Food, Remembered: Dad’s Floating Island

Floating IslandFloating island is why I am a chef. My father, who is an exceptional cook*, was always in charge of preparing our special occasion meals. Christmas dinner, friends coming over, celebrations – he would turn out some kind of delicious feast without fail. On one such occasion, when a boss was joining us for dinner, my dad once more set off to pull out all the stops. In this instance, the boss happened to have a sweet-tooth. So, in order to pluck at his food soft spot, my dad decided to making floating island for dessert. The dinner preparation was a large undertaking so he enlisted my help. At 12, I would have been just about the right age to start an old world kitchen apprenticeship. In a life changing moment, he slid his copy of Julia Child’s The Way to Cook over to me and pointed to the recipe. I could practically hear Julia’s voice speaking from the pages as she told me that I “must have courage” in preparing the crème anglaise. To this day, that book is sacrosanct among my cooking library.

The recipe above is my recipe, for copyright reasons, not Julia’s. As floating island is extremely simple in its base components, there is little difference between the two.

*Editor’s Note: This is also my father. I can vouch for the truth of this statement.


Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: creme anglaise, floating island, food remembered, Julia Child, meringue

Cooking for Valentine’s Day

Earlier this week, our own Ben Witten helped you make the perfect dessert for Valentine’s Day. Today, we bring you good friend of The Finch & Pea, Joel Gamoran, on his cooking web series, Kitchen Wasteland, teaching you how to make Scallops & Grapefruit for dinner and Chocolate Truffles for, well, any time*. The beauty is that his recipes can be executed even in a tiny NY or San Francisco apartment with just a hot plate.


*It is Valentine’s Day. You are allowed to have both chocolate truffles and crème brûlée. Better than “allowed” – you are strongly encouraged.


Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: Joel Gamoran, Kitchen Wasteland, valentine's day

Creme Brulee: The Science of Sexy [Repost]

Editor’s Note: Just in time for Valentine’s Day, we are reposting a slightly updated version of Ben’s crème brûlée recipe that was originally posted 31 August 2012. Not only is it delicious, but we have found the eggucation contained within will make all your attempts to cook an egg more successful. The recipe is the same, but we have updated the recipe PDF.

I have promised you sexy food, and the science behind it. Therefore, crème brûlée. Look at all those accent marks! Sexy, right? And, why not start with eggs – queen of ingredients, bringers of life, denizens of diner griddles, the heart of fluffy meringues, and the soul of silky custards. Crème brûlée is sexy because it is simple. Smooth, creamy custard1 contrasts with a thin, crisp layer of smoky caramel. Every flavor and texture is a balance – creamy and crisp, sweet and bitter, light and deep – harmonizing to enhance and elevate the dish.

Click image for printable PDF (74kb)

Click image for printable PDF (74kb)

If you want to know the steps to making crème brûlée, use the recipe above (PDF – 74kb). If you want to know how crème brûlée becomes sexy keep reading. The science of sexy can be unlocked by understanding the properties of its simple ingredients.THE EGG

Crème brûlée is made with egg yolks, and only the egg yolk. Egg yolk has a lower protein concentration and more fats than egg whites. These factors cause the proteins in the yolk to clump more slowly in the yolk than the whites.

Proteins normally exist in neatly ordered structures, ready to do their biological jobs. The heat from the pan causes these proteins to unravel. Unlike the uncooked, organized proteins we started with, the unraveled proteins can become tangled up with each other and form clumps, like strands of Christmas lights. We call this clumping process coagulation.

Proteins clump faster and at lower temperatures in the whites than the yolk, because the whites have a higher protein concentration and lower concentrations of other, interfering molecules, like delicious fats. The short-order cook at your local diner exploits this difference in coagulation rates to give you the fully cooked whites and runny yolk of a perfect fried egg.

The same thing happens in a custard. Egg whites in a custard mean more protein clumping; and more protein clumping means a firmer and less creamy custard. We want silky, creamy, and sexy. So, we only use the egg yolk.

