le sauce

first taste: hot cocoa in the murry kitchen

Childhood picture books, stories and TV shows that depicted food and dining made a real impression on me. Illustrations of steaming bowls of pasta or a piece of toast smothered in purple jam gave me my first taste of foods I'd yet to try, and are sometimes still the archetypes I hold food up to today. Instead of simply reminisce, I'm going to bring those dishes to life the way I imagined they'd be.

On a dark, stormy night, on her journey to the kitchen from her cold attic room, Meg had time to get down on herself about everything from her mousy appearance, to her IQ level to her recent scrap with bullies at school. This girl needed a drink! She knew it, and decided on hot cocoa. That this was a romantic choice, for a young girl, chilled, a little scared and a lot bummed out, was only part of the appeal to me as I read those opening pages in A Wrinkle in Time. There was also the accepted adult-ness of the whole situation, because who should be heating up milk in anticipation of both Meg and her mother showing up in the kitchen in need of some, but the "baby brother" of the family, Charles Wallace, wise and weirdly intuitive beyond any human's years. He goes on to offer to make Mrs. Murray a liverwurst and cream cheese sandwich and Meg a tomato sandwich but they had me at hot cocoa. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved every page of the popular sci-fi novel and I still do. (I just downloaded the audio book read by the author, Madeline L'Engle herself. There were parts that still scared me when I listened before bed. "There is such a thing as a Tesseract!") But it was the first "scene" hooked me, no question. The idea that you could wake up in the night and have a luxurious snack--that you could dirty a pan at that hour to boil milk for cocoa (how much?? who had cocoa powder at the ready? I'd have to work for months to first explain to my parents that it was the opposite of Nestlé Quick, that no, microwaved chocolate milk would not cut it and then try to source it because there was no way their half-hearted wild goose chase would be successful. And God help me if it was expensive...), and that your family would join you instead of chasing you back to bed yelling about the hour and rising early for school/jobs in the morning--that was fantasy I ate up as much as any other part of the book.

I don't blame my parents for not knowing what hot cocoa really was, how to make it, or how it differed from hot chocolate which was a little more widely known (read: marketed). I had a chalky mug or two of cocoa that I tried to enjoy (read: use to transport me to the Murry's kitchen and their entire messed up, brilliant, multi-time+space-dimensioned adventures). But we can do better today. 

First, on hot cocoa, CHOW notes the same, that while "...hot cocoa is sublime. At its worst, it’s chalky, watery, and too sweet. This version, provided by François Payard, of François Payard Bakery in New York, is definitely in the former category: so creamy, rich, and chocolaty that it’s a suitable stand-in for dessert.

2 tablespoons cocoa powder (such as Weiss)
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup whole milk
Granulated sugar, to taste

Bring chocolate powder, fresh cream, and milk to a boil; stir; and pour in a cup. Add sugar if desired.

Note: For a lighter version, use 1/3 cup fresh cream and 2/3 cup skim milk."

And An Enlightened Palate adds: "Hot cocoa lacks the creaminess and luscious mouthfeel of  a cup of hot chocolate, but it is more concentrated and has a more chocolaty taste...there is less vegetable fat (natural cocoa butter) in the cocoa than there is in shaved chocolate...fat coats the palate and minimizes flavor."

And offers a different method (note the technique):

2 teaspoons dutched cocoa powder ( we prefer dutched process cocoa because we feel that these cocoa powders have a deeper flavor, darker color and a smoother texture that blends flawlessly in hot beverages.)
2 teaspoons sugar
2 tablespoons cream, not heated
6 ounces boiling water

Optional: whipped cream or mini marshmallows for garnish

Place the cocoa powder and sugar into a mug and mix well. Add the cream and stir into a smooth paste. Add the boiling water and stir until the mixture is smooth and well blended. Ladle the hot cocoa into a mug and garnish if desired.

And, though this wasn't a contest, there is a winning technique in my mind. An Enlightened Pallette's method resulted in the best cup of cocoa I've ever had--the blend and pour method made for a deliciously creamy cocoa and it came together in seconds with water from a kettle and no pot to stand over. It was perfection with just one tweak that I would add to either recipe...

...a tiny sprinkle of salt.

Charles Wallace probably saw that coming.

...

