Eton Mess

I hadn't had a perfect moment yet, and it's very important for me to have perfect moments in exotic countries like that you know? I always have to have them because it gives you a good sense of closure, you know, kind of lets you know when it's time to go home. And you never know where you're going to have a perfect moment, and you never know when you're going to have one. It's sort of like falling in love...with yourself, said Spalding Gray in the beginning of his monologue, "Swimming to Cambodia."

                                     

As it turns out, finding perfect moments is one of my specialties, especially during the summer when fate is more flexible. I've had a few that I can remember that materialized out of days when we packed everything we possibly could into an absurd amount of time. Luckily I am composed of the ones I don't remember consciously. The first perfect moment I had after I started realizing that they were happening was July 17th, 2009. It was the day before I going to leave for nerd camp at the university I am now attending to study neuroscience for a month.

                                      

With the prospect of dissecting sheep brains all summer fresh in my mind (although that turned out to be quite entertaining), I was determined to fit everything perfect into one day. So my father and I set out  on our quest, beginning at Marlow and Sons where we had some sort of pastries and ate them outside watching the trains rumble over the bridge. We made our way to Chelsea where we went to the market and discovered a warehouse that has sample sales where everything is marked down to within an inch of its life and then went to Greenpoint where we procured cannolis from Fortunato Brothers...the second best west of Italy.

We ate our cannolis on the grass field behind the Old Stone House in Park Slope where my old drama teacher, John McEneny, was putting on a production of "Hamlet" with his company, Piper Theatre. The sun set halfway through the already spectacular play and Hamlet climbed a ladder to deliver his monologue. The moon was a waxing crescent and appeared to be a prop hung specifically for that night. Tears streamed down Hamlet's face, a little more impressive than stage emotions usually were, and he spoke the words into the night air. When the play came to a close, the actor announced through more tears that his dramatic mentor had died that night just moments before the play and he dedicated the performance to him. That day was a perfect moment. 

Look I had a vision of myself by now as a kind of wandering bachelor, mendicant poet, wandering all the way down the beaches of Malaysia, eating magic mushrooms all the way as I went, until I reached Bali and evaporated in a state of ecstasy in the sunset...I realized I was out a little further and a little further until I was out further than I had ever been in any ocean, in any world, anywhere. I had never seen the shore from that point of view before. Suddenly there was no time and there was no fear, and there was no body to bite...I was also sad because I knew I'd had a perfect moment, and I would now have to go home, Spalding said halfway through his monologue.

The weekend of June 23 of this year, I had a series of perfect moments with my mother. Our two days together were unplanned but we ended up going to a roller disco together where she filmed me skating on my quads for the first time in an asphalt cul-de-sac for two hours in the hot June night. Efficiency isn't usually a goal when trying to initiate a perfect moment, but we happened to be very efficient that weekend, which allowed us to have more time together and more opportunity for the perfect moment to strike. We had belgian wafels from the wafels and dinges truck and ate them on the stoop while the nutella melted and afternoon approached, just talking. And after finding some dresses together at a second hand clothing shop, we had Lebanese food and again just sat for a long time talking over lentil soup, mint lemonade and semolina cake. 

Of course it's sad, like Spalding said, to have a perfect moment, because even in the moment you know it has an obligatory ending. It makes them bittersweet, but certainly does not decrease the levels of joy, nostalgia or adventure that they create. I'll write more on this in my next post, but I recently (July 1, 2012) had a perfect moment in the south of England, standing on the edge of a cliff I knew I would never be able to stand on again because of fear, looking down at turquoise waters cloaked in Cornish legends and an odd deja vu feeling that I couldn't quite shake.

But perfect moments require a lot of different elements to converge at once, coupled with timing, mood, and someone to know they're happening. It's a perfect storm of moments and so you can go years without seeing one. But Spalding had a solution to this. He said, After all, maybe Thailand would be the right place to have a perfect moment. I had heard that the next location was Phuket, where they had a lot of magic mushrooms, so if I didn't have an organic perfect moment, I could always induce one.

