PREVIOUSLY, ON DINNER: The Grand Finale

You didn’t really think it was over yet, did you? 😉 I couldn’t let you off the hook that easily.

In case you’re just joining us, this is all going to seem remarkably out of context, so I would advise you to go back first here, then here, and finally here to figure out what the heck I’m talking about. Or, if all you care about is ice cream, read on!

Cakes without something creamy, fluffy, saucy or frosty always look a bit naked, don’t they? Even when they’re full of tasty things like lavender, orange and almond. But here’s the tricky thing: with these strong flavors already vying for your attention, whatever goes with them has to complement, rather than compete. I suppose a dollop of whipped cream, or even the perennial favorite greek yogurt would have done the job… but I don’t know, that all seems so ordinary. And really, I’m a sucker for ice cream. Ice cream is fantastic, because in addition to being one of the universe’s all-time greatest hits, it always sparks intense admiration from guests, as if it were a feat of culinary alchemy to make. Nothing could actually be further from the truth.

Most of the time I start with a custard base when I make ice cream. While not strictly necessary, I love the rich eggy smoothness it gives. On the other hand, it’s a bit fussy as you have to walk the fine line between curdled eggs and salmonella risk (the latter of which I admittedly don’t take too many precautions against). It also takes a long time, because you have to start by heating ingredients, and so before you can get them iced a long cooling period has to follow. The magic of this ice cream, then, is that neither does it contain eggs nor does it need to be cooked, but it is nonetheless incredibly rich and smooth, and the whole thing can be shoved in the freezer within ten minutes of removing the ingredients from the fridge. "And what if I don’t have an ice cream maker?" you ask. Well, you don’t need one. In fact, I don’t have one either – well technically I do but it’s in storage in Germany – and that doesn’t stop me. The only thing that you have to do if you make ice cream without a machine is take the semifrozen mixture out of the freezer at regular intervals and stir it vigorously (or use a hand beater if you prefer) to break down the ice crystals. Granted, it’s not quite as creamy as the churned kind, but it sure beats no ice cream.

The recipe, once again, comes from The Book*, but I actually deviated quite a bit. The original uses just ricotta, sugar, milk and cream. I suppose if you have really, really top quality sheep’s milk ricotta that simple mixture would be flavorful enough, but my local Tesco ricotta doesn’t really cut the mustard in that sense. If you have a source for it, by all means eliminate the bells and whistles. If, like me, your ricotta is somewhat less illustrious, I would highly recommend the addition of a bit more flavor like in the following recipe. One more thing – I do find that British supermarket ricotta is a cut above the American stuff sold in large plastic containers with pseudo-Italian names. If you’re in the US, use it at your own risk. If you have any other soft unripened cheese at your disposal, however, whether it be a high quality farmer’s cheese, cream cheese, even goat cheese – I would probably use that instead. Hmmm, goats cheese ice cream, any takers?

Ricotta and Honey Ice Cream

Source: Liberally adapted from Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons

500g (a little over 1 lb.) of the best ricotta you can find
2/3 cup (175ml) milk
1 cup (250ml) heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
pinch salt
1/3 cup (90ml) honey
powdered sugar, to taste (sifted)

Beat the ricotta, milk, honey, salt and lemon zest together until light and smooth. Beat the cream with two or three tablespoons of powdered sugar in a chilled bowl until soft peaks form. Fold into the ricotta mixture. Taste for sweetness: keeping in mind that when frozen the sweetness will be a little muted. Stir in either more honey (if you want that flavor more pronounced), or more powdered sugar. Pour into a freezer-safe container with a lid. Freeze until solid (at least 6 hours), removing the mixture every hour or so to beat it a bit and break up the ice crystals. Or, if you are one of the lucky ones, churn it in your ice cream maker. This is really nice with cakes, or with fruit, or with other ice creams, or with a big bowl and a spoon…

*See previous posts, if you really don’t know!

