Tag Archives: food

Fresh Ginger Ice Cream

2 Mar

When working in the kitchen, it is not unwise to have a certain number of expectations in mind.  You know what you want to accomplish, you have at least a vague prediction of how your accomplishment should turn out, and you hope that, should your kitchen excursion produce something slightly outside the realm of what you anticipated, you’ll be able to fix whatever went awry.  What is sometimes most difficult to overcome, however, is not a dish that can’t be fixed, but rather a dish that should not be fixed, no matter how much you want to.

This point was well illustrated two weekends ago in my own kitchen, when I set out to make a batch of ginger ice cream.  Using as my guide the best ice cream manual in all the land, David Lebovitz’s The Prefect Scoop, a cookbook that has yet to produce a disappointing result (I truly believe that the deliciousness of his lemon speculoos ice cream is quite capable of sending a person to the moon and back in a state of unmatched rapture), I got to work slicing and steeping the fresh ginger, then preparing a rich and velvety custard.

It was then, right before I poured the gingered custard into the ice cream maker, that I began to let my instincts go a bit haywire.  Not one to shy away from brisk and bracing flavors and sensations in food, I expected—and wanted—this ice cream to provide a spicy flare of gingery heat in each bite.  When I stole a quick taste of the pre-frozen custard, however, what I found was a subtle ginger profile enveloped by the rich taste of cream.  Seeking a more pronounced flavor, I whisked in a bit of ginger extract and poured the amended mixture into the ice cream machine.

Twenty minutes later, the ice cream churning into a thick and luscious concoction, I snuck another taste.  Still not gingery enough.  I grated some fresh ginger and added it to the whirring machine.  Two minutes later, I tasted it again.  I added more ginger.  I tasted it again.  I added more ginger.  By this point, realizing that I was nearly out of ginger, I opened up a cupboard and prepared to let loose once more with the bottle of ginger extract.

As I was unscrewing the cap to the bottle of extract, I watched the ice cream folding and turning over itself, its lovely yellow hue exaggerating the ribbon-like waves that followed the dasher with each rotation.  That ice cream sure is a lovely color, I thought to myself.  Then I paused, placing the bottle of ginger extract on the counter.  I stopped the machine, removed the lid, and plunged a spoon into the fresh ice cream.  The taste was magical.  It was fantastically smooth, unbelievably rich, and the ginger came across as a bright flash that cut through the soft cloud of creaminess.

Somehow, forgetting that I was making a custard-based ice cream, I had become focused on making the ice cream bracing, spicy, and aggressive, when what I was working against, and shouldn’t have been, was an ice cream that was velvety, subtle, and refreshing.  This was an ice cream that was not meant to stampede one’s taste buds with ginger, but rather provide a gentle kick.  I may be aware of what I like, but I am also very aware of when I am wrong, and my misguided attempts at creating the Most Gingery Ice Cream in the World most definitely fell into that category.  Thankfully, it was an easy problem to fix.  All I had to do was set down my arsenal of ginger and pick up a spoon.

 

Though I now see the error of my ways when it came to making this ice cream, I do still believe that the ice cream benefits greatly from the addition of some grated fresh ginger, as it adds an undeniable freshness to the creaminess.  If you desire, you can also add in a bit of ginger extract, though I want to stress that it is entirely optional, and not at all a necessity.

Fresh Ginger Ice Cream

Very slightly adapted from The Perfect Scoop

3 ounces unpeeled fresh ginger

1 cup whole milk

2 cups heavy cream

3/4 cup sugar

pinch of salt

5 large egg yolks

1/2 teaspoon ginger extract (optional)

1 heaping tablespoon grated fresh ginger

Cut the ginger in half lengthwise (making it more stable for slicing), and then cut it into thin slices.  Place the ginger in a medium, nonreactive saucepan.  Add enough water to cover the ginger by about 1/2 inch, and bring to a boil.  Boil for 2 minutes, then drain, discarding the liquid.

Return the blanched ginger slices to the saucepan, then add the milk, 1 cup of the cream, sugar, and salt.  Warm the mixture, cover, and remove from the heat.  Let steep at room temperature for 1 hour.

Rewarm the mixture.  Remove the ginger slices with a slotted spoon and discard.  Pour the remaining 1 cup heavy cream into a large bowl and set a mesh strainer on top.

In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks.  Slowly pour the warm mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula.  Pour the custard through the strainer and stir it into the cream.  Stir until cool over an ice bath.  If using, whisk in ginger extract.

Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.  During the last few minutes of churning, add the grated fresh ginger.

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Italian Wedding Soup

28 Feb

In a household where one person is usually found doing the bulk of the cooking, there can often be a tad bit of confusion involved when the non-cooking sector of the household announces the intention to start taking on regular cooking duties.  This confusion, it should be noted, is not on the part of the cook being given a break, but rather on the part of the new cook who is often times unsure about the differences between foods and ingredients that share a similar profile.

Such was the case when my husband, who has announced that he will now be cooking dinner one night a week, raised the question about the difference between chicken stock and chicken broth.  It was a good question, but one that was tough for me to explain, save for the single qualifier I could think up that described chicken stock as being the more “chickeny” of the two liquids.  Searching for a more detailed answer, we decided to consult with that tried and true tome of all things food: Joy of Cooking.

As it turns out, my description was not far off.  Chicken stock (as with any meat-based stock) is made with a higher bone-to-meat ratio than chicken broth, and thus results in a thicker, more intense product.  Stock also takes twice as long to produce, and one is required to take on a lot more butchering of the chicken in order to portion out the most desirable stock components (back, neck, bones).

It was then, envisioning an entire morning and afternoon spent tending to a stewing chicken skeleton, that my husband opted to take his first plunge into soup-making by way of tenderly poaching a whole chicken and producing what turned out to be an entire stock pot full of chicken broth.

