was a special meal, though, I decided to go big, and settled on duck breasts.  Duck, done well, is awesome – tender, juicy and so flavorful that any comparison to its poultry brethren is entirely misguided. 

So after our salads, I left Rob for a few moments with bread and room temperature Icelandic butter sprinkled with crunchy sea salt, and of course a glass of red, to keep him occupied for the few minutes it would take me to retreat to the kitchen to put the finishing touches on and plate our second course.  Everything was pretty much ready – the duck was removed from the fire just before I served the salad, so it was able to rest while we filled ourselves with roughage.  I had prepared the sauce and cauliflower puree earlier in the day, and had kept them over low heat during kale time, so those were the perfect temperature.  The only aspect I didn’t time quite well enough was the roasted cauliflower, which sadly got a bit cold – but it was delicious nonetheless.

Rob admitted as we were eating that he had been a bit skeptical when I told him I was making duck.  I don’t think he realized it’d been four years since I cooked a nice piece of meat, but he knew that it’d been a damn long time.  As we were eating, he admitted this to me, and said that he’d been worried for no reason.  I had to agree – the duck was really great – the skin was perfectly crisp, the meat soft and tender, and the simple flavorings spot-on.  The wine sauce was the perfect accent – leading with wine, deepened by the flavor of duck tenderloins; rich, yet light.  Since the red wine imbued a bit of sweetness to the plate, I paired the dish with cauliflower, which I find has a subtle, natural sweetness.  I also love having a range of textures on my plate, so I opted to treat the cauliflower two ways: pureed for velvety smoothness, and roasted for crunch.  The roasted cauliflower, which I took from Smitten Kitchen, was topped with pomegranate arils post-roasting, which provided for a tart-sweet-juicy pop; a bit of a surprise texture that also served to highlight the sweet notes in the cauliflower and tie it together with the sauce.  Once plated, I took a step back and felt pretty proud of myself.  It was a well-composed, pretty, thoughtful and frankly delicious plate of food.   And I didn't go bonkers in the process. 

Peppered Duck Breasts with Red Wine Sauce

From this New York Times recipe

Serves 2

My duck breasts were significantly smaller than those called for in the original recipe, so each serving was a full breast.  I couldn't finish nearly all of it, but Robbie cleaned his plate with no problems.   Though I thought the duck could have been taken from the heat a good 45 seconds earlier, Rob thought they were cooked perfectly. 

2 duck breasts, about 6 ounces each

Kosher Salt

1 tablespoon freshly crushed black peppercorns (I laid them out in a bowl so they wouldn't escape and used the bottom of a glass bottle to crush them)

2 garlic cloves, sliced

Thyme sprigs

1 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 small shallot, sliced thinly

1 1/2 teaspoons tomato paste ( I like to use the tomato paste in the tube so that you don't have to open up a whole can for just a little bit)

2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons medium-bodied red wine

1 cups unsalted chicken broth

1 1/5 teaspoons brandy

1 teaspoons potato or corn starch.

Remove the tenderloins, thin strips of meat on undersides of the duck breast, and reserve for the sauce. (NOTE: My duck breasts were already trimmed for the most part, but there were a couple of small strips of meat that came off with trimming the rest of the fat away, so I used those and a bit of the extra skin for this purpose. I mean, can you go wrong with extra duck skin? (FYI - No.).) With a sharp knife, trim away any gristle from the undersides and trim any excess fat from the edges of the breasts, preferably without slicing away the top four layers of skin on your thumb (cooking with a paper towel bandaged around your finger is inconvenient at best). With a VERY sharp knife, core the skin in a diamond-shaped pattern, without cutting to the meat. Lightly sprinkle salt on both sides, then rub 1 teaspoon crushed black peppercorns all over. Sprinkle with the garlic and a few thyme sprigs, cover, and leave at room temperature for an hour. (For deeper flavor, refrigerate for several hours or overnight, then return to room temperature to cook.)

Heat 1/2 tablespoon of the unsalted butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the shallot and the reserved duck tenderloins; let them brown well, stirring occasionally, 5 to 8 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and a small thyme sprig and let them fry for a minute, then add 2 tablespoons of red wine and the chicken broth. Raise the heat to a brisk simmer and let the liquid reduce to a bit less than 3/4 cup, about 10 minutes. Strain the sauce and return to the heat. Add the remaining tablespoon red wine and the brandy and cook for 1 minute more. In a small bowl, dissolve potato or corn starch in a tablespoon of cold water, then stir into sauce. Whisk in the remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter. Taste and add salt as necessary. (Sauce may be made in advance and reheated, thinned with a little broth.)

Remove and discard the garlic and thyme sprigs from the breasts. Heat a large heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat. When the pan is hot, lay in the duck breasts skin side down and let them sizzle. Lower the heat to medium and cook for a total of 7 minutes, checking to make sure the skin isn’t browning too quickly. With tongs, turn the breasts over and let them cook on the bottom side, 3 minutes for rare, 4 to 5 minutes for medium-rare. Transfer to a warm platter and let rest for 10 minutes. Slice crosswise, not too thickly, at a slight angle. Serve with the sauce.

 Cumin-Roasted Cauliflower with Pomegranate and Mint

 Serves 2 generously

 Adapted very slightly from this recipe over at Smitten Kitchen

I didn't really measure anything for this recipe.  I drizzled olive oil over the cauliflower just until it was evenly coated, then spilled out waht appeared to be a teaspoon of cumin seeds into my palm. I decided to forego the yogurt, since we had a creamy element on the plate already, and I felt the tanginess would overpower the other items on the plate.  This recipe, if you can really call it that, is such a keeper.  The cumin seeds elevate it from the ordinary, and the mint and pomegranate give an otherwise earthy dish a load of brightness and a little bit of spunk.

  

1 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium - large head cauliflower

1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Chopped fresh mint

1/4 cup pomegranate arils

Preheat oven to 425°F.Lightly coat a baking sheet with olive oil or cooking spray.

