IDEAS IN FOOD

Sesame Seeds

I have wanted to put sesame seeds in the pressure cooker for several years now.  It is amazing how procrastination and other ideas can steer a desire off course for indeterminate amounts of time.  Today I came across bulk sesame seeds at a local store and took this as a sign to purchase a bag of seeds and bring them immediately home to the pressure cooker.

Aki and I conferred on how long to cook the seeds.  She believed that due to their small size we should dramatically cut down on the cooking time compared to our other seed cookery.  I was hesitant although she quickly convinced me that we should try her seven minute cook time.  I filled the bottom of the pressure cooker with an inch of water and then placed a trivet in the center.  I then took a small bowl filled with the seeds, some water, agave nectar and salt and placed it on the trivet.  I sealed the lid and set the timer.  When the seven minutes were up I let the pressure dissipate and I opened the lid.  The seeds were not cooked and definitely not tender.  I put the lid on and tried another seven minutes.  No success.  I tried another twenty five minutes.  Not yet.  I added another hour to the cooking time and finally had positive results.  The seeds have texture and a snap and pop similar to eating tobiko (flying fish roe).

I should also note that the seeds uniformly toasted during the pressure cooking.  They picked up a rich nuttiness which did not exist in the raw seeds we started with.  The tiny size of the seeds and the popping texture are really incredible.  I am not quite where we will go with these cooked seeds, though I am looking forward to the journey.

Beet Salad

How to season the inside of a vegetable?  In this case we start with a vegetable puree.  How to give a vegetable puree structure?  What is the desired texture of the vegetable puree?  There are a wide range of approaches to answer these questions.

In putting this beet salad together we were looking to create a beet sphere, which looks like a beet, with an intense and rounded beet flavor and the texture of a silky flan.  We paired the structured beet puree with raw compressed beet rounds infused with blood orange bitters and Blis Elixer.  The beet marinating liquid is reduced to a glaze while the crisp round is topped with Valencay goat cheese.  A few sprigs of wild watercress add a grassy spiciness to the finished dish.

Rhubarb and Jalapeno

A small dice really excites me.  The abbreviated size draws the eye and highlights the texture of the contrasting ingredients. At the same time the pieces are large enough to be tasted individually.  We often look to miniature cubes when we are making condiments because it allows for a balanced combination of flavors and textures.  Here we have rhubarb, which has been infused and compressed with a rhubarb syrup, and jalapeno pepper.  The heady earthiness and delicate spice of the jalapeno is an ideal match for the acidic sweetness of the rhubarb.  Since we are only compressing these vegetables and not actually cooking them, their inherent crispness remains.  This allows for a relish with intense flavors and a distinct texture.  The union of rhubarb and jalapeno acts as a great foil for a number of ingredients from smoke infused trout to braised lamb neck.  While we could have used them in either their cooked or raw states, what makes this condiment truly special is the uniform cutting and compression of the vegetables.

10 Minute Grits and Whey

Aki usually makes the grits.  She enjoys the slow stirring, the tinkering, the pleasure of adding moisture as liquid cooks away, the adjusting of the flame to prevent the bottom of the pot from sticking and occasionally scorching.  Let's pause on that last piece of information, the sticking and scorching.  I have lost track of the amount of times that the grits have stuck to the bottom of the pan.  No matter how gentle the cooking, how careful the stirring, somehow, some way, a distraction always occurs and those grits stick.  When grits stick, not only do you have a chance of scorching and wasting a good sixty to ninety minutes of cooking time, you also have to expend a whole lot of time and energy in scrubbing that pot clean.  I am not a fan of pot scrubbing, yet somehow I am quite skilled and very practiced in the art of cleaning.