THE MIX
Egg whites normally begin to coagulate at 140F (60C). Yolks begin to coagulate at 150F (66C). Adding milk and sugar slows coagulation raising the coagulation temperature to 150F (66C) for whites and 160F (71C) for yolks. Using cream instead of milk adds more fats, further disrupts protein clumping, and raises the coagulation temperature, giving us a softer custard as shown on the graph below (if science fair taught me one thing, it was graphs are important).

Since we are looking for the creamiest combo we can get, we are going to use yolks and cream. To further ensure that perfect cook for our yolks, we are going let the cream help our egg yolks handle the heat through a process we call tempering. When working with eggs it is always important to heat them slowly. I don’t care if you are making custard, scrambled eggs, or over-easy. ALWAYS HEAT THEM SLOWLY! Rapid heat transfer unravels proteins faster and creates more firm bonds between them. Firm bonds equal rubbery eggs. No one has ever sent back their eggs because the weren’t rubbery enough.

If you heat two eggs to the same temperature, but heat one rapidly and the other slowly, the egg heated rapidly will always have tighter bonds and be less delicate. This is why every custard recipe has that enigmatic direction to slowly pour heated cream into the eggs. Because we are adding only a little heated cream to a lot of egg yolks and mixing2 (tempering), each bit of cream only slightly increases the temperature of our mixture. If our eggs are gently warmed before encountering the more intense heat of the oven, the initial change in temperature for the eggs is less dramatic and the protein clumping is less severe. If we were to put a completely cooled custard mixture in the oven, the initial heat transfer would be more rapid to bring it up to temperature giving you a less delicate custard. But, that isn’t our only trick for handling the heat.

THE BATH
Our mixture of cream, yolks, and sugar now has a starting coagulation point of about 170F (77C). As a result, our custard will reach a state of uniform, silky bonding around 180F (82C) and start to scramble (chef jargon for coagulating the crap out of some proteins) at 190 – 200F (88-93C). A clever and eager reader who has been reading the recipe, might say, “Hold up! The recipe says to bake the custards at 325F (163C). That’s a bit hotter than the scrambling temperature of 200F (93C). Saboteur!” Not so fast. Your oven is set to 325F (163C), but I promise I’ll keep them cooler than that. That’s why we are going to take them swimming.

We are going to put our custard in a water bath, or bain marie. If we slid our custards into a 325F (163C) oven as is, the outside would scramble before the heat had time to reach the center leaving the inside runny and raw. The water bath is there to moderate the heat. Water is a liquid between 32F and 212F(0-100C)3. At 212F (100C)3, the water turns into vapor. Liquid water cannot get any hotter than 212F (100C)3. Any extra heat energy is used to change from liquid to vapor or to heat up the vapor. By surrounding our custard with water that cannot exceed 212F (100C), we are now actually cooking them closer to their coagulation point and can gently bring the entire mixture to an even coagulation. I also like to seal the top of my pan with foil. This traps a cushion of steam in the pan to moderate the heat hitting the top of the custard.

We now have the creamy side of our sexy equation. All that’s left is a little contrast…a little crunch.

THE BURN
It is the caramel layer that puts the brûlée in the crème brûlée. Which means you get to burn something. On purpose. With a torch. Caramel is simply burnt sugar.  Sugar starts burning at 320F (160C). For caramel, we normally do a slow burn, typically in a pan, to control the darkness, and, therefore, the bitterness, of the caramel. For the crème brûlée we need a fast burn, because the sugar is sitting on top of the custard4. If we give the heat enough time to get into our custard, it will ruin all our careful work from before. Once again, we are trying to control our heat; and this is why I advocate using a torch instead of the broiler. A torch applies more heat more directly. You burn the sugar faster and with more control, but you won’t heat the rest of the dish. The extreme heat of the torch will melt and start burning the thin layer of sugar in seconds. With our thin crispy brûlée layer in place, our sexy equation is complete.

