redacted recipes

CSA Slow Cooker Curry

A strange thing happened when I moved to New York: I stopped cooking (Indian) curry. Then, after a few visits to some of the city's less-than-terrific Indian restaurants I stopped eating it altogether. For a Brit, this is almost a form of treason. It's a bit like giving up tea, or beer, or deciding not to complain about the weather any more. On my return visits to London I would sometimes order a delivery from my favourite local Indian restaurant but then even that pretty much stopped. Somehow I'd just lost the habit, and considering that habit used to be of the two-or-three-times-a-week variety the loss was, as I say, strange.

Well, a few weeks ago I decided enough was enough. No more excuses about not being able to find the right ingredients, no more banging on about how I missed the fabulous Indian markets in my London neighbourhood; I needed a curry, dammit! So I set about assembling a reasonable approximation of my old garam masala recipe, searched my increasingly unreliable memory for recollections of how I used to make a basic curry (I haven't followed a written recipe for years), and got down to it. After a couple of passable near-misses I finally nailed it again.

This particular curry was a sort-of chicken madras, I suppose, but I loaded it up with a wild variety of goodies from our weekly CSA run. Normally I'd only include onion, green pepper, fresh chilli and tomatoes along with the meat but given the varied veggie stockpile in our fridge Ann and I have a pact to use them whenever and wherever we can. I was a little concerned that it might end up being a confusion of tastes and textures but happily, it worked. The point is you don't need to include all the vegetables listed below - you can take the simple base ingredients mentioned above and add whatever you fancy. Or not. That's the great thing about curries - you can be very experimental with them and have fun varying the ingredients to suit whatever's available in your kitchen and fridge.

Because of the recent sweltering weather I used a slow cooker but you can do it all in a large pan or skillet too. I served the curry with spicy basmati rice and Ann's excellent raita (mainly consisting of yogurt and chopped cucumber) which helps cool the fire!

photo by Holger Casselmann

Garam Masala

This will make quite a lot. You only use about a teaspoonful in the curry so you may want to scale down the proportions, but if you plan on getting into the curry habit it's worth making a reasonable quantity so you don't have to do it every time. If you have trouble finding the black cardamoms you can just leave them out and add a bit more of the regular ones. Like curry itself, garam masala is a very flexible thing and there's no hard and fast recipe. You should compare this suggestion with other Googlings and experiment until you find a blend that works best for you.

4 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tbsp cumin seeds
1 tbsp black peppercorns
1.5  tsp dry ginger
1 tsp cardamom seeds
2 black cardamom pods (should yield about 3/4 tsp when ground)
3/4 tsp cloves
3/4 tsp cinnamon (about a 2" piece of bark)
3/4 tsp crushed bay leaves

Gently roast all ingredients except the ginger in a heavy skillet  until they darken slightly. Stir/shake occasionally. Take it slow and be sure not to burn anything. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.
Once cooled, remove the cardamom seeds from their pods (a fingernail is usually handy enough to split them open) and return them to the other ingredients.

Grind everything to a fine powder. The easy way is to press an old coffee grinder into service solely for the purpose of grinding spices. The old-fashioned but tougher way is to use a pestle and mortar.

Store in an airtight container in a cool, dark place.

Chicken and Vegetable Curry
Serves 2

Note that the spice quantities suggested here will make a medium hot curry. Increasing or decreasing the amount of chilli powder or fresh chilli will make the most difference to the heat so you should adjust to your own tolerance. You might leave the fresh chilli out altogether, for example. Similarly, the quantities of cumin, turmeric and coriander are only a rough guide. Part of the fun of making curry is customising your spice levels!

The basic ingredients (ie all you really need)

1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 fresh chilli pepper, chopped. (I favour hot reds or serranos but you can use whatever type you fancy)
1 green bell pepper, sliced (optional)
1 tsp chilli powder
1 tsp cumin
3/4 tsp turmeric
3/4 tsp dry coriander
1/2 tsp hot paprika (optional)
12 oz chicken breast, chopped into 1.5 inch cubes
15 oz can peeled tomatoes
1 tsp garam masala (see above)

The optional extras (ie the random CSA stuff!)

2 small potatoes, cut into 1/4" slices
1 zucchini or summer squash, cut into 1/4" slices
a small handful of sliced mushrooms
a small handful of green beans, cut into 1.5 inch pieces
a large handful of arugula

(Don't you just love the precision, here?)