The constant fear of scrubbing pots has forced my brain to look for alternate methods of cooking grits.  We have tried the oven, though that process is even slower, we have tried the pressure cooker with its non-stick interior, and still we occasionally find grits glued to the bottom of the bowl.  Then it occurred to me.  We had caramelized yogurt in a vacuum bag in the pressure cooker to produce amazing results and no mess.  I wondered if we could do the same with grits?  I filled a bag with 1 part grits and 3 parts water by weight and sealed it tight.  I placed the bag in the pressure cooker and added enough water to the pot so the bag would not scorch.  I sealed the lid and set the cooker for ten minutes.  When the time was up, I let the pressure naturally release and then removed the bag.  The bag was intact and I quickly cut it open.  I poured the contents into a bowl and stirred the mixture.  The grits were on the drier side though they were fully cooked.  The next time I tried a four to one, liquid to grit, ratio.  The result was perfect grits.  Well almost perfect.

There is an ongoing debate about what liquid should be used to cook grits.  Purists say water.  Gluttons say milk.  Aki says skim milk.  Thankfully Aki's frugality produced an even more exciting medium.  Aki had just made a batch of ricotta and instead of following the directions and pouring the whey down the drain, she saved it for me.  I have a list of ideas involving whey as a cooking medium and when Aki handed me a bowl of whey, the ten minute grits cooked in whey went straight to the top.  The flavor of the whey has a slight tang from the buttermilk with a rich sweet backbone from the milk.  It has a touch of salinity from Aki's seasoning of the curds and the entire combination is a unique liquid which was destined to be utilized in our kitchen.

The grits cooked in whey retain the essence of their corn flavor while being accented by the intrinsic dairy notes in the liquid.  The grits are an incredible vehicle to be enjoyed on their own or perhaps gilded with fresh mushrooms, braised carrots, or even a few fresh shrimp.

Pineapple Weed

The first sign said "wild Chamomile", the second sign said "pineapple weed". Alex stopped and scratched his head. "What the heck is that stuff?" I was examining strawberries and he took off to confer with the lady presiding over the the bushy looking bunches of petal-less yellow flowers, with relatively thick stalks and small, pointed fern-like leaves. As he talked, I saw him pick up a bunch and give it a sniff. It was all over in that brief second and before I could blink he bounced back triumphantly bearing his scraggy looking bouquet.

"Smell this!" he exclaimed, pushing the buds beneath my nose. The scent was arresting, herbal and vegetal with a definite undertone of...pineapple. There was definitely something worth pursuing here, the only question was what to do with the sorry looking things.

Pineapple weeds are low growing plants that resemble Mayweed Chamomile in appearance and are notable for their distinctive pineapple scent. They are a summer annual which flower from May through August. According to the vendor, the leaves and the buds are edible although for our purposes we stuck to the tender, cone shaped buds. It grows well in compacted, dusty soil and can often be found at the edges of gravel parking lots and along well trodden sandy beaches. The seeds require fine soil and sunlight to germinate. The plants are generally no higher than five inches although in ideal situations they have been known to grow up to twelve inches high.

The buds themselves are about the size of a #2 pencil eraser. We cooked them briefly in a syrup of water, agave nectar and a pinch of salt to sweeten, tenderize, and bring our that pineapple aroma. The flavor is delicate and ethereal, bringing to mind a juicy bite of pinapple consumed in a humid rainforest. These buds need a a strong yet delicate touch to really highlight their true potential.

A Pot of Prosciutto and Inspiration

We were lucky enough to be given a bountiful bag of prosciutto fat.  Actually it is a combination of prosciutto and Iberico ham fat, saved for us by a friendly cheese monger.  It is difficult to express my pleasure with this luxury.  The amount of time and energy which went into creating these flavorful pieces of fat, skin, and discarded trim is amazing.  How can I express the potential of what we have received? Our first step in utilizing the fats' possibilities is rendering out the fat.  We actually divided the pieces of prosciutto between two pots and gently heated the contents.  The low heat allows the fat to be released into the pot while the skin/ham pieces shrink and caramelize, allowing the two parts to separate and produce two very different ingredients full of potential for our kitchen.

The fat itself will be used for a number of fat-based applications, from poaching fish to making foie gras prosciutto and a savory caraway bread.  Some of the prosciutto cracklings will be ground into a fine seasoning base, some used to season soups, sauces, legumes, and vegetables, and some will be the flavoring agent for a prosciutto consomme.  These are our starting points.  Who knows where we'll end up.