I am going  to take one last moment here to talk about what is not on the ingredients list. Crème brûlée should not be made with chunks of fruit fillings. Ever. This may sound like personal opinion, but I’m right. Chunks of fruit ruin the texture balance and become watery when cooked for long periods. Lovely pieces of fruit turn into unappetizing pockets of steaming mush that over cook the surrounding custard. Save the fruit for an accompaniment.

And, don’t even think about making chocolate crème brûlée. You heard me:

Put! Down! The! Chocolate! NOW!

The amount of starch in cocoa powder makes chocolate a thickening agent. Add it and heat to a liquid (eg, custard) and your mixture will thicken giving you something thick and dense like pudding5 instead of a soft, silky custard. Tasty, but not the elegantly sexy crème brûlée we’re making here.

Hopefully you will walk away from this post with the confidence and knowledge to cook your own sexy custard creations.  Remember, with the right understanding of your ingredients, you are only a pan, some tap water, and a torch away from silky, creamy decadence.

CHEF’S NOTES

  1. The technical term for any heated mixture of milk, sugar, and egg.
  2. If you don’t mix as you pour, you will get hot spots around the cream that will scramble the surrounding yolk.
  3. At sea level in an unpressurized system
  4. Do not try pouring melted caramel over the top. Caramel is viscous and you will end up with a thick layer of hardened caramel instead of the thin crisp layer you get from torching the sugar directly on the custard.
  5. Or pots du crème.

Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: Crème brûlée, eggs, sexy, valentine's day

Kitchen Wasteland 1

Don’t worry. Mike is still in charge of post-apocalyptic science fiction reviews.

But, let’s face it. Science doesn’t always pay well. Graduate school doesn’t. Post docs certainly don’t. Adjunct teaching? Don’t make me laugh. Science communication can be more feast than famine.

What I am trying to say is that the odds are good that you are living in a small apartment with a small kitchen and on a small food budget. In which case, good friend of The Finch & Pea‘s executive chef, Joel Gamoran, has got you covered in the first episode of his new cooking web series “Kitchen Wasteland”.

Joel was also kind enough to take some time to explain the science behind his recipe to me.

Me: What is happening when you add the pepper to the pan on it’s own?

Joel: The black pepper undergoes two major reactions happening when toasting in the dry pan. First, essential oils are released when agitated with heat. This is what gives the spice the smell that fills the kitchen. Second, oleoresins are released, which gives the spice a toasty and unique flavor.

Me: What is the water doing to soften the pasta and why can you get away with using so little?

Joel: The water’s boiling temperature of 212F triggers the starch molecules in pasta. The pasta swells. It also releases starch into the water making the cloudy thick substance chefs know and love as starchy water. The starch in the water makes the liquid really viscous and it coats whatever it touches. In the case of a pasta dish, it makes a most thick and concentrated sauce that absolutely shames the conventional method of cooking pasta.


Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: Joel Gamoran, Kitchen Wasteland, pasta

The Last Supper

“The Last Supper” by Leonardo da Vinci


I recently received, as a gift, My Last Supper: 50 Great Chefs and Their Final Meals and My Last Supper: Second Course by Melanie Dunea. As the titles suggest, the books ask chefs about their ideal final meal on Earth.

The gift was very appropriate because I regularly ask people this question. It was, I believe, one of the first questions I asked The Wife when she was still The-Really-Interesting-Woman-I-Want-To-Date, and it is a question that I ask everyone that I interview for a job. During one such interview, another manager exclaimed, “That’s a really morbid question.”

I couldn’t disagree more.

I think that this question embodies some of the best parts of food and cooking. The world-famous chefs in Dunea’s books, some with a constellation of Michelin stars, talk about foods that bring them comfort, foods that remind them of good times. They talk about the people and places that make that meal special. Eating is about sustaining our bodies. Cooking and “The Meal” is about nurturing memories. It is about sharing. It is about awakening your senses. My last meal would not be about loss, but about celebrating the joy, warmth, and happy memories that accompany the best meals.