Cut your cauliflower into bite-size florets and place on baking tray.  Drizzle over the olive oil and sprinkle with cumin seeds, salt and pepper.  Toss to coat evenly. Toss florets with remaining olive oil, cumin seeds, salt and pepper and spread out on prepared tray. Roast for 20 to 30 minutes, until the cauliflower is cooked through and well-browned. Keep a watchful eye towards those later minutes - the line between crispy and carcinogenic is sometimes a tough one to toe when you're doing a bunch of things at once in the kitchen.  

That said, I LOVE those near-black pieces. When the cauliflower is done to your liking, remove it from the heat and sprinkle with mint and pomegranate seeds.

Cauliflower Puree with Feta and Garlic

Serves about 4

Inspired by this recipe

This stuff is so good, you may never turn to mashed potatoes again.  May... 

Yes, I put this in a bowl just to get a picture of it and then put it immediately back into the pot. Again, dork.

1 head cauliflower, 2 to 2 1/2 pounds

1 1/2 cup chicken broth

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese

2 cloves garlic, peeled and roughly chopped

Core the cauliflower and cut it into evenly-sized, about bite-sized, florets.  Pour the chicken broth into a steamer pot and add water so that you have about an inch of liquid.  Steam the cauliflower over the liquid until a paring knife inserted into the florets is met with little (but some) resistance, about 15 minutes.  Remove half the cauliflower from the steamer and place in your food processor of blender.  Transfer the cooking liquid (about a cup's worth) to a measuring cup, and pour about 1/2 of a cup of the liquid into the blender / processor.  Puree the cauliflower until it's smooth.  Add the rest of the cauliflower and the garlic to the blender.  Add a few more tablespoons of cooking liquid (just enough to allow the machine to process it) and puree until smooth.  Add more cooking liquid as needed, with the intent of adding as little of possible, as you don't want your puree to be watery.  Once smooth, add the butter, feta cheese, salt and pepper to the machine and process until combined.  Check for flavoring; you may wish to add more feta cheese, salt or pepper to suit your taste. 

I prepared my puree ahead of time, and let it sit over low heat.  This allowed for a bit of the excess liquid to evaporate, so we were left with a smooth, creamy, decadent-tasting puree that was really quite healthy (and really delicious).  

Note: If you're hesitant to plunk some raw garlic into your puree, you can place it in the pot with the cooking liquid while you steam the cauliflower.  This will imbue the cauliflower with a very faint garlic aroma, and will significantly take the edge off of the garlic before you puree it.   You can go halfsies too and keep one raw and one slightly leeched of flavor.

Valentine's Day Dinner: Kale Caesar

I took charge of Valentine’s Day dinner this year.  Sure, we could have gone out, feasted on an overpriced, underwhelming prix fixe menu, crushed between loads of other amorous patrons, but why would I pass up the opportunity to cook an awesome meal to share with the person I love?  It’s so much more personal, so much more intimate, so much more special when you have personally orchestrated a really special evening for an immeasurably special person.  An opportunity to create a memory that we can share down the road, which seems only fair given the number of memories Robbie has bestowed upon me (and the amount of my crazy he's put up with). 

I haven’t been cooking (either for me, or him, or both or us) nearly as much as I’d like to lately, so I took the holiday as an excuse and ran with it, cooking up a storm and, somehow, not being a complete, frazzled mess of a human being when it was actually time to sit down and eat.  Some good advance planning on my part led to a well-orchestrated and well-timed meal that, if I may indulge myself for a moment, was pretty bad ass. 

To say that I like a good kale salad is a vast understatement.  I fucking love a good kale salad.  It’s easy, it’s healthy, it’s versatile and it’s delicious – what’s not to like?  While I typically just massage a bit of lemon and oil into it and let it sit for a few minutes before tacking some other stuff on top, Valentine’s day calls for something a bit more indulgent.  I find Caesar salads to typically be imbalanced; the dressing far too heavy and intense for the delicate romaine beneath.  But kale is a perfect vehicle – it’s heartiness and bite allow it to withstand the onslaught of yolk and garlic, of anchovy and oil.  Frank, a great Italian standby in my neighborhood, makes a fantastic, simple black kale Caesar, but I rarely order it, since I know exactly what goes into Caesar dressing, and despite its virtuous base, it’s not exactly health food.  But this seemed like a great opportunity to recreate it, and get the meal off to an arguably healthy start. 

I searched the interwebs for kale Caesar recipes, finding that, while the ingredients themselves don’t vary too much, the proportions vary widely.  Some dressings call for up to one and a half cups of olive oil, albeit for more salad than I was planning on serving.  That just seemed egregious to me, so I followed a far more wholesome-sounding lead, and went with a recipe I found on Serious Eats.  I made the entire dressing recipe, though used less kale than called for since we were only two (I anticipated leftovers), played around (very) slightly with proportions, and dressed it relatively lightly.  This recipe did not include croutons, but I find them to be an integral aspect of a Caesar, so I threw some well-oiled bread chunks into the oven while I whizzed together the dressing, which came together in minutes.  It was a smart choice for a first course, since I was able to throw it together completely before well in advance of the more complicated main course (which I'll get to in another post). Which is only another reason why kale salads should be embraced: they don’t need to be dressed immediately before serving.  The dressing tenderizes the kale and makes it more palatable, not to mention easier to chew and digest.  Whereas a mixed green salad, for instance, would be a soggy, drippy, inedible mess after a couple of days in the fridge, a kale salad persists, and is no less delicious for it. 

Kale Caesar Salad

Adapted, slightly, from here

Makes 2 generous first-course servings, with leftovers (or, I suppose, three first-course servings)

About 5 one-inch thick slices of bread, preferably slightly stale (I used a European country boule), cut into one inch-ish chunks

1 tablespoon olive oil

Salt to taste

7 ounces kale

2 medium cloves garlic

Kosher salt

2 anchovy fillets, minced (about 1 teaspoon)

1 large egg yolk

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice,
more to taste

1 teaspoon Dijon mustard

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese,
more for garnish

Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

Make the croutons:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  Place the bread chunks into a bowl large enough to accommodate them, and pour the olive oil over the bread.  Toss the bread to cover with oil, and salt liberally (or to taste).  Spread the bread onto lightly greased or sprayed baking sheet and toast in the oven for 10 minutes, keeping an eye out and shaking the pan as necessary to ensure that they don’t burn.  Remove and allow to cool to room temperature.

