PEACHY KEEN

Just as soon as the weather turned warm, I became fixated on the idea of grilled peaches. I could picture them in all the glory of their sunset hue; ripe, juicy flesh tattooed with smoky grill marks…a dreamy side to a charred and crispy-skinned chicken leg…
That idyllic snapshot quickly faded when I discovered that the BBQs on our apartment complex’s rooftop are equipped with nothing but a puny electric rod, more similar to an archaic space heater than a grill. I may as well plop my food on top of my toaster oven.

Since grilling was clearly an impossibility, I would poach the peaches. Granted, they would not be branded and flame-licked, but they could still be remarkable, especially as a side to salty, broiled pork loin. Make these peaches for dinner and be sure to throw in a few more for Peachy Keen Shortcakes.

Roasted pork loin with cherry poached peaches and sautéed broccoli rabe.


CHERRY POACHED PEACHES

6 ripe but still firm peaches
3 C. tart cherry juice
2 C. granulated sugar

-In a saucepan, combine cherry juice and sugar and bring to a boil, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Reduce to a low simmer.

-In a pot large enough to accommodate the peaches, bring four quarts of water to boil. In the meantime, set up an ice bath.

-With a paring knife, gently draw a small “X” on the bottom end of the peaches.


-Gently slide peaches into the boiling water. Allow about 20 seconds and quickly scoop out into the ice bath with a slotted spoon to stop the cooking.

-This blanch-&-shock process will have loosened the skins. With a delicate hand, pull the skin away from the flesh, starting at the “X” you previously carved.


-With a small knife, cut the peach in half, tugging at each to reveal the pit: remove and discard. Cut each half in half, lengthwise and slip into the simmering cherry syrup. Poach peaches 15 – 20 minutes and allow to come to room temperature.


NOTE: Peaches are either clingstone, freestone, or semi-freestone. As the name implies, “clingstone” peaches will have flesh that tightly clings to the pit. Removing the fruit from the stone is thus a bit more difficult, so if given the choice, go for the freestone or at least the semi-freestone.


PEACHY KEEN SHORTCAKES
For 2 servings
This recipe is a play on more traditional fruit shortcakes and make a gorgeous brunch item.

4 Best Ever Biscuits (Sweet Variation)
3 cherry poached peaches, at room temperature
1 container Greek yogurt (between 5 – 6 oz), stirred to smooth

-As soon as the biscuits come out of the oven, pull apart into two halves.

-Top bottom half with three peach wedges and drizzle with poaching syrup. Dollop generously with yogurt and cover with the (sugar sprinkled) half.

RICE REDUX

I couldn’t leave the rice pudding alone. It was such a nuisance to make that I needed to get the most out of it, I suppose, and that’s why I decided to play a little dress-up with it. I poured it into the crème brûlée dish, topped it with a fan of sliced bananas, sprinkled with sugar and gave it a good torching. And, voilà! Ritzy rice pudding with a lovely range of textures: crunchy caramel top, tender banana, and grainy rice pudding. I liked it so much I even considered making rice pudding again today...

RICE IS NOT NICE

Rice pudding has been on my mind lately and decided today would be a good day to make it. Señor O and I had a pretty heavy brunch on Sunday and today’s lunch was also on the hefty side, so no official meal was cooked today, leaving the afternoon open for a simple dessert.

I’ve only made rice pudding once before, the reason being I was pretty grossed out by it in the past; the texture was all wrong. However, riz au lait was part of my culinary school curriculum and it was during Session 19 of Level 2 that I was properly re-introduced to this dessert. I liked it. Lots.

In preparation for this afternoon’s riz au lait, some research was conducted. Joy of Cooking, Julia Child, Doña Angélica, and a number of random websites all cooked the rice in water prior to combining it with milk. My school’s version mixed them from the get-go, then baked for about 40 minutes. Easy enough.

There was no trouble at school, but of course, there was here. At the end of the designated time I pulled out the rice, and to my dismay, it was still drenched in milk. It hadn’t puddinged at all.

I was not smiling. This was supposed to be a breeze.

I moved the dish to the stovetop and decided to revert to methods I’d read about, namely stirring till most of the milk was absorbed. It was at this juncture that the bottom of the pot began to turn nasty and brown. I poured out the swamp rice into a new glass Pyrex and called it quits. I didn’t have another suitable container if this one scorched, so that would have to be that.

A lot displeased and not a little bit chagrined, I made one last, desperate attempt to save – or at the very least conceal - my rice pudding. I put it into a crème brûlée mold, sprinkled it with sugar, and torched it.

My pyrotechnics did the trick, and the rice was delicious, but I’m still bothered. What was meant to be a single-dish, super-easy to prep dessert turned into a major dish pileup. Next time I'm going stovetop all the way. And I might try coconut milk and pineapples instead of vanilla bean and orange zest.