Put little olive oil in a skillet and fry the onions, fresh chilli and bell pepper over medium heat until the onion is translucent and the pepper slightly softened. Add the garlic and powdered spices and fry for a further minute, stirring constantly to prevent burning. Get everything nicely coated. Add the chicken and stir for another minute or so, until the surface is just starting to cook. Transfer everything to the slow cooker and add the tomatoes and a little salt. Stir and set on high. As soon as it starts to simmer, turn the cooker to low.

You should leave it for at least three hours so you need to judge when you want to add any other vegetables depending on what they are and how long they need to cook. Using the examples here I added the various extras at approximately the following times before serving

Potatoes - 2 hours
Squash - 1.5 hours
Mushrooms - 1 hour
Green beans - 1 hour
Arugula - 15 minutes

Again, this is approximate and will depend on how firm you want the vegetables to be. The times given above strike a nice balance between too soft and too firm, I think, and they're sufficient to allow the flavour of the curry to permeate a little without entirely swamping the natural taste of the ingredients. And you don't really want crisp green beans in a curry. Or at least, I don't. But please yourselves!

The final touch is to add the garam masala, which you should stir in and mix well about an hour before you're ready to eat. Your kitchen will now start to smell seriously wonderful and you will have a hard time waiting that final hour to get stuck in to the spicy, aromatic goodness.

Curry really can benefit more than many dishes from a trial-and-error approach because everyone seems to like it slightly differently and part of the fun is in figuring out what works best for your preferences. Be loose! Be fearless! But don't forget to start getting the rice together about twenty minutes before you're ready to eat!

Spicy Basmati Rice
Serves 2

1 medium onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, chopped
1 red or serrano chilli pepper, chopped (and de-seeded if you're scared of a bit of heat)
Half a cup of basmati rice
6 fl oz white wine
6 fl oz veg or chicken stock
Salt and black pepper

Heat a little olive oil in a saucepan. Add the onions, garlic and chilli. Cook for a few minutes until the onions are soft. Stir in the rice and cook for another minute. Pour in the wine and reduce the liquid by half. Add the stock and seasoning; cover saucepan and cook until rice has absorbed the liquid. About 8-10 minutes.

Daring Bakers: Filbert Gateau with Praline Buttercream

Well it's been hot and sticky here in Brooklyn and by the time I finished my latest Daring Bakers challenge I was hot, sticky and covered in chocolate ganache. But I was also happy because our challenge this month, hosted by Chris of Mele Cotte, was to make a hazelnut gateau from the book Great Cakes by Carol Walter.

What a great boozey cake! Layers of hazelnut genoise coated with rum sugar syrup and then filled with the most fabulous praline buttercream (containing both rum and Grand Marnier!). Sounds decadent already, right? But there's more! The assembled layers are sealed with an apricot glaze and then coated with shiny dark chocolate ganache, which contains more Grand Marnier!

I admit the extremely hot weather caused me to keep putting off getting this baby made... but I finally decided to jump in. I followed the recipe exactly, with three small changes: I used two 7 inch pans (whole genoise recipe) and then split each layer in two, resulting in a four layer cake; I did not use any whipped cream between the layers, as I felt the buttercream (and syrup and preserves and ganache!) were enough; and I used a different recipe for Swiss Buttercream (Carol Walters recipe was too fussy for me).

I like to taste a cake as it is intended before I make variations and I'm really glad I did with this one, as I loved the orange and rum flavors with the hazelnut. That praline butter cream is effing fabulous!

I broke the process up into two days worth of steps: making the genoise, syrup and buttercream, and then assembling the layers up to the point of sealing them with the apricot preserves on the first day  and then wrapping the assembled cake in plastic and popping it in the refrigerator to chill. The next day I made the ganache, coated the cake and then piped out some frou frous with more buttercream.

I had a vision for my finish, that involved very detailed and ornate piped scrolls and leaves, but unfortunately it didn't work out. I could see the effect I wanted in my head, and I was able to draw it on paper, but the force was not with me. In fact, I'd say the force was entirely against me, as the kitchen was very warm, the buttercream was very soft and getting softer with every second, and my hand was not steady. The saddest part is that once I made the first scroll I was committed. There was no scraping the buttercream off the ganache and starting over with simple piped shells (I am the champion of shells!). Poor Jack had to listen to me swear and mutter for an hour.

Still, when we ate the first piece we were impressed. The complex layering of the flavors together really worked! Great challenge, Chris! You can click the link to see the recipe.

Tomato Celebration

Thank heavens tomatoes are back! I really can't get enough tomatoes when they come into season and I wait impatiently for them all year long, particularly heirlooms. We eat them every way we can think of (you'll be seeing a lot of them for the next few months!), and one of our favorite dishes, and the first thing I ever cooked for Jack, is a pasta recipe, taken from that old '80s go-to The Silver Palate Cookbook. As with most of the recipes in the book, this is not low calorie, light, or particularly healthy. But, oh, it's so damned good... we call it seduction food. I recently advised my daughter to make it for her boyfriend, swearing to her that he "will look at you like you're a goddess once he tastes it!"

However, goddesses don't need to be heavy, so I've lightened it up a lot by reducing the amount of olive oil and cheese (the original called for heart-stopping amounts of both!).

This is an old post with new (better) photos. It was originally posted 2 years ago and has gone unnoticed all this time (nobody ever visited back then), so I decided to dust it off and freshen it up. The recipe deserves it.

Linguine with Tomatoes and Basil
adapted from The Silver Palate Cookbook
serves 4

4 large ripe tomatoes (I prefer a mix of red and yellow heirloom, or Jersey), cut into 1/2 inch cubes
1/2 pound of brie, rind removed, torn into small pieces
1 cup of fresh basil leaves, cut into strips
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp salt
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1 pound linguine

Combine the tomatoes, basil, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Cover and let sit at room temperature at least two hours. Add the brie about an hour before you want to eat.

Cook and drain the linguine and toss with the rest of the ingredients. Serve immediately.

Be sure to have some good crusty bread for soaking up all the lovely garlic-y juices!

Taste and Create: Some Like It Hot

If you're wondering where in the world Redacted Recipes has been all week, I can only say that bad things really do happening in clusters. Last Thursday my laptop died. I mean, completely and utterly died. I will say that it was fixed very quickly-- shipped off to IBM on Friday and back and in working condition on Tuesday. And that would have been terrific if it were not for the fact that on Friday my cable modem died. And the cable folks had no opening until today for fixing it. So yes, we were reduced to sniffing out other people's wireless, which was painful and unreliable.

But that's not all. On Saturday, which was a very, very hot day, our lights started to brown out and our window A/C unit began to run at such a low level that it was all but useless. We wrote it off to a temporary problem, assuming that city-wide power usage was at a high. That evening I went to turn on the bathroom light and realized that the switch plate was red-hot. The wall surrounding it was also frightening hot.  So we went downstairs to alert our building super, who waved us off (as he always does), saying "Is fine. Call office Monday."

Now, we live in an old building and we know the wiring is not up to code--this is taken for granted in New York. But a hot wall is nothing to ignore, particularly in light of the fact that our downstairs neighbor had an electrical fire in her kitchen wall last year (and when we all told the super we could smell smoke he waved it off then too, insisting "is fine, is fine!"). So we called the fire department, who came and disconnected the wires in the outlet. I love those guys. There they were, fully suited up, sweating to beat the band, and racing up six flights of stairs.

As of now everything is working again. My computer is good as new, we have a nice fast internet connection, the bathroom light has been rewired and the walls repaired, and we even got a leaking faucet fixed, too.

All this just in time to get to my post for this month's Taste and Create! I had the pleasure of being partnered with Pam of The Backyard Pizzeria, a blog full of appealing photos and recipes. While there were many dishes I wanted to try I really had to limit myself to something requiring very little cooking time (did I mention it's been HOT?). It seemed fitting to try her recipe for Sambal Oelek, a Thai chili paste packed with heat but requiring very little in the way of simmering (and no baking! Yay!). Pam's post about it has some very interesting information on the health benefits of chili peppers. Apparently the capsaicin, which gives them their fire, frightens prostate cancer cells so much that they sometimes commit suicide. Who knew?

For reasons I don't quite understand, red chilies are rare on the ground in my part of the city. Pam and I emailed about using green chilies and agreed that they probably wouldn't be hot enough, so I went with the superstar of capsaicin, the habanero. And this stuff is hot, let me tell you. But really tasty, too, if you use with caution.