Oysters, Morels and Yuzu Bubbles

 

Two trimmed and gently poached and chilled oysters sit nestled amongst braised morel mushrooms and leaves of oxalis.  A light topping of yuzu bubbles and a scattering of chives provides a creamy and acidic medium which conceals the treasures beneath and acts as a vehicle to marry the flavors of land and sea.

Duck in Ramps

As Spring opens the door for Summer's arrival we felt another look at ramps, whose season lasts almost exactly as long as springtime, was in order.  These roulades consist of poached and chilled duck breasts, which we then rolled in ramp greens and cooked again to order.  The green, grassy allium notes of the ramps act to support the gamy, meaty notes in the duck breast. 

We paired slices of these duck parcels with a cherry, yellow mustard, and cornichon sauce. Several pieces of tender, pressure cooked turnips completed the dish.  The approach of cooking the duck first and then wrapping it in the ramp greens allows the flavors to remain singular while still uniting on the palate.

Eat Your Weeds

Just a friendly reminder to remember that one person's weed is another's lettuce.  Purslane is about and in abundance.  The succulent tang of this rock weed is wonderful with soft shell crabs and a perfect accent to ricotta drizzled with honey.  These tiny, succulent plants are juicy with a lightly sweet flavor that melts into a gently tangy finish. We tend to use them in their natural state, although they can be sauteed or added to soups and stews.  Do not miss the opportunity to incorporate these fine florets into your latest and greatest culinary compositions.

Angelica

The other day at the farmers market, we were lucky enough to stumble across some fresh angelica.  The cut plants were in a basket beside the stall, dramatic beauties with long, hollow stalks, serrated leaves and drooping, umbels of green and white flowers. Having never played with fresh angelica we were instantly intrigued. We knew that the stems were often candied for their bittersweet, slightly warm, and aromatic flavor. Angelica has been described as musky and herbal and is often paired with juniper due to their similar flavor profiles.

The entire plant can be used or culinary purposes. In addition to being candied, the stems may be stripped of their leaves, peeled, and eaten raw. The leaves can be dried and used for tea. They can also be combined with the stems, coarsely shopped and steeped in warm liquids to impart their unique flavorings to a variety of custards, jellies, other preparations. In the past essential oils, which were distilled from the seeds, were used by some wine makers in the Rhine area to boost the muscatel flavor of their wines.  The young shoots and tenderest, leaves may be used in salads or sautés. The roots can be cooked and eaten as a vegetable and in it’s dried form is often boiled or steeped with honey and lemon as a curative beverage.  Angelica is a flavoring in Chartreuse and also used in many gins. It is commonly known as a “guardian angel”. Legend has it that during the plague and angel appeared in a monk’s dream and told him to use angelica as a cure for the disease. To this day it is used in homeopathic remedies for the treatment of fevers, colds, coughs and other stomach ailments.

By far it's most common culinary guise is candied and used in a variety of desserts and baked goods. It is classically paired with rhubarb and spinach, although not necessarily at the same time.  For us, we are using it with some beautiful white asparagus.

Smoked French Fries...a few results and another angle

While working down in Baltimore at Woodberry Kitchen we were able to try a execute a few of our earlier ideas on the smoked French fry front. 

To begin with, we smoked oil blanched fries with tasty results.  Our initial idea proved sound.  The next test was frying par cooked potatoes.  These were made with whole potatoes cooked in a water bath at 65 degrees Celsius, which were then cut into fries, smoked, and fried.  No other blanching was involved.  These fries were amazing, the structure and shape of each one was sharp and clearly defined, filled with potato from crust to center with no shrinkage, and the light smoky flavor was pleasant without being overwhelming.  The kitchen team ate plates of these as a snack during the workshop.

When the session ended and we moved into the prep period I looked over at the smoker.  Zach (the sous chef) had just cut up some sweet potatoes and placed them on the rack.  He looked up, smiled and said "smoked sweet potato fries."  Brilliant.  We were all busy in the kitchen and it seemed like only an instant went by before he reappeared with a plate in hand and I was eating a sweet and smoky deep orange fry.  I am not normally a fan of sweet potato fries, though with that hint of smoke I could certainly get used to them quick.  We added a bit of hot sauce on the side, in lieu of ketchup and the fries disappeared like lightning.

