February 28, 2015 by Marios

Key Lime Pie

During my last trip back home, I was talking about something with my mom (I don’t recall exactly what), when she said to me “I remember that during your first year in America, you kept telling me that America isn’t that great and that you’d definitely prefer to return back home.”

I do remember saying something to that extent when I returned back home for my first Christmas break in college. I had been in the U.S. for four months. They were great months, full of experiences and discoveries, new and tenuous friendships, and an unfamiliar sense of freedom. But everything was still an “other” to me. Or, more likely, I was an “other” to them. I didn’t quite belong the way I still belonged back home.

I probably said the same thing to her during my next visit back home, over my first summer break. But I was being, by then, only partly honest with her. I had been bitten by the bug, the American bug, the one of opportunity and might, of huge malls and amusement parks, of college parties and courses on post-modernism, of baby back ribs and key lime pie. But I didn’t have the heart to tell her. So, I probably repeated those same words, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

It wasn’t until the following summer, when “they” became “we,” that she knew she had lost me. I no longer referred to Americans in the third person. It wasn’t they who liked to hang out in malls all day, it was we. They didn’t debate the limits of free speech, we did. It took until my third summer break for my mom to directly confront me with it. “You’re never coming back, are you?” she asked me one day. “No,” I said guiltily “I’m not.” I had crossed over. The key lime pie had won.Key Lime Pie – Adapted from Epicurious

Note: I know everyone says that no dessert is more American than apple pie, but I’m here to tell you that they are wrong. Key lime pie is the national dessert of this country. Or at least it should be. You’ll find a lot of recipes for it online, with all kinds of complex steps and weird variations. Ignore them. Key lime pie should be simple. It must use sweetened condensed milk and egg yolks. It must be made with freshly squeezed key lime or regular lime juice, never from a bottle. The crust must be made with graham crackers. And your should never, ever serve it with whipped cream on top.

Ingredients:

For crust:
1 1/4 cups graham cracker crumbs from 9 (2 1/4-inch by 4 3/4-inch) crackers
2 tablespoons sugar
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

For filling:
2 (14-ounce) cans sweetened condensed milk
8 large egg yolks
1¼ cup key lime juice (or regular lime juice)

Directions:

Make crust: Preheat oven to 350°F.

Stir together graham cracker crumbs, sugar, and butter in a bowl with a fork until combined well, then press mixture evenly onto bottom and up side of a 9.5-inch glass pie plate.

Bake crust in middle of oven 10 minutes and cool in pie plate on a rack. Leave oven on.

Make filling and bake pie: Whisk together condensed milk and yolks in a bowl until combined well. Add juice and whisk until combined well (mixture will thicken slightly).

Pour filling into crust and bake in middle of oven 20 minutes. Cool pie completely on rack (filling will set as it cools), then chill, covered, at least 8 hours.

February 13, 2015 by Marios

Mocha Mousse with Szechuan Peppercorns

Valentine’s day has got me thinking about the nature of love. I’ve always scoffed at the suggestion of love as a natural force like gravity (it was an eye-rolling moment for me in “Interstellar”). But then again, isn’t love the result of chemicals produced and exchanged between our brains’ neurons? Aren’t there hormones involved, and sweat and saliva (among other things)? These are very much real things that require the consumption (and creation) of energy, albeit in small quantities. So, who am I to say that love isn’t a natural force? It certainly is a force of nature.

Or maybe love is a parasite, that infects humans in order to ensure its continued existence.

There is a fungus called ophiocordyceps unilateralis that propagates itself by infecting carpenter ants with its spores. The spores burrow their way into the ants’ brains and take over their behavior (which is why the fungus is also known as the “zombie fungus”). They force the ant to climb up a leaf and bite at the underside of the leaf, unable to unlock their jaw and therefore unable to move or walk away. The ants eventually die, still gripping the leaf. Soon, from the back of the ant’s head grows a long stalk that begins to release spores that land on the ants walking around below, thus ensuring the next cycle of zombie ants.

Creepy, you say? Nothing to do with beautiful love as we know it? To you I say: have you ever seen the irrational, crazy things love makes people do? I wouldn’t throw out the parasite theory just yet.

But for you romantics out there (and I count myself amongst you), here is a third possibility. Maybe love is just a lovely mystery, something greater than the sum of its parts.I like this idea of love as a peculiar process that enriches and transforms us. A little like the way in which when air is introduced into slimy, pale egg whites, it turns them into dazzlingly white, ethereal clouds, ready to be baked into crispy meringues, transformed into angel food cake, or folded into melted chocolate to make a silky smooth chocolate mousse.