P.S.
The rice pudding was perfectly delicious a day later. It's cold and refreshing, all vanilla bean-y and citrusy...which has prompted me to print the recipe:

100 g. arborio rice (about 1/2 C.)
1 L. whole milk (about 1 quart or 4 C.)
1 TBSP. grated orange zest
2 tsp. grated lemon zest
1/2 vanilla bean pod, split and scraped
pinch of salt
100 g. granulated sugar, split 50/50 (about 6 TBSP.)
2 TBSP. butter
1 egg yolk

In a saucepan, bring to a boil milk + orange zest + lemon zest + vanilla bean + salt.

Add rice + 50 g. (3 TBSP.) sugar and cover with a parchment paper lid. Finish cooking in a 350˚F oven (45 - 60 minutes -- the rice should be tender and the milk absorbed. It may take longer, as in my case, depending on your oven).

When done, add butter + yolk + remaining 50 g. (3 TBSP.) sugar. Remove vanilla pod.

Serve warm or chilled.

I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM

I’ve been cooking at home these past few days, but am itching to venture out to see what there is to see and naturally, eat what there is to eat, here in Boston. A friend who used to live here was kind enough to email me a list of suggestions, and I went on my first outing yesterday. The destination: Toscanini’s. There I met the gracious owner, Gus, whose joviality and eagerness to share restaurant recommendations brightened what had begun as a lousy day. Although Gus had to rush out on some deliveries, I was left with a cup of the most delectable ice cream I’ve had this side of the Atlantic. I will no longer have to yearn for my Roman gelati because Toscanini’s cool confections are sheer bliss.

Toscanini's, 899 Main Street, Cambridge, MA

I eyed the chalkboard menu greedily, reading through flavors like cake batter, lemon vanilla, orange chocolate, khulfee (cardamom and nuts), sweet cream, ginger snap molasses, malted vanilla, and maple walnut. Ultimately I settled on cocoa pudding and cherries and chips.


Cocoa pudding was ultra-thick and chewy, not like freezer section ice cream that melts in your mouth without resistance. If you stuck your spoon in and pulled it out you’d feel it tugging back, like quicksand. I always fantasize of chocolate cake like the one Harriet the Spy used to have after school every day, dense and substantial, but I have yet to find the nonfiction version. However, this cocoa pudding is the closest thing I’ve had to it. Despite its being ice cream, the texture is very nearly cake.


I ate through the gooey chocolate and arrived at cherries and chips. This is ice cream you want to drip out the bottom of your cone, down your arm and elbow, just so you can lick it off. And, as if the gobs of pink, creamy goodness aren’t enough, there were real cherries, dark maroon and fleshy – you could even see where the stem and pit had once been. Delightful, delightful, delightful.

TEMPS PERDU

Not too long ago I wrote about a certain food being like Proust’s madeleine, opening up the trapdoors of childhood memories – I can’t quite recall, but it must have been toast with guayaba jelly. Regardless, I am writing this to set the record straight. Whatever that food was was an impostor, taking the madeleine name in vain. For what actually takes me back are polvorones.

Polvorones were cookies of the prepackaged supermarket aisle variety, made by a company called Marinela; the Little Debbie of Mexico, if you will. Marinela also produced pingüinitos (little penguins – clever!!!) – aka cream-filled chocolate cupcakes - you know, the ones with the little doodle of white frosting on top? Polvorones, though, were my favorite. They were rich and crumbly like shortbread, but with a softer mouth feel, and they were dusted with powdered sugar which I greedily licked off my fingertips. Alright, alright, I admit it – I was a junk food junkie when I was a kid. One of these days I’ll write exclusively about all the empty calories I consumed in the ‘80s.

It would be many moons until I would once again have a polvorón. I was at Citarella in New York one day when I came upon a box of Russian tea cookies. Turned out I’d hit the jackpot: these cookies were exactly like Marinela’s. And then as you’d expect I wanted to make them. I simply couldn’t rely on Citarella – God forbid one day they should decide to stop making them. Or I should move to Boston and not have a Citarella.

But it would be even more time till I discovered that polvorones in the U.S. go by the name of Mexican wedding cookies, and that they aren’t a super-secret recipe, as I suspected. Bon Appétit published a recipe in 2003, and I made them today. You should, too:

Mexican Wedding Cakes
Bon Appétit | May 2003

Polvorones
These "cakes" are really festive cookies.
Makes about 4 dozen.

