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Posts Tagged ‘granulated sugar’

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One thing about having a blog is that people happily point out how deficient you are on the clue front. As a result, you acquire several more clues than you had before. This happened most recently when I posted about rhubarb.

Little Miss Food Authority: Oh boy! Try this marmalade!

Planet Earth: It’s COMPOTE, Genius.

At least I knew how to title this post.*

I have a mulberry tree branch that stretches right alongside my upstairs balcony. There is it above. The tree itself is in my neighbor’s yard. The rest of the branches hang over the no-man’s land between our properties and over the firehouse roof next door. All winter I looked forward to seeing the berries emerge, then turn green, then red, then inky purple.

In mid-June they did. Every morning for three weeks, I took a big plate outside to the balcony and reached over the railing to pick the mulberries. Once I had a handful, I dropped them on the plate I had put at my feet.

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When their season ended I had filled a gallon-size Hefty zip-up bag with berries, all from that single branch. Here they are below, immersed in water. Most are so ripe that they dye the water, as you can see. I also picked the occasional reddish berry. My readers pointed out that unripe fruit tends to have more pectin, which helps to gel the jam I planned to make. Or compote, fine.

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I had this loopy idea a few months back of making some sort of gooey concoction of mulberries and red wine and spices. I’m not much of a wine drinker—I mean, I can tell a quality wine from one I got at a wedding**—so I got some direction from Facebook friends and one very helpful blog reader/vintner from South Africa. I wanted something red, fruity and not dry. Settled on a Bogle Vineyards Petite Syrah, 2010, a California wine.

Yesterday, two hours before I had to leave to work a matinee performance, I decided to bite the bullet and make this. Dumped the whole bag of frozen mulberries into my old enamelware pot, turned the jet onto medium high, and stirred in 1 1/2 cups of granulated sugar. I left the stems on, as you can see. But I’ve eaten these berries with their stems for years and I’m not dead yet.

Once the berries had defrosted and started giving up some of their juice, I poured in about 1 1/2 cups of the wine. I also have a huge crush on cardamom, so I threw in a tablespoon or two of that. I measured nothing. Then I turned the heat down to medium and stirred from time to time.

The result was somewhat runny, and then cooled to somewhat oozy and sticky. I didn’t taste it at all until it cooled a bit. And you would think a random recipe idea thrown together and stirred as I was zipping around getting dressed would either crap out on me or taste like nothing special. But it knocked me out.

A year or so ago in a blog post for Edible Jersey magazine I talked about fresh, local black raspberries. I said they tasted like a raspberry’s first cousin, who moved to the Left Bank in Paris and spent much of her days looking wistfully out of her parlor windows. This is similar, but the wine gives it an edge. In this case, it’s as if it also sings jazz at a half-empty nightclub in Le Havre. It’s dark and sweet and complicated, rich and addictive. No one was more surprised than me.

Now how to consume? You’d think a food person like myself would be more original and less lazy than just to eat it right out of the container with any available clean spoon, but I’m not. This time, though, chocolate called out as a worthy match. I had just made lots of itty bitty Nutella cupcakes, with homemade Nutella in the batter, for the cast of the show I’m doing. I sliced one of the leftovers open, filled it up with the mulberry goo, and popped it.

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It was a win, in the vernacular of today. In my own vernacular: I have a dozen more baby Nutella cupcakes in the freezer that have their fate spelled out for them pretty clearly.

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*Since you’re so curious: Marmalade is only made with citrus rind. My ‘marmalade’ had chunks of orange in it—the fruit—but that’s Not Good Enough. Someone decides these things.

For the extra curious: Jelly is made from fruit juice. Jam is made from macerated fruit. Preserves are made with macerated fruit plus big happy chunks of fruit as well. Compote is stewed fruit. It’s much looser than the others and good for ladling, etc. It’s one of the nicest things you can do to a pancake.

**Swell for scouring burnt caramel out of the bottom of a Calphalon 2-quart pan, or the tub, after you’ve washed your Bernese Mountain dog.