The broth, while delicious, was also abundant, and it managed to stick around through two separate rounds of chicken soup (four rounds, really, if you account for the fact that on both occasions we were made to assemble a separate, non-vegetable, version of the soup for our preschool-aged child) without showing any signs of fatigue.

Which is not to say that our taste buds were not more than a little fatigued, leading to the desire for a more complex and dressed-up pot of soup.  Desiring more vegetables (sorry, son), more textures, and more spice, I was drawn to the idea of plumping up the soup into something a bit busier.  By adding tiny meatballs of Italian chicken sausage, the soup was instantly given a bit more heft.

Fresh carrots and celery sautéed with onions gave the flavor of the soup more depth, and a bit of fresh ginger added a much-needed hit of brightness.

After adding a handful of pasta and then deciding to serve the soup over a bed of fresh spinach, it soon became clear to me that by doctoring up my husband’s chicken broth, I had created a melting pot of colors and flavors known as Italian wedding soup, which, though neither of us is Italian, seemed quite fitting for a dish made by a marrying of both minds and meals.

Italian Wedding Soup

2.5 quarts (10 cups) chicken broth

1 pound bulk Italian chicken sausage

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium red onion, finely minced

1 cup diced carrots

1 cup diced celery

1 heaping cup dry pasta (we used rotini)

1 heaping tablespoon freshly grated ginger

salt and pepper to taste

8 oz spinach leaves, washed and coarsely chopped

1/4 cup chopped Italian parsley

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.  Using a teaspoon, portion out the Italian chicken sausage into 1 inch meatballs, dropping each one onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper.  Bake meatballs for 20-25 minutes, or until cooked through and just slightly beginning to caramelize on the outside.

While the meatballs are baking, heat the olive oil in a large stock pot over medium heat.  Add the onions, carrots, and celery, then saute, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are softened but the carrots still retain their bright color, about 5-8 minutes.  Add the chicken broth and bring to a boil.  Add the pasta to the simmering soup, and cook until tender, about 5-8 minutes.  Add the baked meatballs and cook for an additional minute.  Add in the fresh ginger, chopped parsley, and salt and pepper to taste, then stir to combine.  Taste, then adjust seasonings as you see fit.

To serve soup, place a handful of chopped fresh spinach in the bottom of each bowl.  Ladle soup directly over spinach, then top with a sprinkling of additional parsley, if desired.

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Honey Nut Granola

18 Feb

It’s easy be a fan of granola, what with its crunchy bite and hearty toasted flavor.  The bad thing is, along with that pleasing mixture of satisfaction and fullness that granola provides, what you are also getting when you tuck into a big bowl of granola is sugar.  Lots and lots of sugar.  Now, clearly I am no opponent of sugar (see here), but if I am going to eat a sweet breakfast, I am not going to attempt to conceal that fact under an attempted guise of healthfulness.  A cinnamon roll is a cinnamon roll, and granola should just be granola.  You’ve got to know what you’re getting into.

Sacrificing sugar and oil (another common granola ingredient found in unexpectedly large quantities) in a batch of homemade granola does not mean you will be left wanting for taste.  As with most things in the kitchen, when you remove something you must then add something, and in the case of this granola, you’ll actually be adding two somethings: apple cider and honey.

Combined with a generous helping of nuts and what seems like an unrealistic amount of cinnamon, this granola exits the oven smelling like tray of freshly baked of cookies, but in reality it boasts the sort of healthfulness that is ordinarily associated only with the likes of, well, granola.

I imagine that most people will get to the final portion of this recipe and immediately walk away, eyes rolling.  Two hours in the oven?  And you have to stir the stuff every 15 minutes?  It’s true that this granola needs to be moderately babysat while toasting in the oven, but if you break down those 15 minute intervals, you realize that many activities already cater to a repeated 15 (or 20, if you want to stretch it, which, honestly, does no harm) minute break.  How much television do you watch in one evening?  Does a commercial come on just about every 15 minutes?  Yes, it does.  Are you spending a leisurely Saturday afternoon at home with some reading?  Wouldn’t you enjoy getting up every 15 minutes to stretch your legs?  Oftentimes I start assembling this granola (which takes all of 5 minutes) while I am beginning dinner preparations.  By the time we have eaten dinner, cleaned up, and bathed the kid, the granola comes out of the oven just before we get settled in to read bedtime stories.  Setting aside a few seconds every 15 minutes to stir the granola isn’t even noticeable, and when we go to bed we know that we’ll be waking up in the morning to the lingering scent of apples, cinnamon, and nutty toasted oats.  If that’s my reward for stirring something a mere 8 times, I’ll gladly take it.

 

Honey Nut Granola

6 cups rolled oats

1/3 cup sliced or slivered almonds

1/3 cup roughly chopped walnuts

1/3 cup roughly chopped pecans

1/4 cup wheat germ (optional)

3 tablespoons cinnamon

1/2 cup fresh pressed or unfiltered apple cider

1/3 -1/2 cup honey, depending on how sweet you like your granola (I find that 1/3 cup is perfectly, not overly, sweet)

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1/2 – 3/4 cup raisins

Preheat oven to 250 degrees.  In a large rectangular baking dish, toss together the oats, nuts, wheat germ (if using), and cinnamon.  In a separate bowl, thoroughly whisk together the apple cider, vanilla extract, and honey.  Pour the apple cider mixture over the oat mixture and toss to coat evenly.  When done tossing, make sure to spread the oats out evenly.

Bake uncovered for about 2 hours, stirring every 15 minutes, until the mixture is dry.  Remove from oven and stir in the raisins while the granola is still hot.  Cool granola to room temperature before storing in a tightly covered container at room temperature.

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