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, room temperature
2 cups powdered sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all purpose flour
1 cup pecans, toasted, coarsely ground
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until light and fluffy. Add 1/2 cup powdered sugar and vanilla; beat until well blended. Beat in flour, then pecans. Divide dough in half; form each half into ball. Wrap separately in plastic; chill until cold, about 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 350°F. Whisk remaining 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar and cinnamon in pie dish to blend. Set cinnamon sugar aside.

Working with half of chilled dough, roll dough by 2 teaspoonfuls between palms into balls. Arrange balls on heavy large baking sheet, spacing 1/2 inch apart. Bake cookies until golden brown on bottom and just pale golden on top, about 18 minutes. Cool cookies 5 minutes on baking sheet. Gently toss warm cookies in cinnamon sugar to coat completely. Transfer coated cookies to rack and cool completely. Repeat procedure with remaining half of dough. (Cookies can be prepared 2 days ahead. Store airtight at room temperature; reserve remaining cinnamon sugar.)

Sift remaining cinnamon sugar over cookies and serve.

LOVE LETTER TO A DESSERT CART

Many, many years ago, my parents would pick me up from school and take me to a lovely restaurant with an even lovelier view of a lake. Dressed in the dark green plaid jumper that was my uniform, I marched in behind mom and dad as the maître d’ gushed over us all and led us gracefully to what dad had at some point decided was the best table.

This was a fancy restaurant with white tablecloths, ice sculptures of swans, waiters whose shoes shone and smiles sparkled as they poured bubbly water and the fruitiest fruit conga I have ever sipped. A bread basket worthy of kings and queens would carried out moments after my chair had been pushed up to the table and my mouth would water as I gazed at minuature baguettes, flaky croissants, hearty rolls of nut-studded wheat, and long, crunchy grissini. After making a careful and difficult selection, beautiful pale butter ridged like the most perfect seashell would be delicately placed on my plate.

Lunch was usually filet mignon with béarnaise, which I would spoon on without any qualms…all this luxury, just for me. The filet was always accompanied by pommes soufflé, and there was nothing like those golden, crispy pillows of fried potato. I knew I was a lucky girl to be allowed to eat this way.

But, the best was yet to come. Enter The Dessert Cart. Aside from the deboned chicken that I’ve written about time and time again, The Dessert Cart is for me the ne plus ultra. There is absolutely nothing that compares to it. I dream of owning a dessert cart (and a wet bar, but we’ll talk about that later) and loading it up with chic sweetings. The Dessert Cart at this particular restaurant was all wonder and delight: floating islands, baked Alaska, dense chocolate cake, goblets of ripe red berries, sauce boats, and my favorite, profiteroles. Three perfect puffs would present themselves, lightly golden and starting to ooze out ice cream filling, and then, the waiter would pour the hot chocolate sauce over them, coating them slowly and seductively.


My Mister's grandmother's dessert cart.

AN APPLE A DAY

I made an apple tart on Thursday and I felt a whole lot better about everything. Apple tarts are very soothing. They should change that well-known saying to "An apple tart a day keeps the doctor way." Also, I’ve been interning at a catering company and worked my first event on Saturday night – all went smoothly and I have thus regained some confidence. Perfect timing, too, as I was swimming much too close to the deep end.

In other news, some of my classmates’ true colors have begun to shine through and they are not very flattering hues. Stereotypical tempestuous chefs in the making! Beware! Part of today’s assignment was to make fresh noodles certain pasta machines weren’t cooperating. One guy took this inanimate object’s offense quite personally and he became quite violent with it. One second the thing was attached to the counter and the next it was on the floor while its crank was in the hand of the raging perpetrator. Dismembered kitchen appliances. Oh the horror!

Speaking of horrors… The fish du jour was flounder and there were a couple extra leftover at the end of class so my partner was charged with filleting one of them. I was standing by and the gutting was going on as normal when all of a sudden a rather outsized “gut” was pulled out. It was quite unusual – larger than an egg sac and firmer. Filled with morbid curiosity, I asked my partner to “Just cut the thing open! Let’s see what’s inside!” It was the fish’s final repast! It was an actual whole fish inside the flounder! Like a man condemned to death, it had devoured one last meal! It was grotesque, now that I think about it. Too bad I didn’t have my camera today. I would have loved to share the gore with you.

THE SWEET ESCAPE

Our culinary curriculum allowed us a few days of pastry and I loved it oh-so-much. Various times I caught myself staring distractedly at the doughs and creams we whipped up wondering, “Did I make the right decision by going culinary rather than pastry?” Don’t think I’m flaky -- no pun intended! -- it’s just that pastry is a very methodical art and I find the exactness of the process incredibly soothing and gratifying.

We made pâte feuilletée, numerous sweet and savory soufflés, fritters, mousse, cream puffs... Admittedly, I overindulged and was craving lamb shank and ribeye on soufflé day, but still, pastry was glorious. Here are a few photos of what I made: