I Coo, You Coo, We All Coo For Couscous!

Yes, it’s true. The first annual Pasadena Couscous Festival was last month. Equally true: I was there! Originally scheduled for one day, the festival was extended a second day to accommodate the response. Organized by Ecole de Cuisine Pasadena at the Chefs Center of California, the festival aimed to "raise awareness and admiration of the glorious flavors and techniques in North African cuisine.” That’s according to the press release.

Stock photo by Meghan Anderson-Colangelo

The Santa Anas came late this year so there were gray skies and a mild drizzle as Armand and I passed the entry gate to the grill stations set up in the parking lot. We oriented ourselves with batata chips, lamb-beef merguez, and live nomadic Saharan music. The couscous, vegetable tagine, and preserved lemon chicken tagine eaten later kept me full all day. With the balance on our food tickets, we finished the outing with Arabic coffee and a pastry sampling that included beignets I have craved ever since.

The chair was taken out from under as I listened to Clifford A. Wright and Charles Perry discuss food history. Did you know we use a totally bastardized method to cook couscous in this country? Couscous is not to be steeped lest it be heavy. Clifford Wright—a prolific academic and popular author on topics of Mediterranean and Arab cuisine, among others—presented Origins of Couscous and the First Pastas and stressed the grain product is at its best when steamed. This traditionally takes about three hours. Fortunately, the commonly used instant varieties can be steamed in a fraction of the time at only an hour or so. It becomes all the more flavorful when steamed two or three times, using broth or olive oil on the subsequent goes. Talk about dedication! During the Q and A, a savant-type in the audience provided the anecdote of a couscous box that said to add boiling water in English, French, and Spanish. Yet that same box instructed Arabic speakers to steam.

Turns out the savant was accomplished culinary expert Charles Perry, which explains his agility with the four languages. I did not hear much of what was said about couscous, but his lecture on Medieval North African and Andalusian Dishes introduced me to unexpected origins for fish and chips and Baja tacos, which I investigated further at home. Fish and chips, that iconic British dish, resulted from the Sephardic diaspora. Fried fish was among the cuisine Portuguese and Spanish Jews brought to England, where it became custom in the 1800s to serve with fries. Quintessentially British, the meal was born with one foot on the Iberian Peninsula and the other in Belgium or France (the origin of fries is disputed).

Likewise, named for the Mexican peninsula of their origin, Baja tacos resulted from a meeting of cultures. Japanese immigrants who were part of Baja’s fishing economy brought new customs, and introduced their own twist to the local food—fish tempura. Using the fried fish in place of traditional meats gave way to the tacos de pescado frito everlastingly loved by so many on the Mexico-California coast.

All in all: the eating was good and the information was interesting. I look forward to next year’s Couscous Festival.

Peremptorily Plump Persimmon Pudding (Cake)

This weekend, I am moved once again to write about yet another neighborly gift turned tasty treat. Several nights ago, while watering my garden - I heard a kind "hello" coming from the sidewalk. Our neighbors from down the street who had given me that giant pink banana squash came by to say hello. This is the first time I've seen them since our introduction. They asked me if I like persimmons and I happily replied that I do. Well, these kind folks said that they would be by tomorrow night with some persimmons for me. I felt so lucky! I also immediately started to think about what I could give them? After a brief online conversation with Ms. E.T. herself - we came to the conclusion that I should give them some cherry preserves produced from a previous cherry picking excursion that E.T. and I conducted.

The next evening, around the same time, the husband came by the house with a bag FULL of persimmons: 3 ripe hachiyas and many more of the fuyu. I ran back inside the house to grab my jar of preserves - I was so happy to give something back!

boo bear really seemed to appreciate the persimmons

vanilla, flour, baking powder and soda, walnuts, eggs, milk,
butter, and of course, persimmon pulp

I ended up finding a recipe for persimmon pudding cake that sounded pretty good and decided that I should give that a try! It was perfect for my 3 ripe hachiyas. It's a very simple recipe and I am proud to report that only a few snags occurred along the way. There is not a size requirement in the recipe for the square glass pan - and I was not keen on putting the mixture in a pan that was too large or too small. So I decided to compromise and split the mixture between two cooking pans. About half-way through the baking process, I noticed a whole lot of smoke coming from the top of the oven. Nothing smelled burnt - but boy was there smoke! I opened the oven door to see that my pudding cakes were both a good inch or so above the rim of the pan - and juices were spilling out onto the foil I had (thankfully) lined on the bottom of the oven. I made the decision to just keep keeping' on and to open up some extra windows/doors around the house to manage the smoke. This recipe was going to work, damn it!