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So begins the first installment of my cooking project! I chose Anita’s cookies because every ingredient in them is like butter on a burn* to me, and because right now I want to expend only the barest amount of effort while still getting a fat payoff. What we cook should work for us. And for where I am right now, these cookies do that.

To be more specific, this month I’m backstage, crewing two theatre shows. And while I love it, it’s hard physical work. Factor in the frosty 95-degree weather, and my head feels like drywall. I hope you’re all less in the mood to dig into Big Thinking and more in the mood for goofing off a little, because I sure am.

I took a page from Anita’s book with this recipe and did my own thing in a few places: I added good-quality 60% cacao chocolate buttons instead of chopping up chocolate (zero energy for that today) and toasted the walnuts before adding them (a very nice thing to do to a nut). I also used organic whole wheat pastry flour for half of the flour called for.  Stirred it all up, scooped it onto cookie sheets, put the sheets in the oven, then I…

…Oh, you think that’s it?

No, right about here let’s throw in a monkey wrench, something completely screwed up, like having my oven refuse to go past 300 degrees, then slowly shut itself off and start emitting gas, like something out of a 1970s made-for-TV movie starring Dirk Benedict.

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Bring on your Battlestar Galactica plastic weaponry. I smite thee with stink.

The NJNG tech told me the igniter in the oven was busted and needed replacing. I asked my downstairs neighbors if I could use their oven. They said they were sorry, but they didn’t want the extra heat on a day like today. They did offer to see if they could relight it, something about kneeling on the floor, reaching through the broiler drawer with an Aim ‘N Flame and brute ambition. I know nothing about this method. It might have worked finely and dandily. But I couldn’t stop picturing a Hiroshima-styled mushroom cloud over the spot where my house had been and brioche tins flying out over the Atlantic. So I called my friends Kim and Doug, who are endlessly amiable and happy to help in a cookie crisis. Within an hour both batches were done.

These cookies are hearty, homey, flavorful, and textured in a very appealing lumpy bumpy way. As Anita points out, they lend themselves well to additions and substitutions. They’ll keep well frozen, I’m sure, and will defrost to keep my stomach full this week as I zip around the county. Thanks, Anita.

Here she is:

This is based on my mother’s oatmeal cookies, but I changed it up. Instead of cinnamon, I added cardamom. Instead of raisins, I used home-dried apricots (although commercially-dried apricots would do as well). I substituted chocolate chips (which I think are rather tasteless)** for chopped dark chocolate. I also added coconut.

I can’t keep these in the cookie jar. Heck. Half of the time they don’t even make it that far—they are eaten right off of the cooling rack.

Oatmeal Cardamom Chocolate Cookies

2 c all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

2 tsp ground cardamom

1 1/2 c butter, softened

1 c brown sugar, packed

1 c granulated sugar

1/4 c molasses or barley malt syrup

4 eggs

1 tsp pure vanilla extract

3 c old-fashioned rolled oats

1 c chopped dried apricots (if unsulphured, slightly reconstitute by soaking in warm water)

1 c chopped walnuts (optional)

1 1/2 c shredded coconut (unsweetened)

1 1/2 c chopped dark chocolate. (I put the pieces in a big plastic bag and whack the bejeezus out of it with a meat tenderizer.)

Preheat oven to 350° F. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper. In a separate bowl combine flour, soda, salt and cardamom, and set aside. Cream butter and sweeteners together. Add eggs to butter and sweetener mixture, one at a time, incorporating each one before adding the next. Add vanilla. Add oats, flour mixture, apricots, walnuts and coconut. Mix on low speed. Add chocolate. Combine.

Scoop by spoonfuls, about 2-3 tablespoons each, onto cookie sheets, leaving a couple of inches in between. Bake for 11-13*** minutes. Cool on a rack, then feast.

Anita Burns

Corona, CA

USA

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Do I seem obsessed with shiny chocolate?

 

*Especially the butter.

**Absolutely the case with Nestle.

***Mine took 18 minutes.

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