I had focused on traditional russet potatoes for smoking fries.  It was great to see the idea through someone else's eyes and to taste the immediate results.  Yesterday I forgot to ask the question, what else can be a fry?  Thankfully someone else remembered.

Lemon Thyme

I can distinctly remember the point when I stopped liking lemon thyme.  We were working at Clio and there was a fair amount of lemon thyme which needed to be used up.  I was given the task of finding a use.  I decided an herb infused oil would capture the essence of the floral and grassy thyme.  What I did not know was that the thyme stems, like those of many firm stemmed herbs, taste like old wood.  My oil tasted as though I had aged lemon pledge in old pine barrels.  I was disgusted, both with myself and with the flavor I now associated with lemon thyme.

I steered away from lemon thyme for roughly ten years.  Sure, it has crossed my path occasionally, although not without an upturned nose of disgust from me.  Yet, when I was sent on the mission to buy plants to create a small herb garden for us to use at home I became mesmerized by the many varieties in the farmer's market, particularly the lemon thyme.  It had a variegated appearance, green and yellow balancing in a visual harmony, portraying the aroma and flavor tucked within each individual leaf.  I was compelled to purchase one for our garden.  When I planted our herbs in their new home I smiled wryly at the lemon thyme, not really knowing why I bought it. 

Still, the lemon thyme has a particular voice which finally began speaking to me again.  While it settled itself into its new home I casually avoided it, not knowing or remembering how to use it.  I still had the awful memory of lemon thyme oil in my head.  When we started working on a refreshing melon and pineapple terrine paired with sliced and zested mojama, Aki dumped a bunch of freshly cut herbs on my cutting board.  In an instant the fog dissipated and I saw an opportunity.  Perhaps it was the similar aesthetic, perhaps the flavor profile, perhaps it was just the right time.  The lemon thyme finished the dish beautifully and rejoined our pantry with a graceful flourish.

Cabot Cloth Bound Cheddar

As a graduate of NECI, ever so long ago, I left school with a definite bias for Vermont products. We spent two years working with them and to this day I am still partial to King Arthur Flour, the butter, fromage blanc and creme fraiche from the Vermont Butter and Cheese Company, a myriad range of locally produced cheeses, and more recently we developed our relationship with Diane and her amazing butter at Animal Farm. Cabot cheddars and butter have always been staple in my home kitchen, still it wasn’t until recently that I revisited the Cabot Cloth Bound Cheddar.

When I found out that I was pregnant, one of the first things that was given to me was a list of foods that are now taboo. (We won’t get into the entire list here. Suffice it to say that I was slightly awestruck by the number of foods that were suddenly forbidden to me. It made me wonder what it is that pregnant women do eat and how safe my regular eating habits actually are.) The dietitian stressed the need to avoid cheeses from other countries. She told me to stick to American made cheeses because they were either pasteurized or aged and safe for me to eat. As a die hard cheese lover this edict gave me pause. No more French Muenster or Epoisses? No more creamy Robiolas or gooey Brie de Meaux? And then I had a epiphany. Instead of focusing on the cheeses I couldn’t eat I would savor the cheeses that I could. This was an opportunity to explore American cheeses that I hadn’t yet tried and to reacquaint myself with old favorites that I hadn’t had in a while. After all, there were far more good cheeses produced in the world than I could possibly eat on a regular basis. Temporary boundaries could be a good thing if I used them to focus in on cheeses that I might otherwise be missing out on.

Enter the Cabot Cloth Bound Cheddar. Let me begin by noting that this is not an inexpensive cheese. This cheese was inspired by a return to traditional cheese making and as such is expensive to produce. It was created as a joint venture between Cabot Creamery and Jasper Hill Farm. The cheese is created at Cabot. The 38-pound wheels made with pasteurized milk from Holstein cows that is injected with a proprietary blend of cultures, traditionally hooped and bound in cloth before being sent over to jasper Hill Farm for cave aging. At Jasper Hill Farm the cheeses are coated in lard and placed on spruce boards in an underground cellar where they are aged for between ten and eighteen months.

