Blackberry-jalapeno mint juleps

Trust me, your mom needs this drink.  Now.  One or more blackberry-jalapeno mint juleps should make mom feel quite pampered today.  One drink is good.  Two is better.  Three would be just the ticket.  Then make sure you either offer her food or a nap.  Or both.  And even though my mom doesn't drink (her daughter more than makes up for it), I think she would want to start tippling if she had one of these on a pleasant May afternoon.

I've done quite a bit of sampling extensive research recently, testing this recipe until I thought it was fit for the rest of you.  Don't worry, it wasn't quite the sacrifice you might imagine.  I started the day before Derby Day  (those of you who are counting might assume I've been drinking blackberry-jalapeno mint juleps for the past 10 days--not true--I had new wines to try as well), and to further impress you, I taste-tested my final version on a large, scientifically significant sample a group of 35 people, which is plenty of time and effort to ensure credibility.  My home-base recipe was chef Edward Lee's jalapeno mint julep (waaaaaay good) and I wended my way until I wound up with the recipe I'm publishing today. 

 

Let's just say, for the record, that I'm very good at getting lost with a bottle of bourbon.

 

 

For the final Vindaloo-approved version, you'll need to make two simple syrups: one jalapeno and one mint.  Ideally, you'll get the best flavor when this concoction has time to mellow and macerate for at least 24 hours (Version No. 1), but you can do the quick and dirty version and serve it right away if you make Version No. 2, which only involves making the jalapeno simple syrup in enough time to cool it down.  Both versions will do the job, but they'll have different properties.  Version No. 1 is fine and mellow, refined and elegant in the glass; Version No. 2 is bright and peppery with lots of rustic qualities because it is not strained.

 

Pick your poison.

 

 

Vindaloo's Blackberry-Jalapeno Mint Juleps



 

Version No. 1 (serves 4)

 

Make the simple syrups:

 

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

2 jalapeno peppers, chopped, seeds and all

 

1 cup water

1 cup sugar

1 bunch mint

 

In two separate saucepans, combine water and sugar.  Put the jalapenos in one pan and the mint in the other.  Bring to a boil, then remove from heat and steep with the lids on the pans until syrups have cooked.  Strain and, if you wish to be the Polish grand-daughter who wastes nothing that I am, make candied jalapenos from the dregs of the jalapeno syrup by combining the cooked jalapenos with 1/2 cup vinegar, 2 Tbs. sugar and a little salt in a very small pan and simmering until the liquid is thickened and viscous.  Note: I often make simple syrups out of herbs and other things and freeze them without straining to get maximum benefit from the ingredients. 

 

Make the drinks:

 

1/2 cup fresh blackberries, plus extra for garnish

8 oz. bourbon

3 oz. jalapeno simple syrup

3 oz. mint simple syrup

chilled club soda or seltzer water

mint sprigs, for garnish

 

In a non-reactive bowl or a mason jar, smash the 1/2 cup blackberries to release the juices.  Add the bourbon and the simple syrups and blend well.  Cover and chill for several hours, or up to two days.  When ready to serve fill four short glasses with crushed ice.  Strain and divide bourbon-blackberry mixture evenly among four glasses; top with club soda and stir gently.  Garnish with fresh blackberries and mint sprigs.  Makes 4 drinks.

 

 

Version No. 2 (serves 4)

 

16 mint leaves

1 Tbs. sugar

1/2 cup fresh blackberries, plus extra for garnish

8 oz. bourbon

6 oz. jalapeno mint syrup (see instructions in Version No. 1)

chilled club soda or seltzer water

mint sprigs, for garnish

 

Smash the mint leaves and sugar with the 1/2 cup blackberries in a large pitcher.  Let sit for about 5 minutes to release the aromatics and juices.  Add bourbon and the jalapeno simple syrup and stir well.  Fill four short glasses or cooler with crushed ice.  Divide bourbon mixture among the glasses and top off each glass with club soda and stir gently.  Garnish with fresh blackberries and mint sprigs.  Makes 4 drinks.

 

Salud!

Muffins with good intentions

My lovely and talented friend, Jeffrie, recently introduced me to a muffin recipe that has finally ousted a long-time favorite from my heart (and almost from my recipe box).  I used to be a die-hard fan of the classic recipe for refrigerator raisin bran muffins from, oh, I think at least the 1980's.  You remember the recipe?  An entire box of raisin bran, plus a lot more sugar, plus 4 eggs, a cup of oil, buttermilk and a lot of white flour.  You'd mix it up and let it sit overnight to soften the bran flakes, then bake as many as needed at a time.  But the real reason the recipe was a favorite?  The batter keeps in your fridge for up to a month.  So you can repeat your trip into early renal failure daily until the batter is gone. 