I thought of Katherine, whose illustrations you've seen here in the past, as soon as I wrote this post. I hoped she would agree to bring Meg and the Murry kitchen to life and I hope you love her illustrations in this piece as much as I do. For more of her delicious illustrations, check out Drawn and Devoured.

...

weekend class: rice paper dumplings with mung bean filling

weekend class = learning a thing or two about cooking and dining well. techniques, ingredients, recipes projects that definitely need to be tackled on the weekend. the result? weekend-class fare, of course.

Well, I should have know when my dough came together with no effort, when the specified mere 1 minute of kneading resulted in the texture I was after, when the rest time was just a quick 5 minutes, that the hard part was to come. Dough-making is never without its anxiety as far as I'm concerned (I may have taught myself the basics of baking last year but it's still doesn't come easily to me). It was the moment I stopped to take a picture of my ready-to-use dough that things went wrong. The dough was ready to use the moment I let air touch it, and a couple of minutes later it was dangerously, if not visibly, a touch too dry. Wetting my hands slightly helped bring it back from the point of no return, but I did let a small piece pass that point. I added more water to it or rather, too much and didn't feel confident about how much flour and starch to add to balance out my mistake, so that piece was a loss. The batch I made by weight was much more successful than when I measured the flours, so, as usual when it comes to flour, weigh if you can. But that's the only warning/advice I have for you. The good news is...

...it's generally really easy to make your own rice flour dough! That idea is ridiculously exciting to me because, first, look how beautiful your homemade dumplings can be, all plump and shiny, slightly translucent and exactly the texture of the best of its kind at dim sum. And then, think of the possibilities. I didn't know where I was headed at first with a slightly denser batch I'd made, but I steamed some unfilled rounds of it anyway and ended up with rice cakes, of course! I froze those for a future soup. I'm going to be brave enough next time to steam a sheet of the dough, making it just a touch wetter so it spreads without rolling, to cut into fresh rice noodles. Can you imagine? My accidents led me to the confidence to try that--it's quite amazing how a little too much air and a little extra water will change the elasticity of this super-glutenous dough drastically.

scene + savoured: anniversaries, reunions, recoveries

scenes of the things i've recently savoured--bites, drinks, places, tables, people.

The saffron sour at barchef, sipped with commendable control during pre-dinner cocktails, had the potential to outshine everything that came after it. (Good thing we headed to Buca afterward.) I doubt you can get a bad drink there but it's the only drink I've allowed myself to reorder from a menu that I'm still trying to exhaust. Yes, that good.

That night we were out for drinks and dinner to celebrate our anniversary. But on our actual anniversary I made James a special tapas dinner at home: a tortilla Espanol, stewed beans, cheeses and a bottle of the same Spanish wine we'd really enjoyed years ago at another anniversary. Awww.

And then, to welcome january... 

Pre-party dinner on New Year's Eve was memorable but so filling you could see on everyone's faves the unspoken fear that we might not actually make it to the party. Hotpot or swish at Swish by Han, plus too many starters and delicious cocktails made for a celebratory meal, plus there's just something about a blue-hot fire roaring on your table, you know? 

My best friend visiting from LA => old friends gathering + lots of wine + as many truffled dishes + pretty blouses + animated conversation = everything good in life.

Weekend breakfast: buckwheat pancakes with molasses (love this combo!), soy sausages, very strong black coffee and apricots. Laid out on the coffee table, enjoyed on the couch!

There were many couch meals so to get us back to the table, we lured ourselves with a simple meal dressed up with small touches. An every-herb and spinach soup with strained yogurt and spiced pumpkin seeds on top, buttery La Sauvagine and the most amazing Farmhouse Stilton cheeses (maybe my new favourite blue and quite different from regular Stilton) with seedy crackers, a creamy white wine we'd been saving and sweet and sour blood oranges for after.

And sometimes, you want an old standby--especially when you've been flat out sick. Two crazy bugs got James and then they came after me. For restoration, ginger tea, etc. To really recover, comfort in a bowl: white rice, stir-fried greens, soft-scrambled eggs (similar to these) and mugs of Jasmine tea.

a biryani feast

I don't know if my parents failed to mention that we would be having a dinner party or if I was to busy concentrating on the television to register the news, but I remember "discovering" that we would be having company as a child on certain evenings, and having only a short amount of time to get ridiculously excited before guests arrived. I loved that dinner parties meant having "friends" over to play with but even then I also loved everything else that came with entertaining, including the telltale signs that led me to the discovery of the events themselves.