Mocha Mousse with Sichuan Peppercorns – Slightly adapted from Epicurious.com

Note: If you can’t find sichuan (or szechuan) peppercorns you can simply omit them. But they do add a nice, subtle zing to the mousse.

Makes 8 servings

Ingredients:

3/4 teaspoon Sichuan peppercorns
1 cup heavy cream
1 1/2 tablespoons ground coffee beans
12 ounces 70%-cacao bittersweet chocolate, chopped
9 large egg whites
3 tablespoons sugar

Directions:

Coarsley grind peppercorns in mortar and pestle or using a bowl and back of a spoon.

Bring cream, coffee, and peppercorns to a simmer in a small saucepan. Remove from heat and let steep, covered, 30 minutes. Strain cream through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, pressing on solids.

Melt chocolate in a large bowl. Stir in cream and mix with spoon until completely combined. Cool slightly.

Beat egg whites with sugar using an electric mixer until they just hold stiff peaks. Fold egg whites into chocolate mixture gently but thoroughly (no white streaks remaining).

Spoon mousse into 4oz-5oz serving glasses (it will be runny; it will firm up once chilled). Cover and chill at least 3 hours before serving. Mousse can be prepared ahead and kept in the fridge covered for up to 2 days.

January 31, 2015 by Marios

Clementine and Almond Syrup Cake

The warnings started early last weekend and escalated in severity with every few hours. “Snowstorm predicted for next week.” “Snow blizzard expected.” “Brace for three feet of snow!” “Snowmaggedon!” “Snowpocalypse!!” “It’s the end of the world!!!” Ok, I made that last one up. In all seriousness, it sounded like we were due for a whopper of a snowstorm, so on Sunday morning, I decided to go to the grocery store in our neighborhood and get some basics, like milk and fruit. I walked through the sliding doors of the store and I started laughing. You’d think that the world really was ending. People were piling up enough food in their carts to feed their family for a couple of weeks. I guess it’s better to be prepared than sorry.

I bought just a few things for us (I have enough food in the house, at all times, to feed a small army), including some beautiful tangerines. They (and all their cousins, like mandarines, clementines, and tangelos) are probably my favorite citrus fruit. There is something beguiling about them, a seductive streak to their sweet tartness with that tinge of bitterness. And they are so easy to carry and peel, giving bananas a real run for the most convenient fruit snack.

This recipe comes from Jerusalem: A Cookbook, which remains one of my all-time favorite cookbooks. It’s a cake soaked in clementine syrup. I love syrup cakes. They are really common in Middle Eastern cuisines, so they are familiar to me from my childhood.

Oh, and that historic blizzard that would bury us in snow? As you probably already know, it never materialized here in New York city. We barely got eight inches of snow. There’s still time this winter, though, for the world to end in a blizzard of snow.Clementine and Almond Syrup Cake – Slightly adapted from Jerusalem: A Cookbook

Ingredients:

14 tablespoons (200 g) unsalted butter, at room temperature
scant 2 cups (380 g) sugar, separated
grated zest and juice of 4 clementines
grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
2½ cups (280 g) ground almonds
5 large eggs, beaten
¾ cup plus 1 tablespoon (100 g) all-purpose flour
pinch of salt

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350° F. Lightly grease a 9½-inch springform pan with butter and line the bottom with parchment paper (if you can, line the sides as well).

In a mixer, beat the butter, 1½ cups (300 g) of the sugar, and both zests on low speed just until everything is well combined. Don’t beat it too much or incorporate a lot of air in it. Add half the ground almonds and continue mixing until combined.

With the mixer running, add the eggs one at a time, stopping the scrape the bottom and sides of the bowl as necessary. Add the remaining ground almonds, the flour, and the salt and but until completely smooth.

Pour the batter into the pan and level it with an offset spatula. Bake for 50 to 60 minutes until a cake tester inserted in the middle comes out just a little bit moist.

When the cake is still in the oven and almost done, place the remaining sugar and the citrus juices in a small saucepan and bring to a boil. As soon as the syrup boils, remove it from the heat.