In case you haven't guessed it, I was the kind of muffin-eater that tried to accomplish renal failure and cardiac arrest all in one shot by baking all the batter at one time and then eating as many muffins as possible in one sitting.  With lots of butter and cream cheese.

So just in case you want to have a gluten-fest with a lot of extra refined sugar--hey, nothing wrong with that, dude, it's a free country and I'm told you can now get decent health insurance no matter what you've done to yourself--you can find that recipe here.  I'd have to admit they're really tasty, mostly because of the sugar and fat content.  And let's face reality: FAT TASTES GOOD.  It tastes really good when combined with sugar and salt.  I'd have to say that fat, sugar and salt are, at times, my three basic favorite food groups.  I am not ashamed to admit that I like to stimulate my dopamine receptors via oral means.

But I've become more militant responsible about food and in my efforts to clean up some self-destructive eating habits, I think I've finally found a recipe that meets my needs for a muffin of substance and texture, one that tastes great and is wonderfully moist and is wholesome and reliably delicious.  A muffin with good intentions, if you buy into the whole concept of anthropomorphizing your food. 

Which I do.  Because in my world, everything (and everyone) has an agenda.

Months ago, my friend Jeffrie, who loves to cook and has turned me on to some really great recipes (remember the brownies???) introduced me to a muffin recipe that she and her new husband both adore.  I have to agree with them both, these muffins are great.  You will need a food processor or a good blender to mill the oats into flour, but other than that, no special equipment.  I love this recipe for its ability to be transformed by endless variation.  I think you will too.  Find it here, on the blog Honest Fare.

And, just a little hint: husbands love these muffins.  They don't really care about the good intentions.

Basil-mint limeade

My personal wine geek, Bill, gave me a great compliment the other day.  He told me that he was impressed with my mixology skills.  I knew right away that he wasn't talking about my ability to handle a muddler and a Boston shaker (because I'm still quite a klutz with the muddler and the Boston shaker always seems to come flying apart at just the moment that a guest gets close enough for a surprise baptism).

In the two years or more that we have become friends, Bill and I have had the opportunity to enjoy many wines together, either due to his suggestion, or because he just decided to bring over a great bottle of wine. 

 

But I've also had the chance to enjoy many delightful cocktails with Bill, mostly because of his adventurous spirit (forgive the pun, but before he was a wine geek, he was a liquor and spirits geek), and also because I love to make a new cocktail.  It happens whenever the Muse, be she creme de violette, maraschino liqueur, velvet falernum or slivovitz, catches my attention.

 

In addition to The Muse, my efforts are usually fueled by: a.) what's in the liquor cabinet, b.) what's growing in the garden or available at the farmers' market, or c.) what I might need to create for an upcoming dinner party or event.  I won't make a cocktail for myself because I'm almost exclusively a wine drinker.  But if you drop by for a visit, or I'm planning a dinner or appetizers for you, I'm gonna wanna make you a drink.

 

Bill has enjoyed many of my efforts--like the infamously lethal Bollywood Bhindi I created with saffron-infused vodka, allspice dram and Vietnamese cinnamon for an Indian dinner last summer--and the hangover-inducing Bad Monkey (a combination of Railean Texas Rum, banana liqueur and a glass rimmed with cinnamon-sugar), not mention our tireless experiments with various kinds of amaro (grapefruit juice, good; artisanal tonic water and bitters, not so much) this past winter.

 

I'll tell you one of my secrets: I always have infused spirits (mostly vodka-based) and plenty of flavored simple syrups in the freezer.  Infusing vodka is so easy, your two-year-old could manage to do it with your patient instructions (along with bringing you more ice for your drink and any Valium you might require to make it through the day with a toddler). 

 

I've always got something steeping in vodka or other alcohol.  Looking at my countertops is like being in your high school biology lab.  Remember all those jars of pickled frogs and necrotic organs?  Yup, that would be my kitchen.

 

Chocolate mint and cocoa nibs in vodka

 

Making flavored syrups is even easier.  Simple syrup is a basic 1:1 ratio of sugar to water.  You bring that to a boil and after it has boiled for one minute, you remove the pan from the heat and throw in any flavoring ingredients you'd like, let it cool, strain it (or not) and chill or freeze.  My favorites are mint, basil, cucumber, any kind of citrus peels (but not the pith), rosemary, chiles, coffee beans, black pepper and lavender.  Don't forget that the stems of mint and basil (as well as cilantro) contain a lot of flavor.  Be brave--experiment.  It's a great way to use up little odds and ends of wilted herbs and pieces that are not pretty enough to garnish with.