Sambal Oelek

1 pound  red chillies
5 1/2 ounces garlic, peeled and chopped
5 1/2 ounces tender young ginger, peeled and chopped
2 stalks lemon grass, thinly sliced (white part only)
6 fluid ounces vinegar
8 ounces sugar
salt, to taste
1 tablespoon lime zest, chopped

Blend the chillies, garlic, ginger and lemon grass in a food processor or mortar and pestle. While processing gradually add the vinegar. Place the pureed mixture into a saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 3 minutes. Add the sugar and stir until dissolved. Add the salt and lime zest. Remove from the heat, cool and bottle in sterilised jars.

Tried, Tested and True

I've asked my cousin Kate, the remarkable daughter of a remarkable woman, to write her story for Tried, Tested and True, an event being hosted by the mother-daughter team of giz and psychgrad over at Equal Opportunity Kitchen to raise awareness for organ donation.

When I asked Kate to write this I also asked her for a healthy recipe. She responded with a rather pithy response too fabulous not to quote here for a terrific dish which Jack cooked last night:

"I hate that healthy low-fat shit.  I love food very much, and I'm sure I would love to eat someone else's healthy low-fat recipe if they served it to me, but I don't think or cook that way because good food is generally healthy and if you want low fat, don't eat cake all the time.  So, I want to offer up my friend Nicola's recipe as served to me in Asmara, Eritrean (former Italian colony).  It's just good old bon filet (do we call it filet here?  The long skinny tenderest cut of beef?) cut thickly and fried lightly in a few good glugs of olive oil with lots of salt and pepper til just past rare.  Throw those lovely rounds on a platter and top with an armload of rucola, and then drip the nice hot salty and peppery and beefy olive oil over the top.  It looks and tastes great.  It's all healthy stuff, right?"

Right, indeed. We just loved this simple and yet oh-so-good dish. It proves once again that if you start with great ingredients you can't go wrong.

Please welcome Kate and her story.

---

I had a kidney transplant in July 2005 at the age of 42.  Aside from what could be detected through blood tests, my symptoms of kidney failure as a result of Polycystic Kidney Disease were virtually non-existent the summer day in 2004 my nephrologist told me, “You could be eligible for a kidney transplant tomorrow.”

Since I live overseas I wasn’t able to get on a donor list in my state of Colorado: you need to be able to get to the hospital within 12 hours after a kidney becomes available and travel time to the states takes us more than 30 hours.  I would need to find a living donor—someone willing to donate me a kidney, and willing to do it during my scheduled trip to the States! 

I looked ahead to Christmas or even the following summer to do the transplant.  If my health held (and it did, sort of) that would give me time to find a donor who would be willing to come to Colorado and donate a kidney.  I love telling the story of the people who came forward to offer me a kidney: five relatives, several friends, and even a few people I hardly knew. 

My Mom suggested right away that she could be my donor; my nephrologist dismissed the idea just as quickly, saying we wanted to look for someone younger.

My sister-in-law Tammy leapt forward immediately with certainty and even joy at the prospect of donating a kidney.  I still marvel at the no-nonsense way she would not brook our concern or dismay on her behalf.  Her doctors gave her the go-ahead, and my doctors told her to wait until closer to the actual transplant date to proceed with testing.  With those provisions we proceeded through the year with a kind of peace of mind, and that was Tammy’s gift to us.

Ten months later we learned that I had a pretty high level of antibodies—protein substances the body's immune system develops in response to antigens, or foreign substances.  Antibodies will attack a transplanted organ, so the most important test for potential donors and recipients is an antibody screen, a simple test that mixes the white blood cells of the donor with serum from the recipient.  If the antibodies in the recipient react with the antigens of the donor, the deal is off.   

Suddenly, Tammy was no longer a potential donor.  While my husband Craig and I turned our attention to trying to find a match in the increasingly short window of time ahead, Tammy grieved.  She experienced a real sense of loss over not being able to donate her kidney, God love her, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to thank her adequately for the whole-hearted commitment she gave to the prospect. 

In the meantime, Craig’s older brother who stands over six and a half feet tall and weighs around 260 pounds offered me one of his kidneys.  His concern: “they’ll probably have to stuff it inside you like a rubber raft.” 