As soon as you take the cake out of the oven, brush it with the boiling syrup (use all the syrup), making sure that all the syrup is soaked in. L

December 6, 2014 by Marios

Vegan Pear Caramel Ice Cream

When my friend Lisa told me a few years ago that she had decided to go vegan, I was devastated. She was someone that enjoyed food, all food, just as much as I did. She ate everything and really savored new food experiences. I remember one night when she and I were having dinner with another friend at Le Villaret in Paris. It was a tasting menu and we were probably on our third or fourth course. The food was exquisite, the wine superb. The three of us took a bite of what was impossibly even better than the courses that preceded it and we looked up at each other amazed. Lisa had tears in her eyes. So did I.

So you get the idea. Lisa has always been one of my most precious food buddies. An indomitable eater. A loyal gustatory companion.

I reacted to her news of going vegan much like some parents react to their kids coming out to them. “Why?” was the first thing I asked. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Followed by “What about me?” and inevitably “I don’t understand this but I love you and I will support you, no matter what.”

Ok, maybe it wasn’t so dramatic. She did make this decision for valid reasons. She no longer trusted the food supply system (watching “Food Inc.” had done a number on her) and cutting out all meat products was a way for her to regain some control over what she ate. So, I took it in stride and accepted it as a new challenge: every time she visits me, I strive to “veganize” a recipe I like. Sometimes it works well (like with the pain d’épices that comes out great). Sometimes it’s tougher.

For her last visit, I wanted to make some pear ice cream, since pears were in season. I adapted my favorite pear ice cream recipe from David Lebovitz and the result was actually pretty good. Personally, I’d much rather have it made with heavy cream, but the vegan version is still creamy, with a strong pear flavor and a slight burn from the caramel. And it made Lisa happy, which made losing the heavy cream worth it.

Vegan Pear Caramel Ice Cream – Adapted from Perfect Scoop: Ice Creams, Sorbets, Granitas, and Sweet Accompaniments

Note: The trick to this is to separate the cream from the water in the coconut milk. I used the Thai Kitchen brand of coconut milk. The cream had already separated to the top of the can. Whatever brand you use, make sure not to shake the can before opening it, other wise the cream will mix with the water. Some people refrigerate the cans first for the cream to separate. I didn’t have to but it may work for you.

Ingredients:

2 14 oz cans of coconut milk (unsweetened, not the lite version; do not shake the cans)
3 medium-sized ripe pears, peeled and cored
3/4 cup + 2 tablespoons sugar
heavy pinch of salt
a few drops of fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon pear-flavored eau de vie or kirsch (optional)

Directions:

Using a can opener, remove the top of the two cans completely. The coconut cream should be at the top. Using a spoon remove the cream until you reach the coconut water at the bottom of the can (discard it or use it for something else, like smoothies). You should have about 2 cups of coconut cream from the two cans.

Dice the pears into 1/4-inch pieces.

Spread the sugar in a large, heavy saucepan. Cook over medium heat, carefully watching and stirring occasionally with a heatproof spatula until melted. When the sugar is a deep amber, stir in the pears. The caramel will seize, but continue cooking and stirring occasionally (again with a heat-proof spatula) for about ten minutes, until the pears have cooked through and the sugar has dissolved.

Remove from the heat and stir in 1/2 cup of the coconut cream, then mix in the rest of the cream, salt, lemon juice, and eau de vie/kirsch (if using).

Cool to room temp, and then puree in a blender until smooth. If you want, you can press it through a strainer. I prefer that it has a little bit of the pear texture.

Chill in the refrigerator and churn in ice-cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions.

November 22, 2014 by Marios

Brad’s Apple Pie

Ask anyone who’s been in the kitchen with me and they’ll tell you I can get a little bossy. I have control issues, I admit it. I’ve actually gotten better over the years. I can now watch someone else cook something and not say a word about how they are not chopping things correctly or not browning the meat enough or how their food would taste so much better with a pinch of this or that. Granted, I am sitting there having a tortured, internal dialogue with them, but at least I have learned how to shut up. Most of the time.

Many years ago, my friend Brad was visiting from California. We were walking in the West Village when we came across a small farmers market. Since it was early fall, there were apples everywhere. “Let’s make an apple pie,” I said. Brad’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I can make my grandmother’s apple pie recipe,” he said as he started to move towards the Granny Smith apples that were piled up on a table in front of us.