                                     

For practical and legal reasons, I recommend Eton Mess if you're in the habit of inducing perfect moments. I first discovered it at a restaurant in Shoreditch, a neighborhood in the east end of London and I am not ashamed to say that I ordered the dish with a bit of trepidation. Comforted by the wonderfully British name and armed with a confident recommendation from our waiter, I tasted it and proceeded to scrape any remnants off of my plate with my fork. Talk about a perfect storm of elements. Eton Mess is composed of meringue, cream and strawberries layered bottom to top in that order. It sounds a bit over the top at first, but the meringue cookies perfect the trusted strawberries and cream combination in a way that you cannot imagine until you have it. It also happens to be quite simple to make. The meringue takes about an hour to bake and ten minutes to prepare. Whip three egg whites until they have soft peaks and then gradually add 3/4 cup of sugar, a dash of vanilla extract, and if you want 1/4 tsp cream of tartar. 

Beat this on the highest speed until the peaks are stiff and can hold there own shape indefinitely. Dole the cookies out with a spoon on parchment paper clad cookie tins and put them in the oven at 250 F for 1 hour. In the meantime, you can chop the strawberries. When you are close to consuming your perfect moment, pour heavy cream into a bowl with just a tablespoon or so of confectioner's sugar and beat until you have whipped cream consistency. Arrange the dessert on individual plates (leave cream, strawberries, and meringue in separate containers for later consumption) and serve. As a side note, the first time I decided to make Eton Mess after returning home from London, I decided to watch "Swimming to Cambodia" for the first time.

Gnocchi and Basil Sauce and Peach Galettes

                                      

I found this beautiful plate in an antique store in Park Slope called Bob and Judi's Collectibles and decided to give it to my father for his birthday along with a meal served on it. The specifics of the dinner were a surprise, mostly because I couldn't figure out what to make, but also because I wanted to extend the anticipation as long as I could.

                                      

I brought Julia Childs' Mastering the Art of French Cooking (an original copy that my grandmother gave to me when I discovered how much I loved cooking) on the train and thumbed through it trying to find an enticing recipe. Gnocchi has been on my list for a long time and Julia had multiple entries on it, so I decided upon gnocchi with basil sauce and a peach galette for dessert since my dad wished he had one that morning.

On that same train, two tourists completely terrified by the New York City subway system approached me while I waited for the F train. The sign hanging in front of us said Jamaica 179th St., because that's the last stop on the train. I heard them debating whether or not this was the correct train and waited for their approach. Soon enough, the woman came up to me concerned that I might be as nutty as the last person she asked for advice. 

"We don't want to go to Jamaica," she told me with worry in her eyes. "Don't worry," I assured her, explaining what that meant. She still looked confused so I said, "This is an uptown train." This information clearly undid any previous clarification I might have provided. "That means it goes further north into Manhattan." She seemed so lost so I finally asked, "Where is that you are trying to go?" Relieved that we finally spoke the same language, she told me that she was trying to get to 23rd St so I informed her that the F does in fact stop there.

When we got on the train, I continued to leaf through the cookbook, unsure as of what I was going to whip up that night. Frustrated that I couldn't come up with an idea (the gnocchi came to me later), I put the book back in my bag and resigned myself to looking at my reflection in the door across from me. The woman's husband looked up at me from his seat and said, "Done reading already?" I informed him that it was a cookbook and explained that I was trying to think of something to make for my dad's birthday. Thrilled that he could tackle his first challenge since he arrived in the city, he said bright-eyed, "I think you should make him rib-eye steak...unless of course your dad doesn't like that," he finished remembering that he was in New York after all.

Long story kind of short, he told me I could barbeque them and after telling him that we live in an apartment and thus do not have a barbeque he offered several alternative methods of preparing the steak. I told him I didn't think I was qualified yet to make steak and he thought that this was an excellent excuse. "You know, we're not from around here," he said and thanked me as he and his wife departed to find their son who moved from Minnesota to New York, God knows why he wanted to do that, they said.

                                     

Like I mentioned before, I decided upon gnocchi and a simple basil sauce. For the gnocchi I peeled five russet potatoes and placed them in boiling water until they softened. I mashed them and Julia says that you should also put the potatoes through a ricer to get all the lumps out but I don't have one, so I let the lumps be. You should also place the potatoes once mashed back on a burner and put the flame on low for about 2 minutes so you can evaporate any remaining water. 