For instance, the house would be tidied and prettier than on a normal day, with special table cloths wooshed over a table and every light in the house burning even before dusk. Records replaced the radio. I was scrubbed clean, made to wear something too nice to play in and actually encourage to sit and watch something on TV rather than run around. And the commotion in the kitchen was different too. The energy was palpable. Maybe there'd been crabs scurrying across the kitchen floor earlier in the day, maybe a caramel flan was setting in the fridge, but I didn't make the connection from those things, actually. But once I caught whiff of a biryani coming together, I knew for sure it was a special night, with special visitors to pamper and plump on their way.

To this day, regardless of how much my immediate or extended family toils and creates in the kitchen, I've never seen biryani envoked for anything short of a birthday or entertaining guests. I would never think to request it for dinner, even to this day when my aunt asks me what I would like to have when I'm planning to visit--see, I'm not a "guest" so a request for biryani simply never even crossed my mind. It has nothing to do with the effort involved--I assure you that whatever my aunt does whip up for my casual visits is much more intensive. Biryani, and it's traditional, expected if not required accompaniments, are simply reserved for a very special dinner. I hope you have both the occasion and inclination to make this feast one day soon--and somewhat often too.

(Happy new year.)

a biryani feast (all the recipes you need, below)

jackfruit biryani

spiced, fried potatoes

cashew nut curry

mint chutney*

pickle*

curried beans*

fried eggplant curry*

*Previously published on le sauce.

 

jackfruit biryani

Oh biryani, how I've missed you. It was a rare thing to begin with, my family usually reserving it for special occasions, but when my parents too became vegetarian, they sort of stopped making it altogether. Their specialty usually involved meat, most often, chicken, and they didn't often attempt vegetable biryani. That prompted me finally (I have no idea why I waited so long...hoping that my dad or aunt would think up an alternative. Was I the only one missing this??) to come up with something to take the place of meat. In Sri Lankan cooking that's easy--jackfruit is the perfect stand-in in curries. It's a popular curry in its own right, but here, jackfruit is curried with a mild, un-roasted powder, for that subtle flavour found in biryani. 

To say that my family and I were happy with the results of this experiment would be an understatement completely underselling this. This is a boafide, delicious biryani--yes, if I do say so myself. I don't mean to boast, I mean to convince you to make this and not another type of biryani, because we all really loved this. And if you've never thought to make biryani, this is your next dinner party menu, trust me!

cashew nut curry

If you've eaten cooked nuts, you may be excited about the idea of a cashew nut curry--you may have had one before! If you've never eaten nuts that have been stewed down, you may be furrowing your brown as your eyes grow wide and you reach, absent-mindedly, for another carefully roasted, crunchy almond right now. Having grown up eating this curry, I didn't have time to think about whether stewed nuts was kinda weird. If you are on the fence, let me assure you that you want to try this right now.

These nuts become mealy in the best way possible, retaining some body but mostly adding just-enough-but-not-too-much contrast in texture when scooped up with a spoonful of rice. And a ton of flavour too--this is a distinct but subtle curry, it's rich and perfect with biryani or roti, or bread, actually. And no, I've never tried these with other nuts (cashews are considered queen in my family) but if you are so inclined, please, please report back.

spiced, fried potatoes

These potatoes are my mom's specialty and one of James' favourite things to eat--which is to say they are the thing with which my mom spoils James. They make a regular appearance at my house so I've never had to learn to make them. When I finally did (because I was making a whole biryani spread one night and these potatoes are an absolute must for that), I was surprised at how easy they were to make. They are so crispy, I equated them with painstaking frying/attention/babying. In fact, they mostly cook themselves.

You simply pre-boil the potatoes, fry some onions and seasoning for a final mix post-potato fry, and just remember one thing--don't overcrowd the pan. As long each side of potato wedge gets a couple of minutes of quality time with a hot, oiled pan, you can be guaranteed potatoes as more crisp and flavourful than any you may have had before. Big promises, I know, but this recipe won't disspoint.

happy cookie season to you

Well, I'm certain I consumed more sugar in one month than my whole lifetime, but I also had a lot more fun than I'd thought I would. Most importantly, every one of the recipes yeilded totally scrumptious results (with one small exception, these were not my recipes so I'm free to gush about them!)