Craig’s younger brother also offered a kidney, but based on the results from the antibody screen with Tammy, the transplant team felt that Craig’s blood relatives were out of the picture as the high level of antibodies in my blood had likely developed during pregnancy against antigens from Craig. 

As news of our having to cast a wider net for potential donors spread, Mom gently reminded me that she was ready to give me a kidney.  Aside from the fact that my nephrologist had dismissed Mom as “too old” (though at 65 she could ride her mountain bike downhill faster than anybody we knew and ski more aggressively than most people half her age),  we didn’t even know what her blood type was.  Would it be a match?

“Match, schmatch.  Doesn’t matter.  I’m the one.  Tell your doctor to test me,” mom insisted.  She even called my nephrologist herself, and was told that she might be considered as a last resort.

My cousin Lisa heard the news, and though we hadn’t seen each other for more than 25 years, she offered to donate a kidney and went right to her doctor to get tested.  Her results were in Colorado within a few days and though she was not a match, she arrived in Colorado days later to reconnect and offer support. 

We were running out of potential donors.  My energy had been fading for a few months, and by summer 2005 was operating at the level of a Soviet brown-out—with just barely enough light to read by.  Friends around the world stood by ready to send the necessary blood tests, but the doctors felt chances were slim that I’d find a match.  They finally agreed to test my mother. 

“Because she’s older, the kidney might not last as long as a younger donor’s would,” the doctors warned. 

“When you’re done with it, they’ll be able to give it to someone else!” Mom retorted.

We looked into a portable dialysis machine, one that I could use during the night at home in Jakarta if I wasn’t able to get a transplant this summer. 

Mom got tested and sent her results back to my doctors.  She was a perfect match.

When I called to tell her, she screamed as if she’d just won a million dollars in the lottery.  Her joy, her complete gladness, still makes me cry.

Now it was time to get going in earnest.  Mom flew over the next day.  When I greeted her at the airport I told her she didn’t have to give me a kidney just because she was the only match we’d found. 

She took my face in her hands and said firmly, “Honey, I would give you my heart.”

The battery of tests began.  Mom had to get another complete physical.  She got an MRI, more blood tests.  The results showed her to be an ideal donor for me.  That week my nephrologist told me she’d been at a cocktail party with some of her colleagues, who commented that Mom’s kidneys were as healthy as those of a fifty year-old, rather than a sixty-five year old.  A couple of tests and days later, they announced that her kidneys were on a par with healthy thirty year-old kidneys! 

Mom’s glad confidence never wavered.  The day of the transplant we laughed over our immodest surgery gowns.  I thanked her, again.  We held hands as we wheeled on our gurneys down the hall, waved and said we loved each other as we split into different rooms.

And here we are back in the states for summer, three years later.  Mom hustled us down the trail at the end of our five-mile hike this evening.  This morning she showed me pictures from her last annual week-long bike trip with her girl friends.  Six women wearing bike helmets and wind jackets lean together and grin at the camera.  Their ages range from 50 through 73 and they’re all tough as nails. 

I turned 45 last week.  I’m so grateful.  Forty-five feels like a perfectly wonderful age, and I’m so looking forward to this year, and to all my years. 

During the process of searching for a viable donor, my family and I felt utterly buoyed up by the loving self-sacrifice of all the dear people who offered me a kidney.  I talked about the process constantly, and random acquaintances began to express interest in becoming donors, from my dentist’s assistant to friends of friends. 

There are dozens of websites dedicated to providing information about becoming an organ donor.  Others describe the process of becoming a living kidney donor.  All of them overflow with stories of gratitude from recipients and families of recipients whose lives were saved. 

Julienne Darblay (Creamed Leek and Potato Soup with Julienned Vegetables)

Welcome to another Whisk Wednesday and to our latest challenge! This week's assignment was Julienne Darblay (but shouldn't that be D'Arblay?) from Le Cordon Bleu at Home. According to The Wordsworth Dictionary of Culinary and Menu Terms, the word darblay comes from the French and is "a potato soup with finely chopped vegetables," which seems to make julienne a bit redundant, too. But never mind.