The cheese itself is utterly delicious. It has developed a slightly dry, firm, yet creamy texture, with a fragrant, grassy aroma and a color reminiscent of a white sand beach on a sunny afternoon. It has the complexity of an aged cheese without any of the bitter aftertaste that sometimes occurs when cheeses are a bit too old. It is nutty and buttery, with caramel undertones. The flavors are sweet, sharp, and smooth. According to Alex it’s as if the flavor profiles of a big, spicy, earthy Syrah and smooth, fruity Merlot got together and had a child that was made of cheese. I say that it’s delicious eaten out of hand and also complements some of Spring’s finest produce beautifully. A little goes a long way because the cheese is just that good.

Raspberries

A bowl of ideas.   

Buttermilk, Rhubarb, and Lovage

The combination of these three ingredients somehow manages to be both envigorating and comforting.  The lovage adds a bright note of herbal bitterness dissolving on the tongue from a soft powder into a rich decadent lovage oil.  The buttermilk is set in the form of an orb and textured like a soft panna cotta.  The tart rhubarb cubes are marinated and compressed in their own lightly sweetened juices.  The residual liquid from the marinated rhubarb is whipped into light bubbles to dress the ingredients and to bring them together.

The organization of these ingredients and their placement in a menu is transitional.  This dish carries us from cheese to chocolate.  In our minds this is the natural progression of the end of a tasting menu: cheese to fruit to chocolate.  We've basically eliminated the mignardises from our repertoire as in our experience most people are too full to truly enjoy them. They can be wonderful little bites, but if there is no appetite for them they become simply the platform for a tummy ache. Instead we end our meal with chocolate and hopefully send our guests home with pleasantly full bellies and happy memories of an evening well spent.

Lilacs, Parsnips and Allium

With the trees and flowers in full bloom there is a bounty of olfactory inspiration all around.  The aroma of lilacs continues to turn my head as I walk around our neighborhood.  In fact, the green market today was redolent with the fragrances of lilac and allium.  With all the bounty available, it is no wonder then that we returned home with bags of wild garlic, young garlic, ramps, chives and shallots.  I was also fixated on the aroma of the beautiful lilacs we smelled and then saw at various flower vendors around the park.

My first question about lilacs was about their edibility.  If these star perfumers were inedible I would need to rethink my ideas.  As it turned out lilacs are edible and their flowers are often candied and used in wine making.  While the lilac flowers do contain a touch of bitterness, the overall scent is sweet and enticing.  The lilac's aroma immediately had me thinking of parsnips.  The heady sweetness of parsnips seemed to be an ideal partner to the floral notes of the lilac.  With the seasonal proximity of the young allium and the lilacs and their arrival in our kitchen today, the three elements came together.  Sort of.

We choose to use a puree of nigella seeds as a complex onion note in our combination of ingredients.  The lilac provided aroma to the dish.  The reason our dish needed an aroma boost was because we were serving it cold, ice cream cold.  We paired the aroma of the fresh lilacs with a parsnip ice cream and the nigella seed puree.  We added a single lilac blossom since its overall role was to perfume the dish and to tie the other two ingredients together. It is an impromptu and tasty expression of a gorgeous spring morning.

Nigella Sativa

Otherwise known as kalonji or black onion seeds, these tiny beauties are the product of a flowering herb plant that is native to southwest Asia. The seeds and oil from this plant are often utilized in homeopathic medicine to treat a wide range of ailments from indigestion and intestinal disorders to muscle aches, skin inflammations and dandruff. The seeds are triangular in shape and pungent in aroma with a savory, slightly bitter flavor that is reminiscent of dehydrated onions.

Here we have pressure cooked them for fifty minutes to tenderize them and remove some of their bitter backbone.  The result of the pressure cooking produced a tender seed which still has its bold  allium flavor along with notes of pine and citrus.  The tenderized version of Nigella Sativa opens up a number of possibilities from flavoring breads to making making a puree to using in a relish of grapefruit and celery leaves.

Time and a few tests will begin to allow us to uncover a few more thoughts and uses.