I hope you get to check at least some of the ones tested for ^{the le sauce} ₁₂ days of cookies

With this, le sauce is breaking for the holidays, but not just to shop, eat, drink and repeat. Back behind the scenes a whole new look, feel and site, the one that has been soooo long in the making, will be finally coming together--coming soon, in the new year...

And around this time I usually set the bar for the new year, but I think I will wait until closer to the relaunch of the site to tell you about new features and series. For now I will say that in the past I've focused on more, for instance this year there was much more baking, sweet treats and collaborations. I hope you enjoyed the outcome as much as I enjoyed the projects. Next year, I'm focusing on better. Like the most interesting, useful and inspiring menus and a way to tie them into the bigger picture--making every-night dinners a little more special or gatherings with friends on Sunday night a little easier with the goal of making them more frequent!

So...to even better days and nights next year! Every year I have more reason to be grateful for everything and everyone around me. I hope every single one of you has just as many reasons to feel at peace at this moment and that you have a wonderful couple of weeks whether you, or however you celebrate the season. Happy cookie-eating, happy gatherings with friends and family, happy cooking and happy new year.

day 12: vanillekipferl (vanilla crescents)

    [^{the le sauce} ₁₂ days of cookies]

Oscar and Lena want to wish you all the best of the season if you celebrate, and however you celebrate. Where they're from, they exchange gifts on the night of many moons. I simply use the holidays as a month-long excuse to eat and drink too much. These cresents are now on my list of must-have holiday treats: they're delcious, the texture is amazing and they are super-easy to make. We hope you try them and love them too.

Vanillekipferl (Vanilla Crescents)
Via Saveur 

1 cup confectioners' sugar, plus more for finishing cookies
1 c unsalted butter, softened
2 tsp. vanilla extract
5 oz. walnuts, finely ground in food processor
2 1/2 cups flour, plus more for rolling

Heat oven to 325F degrees. Beat together sugar, butter, and vanilla in a bowl; mix in nuts and flour. Flour and roll into a cylinder; divide into 48 pieces. Roll each into a sausage shape. Taper ends; bend into a crescent. Transfer to parchment paper-lined baking sheets, spacing cookies 1 inch apart. Bake until golden, 12–15 minutes. Sift with confectioners' sugar. Let cool.

Makes 4 dozen.

day 11: palmiers

    [^{the le sauce} ₁₂ days of cookies]

As pretty and eye-catching as costume jewlellery and a method so easy that even I felt free to come up with my own recipe--for a cookie! That's how non-intimidating these are and how adaptable. Feel free to make your own looker, sweet, savoury--or both at once... I think there's a blue cheese and fig palmier in my future, for instance.

Elderflower Marmalade Palmiers

2 tbs marmalade
1 tbs elderflower liquor (or Cassis, another fruit liquor or orange juice)
Cane sugar or granulated sugar for dusting
230 g thawed frozen puff pastry

Mix the marmalade and liquor in a small bowl and set aside. Have a pastry or silicone brush on hand.

Dust a large piece of parchment paper with sugar and place thawed pastry on top. Cover with another piece of parchment paper and roll the dough to a 11" X 7" rectangle. Remove the top piece of parchment paper and quickly brush the pastry with 3/4 of the thinned marmalade. Use the bottom piece of parchment to help you roll the pastry, tightly, in toward the centre evenly from both sides (one side at a time). Brush the outsides with the remaining marmalade mixture and use it to help make the roll stick together as much as possible. Wrap the roll tightly in plastic wrap and chill for 3 hours or even overnight.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Remove dough from plastic wrap and quickly slice crosswise into 1/2"-thick slices. Place slices 2-inches apart on a parchment-line baking sheet and flatten them slighlty with your hand. Bake 6-8 minutes (make sure the bottoms don't burn), turn over and bake for another 6-8 minutes or until golden on both sides. Transfer immediately to a wire rack and cool completely.

 Makes 15-18 cookies.