                                   

While the potatoes are cooking, you need to make the pate choux, which is the flour base you will mix in with the potatoes to get the proper dumpling texture. First melt 6 tbs of butter in 1 cup of water and then add 1/3 tsp pepper, 1 tsp salt and a dash of nutmeg. When the butter has melted, turn off the flame and add 1 cup of flour and 1/2 cup of semolina flour. This needs to be stirred into the butter/water mixture quite quickly. Julia says, "Then beat over moderately high heat for 1 to 2 minutes until mixture leaves the sides of the pan and the spoon, forms a mass, and begins to film the bottom of the pan."

Again, turn off the burner and add 4 eggs one at a time, mixing vigorously with each addition. Add 1/2 cup of a cheese of your choice (I used asiago) grated and finally add the mashed spuds and beat into a homogenous mixture. You should let this cool a bit and then spread semolina out onto parchment or wax paper to form the dumplings. Take a spoonful of dough and roll it in the semolina until it's long and cylindrical, but not too thin. 

Then, cut it into 1 inch sections and press your fork slightly on one side, for the classic gnocchi texture. The more flour the better. You should lay them out on cookie tins so they have a chance to breath (what I didn't do) and then boil a bot of water and throw them in for 90 seconds. Many of mine turned to pasta mush, but I was able to salvage 1/2 for our dinner. 

The basil sauce requires 1 can of tomato sauce, a few fresh basil leaves, a tab of butter, and a few handfuls of grated cheese. It should cook for about 20 minutes (stirring it on and off). Even though the dinner wasn't perfect, it was sweet...gnocchi, I shall return. 

While the gnocchi was relaxing (before I cooked it), I started on the peach galettes, which are open faced, free form tarts that don't require tins. To begin, I made my dough using the Rose Bakery cookbook (see my Lemon Tart), and let it cool in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes. In the meanwhile, I made the peach mixture for the middle of the tart.To make the filling I used Simply Recipes' recipe, although I amended it a tad to fit my needs. 

I used 4 small peaches (washed and sliced), although not all of them were completely ripe. I put these slices in a bowl and added 1 tbs flour and 3 tbs sugar and if you have it, which I didn't, 1/2 tsp vanilla extract. Toss this as you would a salad so that all the peach slices are coated with the sugar/flour/vanilla mixture.Once you are finished, return your attention to the dough. Tape down some wax paper and put flour all over it so the dough doesn't stick. 

Put flour on top of the dough as well and coat the rolling pin it. Then, roll it out so it's about 1/4 inch thick and place it on a buttered cookie tin. Arrange the peaches in a circular pattern and then fold up the edges of the dough to encircle the filling. A lot of my dough broke apart during this step, but I salvaged it by pressing the sides together to mend the tears. 

I also beat one egg and brushed the pastry with it for the glazed effect. Put the galettes in the oven set to 425 F and bake them for about 15-20 minutes. You should check them periodically to make sure the bottoms don't burn. We ate them for dessert and for breakfast and they were delicious. I love being able to give people my cooking skill for their birthday. When my dad opened up his plate, there was a card taped to it that said, "If you're afraid of butter, use cream"-Julia Child.

Cheddar Cheese Cornmeal Scones and Maple Oat Scones

Monday was another baking day with my friends who continue to demand my treats while they watch witty British detective shows...We are making a habit out of these days though and they are becoming not only teaching opportunities (Nina and Isabelle became very good at kneading the butter into the flour mixture), but also wonderful afternoons, or mornings as the case may be, to spend time with friends and hone my skills.

Nika (me) doling scones onto the tray

They are true playdates, but instead of playing dress-up, pretend or dolls, we make delicious food, watch hilarious movies and well, we still get the giggles because as it turns out you don't out grow them. So we whiled away the hours of one of our first summer mornings making ourselves scones and laughing over the most absurd things imaginable.

Amelia rolling out the dough

I made two recipes from my Rose Bakery cookbook for the event: cheddar cornmeal scones and maple oat scones. Last year, I was obsessed with cheddar cheese scones from Marlow and Sons and would wait in line every possible morning just for them. My patience ran fairly low since the service there is remarkably slow but the thought of that cheddar cheese scone kept me going...well, almost. 

                                     

I thought that the other morning would be the perfect opportunity to replicate or at least asymptotically approach the perfection of Marlow's cheddar scones. Since it's always nice to have sweetness to compliment savoury dishes, I decided that maple oat scones would be a nice addition. 