 

The picture of the cocktail above was a fusion of several such ingredients and was incredibly refreshing at a recent mid-spring dinner.  Lime-ginger infused vodka, fresh lime juice, mint syrup and basil syrup were blended together, poured over ice and topped off with lime-flavored seltzer water.  I used lime slices and frozen Muscat grapes to garnish.  Here's the recipe:

 

Basil-Mint Limeade

 

1 cup vodka infused with lime and ginger (or just lime-infused vodka)

1 cup mint syrup

1 cup basil syrup

1 cup fresh lime juice

ice

chilled lime seltzer water

lime slices and frozen Muscat grapes, for garnish

 

Mix together the vodka, syrups and lime juice; taste for balance of sweet and sour and adjust as necessary.  Chill until ready to serve.  When guests arrive, fill glasses with ice, divide vodka mixture among the glasses until about 2/3 full and top with seltzer water.  Garnish with lime slices and frozen grapes.  Make 4 generous drinks.

No ordinary cheese

It is 5 o'clock in the morning and I am straining curds and whey, making cheese out of some of the richest, creamiest milk I've seen in a long time.  My husband has just stumbled out to the kitchen to begin his morning routine, scowls at the colander lined with cheesecloth in the sink, then shakes his head. 

"What are you doing?" he asks. 

"I'm making cheese."

"Why?"

"Because I have almost two gallons of raw milk and I've already made yogurt."  Yes, I did!

My pride in my industrious home-making efforts is slightly bruised by my husband's tone of voice.  You know the tone I mean.  The one that prosecuting attorneys use when they have a witness on the stand they don't particularly like.

He continues his diatribe, "I mean, what's the point?  Can't you buy cheese?"  He asks me this question in a way that indicates that he thinks I have not quite caught on to the fact that there is now human genome replication and that I am still painfully unaware that very recently, we have explored Mars.

But that's not all he has to say:  "Raw milk?  Is it safe?"

Yes, in fact it is safe.  Read more here.  The Stryk Jersey Farm has a fabulous dairy.

My face is turned away from my husband so that he can't see my exasperated eye-roll.  But even though it is still dark-thirty, sarcasm is effortless.  Neurons fire best before dawn for me.  I retort,  "No, I'm sure it's not safe for you.  Raw milk is right up there with green vegetables, sushi and those little vegan carrot cakeballs I made last weekend.  Eating cheese made from raw milk would undo all that careful work you like to do with Coke, ice cream and Kit Kats."

He chortles and goes about the business of making coffee.  I continue with my cheese-making.  I don't care that my husband doesn't approve or even think it's safe to eat homemade cheese from raw milk.  I know that this cheese will be great.  It will be no ordinary cheese because I'm using no ordinary milk

Looks like butta.

This is not a complicated cheese, it's just a simple curdled-milk cheese--a basic paneer--that I will use for cooking and sharing.  It is creamy and mild and adapts well to lots of recipes.  Making it from raw milk that has about two least inches of cream on the surface will make a rich cheese that spreads and melts well. 

I've been making this kind of cheese for a long time.  My Indian friends first showed me how to do it years ago and because it is so remarkably simple, I make it frequently.  It has two ingredients: milk and acid.  You can add salt and sugar to flavor the cheese, of course, but the procedure remains the same.  You'll need a stove, a large pot, some cheesecloth or a thin tea towel or flour sack towel, and a sieve or strainer.  A thermometer is helpful, but not necessary.  Find the technique here.



My cheese and yogurt-making thermometer.

You can press as much whey out of the curds as you'd like; the less fat in the milk you use and the more you press, the firmer and less spreadable your cheese will be.  I decided to drain the whey without pressing on the curds and got a creamy, ricotta-like texture.

Drizzled with garlic and herb-infused olive oil, later on, with a little balsamic vinegar and eaten with crusty bread or my personal favorite, Ines Rosales Tortas de Aceite, it's a knock-out lunch.

 

 

And yes, those are Cerignola olives--so big they have the distinction of being the largest known olive.  They are dense, buttery and really, really good.  You can enjoy this cheese with a really lovely glass of Sancerre to pick up the olive notes, or a glass of floral, limey Albarino.  Either way, you can't go wrong.