After waiting a couple minutes beyond the suggested time - I took out the two items and left them on the cooling rack. They looked pretty good, especially that pool of butter that was swimming around the center of both cakes.

note: the butter pool and the plumpness of the
out of oven experience

Fifteen minutes later and my pudding cakes were super-deflated, but my happiness was not. I figured that a pudding cake is probably not too different from a bread pudding - so a deflated cake was still an acceptable cake in my book.

no more butter pools and mr. rectangle cake
in the back is severely deflated

I'd probably use a bit less butter in the recipe next time, it's a bit overwhelming on the soggier portions of the cake - ya know, probably those parts that absorbed the previous pool of butter? I'll probably also use that large glass pan next time too, rather than these deeper, smaller dishes I used today. But, despite some slightly overwhelming butter bites, the cake is good and is none too sweet either!

all is yummy on the Katy front...

Early Dawning, Sunday Morning...

After my requisite cup(s) of coffee, some hummingbird field recording, and a little bit of reading, my tummy began to call out for some morning nourishment.

ready to serve

Quick and Easy Swiss Chard Scramble (Serves Two):
Eggs beat with cream, fresh ground pepper, and paprika
Cubes of aged cheddar
Swiss Chard harvested minutes before slicing - stems sliced into quarter inches, leaves very casually chopped (really just sliced a couple times)
Two small (rather garlicky) shallots harvested last weekend diced
Handful of cherry tomatoes sliced in two
Olive oil

harvested shallots

prepped ingredients

Heat pan, add olive oil, add shallots and chard stems. 3 minutes. Add tomatoes. 1 minute. Add chard leaves. 1 minute. Reduce heat and add eggs. Slowly turn the eggs, keeping them moist and cooking slowly on low heat. Add the cheddar last. The slow/low heat gives me time to take care of the toast, wash out the prep bowls, and keeps the eggs from overcooking or burning. Quick and easy way to add some extra veggies to my favorite breakfast item: eggs! The hubby seemed to enjoy the end product.

Tart, My Sweet

Toe (as in Term Of Endearment) was out for the night. What was I to do with the place to myself? I knew the answer before the final, upturned syllable of inquiry had a chance to manifest: yummy asparagus-spinach pesto and banana tarte tatin. My tart looked nothing like the Saveur photo. It baked as a blob in the middle of the dish. Caramel bubbled from underneath like a burnt sea beyond the reach of my banana-pastry island.

It was my first time making caramel—and my second, after burning the first batch. The kitchen pursuit, gone awry, took on something of a Keystone Kops quality. Having heard horror stories of burned caramel, but not remembering what those actual stories were, I feared it might ruin my pan. I was afraid to leave the goo, but equally afraid to pour it down the drain. I couldn’t find a paper bag and grabbed a plastic one to dump the liquefied sugar. It was not my finest synaptic firing. The bag melted and caramel glopped to the floor. Scooping it up with paper towels, I made contact with the pile where pinkie meets palm. I peeled the caramel from my skin, which gave way to a red burn that blistered in short time. The bag had melted, not from caramel, but from the pan. Deep as I was into the culinary expedition I’d embarked on—the pesto was well under way—I wasn’t about to tuck my tail and pack up shop. There would be tart by night’s end. I methodically removed the bits of plastic glued to the bottom of my cookware, and began round two of caramel production.

I had lost my groove. I kept ice tucked in hand and hid the burn from steaming pots. I spilled more caramel on the stove, counters, and floor. Pushing air out of the sugar bag, I puffed a cloud of granules onto my face and kitchen fixtures. By the time I noticed my sandals tracking sugar into the living room, the obligatory post-cook cleaning had already doubled. Have I mentioned I don't actually like caramel? Oy vey.

With camera batteries charging in the other room, I forgot to photograph the folly. Toe returned home, and we dug into the pan without getting a snap or shot. Naturally, I recreated the banana blob this weekend for a photo op. Despite my best-worst efforts, it looked relatively nice. While at it, I also made a peach-raspberry galette. And even though I unknowingly turned off the oven, instead of resetting the built-in timer, the tarts were tasty.

Lessons and Notes

Peach-Raspberry Galette
It was a busy weekend so I used premade dough. I evaded blanching and pitting with well-drained canned peaches. I then:

• Hand-mixed the peaches with almond extract, ground clove and nutmeg. I chose almond over vanilla since peaches are a stone fruit.
• Spread raspberry jam because my desired fig jam was not an available option.
• Sprinkled the layered peaches with almonds (because we had them).
• Served with roasted banana gelato.

Banana Tarte Tatin
The tarte tatin story more-or-less goes: The Tatin sisters ran an eponymous hotel. An overworked sister stumbled upon the upside-down tart by throwing a crust on top of the baking apples of her flubbed pie.

Recipe Notes:

• I’ve been substituting dried lemon peel for orange zest.
• When pouring caramel, hustle but don’t fret. Hardened clumps in the baking dish will remelt and spread while baking.
• Lacking a 7.5 x 12 dish, I used a 9 x 13. This was too big. My 8 x 8 would have been better.
• Paired with blackberry rum sorbet. Flipping the tart, bananas up, is a prettier way to serve. I keep forgetting this.