This is not a terribly complicated recipe, in that the ingredients are very basic and familiar, but it's not a recipe you can make at the last minute, either. Like so many classic French dishes, it assumes your kitchen has homemade stock on hand and it requires a fair amount of prep work (the word julienne in the title probably gave that away, no?). So when I read over the recipe on Sunday and noted that the very first item on the ingredients list was chicken stock and a reference to another recipe for preparing it, I was quite perturbed with myself for not having bought a chicken at our local Farmer's Market the day before. Another trip to the Greenmarket and a day of simmering later, and I was ready to roll.

Once the leeks, potatoes and bouquet garni were cooking in the chicken broth, the kitchen started to smell seriously fabulous.

I actually enjoy chopping vegetables, so I didn't mind creating these piles of julienned leeks, carrots and turnips, which were then blanched in salted water very briefly.

The cooked potatoes and leeks were pureed and then strained to remove every tiny bit of leek and potato pieces for a smooth velvety base. The base was reheated gently, combined with creme fraiche, and then poured over the julienned vegetables.

In taste it is very similar to vichyssoise, which is hardly surprising, given that the only real difference here is the addition of the julienned vegetables and that the soup is served warm.

The Blueberry Dilemma

I have to confess that blueberries are not my favorite fruit. I like them, but I don't long for them, as I do for other berries. And I've never liked them as the main attraction in pie or cobbler, preferring them as a compliment to other fruits instead. I adore them mixed with sliced strawberries in a big bowl and then served with  yogurt and  a sprinkling of granola for crunch... there's something about that combination of the sweet strawberries and the tangy yogurt that brings out the best in the blueberries.

So when I had a pint of CSA blue berries to use up last week (and lord, I got another pint on Saturday!) I was a bit torn about what to do with them. Strawberry season is over, so my beloved mix of berries was not an option. And blueberry jam or pie or cobbler was out because I just don't like all that concentrated blueberry flavor, and it was too hot to consider baking.

Thank heavens for Google. Honestly, I don't know anymore how I've ever managed  without it.  In my search for quick no-cook blueberry recipes I found one for a parfait that suggested using a microwave to heat the blueberries with a few tablespoons of preserves and then layering the cooled berry mixture with ice cream. This solved all of my problems as it meant I could introduce that strawberry flavor I like so much, and it meant I could keep my kitchen cool. We had no ice cream, so I used the cream, sour cream and sherry mixture in the Rhubarb Parfaits I posted about last month.

Success! The strawberry jam and the slightly tangy cream mixture worked perfectly with the blueberries.
But tell me, what do I do with the latest batch?

This goes out to Susan, of Food Blogga, who is hosting this month's Sugar High Friday, an event originally created by Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess. Susan would like to see what you can do with berries, so get going! Entries are due by August 3rd.

Blueberry Parfaits

1 pint fresh blueberries
1/4 cup strawberry-orange preserves
3/4 cup chilled heavy cream
3 tablespoons confectioners sugar
1/3 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon Sherry

In a small bowl, combine the blueberries and preserves. Cook on high in a microwave for about 3 to 4 minutes, stirring twice, until the blueberries are softened. Cover and refrigerate until ready to assemble.

Beat the heavy cream and confectioners sugar in a bowl with an electric mixer until it just holds stiff peaks. Add the sour cream and Sherry and beat until it returns to stiff-peak stage.

Layer the berries and whipped cream in each of 4 (6-ounce) glasses, as pictured. Chill until ready to serve.

Bacon-Wrapped Scallops

Seriously, is there anything better than bacon-wrapped scallops? I mean what's not to like?

 

The combination of thick, juicy bacon and succulent sea scallops topped with a little smoked salt is pure perfection.

Make a salad with some roasted beets and goat cheese and open a bottle of crisp white wine. Just do it. You'll thank me.

Bacon-Wrapped Scallops

Buy some sea scallops. If your scallops are large, as ours were, you will need one strip of bacon per scallop. If they are smaller, you can probably use half a strip of bacon per scallop.

Partially cook the slices of bacon (you want the bacon to be flexible and nowhere near crispy) and then wrap each scallop secure with a toothpick or on skewers. The bacon should overlap a little.

Broil the bacon-wrapped scallops, turning once, until the bacon is crispy and the scallops are opaque. Sprinkle with just a little sea salt. We like smoked salt on ours.