“What if we used Jonagold?” I suggested. “No, my grandmother always used Granny Smiths,” Brad said. A few seconds passed. “Oohh, you know what we can do? We can add raisins and pecans,” I tried again. “No, my grandma never did that,” Brad replied, as he gave the apples to the seller to weigh. “No problem,” I said. Not a minute passed by and I said “Let’s make it a lattice pie.” “That’s not my grandmother’s recipe,” Brad said, this time sounding a little more intense. “Maple syrup?” “No.” “Cardamom?” “No!” “Pears?” “Listen, I am going to make my grandma’s recipe exactly how she always made it,” Brad finally said. It took a while but I finally got the message. I was being bossy. So, I stopped and let Brad make the apple pie exactly the way he wanted to.

And after it cooled down and we sliced it up and I took my first bite, I was so happy that Brad didn’t let me elbow myself into his recipe. The pie was just about perfect. No fancy ingredients, no special techniques. Just apples, sugar, a little cinnamon and a crumb topping. But there is one key difference from most apple pie recipes out there. The apples aren’t sliced but they are diced. It seems to make all the difference in the world. The apples cook better, their liquid evaporates, so at the end the apple pie can be divided into slices that stay together. No messy juices filling the pie plate and no big chunks of apple to wrestle with your fork.

So, here it is. Unadulterated and not adapted: Brad’s (grandma’s) apple pie.

Ok, just a tiny bit enhanced. Brad didn’t have a recipe for a crust (we used a pre-made one) so I give you one here.

And I recently bought a bottle of boiled apple cider from King Arthur Flour, so I added a tablespoon to the apples, which you can totally omit.

What? I told you I was bossy in the kitchen. Now go make this apple pie.

Brad’s Apple Pie

Ingredients:

For the crust:

1 ¼ cups (150 g) all purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
10 tablespoons (1 ¼ sticks) unsalted butter, chilled
2 tablespoons chilled water
2 tablespoons chilled vodka

For the filling:

6-7 apples (preferably Granny Smith)
1 tsp cinnamon
3/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon boiled apple cider (optional)
1 1/2 tbsp butter, cut into small pieces

For the topping:

1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 cup flour

Directions:

Make the crust:
In a large bowl, whisk flour and salt. Using the large teardrop holes of a box grater, grate the butter into the flour. Using a fork, toss butter into flour. Pour chilled water and vodka over the flour mixture and toss again with fork. Test the tough. It should come together when pressed between your fingers but it will still be shaggy. If needed, add another tablespoon of chilled water.

Immediately dump dough on countertop and shape into small disk, about 2 inches thick. Wrap in plastic wrap and put in refrigerator. Let it rest at least 2 hours, preferably 24 hours, up to 3 days.

Roll out the crust:

Take chilled dough out of fridge. Dust countertop with flour and place dough disk on top. Dust disk with more flour and start rolling. Roll 3-4 times and turn dough 45 degrees. Roll 3-4 times and turn another 45 degrees. Roll 3-4 times and turn dough upside down. Continue this way until you’ve rolled it out to about 12 inches diameter. Work quickly and keep flouring the countertop and the dough to prevent sticking.

Place rolled out dough in a 9-inch pie plate and flute the edges. Put the pie plate in the fridge while you work on the filling.

Make the pie:

Preheat oven to 425º F. Place a large baking sheet in the oven.

Core and peel apples. Dice them into 1/4-inch pieces. In a large bowl, toss diced apples with cinnamon, sugar, and boiled cider (if using). Take pie plate out of the fridge and fill it with diced apples. There will be a lot but they cook down. Mount them in the middle. Dot with 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter.

In a medium bowl, use a pastry cutter or two forks to combine butter, brown sugar, and flour, until the mixture is combined and the butter is cut into pea sized pieces. Top the apples with the butter/sugar/flour mixture. It will be messy but make sure the apples are covered.

Bake pie on top of the baking sheet (to catch bubbling juices) for about 50-60 minutes until the topping is deep golden brown.

Let pie cool completely on wire rack before slicing and serving.

November 9, 2014 by Marios

Brown Sugar Clafoutis with Pears and Cranberries

My evolution as a cook and a baker has mirrored my life. At first (in my early twenties), much like a baby, I took small hesitant steps in the kitchen and I was amazed by just about everything I cooked (instant ramen noodles!). I soon grew more daring, and, like a hyperactive toddler, started to experiment wildly with my newfound hobby, most of the time falling flat on my face (undercooked chicken; burned veggies; I guess eggs will cook when you pour hot milk in them). A few years of cooking under my belt and I started to get serious. Just like a precocious teenager or a self-involved young adult, I developed strong opinions (I only use European style butter!) and became decidedly preoccupied with appearances. I wanted everything I cooked to look amazing. Flavor was important but presentation was king.