Understanding An Ingredient

It took a refreshing hike in the Alaskan woods this morning for me to realize that often times we do not fully understand ingredients and their actual potential.  We were walking and I was grabbing leaves and branches, squeezing needles and leaves, inhaling the fragrant perfume of the forest floor mingling with the evergreen essential oils still fresh on my fingertips.  I reached for a spruce branch and it pricked my finger, which prompted me to take a closer look.  The spruce branch itself was mature with strong, pointed needles.  The tips of the branches were covered with small buds, which seemed to be wrapped in a rough papery skin.  When I picked one and peeled it, a Kermit the Frog green bud was exposed.  Inside this protective coating was a tiny, delicate spruce bud.  The minute needles were tender with a subtle clean spruce flavor.  The lemony notes of the spruce were also apparent and the tannins, which are so often dominant in spruce tips, were tamed.  I suddenly realized that in many of our uses and applications of spruce we have been using slightly older tips, which while fragrant and much easier to deal with than mature needles, were not ideal for being served on their own.  The discovery of the spruce bud was an awakening for my palate and for my imagination.

What else have we been using without understanding the true potential of what was cradled in the palms of our hands?

Ramps

One of the benefits of being here on the ship is that I was able to escape the unfurling of Spring in New York. As much as I enjoy the changing of the seasons and the sudden saturation of color and explosion of life that fills the landscape around our home in Forest Hills, the pollen is enough to kill you. Those with allergies know that this is only a slight exaggeration.  The week before I left was notable for both it’s warm weather and high pollen count. It was beautiful and painful all at the same time.

Some of the things that I am very sorry to be missing while away are the first ramps of the season. Ramps or Allium Tricoccum, are also known as wild leeks, ramson, and ail de bois. They appear in the springtime in deciduous forest areas from South Carolina to Canada and as far west as Missouri and Minnesota. West Virginia in particular is known for its celebration of this seasonal delicacy. Ramps grow in patches in cool shady areas with moist soil that is rich in organic materials. They begin to appear in late March and can be found through the end of May. By June the flowers have bloomed, leaving the seeds to appear on the leafless stalks. That is the end of wild leeks until the following season.

Ramps resemble scallions in that they have a white bulb at the bottom of the stalk although the green leaves are long, oval, and almost silky, with pointed ends, often with reddish streaks along their hearts. They have a strong flavor, a hybrid of onion and garlic, leaning heavily toward the garlic. They are edible from the tips of their leaves to their fleshy bulbous bottoms.  Ramps are often considered a spring tonic for their strong flavor and infusion of minerals and nutrients at the end of a long winter.  In the South they are often served at home fried up with potatoes or scrambled with eggs, while in restaurants around the country they may be found in a multitude of guises: pickled and served with fried oysters or soft shell crabs, blanched and sautéed in risottos and pastas, or simply seared and tucked up beside roasted morels and grilled lamb chops.

Ramps have long been a favorite of ours.  I’ve spent hours bent over crates of them in professional kitchens, meticulously cleaning and pickling them so that we could preserve their bounty for the months ahead.  It’s a common practice and a beneficial one. There’s nothing quite like a great pickled ramp. We also love them fresh, simply grilled or sautéed so that the green are slightly crisp and the bulbs are tender and toothsome. The flavor is like nothing else. Creamed into a soup garnished with fresh lumps of crab meat or fried with potatoes and served alongside a thick steak, ramps are a revelation. My mouth waters just thinking of what we could do with them. I can only hope that there are some left in the market when we get back to New York. They’re one of the last seasonal specialties and all the more precious for that fact.