Prepare the kale:

Remove the large, thick stems from the center of the kale leaves (easy way to do this is to hold the stalk between your thumb and forefinger and slide your fingers up the stalk, so that the leaves peel away).  If using black kale (also called lacinato or dinosaur kale), you can tear the kale into bite-sized pieces.  If using curly kale or if your kale has a less tender leaf, cut the kale into thin strips by stacking the leaves on top of one another, rolling them tightly, and cutting crosswise.  Place the kale into a large bowl and set aside while you make the dressing.

Make the dressing:

Chop the garlic, sprinkle it with a good pinch of kosher salt, and smash it into a paste with the side of a chef’s knife.  Transfer the paste to a small bowl and add the anchovies (which I also like to smash into a paste before adding to the bowl), the egg yolk, lemon juice and mustard.  Whisk to combine.  Very, VERY slowly, whisking constantly, add the olive oil - first drop by drop, and increasing to a slow stream once the dressing has been emulsified.  Taste and add more Dijon or lemon juice as desired (I added a good amount of Dijon, which I reflected in the above measurements, though I’d venture to say I added more than an additional half teaspoon; I added more lemon as well).

Dress the salad:

Add a few tablespoons of the dressing to the kale bowl, and toss with your hands to coat, massaging the dressing into the leaves a bit.  Add the parmigiano cheese and toss to distribute evenly.  Allow the salad to rest for a few minutes, taste and add more dressing or salt as desired.  Once the salad is dressed to your liking, set it aside until it’s time to serve.  When ready to serve, toss in the croutons (you can add them earlier if you’d like – they won’t get too soggy, but for max crunchiness add them just before plating).  Garnish with a bit more cheese and some fresh ground pepper.  

Sardine and Avocado Sandwich

                            

So, where did we leave off, oh…three months ago? That’s right – that kind-of-sort-of-vegan thing. Well, suffice it to say that my efforts for healthfulness in that journey were not met with success, and for a variety of reasons I have chosen to depart from a mostly-vegan diet. Though many of my meals are still vegan, and I think that it is a truly admirable and healthful way of life, it’s just not right for me, right now. Though I’ve reverted back to my fish and cheese and egg-eating ways (oh runny yolks, how I missed you), I haven’t been as quick to jump back on the totally-omnivorous track, though perhaps that will come. Phew, now that that’s off my chest, we can proceed.

This little meal here I think serves as a wonderful bridge between my last post and what I imagine for those in the future. While fishing practices for certain species have vastly degraded the environment and left certain fish on the verge of extinction, sardines are an exception and a great sustainable choice, as they’re abundant and have high reproductive rates. Not only that, but those little buggers are healthy as hell, boasting awesome amounts of omega-3s and essential proteins, and since sardines are low in the food chain, the mercury levels in sardines are much, much lower than their big-eye tuna brethren. Eat your sardines from a can and you’ll receive an added bonus: the teeny little bones, which can barely be detected, are a great source of calcium. Oh yea, they're cheap too.

Now I realize what I’m proposing may be a bit of a hard sell. But before you balk at the mere idea of sardines, hear me out. Canned tuna is eaten with vim across this country – and I maintain that canned sardines should be too. Though they’ve gotten a bit of a bad rap from their former status as a recession-friendly food (and, fine, their stink), there are many who take great joy in eating them straight from the can with some mustard and crackers. There’s even an entire blog devoted to them. If the idea of straight tin-to-cracker sardine consumption sounds a bit intense for you, let me propose something a bit more dressed-up, which should calm some fears about the fishiness and “ick factor” of sardines. I can find little fault in a meal of sardines, dressed in a mixture of sherry vinegar, lemon and parsley. Add some avocado and delicious bread, and you have an open-faced sandwich that’s pretty damn good all around.

This sandwich idea comes from Alton Brown, who hailed it as his diet savior – and that makes total sense – this is a meal that is balanced, healthy and totally satisfying. And because sardines are oily fish, the sandwich has a certain richness while still feeling virtuous. So go on, embrace the sardine.

Sardine and Avocado Sandwich

Makes 2 open-faced sandwiches
Adapted from Alton Brown

I usually use one tin per two open-faced sandwiches, though bigger appetites may want to use the whole tin; the leftover sardine mix stays well in the fridge and makes the second sandwich a breeze to prepare. I have used both oil- and water-packed sardines with success. If you use water-packed sardines, be sure to add some oil to the mix, about a tablespoon or so will do, though do note that the oil from the tin lends great flavor to the sandwich. I like to add a little bit of Dijon mustard and onion, but both are entirely optional. Alton recommends brushing the bread with the sardine oil before toasting – I think this is unnecessary.

1 tin sardines
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley, additional for garnish
1.5 – 2 teaspoons sherry vinegar (if you don’t have sherry vinegar, substitute lemon juice, but the sherry really does add a very nice touch)
1/8 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, or to taste (optional)
1 tablespoon onion
2 slices of bread (I like using a whole wheat sourdough; try to pick a bread with a good bite, as opposed to sandwich bread)
½ ripe avocado
salt and pepper to taste

If using oil-packed sardines, drain the oil from the tin into a bowl. If using water-packed, drain off and discard the water and add one tablespoon of olive oil to a bowl. Add the parsley, sherry, lemon zest, and, if using, the mustard and onion to the bowl. Add the sardines and mix to combine, mashing a bit if desired. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside for a few minutes to allow the flavors to combine (in the refrigerator if not using for more than an hour).

When you’re ready to assemble, toast the bread. Mash the avocado half in its skin and divide between the two slices of bread, spreading the avocado evenly to cover the bread. Divide the sardine mixture evenly between the two slices of bread, spreading it out over the avocado. Sprinkle sandwiches with additional parsley and finish with a squeeze a lemon. Then, enjoy.