PREVIOUSLY, ON DINNER: The Main Event

All good things must come to an end. In my case, there was some debate as to whether things would end at all on Saturday night, as I had inadvertently stuffed everyone to the point of no return. Feeble protests of ‘just a little breather’ were heard from various corners of the table, and being a polite hostess I acquiesced, leaving the evening’s coup de grace sitting neglected in the kitchen. However, when it became clear that this breather might extend until the next morning, I forced upon my guests the only antidote I trust to swiftly combat overindulgence: copious amounts of brandy and espresso, the first to numb the stomach and the second to jolt the digestive organs back into action (very scientific, I know). Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. Sure enough, ten minutes later, as if on cue, people were perking up, rubbing their eyes and murmuring that they might actually be able to fit in some dessert. Heaving a silent sigh of relief, I brought out the cake.

Let me tell you a little bit about this cake. I’m not normally drawn to cakes, at least not to American-style spongy frosted cakes, because apart from the frosting things usually tend to taste remarkably similar to nothing. When I make cakes, I tend to make gâteaus or tortes, which have lots of interesting layers of whipped cream, custard and ganache, as well as plenty of fruity, oozy, fudgy, sticky, or crunchy bits that make it a whole lot more exciting to eat. To tempt me into making it, a plain cake has to offer something out of the ordinary. To be honest, I didn’t know what to expect from this cake when I picked the recipe out of the book*. I needed an interesting dessert to show off my new lavender, and this seemed like a safe bet, though I wasn’t sure how people would react to this nontraditional flavor. At best, I figured, it would be a novelty – something that would cause people to exclaim ‘wow, this is interesting’, or ‘wow, how unusual’, but not something that would cause me to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night to have the leftovers all to myself.

How wrong I was. This cake is delicious. Really, really delicious. The lavender is very much there, lending its unmistakable earthy, herbal perfume, but it in no way overpowers the orange and almond – in fact, it seems these three flavors were made for each other, as each lets the others shine through like different voices in a barbershop quartet. They work together, somehow managing to be simultaneously subtle and intense. The cake is citrusy and fresh and nutty and floral; it’s also buttery and moist and has the perfect amount of resistance under the fork. You could serve it with whipped cream, ice cream, yogurt or nothing. People did unanimously say ‘wow’ upon tasting it. It wasn’t just any ‘wow’, however – there was no ‘wow, how interesting’ or ‘wow, how unusual’. It was the ultimate in wows – a simple, plain, crumbs-spilling-out-of-full-mouth, ‘WOW!’.

Lavender, Orange and Almond Cake
Source: adapted from Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons
Serves: 8-10

for cake:
4 teaspoons dried lavender
250g/9oz (1 1/4 cups) sugar
225g/8oz (2 sticks) butter, at room temperature
juice from 2 large oranges
finely-grated zest from 2 large oranges
1 teaspoon almond extract
4 eggs
3/4 teaspoon salt
200g/7oz (1 2/3 cups) flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
50g (1/2 cup) ground almonds

for topping:
50g (1/2 cup) flaked almonds
30g (1/4 cup) powdered sugar
1 teaspoon dried lavender (optional)

Put the lavender and some of the sugar in a clean coffee grinder (or a food processor) and grind to a powder. Combine this with the rest of the sugar. Cream the lavender sugar and butter together until light and fluffy, then add the orange juice, zest, almond extract and the eggs. Sift together the flour, baking powder and salt, and beat into the wet mixture, along with the ground almonds.

Pour the batter into a 9-inch greased and lined springform pan. Sprinkle the flaked almonds evenly over the top, and sift the powdered sugar over them. Bake in a preheated oven at 350F/180C for 40-50 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool the cake, unmold and sprinkle with the remaining teaspoon of dried lavender.

*Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons, in case you’re just joining us.

PREVIOUSLY, ON DINNER: The Entrée

In my opinion, a meal should get better as it progresses. I would never put all my energy into an exotic and complicated starter, and then follow it with spaghetti and jello (okay, I would never follow anything with jello, but that’s beside the point). A simple meal is fine, and especially when I have perfect, top-quality ingredients, I love to leave things as unfussy as possible and prepare things like soup or salad, roast meat and vegetables, and fruit, and leave the flavors of the food to speak for themselves. That said, sometimes I crave something a little bit different, and I love finding recipes that combine flavors and textures in unusual and unexpected ways. I love the sensation of eating something for the first time and having my tastebuds sing out "wow!". And of course, if I prepare something a little bit exotic as part of a multi-course meal, it has to be matched, if not outdone, by everything that follows.