My question to you is:

What would be your last meal on Earth?

Since, Dunea, forgot to ask me, here you go…

Instead of dinner rolls, I’d want croissants served with homemade butter. Croissants always remind me of my first trip to Paris with The Wife. I knew I was going to marry her as I watched her pull a croissant apart layer by layer. Fresh shucked oysters on the half shell to start. Sliced tomatoes at the peak of ripeness sprinkled with lavender salt and served with burrata. My mom’s spoonbread made with fresh summer corn. My dad’s beef wellington. After dinner cheese plate. I wouldn’t be too particular about the cheeses as long as there was a triple crème in there somewhere and fig jam to accompany. Root beer floats for dessert made with homemade ice cream.

What would you drink with the meal?

Tap water imported from Portland (I firmly believe that it tastes better than other tap water I’ve had). Barrel-aged Manhattans for pre-dinner cocktails prepared by the Grant Grill at the US Grant Hotel in San Diego (we’ll fly them in). Champagne with the oysters. A 2004 Brunello di Montalcino with the main course. Iced Cider Wine with the cheese. The root beer float is on its own.

A meal is more than just the food, though. A meal is about context – where you eat it and with whom.

What would be the setting for the meal?

In an open field on a farm near the coast, probably somewhere in the North Bay Area. I’d want to be close enough to the coast that the oysters are fresh from the water and have an elevated view over the coast and the vineyards and the farmland. All the produce would come from the farm where the dinner was being held.

Would there be music?

There would be a live folk/bluegrass band playing. A banjo and a fiddle are a necessity. Possibly a washboard and a jug.

Who would be your dining companions?

I would start off the evening with just me and The Wife so we could walk through the fields, sample what the farm is growing, and enjoy the view. My immediate family and a few close friends would show-up for dinner. My dog, The Bear, would be there as well. She would have no idea what was happening, but would happily romp through the fields until she fell over from exhaustion. Everyone would leave after cheese so The Wife and I could sit and watch the sunset over the ocean while eating our root beer floats.

Who would prepare the meal?

It would be a group effort, like all great meals. The croissants would be made by a French baker. I don’t really care which one as long as s/he came from a small bakery in Paris that makes all their croissants in-house. Everyone could take part in the oyster shucking. The Wife would be in charge of tomatoes. My mom would make her spoonbread. My dad and Joel (best friend and fellow chef) would make the beef wellington. I’d make the ice cream for the floats as well as brewing from scratch root beer.

Your turn. What would be your last meal on Earth?


Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: Book Review, Books

Food, Remembered: Mom’s Fried Eggplant

For many people, eggplant can be an acquired taste. Not many kids eyes will light up at the idea of eggplant for dinner. I was an exception there, because I was introduced to eggplant via my mom’s fried eggplant. Since eggplant has roughly the same absorption abilities as a kitchen sponge, the fried eggplant had little choice but to taste like deep-fried goodness…so, naturally, I loved it.

Even today, when I eat freshly grilled eggplant with nothing more than a brush of olive oil and some rosemary, I reminisce about my mom’s fried eggplant.


Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: eggplant, food memories, food remembered

Mushroom Soup for Fungus Day

Editor’s Note – Thanks to Michele we now know that today is the inaugural UK Fungus Day. There was a Fungus Day last year, but it was confined to Wales and, therefore, was “National” Fungus Day (and in the minds of the English did not count anyway).

Ben first gave us this recipe over a year ago (18 September 2012) and we thought it would be a fitting tribute to a long overdue day in tribute to fungi. 