Pasta with Creamy Vegan 'Alfredo' Sauce

So I had been working a lot. Like, a LOT. And when I wasn't working, I wasn't able to muster up the energy to write a post. My weeks this summer pretty went like this: work, work, sleep (a little), work, work, deposit self on beach, work (sometimes on beach), sleep (a little more), work. In the little time I had in between, I was reading. A lot. Too much, some (cough, boyfriend, cough) might say.

All of this reading, coupled with an over-reactionary stomach these past few months, has led me to make some changes in my diet. Big time changes. As in, no meat or dairy, kind-of-sort-of-vegan changes. I mean, I love me some cheese, though it has admittedly always weirded me out that we are the only species on earth that eats milk of other mammals intended for their young. Sick. Though cheese is delicious.



Now I don't think I can say that I'll be shunning meat and dairy forever, but I can see myself significantly restricting my intake of both for the near and not-so-near future. While I don't know that I could forever say goodbye to smoked salmon, I think I'd be doing both myself and the environment a favor by largely limiting the amount of animal products I consume. And I'm not going to put pressure on myself my placing a label on my diet. I'm not going to declare that I "am" anything, and then set lofty expectations for what I (or others) think my diet should comprise. If I want to be a "kind-of-sort-of-vegan, who sometimes eats smoked salmon, or lobster rolls or finds herself at a really great restaurant and wants to enjoy a meal sans dietary restrictions", so be it.

And honestly, it's been kind of fun. It's really exciting to get into the kitchen and wing it sometimes. To try to create really exciting meals without the crutch of bacon fat or the richness of eggs. This hasn't been about trying to recreate the non-vegan dishes I love: the macs & cheeses, the bacon egg and cheese sandwich because honestly, I don't miss them. I have not eaten a single slice of Tofurkey (nor do I intend to) - substituting meat and dairy with overly processed soy is not really going to do my body much good. This for me has been about creating foods that are delicious in their own right, but that are easy enough to digest and don't make me feel bloated or tired afterwards. But once in a while, only a creamy pasta dish is going to satisfy, and for those times, I'm glad I found a few vegan 'alfredo' sauce recipes to mash together into one. A garlicky, saucy alfredo facsimile that I felt not only not bad about eating, but great about eating.



Pasta with Vegan Alfredo Sauce

Adapted from here and here

The cashews lend this sauce a nice, creaminess, and together with the tahini and nutritional yeast give the dish a boost of protein. Nutritional yeast is a great resource for vegetarians and vegans, since it is one of very few non-meat sources of vitamin B12, and it has a vaguely cheesy taste. The sauce comes together in a blender, food processor or a magic bullet in a snap and needs just a couple of minutes of warming and thickening in a pot with the pasta, making this a very weeknight-doable meal.

I'd recommend only combining the pasta and sauce that you plan on eating at that time; if there are leftovers, the sauce and pasta / vegetables are better stored separately and reheated together in the pot when you're ready to eat the rest of what you've prepared. Once combined, the dish doesn't reheat as well, though if you have sauced pasta left over, adding a bit of almond milk when reheating will restore some creaminess to the dish.

Ingredients:

4 ounces pasta (I used whole wheat rotini)
1/2 cup frozen peas
1/2 cup chopped frozen broccoli
1/3 cup raw cashews
2 garlic cloves
3 T nutritional yeast
1 cup unsweetened, unflavored almond milk
1 T lemon juice (I added a bit more after tasting it)
2 T non-dairy buttery spread, such as Earth Balance
1 T low-sodium soy sauce
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 T tahini
Pinch of nutmeg
1/4 t sea salt
1/2 tsp paprika
lots of freshly ground black pepper (or to taste I guess)

Process:

Cook pasta in well-salted water in a sauce pot. About two minutes before the pasta is to be al dente (don't cook it all the way in the water, since it will continue to cook a bit once the sauce is added), add the peas and broccoli to the pot with the pasta. Cook until the peas and broccoli are bright green and cooked, making sure not to allow them to get mushy. Drain the pasta and vegetables in a colander and return to the pot.

While the pasta is cooking, add the rest of the ingredients to your blender or magic bullet and blent until smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning as desired.

Add sauce to the pot with the pasta and vegetables and heat over medium heat. Allow the sauce to thicken and heat through, stirring frequently. Top with a few turns of freshly ground pepper and a dusting of paprika.

Serves 2.

Beer Pancakes

About once a weekend I cook my wonderful boyfriend breakfast, or brunch, or whatever you'd like to call the first meal of the day that usually happens no earlier than 1 p.m. This process typically starts with a variation of an exchange in which I ask him what he'd like for breakfast, I tell him I can make him whatever he'd like, suggest a few things, and then make my way into the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, I only offer to make meals that can be assembled from items that I already have on hand - the first meal of the day is not the time to go out for groceries, is it? (Let's not dwell on the fact that I have to merely cross the street to arrive at a more than serviceable grocery store, okay? Thanks.)

So imagine my displeasure when, after Robbie took me up on an offer of chocolate chip pancakes, I opened my fridge to find myself entirely out of milk, of any sort. No cow, almond or coconut milk, and definitely no buttermilk. Though he (probably) would have been happy with anything (edible) I put in front of him, because that's just the kind of guy he is, I didn't want to let him down.

But I recalled reading a Dear FloFab column in the Diner's Journal that revolved around a secret recipe for pancakes, and whether it was right for someone to insist on being given an old family recipe for pancakes that the question poser was given by her aunt on her deathbed, and is now the only person in the family in possession of the recipe. [Though now that I'm searching for this column I can't seem to find it anywhere, but I'm fairly secure enough in my sanity to say I read it at some point; maybe it just wasn't FloFab? Anyone?]