Bringin' the scones to the oven

As an unabashed anglophile, this is a pretty intense confession, but I don't actually like scones very much. With the exception of Marlow's aforementioned one, I avoid them pretty consistently. But I am not averse to making things that I don't like including but not limited to pancakes and scrambled eggs. I can recognize that something tastes good or is quality food, without actually liking it myself.

Maple Oat scones pre-baking

That said, I can eat scones and I did enjoy one and half of mine. But I enjoyed watching the others guzzle down three or four and go back for another much more than I did my own scone. Besides, they are so wonderfully British that I couldn't resist making them for an epic Sherlock-a-thon.

Isabelle and Amelia washing their scones down with orange juice

To begin the cheddar cornmeal scones add 1 1/3 cups of flour, 1 cup of cornmeal, 1 tbs polenta, 1 heaped tbs of baking powder, 1 tbs sugar, 1/2 tsp salt, and a dash of cayenne pepper into a bowl and mix together. Then knead in 1/2 cup of butter and add 1 1/3 (or a little more) cups of cheddar cheese and mix it together with a fork or spoon. 

In a separate bowl you should mix together two eggs and 1/2 cup milk and then pour this mixture into the flour. Then, knead the scones together and plop them down like drop cookies onto a greased cookie tin. They should cook in the oven set to 400 F for 20 minutes.

Isabelle and Nina kneading the dough for round 2

The maple oat scones are pretty similar, but they do have some quirky differences. The oven should stay at the same temperature and the cookie tin should be greased. First add 1 3/4 cup of flour into a bowl with 1/2 cup wholewheat flour, 1/2 cup of rolled oats, 1 tbs baking powder, 1 tbs sugar, and 1/2 tsp salt. Follow the same procedure (kneading) and then add 4 tbs milk and 4 tbs maple syrup (previously mixed together) and incorporate the ingredients with each other. Bake the scones for about 18 minutes (they were a tad burnt after 20). 

Some little creature kept on sneaking scones into her room while we were occupied and it was only after she was caught red-handed that she confessed to eating about 6 scones! Baking has turned into a social activity, allowing me the opportunity to hang out with my friends and get messy. Stay tuned for our next event: I heard there will be Runcible Spoon ice cream and the Thin Man.

Cardamom Shortbread

"Nika," my cousin Harper begins, "You are so obsessed with cardamom!" I cannot deny the accusation. I put cardamom in nearly everything (as sparingly as I can though because it's a bit pricy). I've put cardamom in ice cream, macarons, strawberry meringue tarts, chocolate ganache, lassis, and most recently shortbread, and I won't apologize for any of it.

I even warmed up some milk and put a dash of cardamom in. It's not just an accessory that spices up a relatively plain base, it's an integral part of the dish and completely transforms your experience.

I hosted a small gathering for the student newspaper that I've been editor-in-chief of for the past two years yesterday, and lured the journalists there with the promise of not only pizza but a homemade runcible spoon dessert. But when I woke up that morning and discovered that I had 1 hour to make something with whatever I had in the house, I realized that I was probably better suited buying some pastries on my way there and pretending that I had made them the previous night.

Instead of deceiving my guests though, honest as I am, I found Tea and Sympathy's recipe for shortbread, which required flour, sugar and butter (all of which I owned). A thought popped into my head the minute I realized that I could successfully whip up this shortbread in a matter of 40 minutes: cardamom. To begin, I creamed 1 cup of butter and then added 1/2 cup of sugar.

Finally, I added 3 cups of flour and then I stopped the mixer, added 1 tsp of cardamom and kneaded the very dry dough until the ingredients were fully incorporated. I took out my trusty ceramic rolling pin, and flattened the shortbread until it was about 1/4 inch thick and then cut the dough into small rectangles and poked the surfaces with a fork.

I had previously set my oven to 300 F and buttered a tin, and I then put the cookies in for 20ish minutes at that temperature. Since I was in a hurry, I increased the oven temperature to 350 F for the last ten minutes. They were slightly overdone, but it didn't seem to affect the flavor (of the one I tasted before my guests consumed the rest in a fit of gustatory madness). It's a serious condition that I seem to facilitate often.

The shortbread brought people from far and wide (meaning students not involved with the paper) to the classroom we were occupying, searching for the cardamom shortbread whose smell permeated the halls. Now that school is over, I promise to post more frequently and cook more savory meals (for the sake of variety and my health), but I also assure you that I will continue to use cardamom and will find a way to incorporate into unthinkable dishes.