This week’s recipe is a bit of a two-for-one. The “main” recipe is a fall favorite of mine, mushroom soup (PDF – 770kb). This recipe only has five ingredients (not including salt and oil, which are staples, not ingredients), the most important of which is not, in fact, the mushrooms. It’s the stock (PDF – 115kb). Just replace the mushroom with any number of vegetables and we can still make a delicious soup – as long as we start with good stock. So, if we want to understand the science behind great mushroom soup, we need to understand the science behind good stock.

Click image for printable recipe card (PDF – 115kb)

The French use the term fonds, meaning foundation, when referring to stock. Anthony Bourdain has called it “the source,” as in “the source of all flavor”1. If you’ve ever been in a nice restaurant and thought, “This soup is so good” or “This sauce is amazing” or “Why doesn’t my rice taste this good at home?”, the answer is stock.

Let’s be clear. Stock is not that stuff you get in a box (or, god forbid, a dried-up cube of bouillon2). If you are heading to the store to buy stock for a recipe, you’ve already lost. If your recipe asks for “broth”, your recipe has failed you. Stock is made with bones. Broth is made with meat – meat that is rarely roasted, if it was even cooked at all before entering the stock pot. This is why store bought broth is pale and tastes like salty chicken skin. Bones carry more flavor than the meat, and browning them adds even more flavor, which will wind up in the water in our stock pot.

Click image for printable recipe card (PDF – 770kb)

Some chefs, especially the devotees to French cuisine a la Escoffier3, will waver a bit on this point. They claim that there is a place for “white stocks” made from unroasted bones in things like a white cream sauce to avoid discoloring the sauce. My answer to that: wrong!4

Stock should be brown. Period.5

Okay, semicolon. I will make an exception for fish stock. Fish bones should not be roasted. Roasting fish bones can burn the fish oils, which and creates overpowering and off-putting flavors. But if it doesn’t swim, it should be browned.

It’s all about flavor. Browning creates flavor. Stock made with browned bones has more flavor. Food made with stock made with browned bones has more flavor. Making a cream sauce with white stock sacrifices flavor for aesthetic – pearly white and bland. In my opinion, good food tastes good. Since we know we want flavor, let’s find out how that flavor is created.

The Browning
We owe much of the developed flavor in our meats and vegetable to a simple application of heat, and the complex and varied reactions it causes. When we see our meats, fruits, and vegetables browning, what we are really witnessing is either caramelization or Maillard browning. Most people are familiar with caramelization from…well…caramel. Gooey, sweet, delicious caramel. When sugars are exposed to high heat, the molecules break down and recombine to form new products. Some of those products include brown-colored polymers, organic acids, and fragrant, volatile molecules. Even a simple sugar like glucose6 can generate over 100 different products during the caramelization process. The combination of fragrances, acids, and flavor molecules makes caramel complex and delicious.

Maillard browning, put simply, is caramelization of proteins. Instead of the protein denaturing and recombining into a variety of units, amino acids in the protein react with sugars in meat or starches in vegetables. This reaction creates an unstable structure, which breaks down into a wide-range of by-products, including brown-colored polymers. Because those  brown polymers are always present alongside the flavor molecules, chefs can operate according to a simple equation:

Browning = Flavor

It is important to note when attempting to create browning that both caramelization and the Maillard reaction require high temperatures. Caramelization begins around 310F (154C). In the case of Maillard browning, the hotter the better. Maillard browning needs higher temperatures than caramelization to create the maximum amount of flavor and aromatic molecules.  Consider two identical steaks in two identical pans on two identical stove tops. The first steak goes into a cold pan that subsequently heats up. The second steak goes into a very hot pan. The second steak will always taste better and  have a better sear on it. That sear is the result of the Maillard reaction. Contact with a well heated surface lets the maximum amount of Maillard browning to occur as fast as possible. As the first steak slowly heats it loses some of its capacity for Maillard browning, because at lower temperatures the proteins are bond to each other leaving fewer available proteins to join the wild, molecular toga party that is Maillard browning.