Scrolling down past Florence's pithy reply (how I love reading her responses to these questions), I came upon the comments. Many of them. And instead of responding to the question posed, instead of chiming in on the merits of keeping such a thing secret, the commenters to the post took turns guessing what that secret recipe might have hidden within it that it creates what must be the world's greatest pancakes. One of the commenters piped in: "beer!" Which makes sense, in a way, since beer contains both yeast and carbonation, which helps keep things light and fluffy, certainly an attribute when it comes to pancakes. I use seltzer in my matzoh balls to help keep those from becoming too dense, so the same logic would seem to apply to pancakes. And while I had zero types of milk in the fridge, I had no less than four types of beer. Problem - potentially - solved.

So I turned to Google, and found a few different recipes for beer pancakes, which I cobbled together. I used part whole wheat flour in part because I felt its nuttiness would play nicely with the malty undertones of the beer. And it did. The pancakes were light, but crispy around the edges, with faint yeasty notes in the backdrop that played surprisingly well with the chocolate chips.

What type of beer you should use will depend on how prominently you'd like to feature it in the taste. A cheap light beer will interfere less with the taste of the other ingredients, but will still provide a noticeable beer flavor. On the other hand, a nice rasperry lambic would work quite nicely as well, providing fruity notes that would play well with blueberries or chocolate chips in the batter. Regardless, once the bottle's open, you might as well finish it up. It's brunch, after all, and is brunch really brunch without booze?



Whole Wheat Beer Pancakes
Adapted from Multiple Sources
Serves 2

1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
3 tablespoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 large egg, separated
1 cup beer (I used a cheap light beer, since I didn't want the taste of beer to be too prominent)
2 tablespoons butter, melted (optional, but why not)
1/4 good quality cup chocolate chips (optional, blueberries would also be good, especially with a fruity beer)

In a large bowl, combine the dry ingredients. Add the egg yolk, beer and butter and whisk to combine. Don't overmix - it's okay if there are a few lumps.

In a separate bowl, beat the egg white with a hand mixer or whisk until soft peaks form. Add a bit of the egg white to the batter to lighten it before folding in the rest, being careful not to deflate the egg whites. Fold in the remaining egg whites to combined.

Note: if you want to skip this step, you certainly can, but I think separating the eggs results in wonderfully light pancakes. If you want to forego whipping the whites, just don't separate the egg and beat it lightly before adding it to the mixture with the beer and butter.

Heat a griddle or a skillet over medium heat and coat with a respetable layer of butter. I find that a little extra butter helps the edges of the pancakes get nice and crispy. Once the bubbles in the butter have subsided a bit, spoon the batter onto the hot griddle or skillet, using about 1/4 cup of the batter per pancake. Dot the surface of the pancakes with chocolate chips or blueberries, if using, pressing down on them gently so that they become slightly submerged in batter. When you see bubbles appear on the surface of the pancakes, about 3-4 minutes, flip them over and cook until done on the other side.

Serve with a dusting of powdered sugar and maple syrup and a healthy amount of bacon if you're hearing the siren song of a salty-sweet breakfast.

Oat Bran with Mushrooms, Arugula, Blue Cheese and Poached Egg

I don't know about you, but I found this winter to have been a trying one. It feels like it snowed relentlessly, stopping only long enough for the temperatures to dip far below freezing and turn the city into a sheet of ice. Weather like we've seen this winter beckons for comfort food. For cheesy, gooey, hearty things that stick to your ribs and warm you from the inside. But it's also March now, people! I don't know how this came to be, but apparently we're already two full months into 2011. And though the weather's not quite spring-like yet, before we know it, we're going to be expected to don swimsuits and look like we were utterly and completely unaffected by winter.

This meal is perfect for this time of year. There are few things better in the winter (or ever, really) than a warm, creamy bowl of grits. However, grits are pretty much devoid of nutrition, especially the instant kind. Whole-grain cornmeal and polenta are a little better, but they take a lot of time and patience to cook - not exactly the type of thing you can whip up in a few minutes when you're looking for a quick weeknight meal. Enter oat bran: hearty, quick-cooking, yet retaining all of the nutrients that made it a dieter's darling. And no need for it to be sweet, either. Leave the maple syrup for those times you want waffles for dinner (though some may argue those are better topped with ice cream for dinner, or for any meal...some) and make this into the rich, savory and hearty meal we're all craving right about now.

Listen, I know it sounds weird. But hear me out on this one. It's delicious. Oat bran got a bad rap in the 1980's (or so I hear, anyway), when it was touted as THE HEALTHIEST THING EVER. Its popularity among the health nuts faded, and it became something of a joke. But it shouldn't be, because it's incredibly versatile - and while it might not be the healthiest thing ever, its definitely definitely good for you.



This oat bran is rich and warm, yet won't weigh you down. Strong flavors like blue cheese are - perhaps counterintuitively - great items to use when I'm trying to keep things light. The funkier the cheese, the farther a small amount will go. I used no more than an ounce of the stuff in this recipe, and that includes both what was mixed into the oatbran during cooking and what I sprinkled on top afterwards. It's got protein and fiber from the oat bran, and the arugula not only provides a subtle, peppery pop that really sets off the whole dish, but gives the dish a boost of greenness that will ease your mind and prevents the whole thing from looking too, well, bland.

Mushrooms provide a bit of bite to the dish, banishing images of gruel and textureless slop that might come to mind when oat bran is mentioned. Of course the egg does not hurt in any respect - it's the rare savory dish that is not improved by a poached egg, a runny yolk coating all components and making everything extra good. And it's one of nature's more perfect nutritional packages, conveniently portioned and packed full of protein. Not to mention that poaching is one of the healthier ways to cook eggs, since, unlike scrambling or frying it relies on no added fat. Hard-boiled eggs don't require any extra fat either, of course, but being hard-boiled, they obviously don't offer that whole runny yolk thing.




Oat Bran with Mushrooms, Arugula, Blue Cheese and Poached EggServes 1

1 teaspoon butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 tablespoon shallots, finely chopped
1/2 cup crimini mushrooms, sliced
1 cup milk or water
1/3 cup oat bran
1 cup baby arugula
1 ounce blue cheese (I used a strong triple creme blue, but gorgonzola or really any blue should work just fine)
1 egg
Salt and Pepper, to taste

Fill a saute pan with water and place over medium heat until a simmer is achieved.