Artichokes and Brown Butter Gnocchi

We are still working with artichokes and brown butter.  As a child one of my very favorite treats was stuffed artichokes.  I could only get them from my Aunt Lucy, who happened to be an amazing Italian cook. When we would go to see her for the holidays or whenever she would come to visit us, if there were artichokes to be had in the market, we had them on our dinner table. The petals and center were filled to bursting with an herbed, garlicky bread stuffing. No on else made them the way that Aunt Lucy did and she passed away before I was old enough to learn.  We always felt special when she set them out on the table because we knew that she made them because we loved them so much.  Her husband, my Uncle Alex, would make them for us after she was gone. He tried hard but the artichokes were never the same, although they all still tasted like love and we consumed them happily because they told us how much he cared both for us and for her memory.  It's no wonder that I cannot resist artichokes in any of their guises. They are labor intensive to prep and to eat and the rewards for your effort are great. How many other ingredients have the ability to change the flavor of other food and make everything around them just a bit sweeter?  The thistles are beautiful when allowed to bloom and dry.  Although it does seem a pity not to eat them up.  Somehow I've never been able to stuff them for myself, it seems wrong, yet whenever I see them in a restaurant I am compelled to order them and savor each bite.  It's just as wonderful when Alex prepares them for me because in my mind artichokes are a symbol of great love and care.

The combination of roasted artichokes and their puree expresses it's inherent flavors differently because of the varied textures.  The silky puree eases down gently with a lingering punch of that sweet, earthy flavor. On the other hand the roasted pieces are tender and yielding, with a bit of chew from the petals and fibers to force you to really savor each bite. The brown butter potato gnocchi with their creamy, delicate centers encased in the slightly brittle outer crust from a quick sear in butter provide a beautiful counterpoint to the unique flavors of the thistle.

The straightforward presentation of these ingredients allows for an honest expression of tastes.  We both enjoy the restrained simplicity of this dish and the fact that it allows the vegetable to take the spotlight.   These elements would work well in conjunction with hot smoked trout or even the fabled and feared steak. For today though, it seemed best on its own.  It may not be perfection but it is pretty darn close. It's the flavor of love.

Shrimp and Rhubarb Vinaigrette

Can you tell that rhubarb is in season aound here?  In keeping with rhubarb's ability to accent and accentuate flavors, I wanted to use it with raw fish.  Since we did not have any raw fish on hand I opted to pair shaved rhubarb and its natural vinaigrette with a chilled sheet of pounded shrimp.  The shrimp is topped with an even thinner sheet of braised leek.  The original idea was to use the leek as a transparent window to the shrimp beneath adding sweetness and notes of cooked allium.  The leek sheet certainly adds flavor and layers nicely with the shrimp.  Although, since this is a dish in progress, focusing on the marriage of flavors and the combination of textures, the leeks integration in the final composition will more than likely change completely. It's interesting and tasty, but somehow it just hasn't quite come together yet.

The shaved rhubarb is seasoned with salt, a dash of cayenne and agave nectar and then compressed to quickly allow for a marriage of flavors.  We then remove the rhubarb slivers from the vacuum sealed bag and blend the rhubarb juices with a touch of olive oil to complete the vinaigrette. The sweet, tender shrimp and the earthy, silken leek combine to form a platform for the crisp, tangy rhubarb. Now we just have to find that final piece that will bring the dish to the next level.

Artichokes and Rhubarb

We were taught to cook artichokes in acidulated water.  The reasoning, at least what I remember was to preserve color by preventing oxidation.  Yet, by cooking artichokes in a piquant, acidic environment the end result is more of a pickled vegetable. While delicious it does not capture the essence of the sweet, tender, earthy ingredient, which is what we were after.

Artichokes barigoule and other acid based artichoke preparations can be mouth wateringly good.  Unfortunately the fully integrated acidity can become tiresome.  As we continue to look for ways to control flavor, this approach, which involves infusing an ingredient with a uniform and expected seasoning becomes less appealing. We were looking for something different.

What we've learned is that artichokes do not need to be cooked in extremely acidic environments.  Some acidity certainly helps, though it is used more as a seasoning than as a preservative.  Recently we cooked artichokes in a broth flavored with chermoulah and salt.  No acidity was added.  The artichokes cooked beautifully and the chermoulah seasoned the artichokes throughout while the dominant flavor remained that of the artichoke.  We have been working with these artichokes in a variety of dishes, preparations, and ideas.

The first composition united the spiced artichokes with fruity, acidic rhubarb.  Since we did not involve acid in the cooking process we wanted to integrate an acid in the dish to balance the chermoulah and sweet earthiness of the artichoke.

We used two preparations of rhubarb in this dish.  The first is a rhubarb pudding that is