An Abundance of Cherries

It's been a very red and pink week at Redacted Recipes, driven by a surfeit of red produce in our CSA share. We had mushy strawberries to make into Pink Lemonade Bars, we had a load of beets which turned into Pink Pasta with Beet and Roquefort Sauce, and now we have cherries.

We have black cherries and sour cherries, and Queen Anne cherries. We have cherry juice on our fingers and running down our chins.

We also have the most sinful cherry cobbler ever just out of the oven. I'm not sure I can really call this dessert a cobbler, as it's topped with cubes of brioche rather than biscuit batter, but I can't think of anything else to call it-- it certainly isn't bread pudding, as it contains no milk or cream.

I got this recipe from my mother, who made it for us while we were visiting in May. She got it from a neighbor, and the original calls for slices of white bread, crusts removed, layered over peaches and topped with an evil mixture of melted butter, sugar, flour and egg. Naturally I decided to make it even more evil by substituting brioche cubes for the bread slices, and our fresh cherries for the peaches.

The sugar topping oozes down into the cherries and gets absorbed by the brioche. Eat it warm. You won't regret it.

Cherry Cobbler

One quart of cherries, pitted
4 1-inch slices of brioche, crust removed, cubed
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups sugar
2 tablespoons flour
1 egg, beaten
Cinnamon, to taste

Place the cherries in the bottom of a round baking dish, toss them with as much cinnamon as you like, and then layer the brioche cubes over them.

Mix the melted butter with the sugar and flour and then add the beaten egg and mix well.

Pour the sugar mixture over the brioche cubes.

Bake at 350 F for about 40 minutes.

Oh, Where Have You Been, Billy Bi, Billy Bi?

Welcome to Whisk Wednesdays! I've joined Shari of Whisk: a food blog   and a bunch of other intrepid bloggers in the weekly adventure of working our way through a classical cooking curriculum from Le Cordon Bleu at Home.

This week's lesson was to prepare Billy Bi, a soup made with mussels, onions, wine, cream and seasonings. Though there are several stories of the soup's origin, the most popular is that Maxim's chef Louis Barthe named it after a regular patron who particularly loved the soup, American tin tycoon William B. (Billy B.) Leeds.

As I made this soup I found myself wondering if it's a bisque or a velouté-based soup. The nice thing about cooking along with a group is that you can send out an email with these sorts of questions. Shari came up with a great response: 

"Is it a bechamel or a velouté base? Béchamel is similar to velouté, but the liquid that's added is milk not stock. This soup has both stock and cream with a roux. I would say that it starts with a velouté since that's the order the ingredients are worked in..."

Billy Bi is surprisingly easy to make, given its rich and complex flavor. The ingredients list is short and sweet, consisting of butter, shallots, celery, white wine, water, mussels, black pepper, heavy cream and chives. The recipe did not call for any salt, but I added a pinch when I tasted it before serving. Preparing the soup was a breeze and consisted of these three basic steps:

1) Make the initial broth by cooking the shallots in a little butter before adding water, wine and some celery... and then steam mussels (in their shells) in the broth.   Collect the cooked mussels and set aside. Strain the broth to remove any sand, as well as the shallots and celery.

2) Shell the mussels and divide them into two portions. Put the strained broth back in the pot along with half of the mussels and cook until reduced by about a third. Strain the broth a second time, mashing up the mussels to extract all of their briny goodness, and then discard the poor dear things (kitchen culture can be so brutal).

3) Make a roux, and whisk in the strained broth. Let it simmer for a bit to develop it's full mussel-y flavor, and then add heavy cream and the remaining mussels. Sprinkle with chives.

Simple, right? The recipe called for a new pot with each step, a concept I immediately rejected. I found it simpler to just strain the broth into a bowl set aside for that purpose and then to re-use the same pot I'd started with. Even so, I had a shocking amount of washing up to do later. 

Were all those dishes worth it? Decidedly so! I would never have tried making this soup if it hadn't been assigned to me and I'd have missed out on a really wonderful experience. Billy Bi tastes like pure essence of mussels, or perhaps like mussels in their Platonic ideal form. Indeed, Jack paid me the highest compliment, remarking, "This is of restaurant quality, and I don't mean just any restaurant, I mean a good restaurant." 

Next Week: Julienne Darblay (Creamed Leek and Potato Soup with Julienned Vegetables) page 133-134