For our stock, we are relying on the processes of caramelization and Maillard browning for our flavor. Instead of adding raw or unbrowned foods with the limited flavor and odor molecules that the product naturally contains, we add browned food with its menagerie of tasty molecules. I recommend using an oven set around 400F (204C) . The oven provides uniform heat all around the food for even and complete browning. We can brown in a pan on the stovetop, but the heat only comes from one direction. This leads to either uneven browning or a lot of work ensuring the we brown all of your food.

The Deglazing
DO NOT forget to deglaze. If you do, I will find you and I will slap you.

Deglazing is the use of a liquid to remove brown food residue from a pan. Water soluble molecules produced in our browning reactions lift off the pan as the liquid rapidly evaporates off the hot surface. Liquids containing alcohol, like wine, do a better job of deglazing than water because the alcohol evaporates faster, pulling away more residue with it. For our purposes, water will do just fine. We want flavor. Those brown bits on the pan are the products of browning reactions. We definitely want that in our stock. Deglaze, or face my  fists of fury.

The Steeping
Steeping is the easiest part of making stock. At this point, we have our roasted bones and veggies in a stock pot along with the water left over from deglazing. We’re going to add some herbs, garlic and peppercorns. This is a great way to use up any herbs in the fridge that are starting to look a bit sad. Fill the pot with water, place it on the burner over your lowest heat setting, and walk away. All those complex flavor and odor molecules that we worked so hard for will slowly dissolve into solution in your water, we don’t have to do a thing. To make sure you get the maximum amount of flavor out of your stock, I recommend letting it sit on the heat for 12 hours.

In my experience, people get anxious about cooking processes, like steeping, that are not active. They have a lot of questions about steeping. Fortunately, I have just as many answers:

  • No, your water will not evaporate away. Depending on your stove, you may lose between 2-4 inches of water, but that is not a problem. In fact, the more you let it cook down, the more concentrated the flavor will be.
  • Yes, I said 12 hours. The easiest way to do this is to make stock in the evening and let it sit on the heat overnight. And no, you will not burn your house down, assuming that you don’t store kindling or gasoline on the stovetop. If you do leave flammables on the stovetop…well I’ll refer you to some of the biologist in this pub for a discussion on natural selection. Most restaurants make stock this way to save cooking space. A restaurant is more likely to burn down from an electrical or heating system fire than a stock pot steeping overnight.
  • Yes, your house will smell delicious. I get “that smells great, what are you cooking?” more often when cooking stock than anything else. Beware, the smell could attract bands of roving gourmands, neighborhood busy-bodies, and, of course, land-sharks. You’ve been warned.

After 12 hours, we strain the stock to remove the bones and vegetables, which we will discard, as they are now flavorless. They gave every last drop of tasty in the service of our stock and, thanks to their sacrifice, we now have a pot full of foundation for some simple and flavorful food, like mushroom soup (PDF – 770kb).

CHEF’S NOTES

  1. Though sometimes Bourdain can seem to be mostly a TV personality and what he says for shock value, he knows food and I have to agree with him on this one – and not just because I’m afraid he’d beat the crap out of me if I didn’t.
  2. Bouillon is just the French term for broth. It may sound fancier, but it is no better than its American counterpart.
  3.  Auguste Escoffier (1846 – 1935) wrote a cookbook called Le Guide Culinaire, which changed the face of haute cuisine in Europe by revitalizing and simplifying much of classic French cuisine. Escoffier is often thought of as the father of modern French cuisine.
  4. This not science, just my opinion…but I’m right.
  5. Not totally sure how to punctuate after exclaiming “period.” A period seems redundant and an exclamation point seems an oxymoron. Any advice from english teachers out there would be much appreciated.
  6. Granulated sugar is a disaccharide, meaning it is made up of two bonded sugars, glucose and fructose.

Filed under: From the Kitchen Tagged: Fungus, fungus day, Mushroom Soup, mushrooms, Soup, Stock