Safety & Cleanliness:

• Hot caramel burns, and it quickly adheres to skin as it cools and hardens. Do not touch hot caramel.
• The quick-cooling caramel spills seem easier to scrape up after they harden.

Neighborly gifts are the best gifts ever!

I've been hesitating to make a first post here, as E.T. and I have been conducting an ongoing email chain that describes every little detail of our cooking, canning, garden-growing experiments. I had all these grand ideas about what my first post should be - but I'll never actually be that grand and since E.T. is on a mini-vacation visiting her father and I can't share with her immediately my thoughts on creating tonight's recipe, it seems appropriate to bite the bullet and make a darn post.

Here goes...

Using this recipe for farfalle with pink banana squash and wild mushrooms, I embarked on a weeknight dinner experiment. Altering the menu to adjust to what I did have in the house, I substituted dry vermouth for the sherry (google searching revealed that it was a good option) and I used only chantrelles and these pretty little organic maitake mushrooms I found at Gelsons.

Aren't those maitakes pretty?

Let me back up a bit. Four weeks ago (if memory serves) I was getting dropped off from work by my boss. As we rounded the corner and slowed to a stop, I observed a couple walking past our yard, stopping to look, and pointing. My hubby and I are quite proud of our yard - more of which you will be certain to hear about in great detail. So, with one proud eye on the observant couple I said my goodbyes. I began to approach our front gate and the couple turned around to ask, "Oh? Is this your house?" Thus began a long conversation about various garden-related items. this lead to an admittance on part of my newly-realized neighbor, that she only knows how to cook from her native Philippine repertoire. She and her husband brought up the fact that they only actually eat or cook squash blossoms and that they have this giant squash in their yard that they have no use for and wondered if I knew what it was (assuming, mistakenly, that I was some sort of squash know-it-all). The woman abruptly told her husband to go back and get it…which left me confused, since the strong accent made it difficult for me to understand absolutely everything I had heard…I had no idea what to expect when the husband returned. But sure enough, he comes running back with a gigantic yellowy-pink squash in his arms. He immediately handed it over to me and they hung out for a little while longer before they continued their walk. We shook hands, and I was left with this big mystery squash and some new neighborly pals. I felt so triumphant as I entered my house that evening.

Turns out this squash is a pink banana squash and it's supposedly sweeter than the butternut. Some searches tell me that this is an heirloom variety (I am now wondering if I should dig those seeds out of the compost bin and try to grown 'em in the public walk-way - no room in the small front yard for these giants!).

And so, four weeks later, I finally gave myself the permission to spend tonight making this large, large recipe. Apparently in order to use all of this squash in one recipe, the recipe itself, had to be quite large. And my weeknight stamina did not call for two separate kinds of squash meals.

Lesson one: wax paper is not parchment paper.

Lesson two: dry vermouth as it's cooking smells just like marsala wine! Yummmm.

Lesson three: wax paper burns when it's in the oven. I really should have deduced this prior to actually putting it in there. There's no excuse.

Lesson four: chiffonade is not a fancy prom dress, but a pretty way to cut herbs.

My proud chiffonade...

A couple of things to note about my developing cooking style…

I like things very orderly and I like to clean as I go. This usually means that I am not a fast-paced cook or, if I am - my meal probably won't turn out. I blame this on my slight propensity for order or some call it mild OCD. I also blame this on my inexperience with cooking. If I were more comfortable with timing and the materials and foods I was working with, I could probably work faster. I am pretty sure that with experience, I'll still always prefer to keep things as tidy as possible. So, I always start out the cooking process by setting out all of the ingredients I'll need, in their called for proportions. The random salt, pepper or oil addition can be the only exception to my pre-proportioned rule. So, this means that I like to do all of my slice and dicing prior to any heat is turned on (Assuming my recipe calls for heat). My little bits of experience has shown me that I tend to panic and cut corners when I don't have everything prepared and available. For example, tonight's recipe called for the butter to be browned and then dipped into ice water, then separated, leaving the sediment behind to use later on. Well, I hadn't prepared the ice water bath prior to browning the butter, so I just played it by ear. This resulted in a bowl of hot brown butter, with a sauce pan slightly coated in "more brown" butter. This itty bitty mistake, threw me for a loop and when the next step to the recipe called for melted butter (not the browned melted butter, mind you) I threw in my set-aside bowl of sorta browned butter, leaving my regular melted butter waiting in the wings for the last part of the recipe. A minor mistake, I am aware, but it was a mistake that illustrates some of the ways in which a non-prepared Katy turns out a mildly-altered recipe.

All sliced and diced, just the way I like it!

The final product? I am happy with it.

Quite tasty - very rich, and very sweet as well.

I couldn't quite place if the sweetness was due to the large amount of butter in the recipe, the large amount of sugar in the recipe, or the large amount of super-sweet squash with the butter and sugar in the recipe. Either way, I'm happy to report that the flavor was full and decadent.