Following recipes from books can sometimes be a hit-and-miss affair, and long-established kitchen wisdom dictates that you should never try out new recipes on unsuspecting guests. Phooey, I say! I use my guests as guinea pigs all the time; the thing I normally worry about is not whether the food will be good (since I brazenly figure I can fix most bad recipes before they hit the table), but rather if it will be as good as what came before it. For Saturday’s dinner there was the added pressure (self-imposed) of no longer falling in the ranks of normal people, but instead of Food Bloggers. This is completely ridiculous, I know. But when you’re putting your thoughts on food out there for all the world to see, you don’t want anyone discovering that you can’t even stumble your way around a kitchen! Well, I can happily say that the recipes I selected for Saturday’s meal all came up to bat for me and hit home runs. Each dish was slightly more interesting and unexpected than the one before, and they all built upon each other’s strengths to create one truly memorable meal, and at least for the moment, my membership in the food blogging brotherhood (sisterhood? personhood?) is still intact.

So, without further ado, the main event:

Moroccan-Spiced Poussins with Saffron, Honey and Tomato Jam

Recipe Source: the marinade came courtesy of the Moro cookbook, and the sauce came from the aforementioned Crazy Water, Pickled Lemons with a few detours.
Serves 4.

For the marinade:
4 poussins (baby chickens – you can substitute Cornish game hens)
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoons cinnamon
2 teaspoons cumin
3 cloves garlic, pressed or mashed
1 tablespoon rosewater
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons olive oil

For the sauce:
pinch saffron (threads or powdered)
4 tablespoons butter
1 large onion, minced
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon black pepper
4 cloves garlic, minced
800g (2 lbs) ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped (or 3 (400g/15oz) cans chopped tomatoes, rinsed in a sieve)
2 cups vegetable or chicken stock
1/2 cup mild (I used orange-blossom) honey
1 teaspoon orange flower or rose water (optional)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3/4 cup blanched almonds, toasted
chopped fresh coriander/cilantro for garnish
organic rosepetals for garnish (completely optional)

Mix together all the marinade ingredients and rub over the poussins. Leave them in the fridge to marinate for at least a couple of hours.

For the sauce, soak the saffron in 1/4 cup hot water. Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat and add the onions. Cook slowly, stirring often, until the onions begin to caramelize and melt together, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic, cinnamon, ginger and black pepper, and fry for another minute. Add the tomatoes, and fry until they start to break up, about 5 minutes. At this point add the stock and saffron, and let simmer until the mixture reduces by about a third, about 20 more minutes. At this point I pureed the mixture, but you don’t have to. Add the honey (the amount should depend on how sweet you want it to be – I added the full amount to get it really jammy), lemon juice and flower water, if using. Let it continue to cook until it gets to the consistency you want – it should be quite thick – and do a final taste for sweet and salty. At this point you can leave it until you’re ready to serve, just reheating at the last minute.

For the poussins, preheat the oven to 375F/190C. Put the birds breast-side down in a roasting pan and roast in the oven until golden on top, about 25 minutes. Flip them over and continue roasting breast-side up for another 15-20 minutes, until well browned on the breast and juices run clear.

Serve the poussins on a pool of the jam, sprinkle with the almonds, chopped coriander and rose petals, if using.

Note: Poussins are a great ‘company’ thing, since everyone gets their own little bird, and here in the UK they’re quite easy to find. The original recipe for this dish actually calls for plain old chicken, and has you brown the chicken pieces and then add them to the sauce at the same time as the stock. I might try it that way in the future, but I found the contrast between crispy roasted bird and sweet jammy sauce to be really delicious. Either way, though, it will be magnificent.

STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT: The Grand Finale