I guess I’ve now reached the middle age stage of my life as a cook (conveniently at the same time as the middle age stage of my actual life). Much of the time my cooking is about simplicity, convenience, and strong flavor. I favor recipes that make intuitive sense and result in deeply satisfying food without too much fuss.

This recipe fulfills those criteria perfectly. It’s a clafoutis, a classic French dessert, but not the fancy kind. It’s basically a baked custard, made in a blender and baked with fruit. The original recipe appeared on Orangette, Molly Wizenberg’s extraordinary food blog. I adapted it slightly, to incorporate some left over cranberries and to add a hint of almond flavor. The result is a dessert that may lack in the looks department, but makes up for it in flavor and texture. And it comes together in minutes. You can eat it for dessert or you can do what we did and have it for breakfast. Because when you reach middle age, you can do whatever the hell you want.

Brown Sugar Clafoutis with Pears and Cranberries – Adapted from Orangette

Ingredients:

Butter, for greasing the pan
4 teaspoons white, granulated sugar
1 ripe pear
½ cup cranberries, coarsely chopped
1 ¼ cups (295 ml) whole milk
1 cup (155 g) brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon almond extract
pinch of salt
½ cup (70 grams) all-purpose flour

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 375°F. Butter a 9 ½-inch pie plate and dust it lightly with 2 teaspoons of granulated sugar. Shake out any excess.

Peel and core the pear, and slice it thinly in 14-16 slices. Arrange them on the bottom of the prepared pan. Sprinkle chopped cranberries over the pears and top with the remaining 2 teaspoons of sugar.

In the jar of a blender, combine the milk, brown sugar, eggs, extracts, salt, and flour. Blend on high speed for about 30 seconds. Pour the batter over the pears and cranberries.

Bake until the custard is puffed and golden brown and the center is almost completely set, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.

Serve at room temperature or chilled.

October 25, 2014 by Marios

Nantucket Cranberry Pie

We were in a taxi, on our way to see the open studios at the Gowanus canal last Sunday. The temperature had suddenly plunged, barely making it to the mid 50s. As the car zoomed along the elevated section of the BQE, I caught a glimpse of the tops of trees (ash trees?) swaying in the wind. Their leaves had already turned canary yellow and they seemed impossibly bright, against the brownstones and dark asphalt in the background. And I thought It’s ok. Fall is here and I’m ok with that.

When I was little (kindergarten? first grade?), I remember teachers having us color pre-drawn and mimeographed sheets with things that represented each season. The summer had the sun and stalks of wheat. The spring had flowers and swallows: we glued cotton balls to their bellies and filled the rest of their bodies with black crayons. The winter had snowmen and Christmas trees. But fall? I don’t remember what represented fall. Maybe yellow leaves, though it’s unlikely. There were few trees that turned colors the way they do in the Northeast U.S. It wasn’t cranberries or pecan pie or Thanksgiving turkey. I didn’t know about these things until I came to the U.S. later as an adult. It was probably rain. Grey clouds and children holding umbrellas, which we colored with as many colors as we could get our hands on.

This recipe is pure fall. Cranberries and pecans are cooked together with a decent amount of sugar, turning sweet and tangy and crisp, underneath a topping that is rich but not overly so. The original recipe called for three quarters of a packet of butter. I replaced two thirds of that with refined coconut oil (the kind that has no coconut taste) and the result was perfect. It’s still not quite health food, but it’s a great way to ease into the season.

Nantucket Cranberry Pie – Adapted from King Arthur Flour

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon melted butter
2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries, roughly chopped
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1/2 cup refined coconut oil, melted and cooled slightly
1/4 cup (4 tablespoons) butter, melted and cooled slightly
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
1 tablespoon turbinado sugar

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 10″ pie plate or 9″ square cake pan. Melt 1 tablespoon butter, and drizzle it into the bottom of the pan. Spread the chopped cranberries and nuts in the bottom of the pan. Sprinkle with the 1/2 cup sugar.

In a mixing bowl, beat together the eggs, melted coconut oil and butter, sugar, flour, salt, vanilla, and almond extract. Spread the batter over the cranberries and nuts in the pan, using a spatula to cover everything. Evenly sprinkle turbinado sugar over the batter.

Bake the pie for 40 to 45 minutes, until a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove the pie from the oven and let cool on wire rack. Serve warm, or at room temperature.