 

May your tastebuds dance!

Lemonade special enough for a birthday

My friend and fellow food blogger South Austin Foodie celebrated her birthday today with a fabulous party at The Flying Carpet, a fun South Austin eatery that has both inside and outside dining spaces as well as some pretty terrific Moroccan food.  My favorite was the chicken, lemon and green olive tagine that hit all the right notes.

Part of what made this evening's revelry so much fun was meeting the bloggers behind some of the blogs I enjoy reading.  Kisses to Mad Betty and Girl Eats World, whom I spent the most time visiting with.  I so enjoyed our talk about professional gambling, the Myers-Briggs, fast vs. slow metabolisms, Indian food and career prostitution.  Thank you!

The other part of the fun was making a new cocktail in honor of South Austin Foodie's birthday.  I did what I normally do when I'm experimenting: I don't taste the finished product unless I have other people tasting with me.  And we all agreed Vindaloo's Moroccan Lemonade was delicious, fragrant, refreshing and fun to drink.  It's a great cocktail for warmer weather.  I'll be making it again.  And again.

Moroccan Lemonade

     This lemonade gets its pedigree and its Moroccan influences from orange flower water, which you can find at Fiesta Market or online.

1 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 cup limoncello (or substitute citrus vodka and adjust sugar to taste)
1/2 cup vodka
1/2 cup sugar
4 1/2 tsp. orange flower water
ice
cold seltzer water or club soda, about 32 oz.
1 lemon, sliced and seeded
fresh mint leaves

Combine lemon juice, limoncello, vodka and sugar in a large pitcher.  Stir until sugar is dissolved.  Add orange flower water and stir well.  Fill tumblers with ice.  Pour in enough lemonade mixture to fill the glass 3/4 full; add seltzer or club soda to fill glass.  Garnish with lemon slices and fresh mint leaves.  Makes six drinks.

Fennel, fig, almond, mascarpone

We're on the cusp of spring and I'm still psychologically stuck in winter.  Before it's too late, I want to share Fennel and Fig-Infused Vodka and Warm Mascarpone and Toasted Almond Spread.  If you get started now, you'll still have a few cool evenings to enjoy what I think are some inspired and sophisticated treats.

I've been playing with infused vodkas for quite some time and recently made a batch of this sipping vodka for a small Sunday afternoon soiree.  The fennel doesn't shine through as much as I would like, so next time, I'll bump up the flavor profile by adding some fennel seed, but the dried figs bring a gorgeous color and not-too-sweet honeyed quality that is perfect for sipping on the rocks or blending in your own inspired cocktails.

The warm, creamy toasted almond spread is lovely on its own, but it's pure magic with the fig essence in the vodka.  You can purchase mascarpone (which I find to be ridiculously expensive) or you can make your own very simply for a 24-hour time investment and about three dollars.

We enjoyed this rich, luscious spread on fresh fennel and the delightful Ines Rosales Savory Olive Oil Tortas.  Of course, crusty bread and other things would be great, but fresh fennel brought out the subtle fennel in the infused vodka and the savory tortas provided a great textural counterpoint.

Warm Mascarpone and Toasted Almond Spread
    
     Adapted from How Sweet It Is. 

6 oz. cream cheese, at room temperature (I used Neufchatel due to the fat content in the mascarpone)
6 oz. mascarpone, at room temperature
1 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese
1/8 tsp. ground nutmeg
freshly ground black pepper and salt to taste
1 cup sliced toasted almonds, divided

1.)  Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
2.)  In an oven-proof serving dish or crock, mix together the cream cheese, mascarpone, Parmesan, nutmeg, salt and pepper.
3.)  Stir in 1/2 cup almonds.
4.)  Bake for about 15 to 20 minutes.
5.)  Remove from oven, sprinkle with remaining almonds and serve with crackers, pita chips, or fresh fennel.
6.)  Makes about 2 cups.

May your tastebuds dance!

The moral dilemma of being a food snob

“The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others.”
                                                                                    Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)


I am the omnivore that Michael Pollan warned you about. 

I rarely eat locally produced foods.  I do not always eat organically grown foods.  I am passionate about non-GMO foods, but have found it is impossible to eat strictly non-GMO.  I occasionally eat junk food but will avoid farm-raised salmon because wild salmon just plain tastes better.  I will never be a vegan, nor a vegetarian (damn you, pigs!).  I tend to favor costly and rare ingredients that have been, at times, on the list of 10 most-wanted politcally incorrect foods. 