While the water in the saute pan is heating, place a small pot over medium heat. Add the olive oil and butter and heat until the bubbles from the butter have subsided. Add the shallots and cook, stirring occassionally, until the shallots are soft and beginning to turn transluscent. Add the mushrooms and cook until browned, about 5 minutes. Add the milk or water to the pot, season with a dash of salt and raise the heat to medium high. Once the liquid has boiled, add the oat bran to the pot, stir to combine, and lower the heat to low. Cover the pot and cook the oat bran for 3-5 minutes, until the desired consistency is achieved, stirring often so as not to burn and adding additional milk or water as needed to achieve your desired texture. In the last minute of cooking, add the blue cheese, reserving some if desired to top the dish with the the end. Stir to combine, allowing the cheese to melt into the oatmeal. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Add the arugula to the pot and cover to allow the steam to wilt the arugula. Give it frequent stirs to help the arugula along. Remove from the heat and transfer the oat bran to a serving bowl.

In the meantime, add a splash of vinegar to the now-barely-simmering water in the skillet. Carefully slide the egg into the skillet, either directly or by first cracking the egg into a ramekin or teacup and then sliding it gently into the water, using a slotted spoon to gather the whites together if necessary. Allow to cook until your desired doneness, about three minutes or so for a nicely runny yolk. Lift the egg from the skillet with a slotted spoon and blot dry with a paper towel, and place it in the bowl over the oat bran. Finish with any reserved blue cheese, a final sprinkle of salt and pepper, crack that yolk and enjoy!

Peanut Butter Ice Cream

As Labor Day has come and gone, and the temperatures have been dipping
into the chilly zone come nightfall around these parts, it seems that
summer's on its last legs. Don't tell that to my ice cream maker. I
know there's been a lot of ice cream around here, but I hope you'll bear
with me for one more before season's end. This one's worth it.

Peanut butter was never my favorite thing as a kid - in fact, I don't
think I actually touched the stuff until I was in 6th grade. Something about it
just freaked me out, and my parents were never the peanut butter and
jelly-pushing sorts. I wasn't a picky kid, so I don't think they had
to utilize the pb&j crutch on which so many parents rely just to make sure
their kids get some calories in them. (While calories weren't a problem, calcium was - I was not one for milk, and my parents finally just gave in and allowed me to eat ice cream for breakfast, sometimes even without the proper-breakfast-validating waffles. Major win.) When I finally did get into peanut butter, it wasn't the cloyingly sweet, oil-slicky smooth commercial varieties, but the chunky, grittier "natural" stuff. The texture is more substantial, the flavor more reminiscent of actual, real-life peanuts and less of sugared-up legumes.



I can't really explain then why this ice cream pulled me in, considering it calls for that processed, not-so-natural stuff. It wasn't about nostalgia, since I had sat on the sidelines, quietly enjoying my tuna sandwiches, watching my friends lap feverishly to get those smooshy soft sandwiches unstuck from the roof of their mouths; this peanut butter was never a feature of my childhood. It has to be, then, that what drew me in was the inkling I had to take the ice cream and throw a whole slew of salty stuff in there. And I think by now we know how I feel about sweet plus salty. Throw a toasty, crunchy, nutty aspect in there as well, and it's pretty much a done deal.

While this ice cream falls somewhere between a custard-based ice cream and the frozen greek yogurt in terms of complexity and involvement, it is definitely much closer to the almost-too-easy-to-be-true frozen yogurt end of the range. And that's just because of all the extras I chose with which to bedazzle my ice cream. Had I not had to chop these mix-ins (and I threw a LOT of stuff in there), there'd have been little more to this recipe than a couple of measurements and a quick buzz in the blender.

I toyed a bit with doing a peanut butter and jelly version instead, but clearly the siren song of salty-sweet was simply too much for me to resist. And I don't regret it for an instant. Neither will you.



Sweet and Salty Super Loaded Peanut Butter Ice Cream
Ice cream base recipe adapted from The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz

3/4 cup smooth peanut butter*
2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 2/3 cups half-and-half
Pinch of salt
1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup salted, blanched peanuts, chopped coarsely
1 cup dark (or milk, if you prefer, but I like the bitterness of dark) chocolate, chopped coarsely or semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup salted pretzels, chopped (note: I used standard, salted pretzels, but would probably use chocolate-covered pretzels next time, since the pretzels got a little bit soggy after a while)

* Don't be tempted to use natural peanut butter, as the oils will separate and this will not make you happy.

Combine the peanut butter, sugar, half and half and salt in a blender and blend until combined and the sugar has dissolved. Place the mixture in the refrigerator until cold. Freeze the mixture in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. In the last two minutes of the churn cycle, add in the various mix-ins until combined. Transfer the finished ice cream to a container and freeze until you're ready to enjoy. I enjoyed a little additional sprinkling of coarse sea salt over my bowls of this ice cream.

Frozen Yogurt with Figs and Honey

I knew that this guy was going to be trouble. There was no way that I was going to make it out of the summer without a severe ice cream-making addiction, so I just embraced it - there's been mint, coffee, peanut butter ice cream (that one's coming soon - stay tuned!), the list goes on. And I haven't really looked back.

OK - I looked back just a little bit, deciding that not everything that The Churnster (as I've affectionately dubbed him) produces has to be the richest thing ever (or at least the richest thing since the last thing that we made together). I made frozen yogurt. And you know what? It was awesome. It was made with greek yogurt, so it had that thick, assertive tang that I love so much about the stuff. I cut back on the amount of sugar in the recipe, since I really wanted that tang to be at the forefront of the finished product.



When I was in Greece, I ate yogurt with walnuts and honey with reckless abandon. The simplicity of it all just made me sit back and appreciate the various ingredients, which came together to form one of my favorite combinations of all time. And because that shit is awesome. Seriously - smooth, thick, tangy yogurt, tempered by the muted sweetness of thinly drizzled Greek honey, saccharine, yes, but not cloyingly so, and dotted with the crunch of bitter walnuts. I can think of almost no better dessert. Except ice cream, of course. So obviously the next logical step was to make this into a frozen dessert.

Greek yogurt is pretty much just your plain-old typical yogurt from which the whey has been strained. Since the liquid's been removed from the equation, you're left with unadulterated yogurt; in-your-face, tangy, thick-enough-to-stand-a-spoon-in yogurt. I know that a lot of people can't get into it for those exact reasons. But those very reasons are why it makes such a great base for frozen yogurt. While a far cry from the richness of an egg yolk-laden custard base, it's at once rich and delicate, with a tangy heft that makes you sit up and take notice. So even if you're loathe to eat greek yogurt on its own, give this a go; you won't be sorry.



I swapped out the walnuts for figs, for no real reason other than I had a pint of them and they don't have a particularly long shelf-life. And they pair awesomely with honey and yogurt. It also seemed a "Greek" enough substitution so as not to stray too far from the nostalgic roots of the yogurt.



I can absolutely not stress enough how easy this recipe is. There's close to nothing to be done - seriously. Take some greek yogurt, mix in some sugar until it dissolves - the stand mixer made incredibly easy work of this, but it is not much more laborious to do it by hand, add in some vanilla if you're so inclined. Then let it chill in the fridge for a little bit - both figuratively and literally, of course, until you're left with a cool and laid-back yogurt base. Throw that awesomeness into your ice cream maker and you're there. That's. It. Awesome frozen yogurt at your disposal.



Greek Yogurt with Figs and Honey
Adapted loosely from 101 Cookbooks
Makes approximately one quart of frozen yogurt

This recipe is really the easiest thing ever. It's tanginess is reminiscent of the frozen yogurts on offer at Pinkberry, Red Mango and those guys. But it's wholly unlike those, if for no other reason than that you know there's absolutely nothing in there but the good stuff. No chemicals, no stabilizers, just pure yogurt. And anything else you want to throw in. I went with figs, which I cut and allowed to freeze a bit on a sheet tray before throwing them into the mix so that they wouldn't be completely dessicated by the Churnster. The only downside with this frozen yogurt is that it's best almost immediately after it's been made, and tends to harden a bit more than is desirable in the freezer. Just take it out a few minutes before you're ready to eat it, though, and you should be good to go.

If you're turned off by the sourness of plain yogurt, feel free to add a teaspoon of vanilla, which will temper the tang and round out the flavor a little bit. Next time I make this, I'm throwing some fresh ground black pepper in the mix. I ground some over a couple of servings after drizzling some honey on top and it was a great move, so I think it deserves a place within the yogurt as well.

3 cups Greek yogurt (the original recipe calls for full-far yogurt, but given that I was trying to make this a lighter production, I went for 1 1/2 cups full-fat yogurt, 1 1/ cups 2%)*
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla (optional)
1 1/2 cups fresh figs, cut into small pieces and semi-frozen
1/2 cup honey

Mix the sugar (and vanilla, if using) into the yogurt and stir until the sugar is completely dissolved into the yogurt. Refrigerate until the mixture is cold. Freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. About two to three minutes before the churning process is finished, gently add the figs to the ice cream maker. Spread about a third of the honey on the bottom of the container in which you plan to store the frozen yogurt. Working quickly, add about a third of the frozen yogurt to the container, then another layer of honey, then another third of the frozen yogurt, then honey, then yogurt, until it's all been used. Freeze until ready to eat, or dig in immediately. Either way, drizzle some extra honey on top, and if you're up for it, a couple of twists of the pepper mill.

*Greek yogurt can be a bit expensive, so if you want to make your own, just take a container of plain yogurt and empty it into a colander that you've lined with cheesecloth or paper towels and that you've placed over a bowl (to catch the whey, since it will make a mess otherwise). Place it in the fridge and let it strain overnight. Do note, however, that the volume of the yogurt will be cut in half, so a cup of plain yogurt will produce 1/2 cup of greek-style yogurt.

Butter Poached Fish

There are days when I get home from work, usually after I've put in some decent work scouring the internet for some dinner time inspiration, totally psyched to get my hands dirty cooking a labor-intensive meal. Then there are days where I want nothing more than to sit down to a cheese plate with some good bread and butter (which is why I usually find myself with no less than four different cheeses on hand…) and, lately, piles upon piles of radishes.

But then there are those in-between days, when I want something warm, but something that's not going to suck those last few precious drops of energy from my body. Sometimes those days end in eggs, gently poached and piled atop something or other - sometimes green, sometimes grain. But sometimes that just won't do - sometimes I want something that most normal people would consider a proper meal - and for those days, I turn to butter poached fish.

I don't cook a lot of meat at home - not for any particular reason, really. I don't frequently crave it as is, and it seems almost silly to prepare meat when it's just myself I'm feeding. Chicken is easy enough I guess, but chicken is also boring. Since it's easily portioned and any uncooked portions can be frozen and quickly defrosted at a later date, fish is a pretty good choice to prepare for one. It also cooks in a snap. But because of this latter feature, fish is sometimes tricky to prepare properly, since you have to pay such close attention to it as it overcooks so quickly. And if there's one thing that suffers after a day at work, it's my attention span. Poaching the fish in a shallow pool of fat, however, is so forgiving that even my post-work brain can handle it.



This butter poached fish is something I first read about in the Times a little over a year ago. It seemed so simple - too simple, really, so I gave it a try. Not only was it just as easy as advertised, its deliciousness belied its simple roots.

Since pretty much every ingredient can be swapped out for another or changed at your whim, this dish is more concept than recipe, more guidance than anything. Every element can be varied, from the herbs or spices, to the fat in which you're cooking, even the fish itself - none of it's safe from your tinkering. The important thing to remember is to select a firm-fleshed fish, or else you risk having it crumble and disintegrate. It'll still taste good (not that I know from experience or anything), but you won't have the satisfaction of stabbing your fork into those bigger hunks of fish.