Do I need to be concerned about eating more locally and organically grown foods?  I'm sure it would benefit me and my local farmers.  Should I worry about genetically modified foods?  If I read and take the research seriously, then probably the answer is yes.  Should I feel guilty about eating junk food? Not being a vegan or a vegetarian?  Maybe.

And this is the lie I tell myself: I eat and drink what I do because I want to.  More importantly, I eat and drink what I do because I can.  I spend a great deal of my disposable income on food and wine and I feel very privileged that this kind of lifestyle is possible for me.  I can exercise a considerable amount of personal liberty where food choices are concerned.  I can select breakfast cereal, if I wish, from an aisle in the grocery store that is brimming with over 50 choices.  I can afford to eat in a totally decadent manner when I go on vacation.  And yes, I can proudly state that I am a food snob.  My vision is that I lead a bon vivant lifestyle, teetering romantically on the verge of financial hardship or world collapse, the moth flirting with the flame.  I am a near-catastrophe visionary, never saving for a rainy day and always pulling out all the stops.  I believe I live well because I eat well.

Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.

But my food choices can cause me a great deal of internal struggle at times because I wonder if I am being irresponsible with food.  I am unabashedly fond of politically incorrect foods, of foods that involve large carbon footprints, of foods that are directly connected to the use and abuse of animals, and of foods that are far beyond the scope of what the mainstream is satisfied with.  And with all the polarizing rhetoric about what food will currently redeem my soul, I often feel confused about where my moral compass should point.

Photo from www.nbcnews.com
 

Foie gras...love it.  Veal...osso bucco, piccata, saltimbocca, Oscar: it's all good.  Black truffles, white truffles, chocolate truffles...can't live without them.  Caviar of all types...a necessity.  Blood oranges, citron, kumquats, Rangpur limes...whenever I can get them.  Cheese of all kinds, from around the world: YES!  Duck prosciutto flown in from Washington State?  If I want it, yes.  Venuzelan chocolate--to die for.  Orange blossom water from Morocco--of course.  Doesn't everybody have orange blossom water in their pantries?  And anything that can be called pork: definitely.  Who wouldn't want to live without a regular dose of jamon Iberrico, along with wines from Spain, France, Italy, Argentina, Portugal, South Africa and the far-flung regions of the continental United States?  Not to mention single malt scotches from remote distilleries in the Hybrides, as well as Barbados rum, Jamaican allspice dram, British creme de violette, and other obscure liquors.

Unfortunately, my predilections also cause me some geographical anguish and time constraints because most of these items--except the most mainstream of pork products--are unavailable where I live.  So I drive to Austin in my older model gas-guzzling (and oversized) vehicle to reward myself, or I do a lot of mail order food shopping in order to quell my insatiability and the cosmopolitan appetites my beloved maternal grandfather inspired.

So what do my preferences tell you about my moral character?  What do they say about my consciousness as we watch food choices become more and more polarized?

You say "meat eater" like it's a bad thing. 

Presently, I live in an area that is woefully bereft of not only healthful, but even decently competent restaurants and eating establishments.  In a small town of less than 6000 in Central Texas (and as still technically part of the Austin SMSA), my town is graced with over a dozen Mexican restaurants, non of them remarkable, several BBQ joints (at least one or two are reportedly of lengendary fame), and couple of very disappointing places that attempt to provide "home cooking" or a "steakhouse atmosphere" or worse, Asian cuisine. We also have two major-chain pizza restaurants, and your standard fast food assortment.

But I didn't move here for the food.  I spend little time eating at restaurants in my town.  It is hard to eat out in my town for meals other than breakfast, since my palate demands excitement and my own cooking skills and reperatoire outshine that of the establishments in town.  And you can't call it braggin' if it ain't true.

But I'm also not a locavore, except for an occasional visit to my local farmer's market and dealings with my Egg Lady and the farmer that offers exceptional grass-fed beef.  And that is because it is a difficult task for me to eat locally, either by way of patronizing my local dining establishments, or, as Michael Pollan suggested, eating foods that have only been sourced locally.  But Mr. Pollan has had his critics. 

I have mine.  They have been among the family, friends and relationships that have objected to my food choices, remarked about my food snobbery, have been held hostage by my refusal to eat at certain restaurants, and have even kept quiet about my obvious contradictions.  And yet, I continue to do what I do: I eat and drink what I want, openly and honestly.  And I lie to myself that one day, I will be a better person if I could just eliminate foie gras from my list of favorite foods.

But that lie has also made it possible for gratitude to co-exist: I am so glad I don't live in California.