Poaching the fish in fat, as opposed to water, not only imparts so much flavor, but ensures that your finished product is going to be moist and, well, buttery. Both fresh herbs and dried work equally well. I've made this with both the dried mint recommended by the Times article and with fresh parsley and dill, both to great effect. And the fat in which you've done the poaching makes an excellent sauce - whether you choose to use it is up to you and your diet. The fish and sauce are wonderful over egg noodles in the winter; for a lighter summer meal, lift the fish out of the pot with a slotted spoon and serve along side some barely cooked vegetables or a barely-dressed salad. So do as you please, and rest easy that you'll enjoy.



Butter Poached Fish
Adapted from Melissa Clark, original recipe here.
Serves 2 well.

Again, this is more guidance than rule, so go crazy. The general idea is about a pound of firm-fleshed fish, about four tablespoons of fat, be they butter or olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic and herbs of your choosing.

One pound firm-fleshed fish, such as halibut, mahi mahi, basa or even salmon. Cod is a bit delicate for this, but if you're careful, it can definitely work.
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, or to taste
1/4 teaspoon pepper, or to taste
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons olive oil*
3-4 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
4-5 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced

1. Season the fish generously all over with salt and pepper. In a medium-size skillet just large enough to fit the fish in a single layer, heat the butter and oil over low heat. Add the fish, dill and 3-4 tablespoons of the parsley, and let cook slowly until the fish begins to turn opaque, about 3 minutes.

2. Stir in garlic and 1/4 teaspoon each of salt and pepper, and cook until the garlic is fragrant and the fish is just cooked through, another 3 minutes or so (the heat should be low enough so as not to brown the garlic or fish but high enough to gently cook everything; the cooking time will vary widely with your stove).

3. Taste and add more salt and pepper and a few drops of lemon juice if desired. Stir in the remaining fresh parsley and serve (using a slotted spoon to leave the cooking liquid in the pan if desired).

*I use a mix of butter and olive oil, since I like the taste of butter, but I don't like having to worry if it's going to burn. Even though that's unlikely since we're cooking over such low heat, the olive oil allows me to rest easy that it won't burn, which is a good thing given my aforementioned attention span.

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

A couple of months ago, I welcomed a newcomer into my kitchen. I'd been speaking for ages of getting an ice cream maker, and I finally made an honest woman of myself and bought the ice cream maker attachment for my Kitchen Aid stand mixer.

Now, you might be wondering why I haven't shared this unfathomably exciting news with you just yet. And there are reasons, some more exciting than others, some just mere effrontery and excuses for my general laziness and inability to sit down in front of a computer to a task requiring anything more than a three minute attention span. And it's probably a bit of all of those things, but what it comes down to, really, is that we just hadn't made anything together worth sharing.



Yes, the flavor of that dark chocolate sorbet was spot-on - rich, deep, all that wonderful stuff. But the texture left something to be desired - it wasn't quite as silken as it should have been. And sure, the vietnamese iced coffee ice cream tasted great - it paired the smooth, easy sweetness of sweetened condensed milk with that deep, rich flavor of a strongly brewed cup of coffee; so strongly brewed, in fact, that into the garbage it went, since even the mere two spoonfuls I'd sneak in before bed were enough to keep me awake for hours. I'll revisit both of those in due time, I have no doubt, but I knew that my ice cream maker and I, we could do better.

And so we did. Mint chocolate chip was always one of my favorite ice cream flavors growing up (coffee is the other), and it still ranks very high up there. I was convinced at a young age that the green mint chip ice creams tasted mintier than their colorless counterparts (except for Breyer's Mint Chip, which was pretty much the only white mint chip ice cream we had on constant rotation in our freezer when I was young). But these days I want the colors in my ice cream to be more muted - more of a byproduct of the actual, natural flavors than a distraction from the unnatural flavors imparted by a tasteless bottle of chemical-laden food colorings. And fresh mint brings such a clean bite that can't be matched by any amount of extracts, and it’s a bit softer around the edges than those artificial mint flavors. After all, we're eating ice cream, not gum.




This mint chocolate chip ice cream is great, though I still think it can get better. The amount of sugar was perfect - not too sweet in the least. The original recipe, however, called for a 2:1 ratio of heavy cream to milk, but I found that the cream dominated my palate a bit too much and stole a bit of the spotlight from the fresh mint. Next time I'm going to go for an even cup and a half of each, or maybe swap out the cream for half and half, as well as use a little bit more fresh mint. If you play around with the figures below, let me know how it turns out. I'll check back in after my next attempt.

The texture of the ice cream, though, was spot-on. Rich, eggy, silky smooth. It was awesome. It even had the faintest shade of green from that final squeeze of those mint leaves. I made this recipe a week ago, and, suffice it to say, it wasn't long for this world. But now that I'm armed with my ice cream maker, I know that there's much more where it came from.



Fresh Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
Adapted from David Lebovitz, original recipe here

Ingredients

1 cup 2% milk
3/4 cup sugar
2 cups heavy cream
Pinch of salt
2 1/2 cups tightly packed fresh mint leaves
5 large egg yolks
1 cup chocolate chips, chopped to your desired consistency. I left some chunks larger than others, but for the most part chopped it finely.

Procedure

1. Warm the milk, sugar, half of the cream, and salt in a small saucepan, but don't bring to a boil. Once warmed, add the mint leaves and stir until they're fully immersed in the liquid. Cover the mixture, remove from the heat, and let the mint leaves steep in the milk at room temperature for 1 hour.

2. Strain the mint-infused mixture through a mesh strainer into a medium saucepan. Press on the mint leaves to extract as much of the flavor as possible, then discard the mint leaves. Pour the rest of the cream into a large bowl and set the strainer on top.

3. Rewarm the mint-infused mixture. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Temper the eggs by slowly pouring the warm mint mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly as you pour, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

4. Stir the egg yolk and mint mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir to prevent scorching, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula (if you're unsure, run your finger through the liquid on the spatula, if it doesn't run, then you're ready to proceed). Pour the custard through the strainer and stir it into the cream. Stir until cool over an ice bath.

5. Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator (I let mine sit there overnight), then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. Add the chopped chocolate to the ice cream maker during the last two minutes or so of the churn.

Enjoy!
Makes a bit more than a quart.